#confronting them to their worst fears (though involuntary)

[autistic-daniil-dankovsky]

remember this? well. let's go!

both ena and an have pretty famous fathers, and it was always somewhat expected of them to be worthy of their legacy, in some way. both of them were told, "of course you're good at art - you're shinei's daughter!" and "of course you're good at singing - you're ken's daughter!" respectively.

they were always perceived via their fathers, not allowed to step outside their shadow and be seen for themselves. they couldn't be ena or an.

and, you know, for a time, they went along with it. i mean, they were good at what they were doing.

but then... all comes crashing down.

for ena, there's the obvious bullshit that's going on with shinei. completely destroying her. because she admired her father, because he was the reason she wanted to do art to begin with, and he told her to her face that she would never be good enough.

her entire world fell apart, that day.

because no matter what she says, ena wants the approval of her father more than anything else. she wants him to tell her that she's worthy of being his daughter, that all her hard work amounts to something; anything.

but then, there's the eventual revelation that she wasn't anything, actually. she wasn't special.

everyone was better than her.

before, ena was a fish in a small pond, and of course, she was among the best. but now she's been dropped in a vast ocean, and she's small, and insignificant.

devoured by all the other fish.

one of them - and admittedly, the most important of them all - being futaba. she joined after ena, but she proved herself in much less time than her. and, even succeeded where ena failed - she never gave up, even when she was harshly criticised. never regressing artistically. never running away from art.

and there's something else, somewhere deep down - a fear. a fear that nightcord will abandon her when they realise she can't keep up with them. that she's not as good as they thought she was.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

an goes through something similar.

she meets kohane, and she decides that this person is going to be her partner. that they're going to surpass THE rad weekend together, that no one could be better for this task but her.

but when she starts that relationship, it's with the assumption that she'll always be the teacher and that kohane will always be the student.

not in a mean, or pretentious way, no, not at all. simply, an was always told there was no way she couldn't surpass rad weekend, since she was ken's daughter. in her small pond, she was also among the very best.

but then, an realises something, too.

kohane is much better at everything than she is.

very similarly to ena's situation with futaba, kohane made much more progress in barely a year than an has in years. taiga - one of the old RADers, and somewhat of an uncle for an - recognised her potential, and asked to train her. not an, but kohane.

and of course, an is happy to know that! because that's her partner and friend, and an is happy to see her grow more confident and get better every day. because she cares. because she loves her.

but there's something in her chest - something that hurts and aches. she has to face the fact that she's not as good as she thought she was, that she isn't worthy of her father's legacy. that she isn't worthy of being kohane's partner, that she might be holding her back.

that she might be abandoned. left behind to rot.

what will happen of her, then? she'll be all alone. unloved.

to me - ena and an are two kids suffering under the weight of a legacy that's too heavy for them to carry, but that they can't let go of. they're also struggling with seeing their peers succeed where they repeatedly fail. they're all about being terrified of being abandoned because they're not good enough.

they're both confronted by this fact.

and it terrorises them.

[pet-genius]

A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

you're not living in this world alone

i wrote this in one sitting and i'm sorry i don't really know what the point is i was just frustrated lmao, the song title is from "enjoy your life" by marina which is what i'm manifesting for COT. i don't think there are any triggers beyond what you would expect: mentions of bullying and elias' shitty parenting

Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

“And how would you know where Alastair was yesterday afternoon?” Matthew mused.

Thomas exhaled. The truth was a long time coming. “Because I was with him. Alastair and I are friends.”

“Friends? After everything he’s done? You can forgive him so easily?”

“It’s been years since school, Matthew. He’s grown and changed since then, just as you and I have. I have forgiven him, and I ask that you respect that, even if you choose not to.”

“Respect that? Thomas, how could I-” He moved closer and lowered his voice as if that would effectively prevent Cordelia from hearing him, despite her sitting mere feet away. “I don’t know what he said to you, but you don’t owe him anything just because he helped you with the whole serial killer business. Listen, Thomas, you’re very kind, and Alastair… Well, I know what type of person Alastair is, and he’s the kind that understands well how to take advantage of kindness. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Thomas could see Cordelia straining to stop herself from reacting. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“And you do?”

“I know more than you, continuing to reduce him to the horrible nonsense he said over four years ago.”

Matthew flinched. “Horrible nonsense? That’s what you’d call the things he said about my parents, about your parents, the things that made your mother cry?”

Thomas bit back involuntary tears. He knew how those words had hurt his family. His intention was never to reduce the gravity of them. “Don’t you dare use my own words against me! What about the things you said, Matthew?”

Matthew crossed his arms. “I have not a clue what you’re talking about. Whatever he told you were lies, I’m sure-”

“Did you forget that I was there that day? I’d nearly forgotten because it was so long ago, but I remember. I was trying to help Alastair because he was in a very bad way. Clive had just died. I know that the prank affected you, too, maybe even more so, but Alastair said that the prank wasn’t his idea, and I believe him. Clive was Alastair’s bully long before he was any of ours, and I don’t blame Alastair for fearing his own safety and going along with his stupid, dangerous plan. At the end of the day, it’s just not something you need to blame someone for. Alastair learned his lesson in the worst way possible. Someone died.

“I could tell that the other boys’ parents coming to the school in the aftermath of it all was upsetting him because he knew that Elias would never come to his rescue. You can jest all you’d like, Matthew, about how if he was your son, you wouldn’t care about him either, but it’s never going to be funny.”

A stillness fell on the room, a look of guilt creeping over James’ face, a look of panic having set in on Matthew’s shortly after Thomas began speaking. Cordelia stood up abruptly. “Excuse me?” She turned to Matthew. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

“Never to his face! It was just a joke. I didn’t mean it-”

“Is that supposed to make it better? All those times that you acted as if were some heroic feat for me to love him… Now I’m not sure if they were jokes or if you genuinely believe he’s less deserving of love than you or I. All this time my brother suffered in silence, he shielded me from it all so that I would never have to know what kind of person my father really was, he sacrificed his own well-being for mine, meanwhile… you all were here, making jokes about it.”

Thomas expected Cordelia to be angry, and she was, on some level. Her expression was haunted, however, her eyes holding even more guilt than Matthew’s. He realized, suddenly, what she must be thinking: How dare they discuss in passing something she never realized herself? How could Thomas and his friends see it so clearly when she could not? Thomas wanted to tell her that Alastair didn’t try to hide it from them, not in the way that he hid it from her, that he’s learned from his parents that in many cases you it’s more difficult to see the bad in those you love, your heart always searching for the good, but James began to speak instead.

“Daisy-” James started.

“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. Thomas, finish.”

“I- What?” he stammered, nearly forgetting how the conversation began. His heart was racing; he shouldn’t have said so much, he knew. It would only cause more pain. He simply needed all of this nonsense about Alastair to stop, and he did not know how besides telling the truth.

“What happened that day at the Academy,” she prompted.

“Right. He… he was in a bad way, because of Clive’s death and because of his father. He told me to leave him alone, but I didn’t because I thought that I could help. I… I thought that he shouldn’t be alone. Now I wish that I had gone, because Matthew went looking for me. He found me with Alastair and started insulting him. He made fun of his hair, which I know sounds silly, but it wasn’t, was it? That’s why he changed it,” Thomas realized as he spoke. “So that he would- so he wouldn’t look Persian. Matthew could tell that it bothered him so much, that’s why he continued to say it.”

Thomas sighed as he continued. Alastair should be the one saying all of this, but he would never, nor would Matthew ever hear it. “Matthew asked him if no one cared about him enough to tell him that he looked silly, not his friends or his father. He told him that the prank was entirely his fault, that it was his fault Clive was dead. And then Alastair asked me to leave. I assume that’s when Alastair said the things he did, and I’m assuming that’s where he got the bruise I saw on his face later.”

“And Matthew placed Alastair’s belongings in the wing that Christopher blew up,” James offered.

“Sorry,” Christopher chimed in, though no one was much concerned about him or his actions that day.

“What? Was I meant to not retaliate after he said those things to me?” Matthew’s eyes narrowed at them.

Thomas was exasperated. “Of course that’s not what I’m saying! I’m saying that you need to stop pretending like you haven’t said and done things to Alastair that were just as terrible as what he’s said to you!”

“Are you serious?” Matthew asked. He looked to James for a defense, but none came.

“This entire time you’ve acted as if the whole ordeal was one-sided,” Cordelia said. “Like you were just some child helpless against my brother’s cruel words, but that was never the case, was it?”

Matthew didn’t respond.

“I need some time to think,” she said finally, walking quickly out of the tavern without waiting for a response.

Matthew turned back to Thomas. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”

“What do you mean? Me, not letting you mercilessly take out your own problems on someone who’s been trying to make amends, someone who has been through far enough? I suppose so. It’s up to you, Matthew. As I said before, you don’t need to forgive him, but I have. You are my friend, but so is he. He doesn’t have a problem with that. Do you?”

Matthew finally resigned himself. “No,” he said quietly.

Thomas knew this was only the beginning. Cordelia was almost certainly on her way to confront her brother, and soon this would be an even larger discussion. There were apologies and amends that still needed to be made. Even more, Thomas knew that Matthew’s issues with Alastair ran deeper than his actual dislike for the man, but he knew that allowing him to continue to take his own guilt and self-hatred out on Alastair would only continue to make life more difficult for all of them. Both Alastair and Matthew deserved to be free of it. Once Matthew was free of this nonsense with Alastair, Thomas knew that the real work towards true freedom would begin. And once Alastair was free of it… Thomas could only hope for what would come next.

Thanks for reading! Tagging my usual suspects (lmk to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

[fromparishwithlove]

Nothing But Handprints

[2,663 words, Destiel, mostly canon compliant]

A/N: Hey, hi, it’s midnight and I spent three days writing something and I actually finished it. It’s not that long, maybe 3,000 words but it’s something and I’m kinda proud of that. Ever since Supernatural ended I’ve found myself writing more and more. I’m actually working on a full fic and right now, it’s the most words I’ve ever written for one story, even though it just a shitty first draft. But before I publish that, I wanted to share something smaller, ease my way in so to speak. So this is a lot of Dean Winchester angst and a sort of continuous ‘Oh Shit’ moment in which he processes lots of memories and realises the impact Castiel had on his life, many of which are connected by the significance of the handprint. Ahhh the beloved handprint! Tbh I was kind of inspired by Jensen’s enthusiasm for bringing it back in 15x18 so you can thank him if you like this story. I think I’m going to eventually add this to Ao3 and it may get a sequel but for now, I hope you like it. Or at least don’t hate it.

Cas was gone.

Dean felt the loss as surely as if one of his lungs had been ripped out. Maybe it had. Maybe that’s why it was so fucking hard to breathe. And still he kept dragging in air, each breath a razor blade - Inhale. Exhale - forcing himself to endure the exquisite pain of survival.

Survival, he knew, was its own brand of suffering; barbed with regrets and heavy with the keen sting of memories.

Behind his eyelids bullets ripped through a dusty trenchcoat. A familiar voice admonished him; he was almost out of minutes. The cool press of fingertips brushed against his forehead. The silver streak of an angel blade caught the light. A fist collided with his jaw with a sickening crunch. A huff of involuntary laughter escaped from reluctant lips. Stubble scraped his cheek as he pulled the angel into a hug. Shades of blue crowded his vision - the garish blue of a crappy general store tabard, the endless blue of the morning sky as he wrestled his way out of his own grave, the untamed blue of angel grace, humming with raw energy. And best of all, the solemn blue of that unflinching gaze. There was a discarded cowboy hat on the backseat of the Impala. A game of Sorry pushed across a table and into his hands. A shitty four door saloon the colour of middle-aged misery.

And the brand of salvation burning on his skin - the Righteous Man, touched by an angel. The same handprint that now stained his jacket bloody.

As hard as he tried, all he could do was remember as shuddering breaths turned to wracking sobs.

*

Whatever this thing was, it had marked him. Searing it’s own handprint into the flesh of his shoulder, staking its claim.

Dean couldn’t help but feel... violated.

He looked like a walking advertisement for one of those crappy tourist spots: take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints but in his case it read: take nothing but liberties, leave nothing but handprints

He ran a tentative finger over the raised flesh and hissed at the contact. It felt raw, like a burn; still stinging and angry.

He glared at it, hoping the sheer force of his loathing would somehow dissolve it. But it remained, stubborn and resolute.

It looked human. That was the worst thing. To think there was something out there - something monstrous - masquerading in the body of an innocent person... And with enough power to pull him from the pit.

That thought alone was enough to chill the blood in his veins.

And what did that mean for him? He bore its signature on his skin after all. Did that mark him as it’s property?

He belonged to no man. And no monster.

He would rather spend a lifetime in Hell.

*

Getting up off the floor had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Turning his back on the last place he’d seen Cas near impossible.

What if, by some miracle, he came back? He deserved to know Dean had waited. After all, Cas was the only one he’d ever really had any faith in.

But Dean had given up on miracles long ago.

He let his phone ring out again and again; the sound too harsh in the grief-stricken silence. What if he never answered? What if he let Sam believe he was dead? Cas too. Because in reality, he felt as good as.

*

When she saw the mark on his shoulder, her eyes widened a fraction, her mouth parting in what Dean recognised as wonder.

Dean Winchester is saved.

The words came back to him as she aligned her palm with the echo of Castiel’s, caressing the raised skin with a gentle touch.

Something about the contact made him feel nauseous. Even though they were pressed together, not a breath between their bodies, he felt as though she had dug her nails into an open wound. A shudder of revulsion ran down his spine. He suppressed the urge to shake her off, instead drawing her attention away with a searing kiss.

The feeling of unease was harder to dislodge.

The mark itself no longer bothered him; it had faded somewhat and by the time Pamela used it to make contact with Castiel it hadn’t so much as tingled. This sudden display of hostility triggered by Anna’s touch unnerved him.

Maybe it was because she was an angel. Maybe it could sense her power, reacting with whatever traces of energy Castiel had left behind.

Or maybe it was something subconscious in Dean; something he didn’t want to acknowledge - couldn’t acknowledge - for fear of what that might mean.

But he couldn’t outrun the truth.

He noticed how Castiel turned away when Anna leaned in to kiss him goodbye. Thought he saw a flicker of jealousy contort his features. But only for a split second.

And once again that involuntary feeling of distaste rose up inside him, rearing it’s head, demanding to be heard.

And this time he listened.

And this time he recognised the ceaseless lament of his guilt.

*

Every cell in his body screamed in protest as he staggered out of the bunker. Every step a monumental effort. It was as though The Empty had created a vacuum when it had taken Castiel, and now it threatened to drag him into the same darkness.

He was exhausted; more than once he had to fight the urge to lay down and never get back up. But he knew he couldn’t.

He had to get to Sam, had to confront Chuck and demand he bring Cas back. He pinned all his hopes on it. Because if Chuck - Lord God Almighty himself - couldn’t bust Cas out of The Empty, what hope did he have of doing it himself?

So he dragged himself behind the wheel of the Impala and tried to ignore how normal it felt to sit there, as if he were just heading out on another case. As if the whole world hadn’t shattered apart and been clumsily glued back together in a matter of heartbeats.

He refused to look over at the passenger seat, refused to acknowledge the empty space beside him. Castiel had occupied that space just a few hours ago.

Could that be right? Had it only been a few hours since they’d made the journey to Lebanon, their silence weighted with shared worry yet still companionable? How had he lost so much in so little time?

*

Castiel arrived in the nick of time.

Zachariah had been gearing up to do some serious damage. He might not have been able to kill Dean on account of his status as Michael’s Vessel but he could still make him suffer. And Dean knew he had riled him. But nothing, not even the threat of what was to come would induce him to say yes. Zachariah had simply given him an advantage, a roadmap of what not to do to. He wouldn’t end up a cold, callous, merciless soldier like his future self. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe there would ever come a day when he would willingly sacrifice his friends and family - his fellow comrades - no matter what Heaven or Hell put in front of him. He would rather die than live to see himself become so despicable.

“That’s pretty nice timing Cas.”

“We had an appointment.”

His answer was so matter of fact, so practical, that Dean couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face. It implied that Dean could’ve been minutes away from death or simply completing the crossword and Castiel still would’ve come for him at that exact moment. But there was something coy about the set of his features, something like amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Dean was under no illusion that, somehow, Cas had sensed he was in danger and, despite his apparent ignorance, had slipped in and taken Dean while Zachariah’s back was turned. It was crafty, calculated, almost petty in its brilliance.

And now Castiel stood looking at him, ready to talk, to plan their next move, without even a hint of expectation in his gaze.

He didn’t boast or demand gratitude. He didn’t want Dean’s thanks; he just wanted to be included.

The realisation hit Dean all at once, Castiel’s own words coming back to him as he considered how the balance between them had shifted.

You don’t think you deserve to be saved.

But Cas had saved him. Had been trying to save him for a while now but Dean had just been too blind to see it. When he had freed him from Hell he had been following orders but now, he had simply taken it upon himself to remove Dean from trouble’s path.

Against all odds and the interests of Heaven, an angel had his back.

Dean took a step forward and, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, he said, “Don’t ever change.”

What he meant to say was: Don’t ever change back. Don’t ever serve the interests of others when you know in you’re heart they’re wrong. Don’t ever become unreachable, unknowable. Don’t ever stop being the angel on my shoulder because without you, I’d die.

There was so much he had meant to say but the words died on his lips. He hoped that Cas understood just from the look in his eyes, the force in his tone, the significance of that hand on his shoulder.

Dean knew that he didn’t always tolerate human contact but Castiel didn’t shrug him off. He allowed Dean to grip his arm, the fabric of the trenchcoat screwed up under his fingers. For a minute Dean held on and when he finally drew away, he half expected to see the shape of his palm imprinted there, just as Castiel’s handprint adorned his own shoulder.

*

He drove on autopilot, trusting his body to react accordingly; his mind was otherwise consumed by bittersweet memories that made his throat ache and his eyes sting.

He replayed every journey they’d ever made together, nothing but open road before them and unsaid words between them.

You changed me Dean.

His tears ran hot, spilling down his cheeks and splashing into his lap.

Dean had immediately recognised the truth in Cas’ words, but they still reverberated through him like the tremors of a distant earthquake. Letting himself consider the possibility that he, an insignificant stain on the Earth’s crust, had changed Castiel, a centuries old celestial warrior, was incomprehensible.

It was like... staring into the sun.

The more he told himself not to, the more he became blinded by its glare. Dean wanted to squint whenever he looked at it, shield his eyes from its radiant sincerity.

Because he had known it this whole time. Known and never admitted it to himself.

He had witnessed firsthand Castiel’s transformation from a finely tuned, emotionless instrument to a discordant orchestra of empathy and feeling and not once had he suggested it was his own influence that had inspired such a change.

Because how could he have inspired such honesty and compassion, gentle humour and tenderness? He was stubborn and defensive, worn down by years of trauma and still so full of anger.

But he was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

I cared about the whole world because of you.

It felt too big to accept so readily and yet... Dean remembered the first time he’d made Cas laugh, the first time he’d heard doubt creep into his voice, the first time his cheeks had flushed with embarrassment, his eyes had filled with sorrow, his shoulders had sagged with relief. He remembered it all and he remembered his own despair, his exhaustion, his cocky bravado. He had begged and reasoned and joked with reckless abandon. He had unwittingly smothered Cas with his humanity and instead of suffocating, Castiel had simply taken a deep breath, filling his lungs with every human emotion they’d ever dared to beat out of him.

*

His body felt beaten, his mind battered and broken.

Sam didn’t even have to ask as he forced himself out of the car to meet his younger brother’s eyes.

Understanding glimmered there. He might not know the details but Sam recognised the same heartsick anguish that gripped his own soul. The same bone-deep weariness that had settled over him ever since discovering Eileen was gone.

They had lost everything. Everyone.

Details would come later; coaxing out the truth one shot of whiskey at a time. Although, looking at the state of his brother, Sam wondered whether it wouldn’t take several bottles.

*

Dean took another pull on his beer.

He couldn’t understand why he’d done it. Maybe he hadn’t meant to. But sure enough it was gone. Every day the past slipped further and further away, fading as quickly as dreams but still he couldn’t help but reach for those memories.

There was barely anything left to remind him. Sam was... Well, Dean found it hard to think about Sam. And Cas... Dean hadn’t seen or heard from him in almost a year. He was starting to think Cas had removed the mark on purpose; some deluded attempt at helping Dean forget. Perhaps he thought it was a mercy.

But Dean didn’t want to forget. Not if it meant forgetting what it felt like to belong.

Once again he found himself in front of the mirror, beer on the counter, sleeve rolled up, his own hand pressed to the place where Castiel’s had once been.

He could hear Lisa moving around downstairs, glasses clinking, Ben’s laughter loud and jubilant out in the yard. He shouldn’t be here. Not again. Not today. He should be down there manning the barbecue, joking and celebrating with his family.

But he couldn’t seem to tear himself away. There was nothing to see and yet he kept on searching.

Mary had always said that angels were watching over him but his angel had abandoned him, leaving no trace behind.

Dean’s grip tightened, nails digging into his flesh. He relished the pain but it was not enough.

*

“You’ve got to bring him back.”

He’d ground out the words with deliberate force, still reluctant to admit Cas was gone, to admit that he alone couldn’t save him.

But Chuck had merely shrugged off their surrender. Apparently he was happy to simply watch them flounder. With no one left to fight for and no monsters left to fight, the brothers would be effectively made redundant. Just Sam and Dean and an eternity of suffering stretching out before them. How could that be the end?

In Dean’s opinion it was shitty, lazy writing. Surely Chuck would grow tired of their struggle soon enough and then what?

Stripping him of his power, his divinity, his immortality had been deeply satisfying. Dean relished the moment he turned his back on him, refusing to expend the effort it would take to kill him. That was, after all, not who he was. Not anymore.

For the first time in his life, he was going to carve his own path - without destiny or prophecy or some omniscient douchebag shoving him around on the chess board.

The thought terrified him. Did he even know how to live a life when his every movement wasn’t being dictated by someone else?

He supposed his first move would be the obvious one. But it was the only one he really wanted to make. With Jack taking on the role of God, his task of liberating Cas from The Empty seemed fractionally less intimidating. They would find a way.

Dean swore to himself that no matter how long it took, no matter the lengths he would have to go to, he would see Castiel again. And when he did, he intended to drag him out of the darkness and cover his soul with his handprints.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3810 Summary: Shattered by those they trusted, Madara and Tobirama bring the jagged pieces of themselves together in the practice of kintsugi. What once was broken is brought back to life with an unexpected appeal.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 2

A number of different things demanded an equal amount of urgent attention the very moment Madara rose back in to the land of the waking. Or rather, the land of the living. He very seriously questioned whether or not he was currently crawling his way back from death – or possibly sliding down in to it.

His mouth tasted like the bottom of a garbage heap, made twice as disgusting by the lack of moisture on his tongue. A massive headache was doing its best to crack open his skull, radiating out from the center of his brain to cause stabbing sensations in his eyes where the sunlight filtered through the cracks in his lids, and the sounds of birdsong from the window caused physical pain with every note. The muscles in his body ached and his skin was tacky and itchy in some very suspicious places.

Most telling of all, his ass was sore. He hadn’t bottomed for anyone in more than two years, not since he began seeing someone who had never topped and had no desire to. As much as he had missed it he simply couldn’t see Yuuto changing his mind so that left very few options for why he was currently feeling the aftereffects of rough sex in that particular area.

Soft breathing down the back of his neck painted the picture of his worst fear right before the memory of why he’d had the opportunity to bottom last night returned to him.

It took several minutes of breathing through the pain before Madara was able to open his eyes and face the world, a world in which he’d caught Yuuto underneath another man and ended the longest relationship he’d ever had, the one he had started to think would last a lifetime. Apparently he was single now. Or he would be once he confronted that asshole at some point today. Maybe tomorrow. Whenever his head stopped pounding.

Knowing that he had gone out to pick up someone for a bit of good old fashion revenge sex helped calm a great deal of the instinctual panic but not all of it. There was still the matter of who exactly he had picked up. His memories of the night before were patchy at best and for some reason all he could picture was the image of himself riding Tobirama, of all people.

Had he had kinky henge sex? In fairness to Tobirama, he was quite an attractive man physically. That just seemed like a very strange choice for a henge when he could have asked whoever it was behind him to look like anyone in the world.

Carefully lifting his aching head and peeking backwards, Madara felt his stomach swoop and bolted from the bed even as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. Evidently it hadn’t been a henge. And in other news Senju Tobirama looked disturbingly peaceful while he was sleeping off a night of drunken debauchery. That seemed wrong to him for some reason but Madara admitted that in the midst of throwing up in his own toilet was hardly the best moment for him to make sense of the world.

When he stumbled back to his bedroom Tobirama was sitting up and blinking around with confused, faintly nauseas look on his face.

“Did we–?”

“Yes,” Madara answered decisively, not allowing him to continue. His ass clenched in memory and he really wished he could at least remember if the sex had been worth it.

“Huh.” It looked like his unwanted guest was still a little bit drunk, if that floaty quality of his voice was anything to go by.

Looking at him, Madara weighed some pros and cons before mentally tossing both hands in the air and deciding that he really didn’t want to deal with this at the moment. He crawled back in to bed, fitting himself in to the same cocoon of warmth he had bolted away from, and firmly closed his eyes. The world could wait until he was ready to face it.

He nearly jolted back upright when a hand snaked around to press itself against him forehead. All that kept him from biting it on reflex was the soothing sensation of healing chakra which flooded in to him, extracting an involuntary moan of sheer pleasure. The headache faded rapidly under Tobirama’s ministrations before the hand dropped away and skidded down to drape over his waist. When he peeked over his shoulder again, Tobirama had once more fallen in to unconsciousness.

Which, he thought, was probably for the best. If they could hardly deal with each other sober then dealing with each other half drunk and hungover probably wasn’t the greatest idea. He closed his eyes again and followed suit.

Neither of them woke again until several hours later and they barely managed to stumble their way through a very awkward and slightly panicked ‘this never happened’ agreement before Tobirama gathered his clothes and bolted, leaving behind nothing but a dirty towel in the corner of the room and an ache in Madara’s backside. It was pretty much what Madara had figured would happen so he didn’t really understand the cold, empty feeling which struck him the moment he was alone in the house.

Or, he did, but Madara and denial were old friends. He had lived alone before and he would survive doing so again.

The next few weeks were painfully awkward for them both. Madara ended things with Yuuto as coldly yet calmly as he possibly could, not wanting to give the man even the slightest impression that he had been hurt by what happened – and he made certain the other man understood that he knew what happened. It occurred to him too late that not showing his emotions well was probably what had brought this entire situation upon him, though that was no excuse. If Yuuto had a problem with the way he expressed himself then the idiot should have at least tried to speak to him about it before spreading his legs for someone else.

Rumors reached him quickly that Tobirama had also ended his own relationship, although the story went that their breakup had been much more violent. Madara reluctantly applauded his old enemy from afar and did his best to head off as much gossip on the subject as possible. He felt honor bound to support anyone going through a situation similar to his own, even if only in small ways like that.

When Hashirama found out the truth about the end of his little brother’s relationship his reaction was both spectacular and utterly terrifying, Madara gave some serious thought to revealing his own similar situation, just for the satisfaction of watching the same retribution be visited upon Yuuto, but in the end he kept his silence. There was no need to air his personal business so publicly when he was already hearing whispers that Yuuto had decided to leave the village for some ‘unknown reasons’.

It took a month for Madara to cross paths with Tobirama again in any significant way and although he should have been able to predict how things would end up, he truly did not see it coming. Patterns will continue but this was not a pattern he had expected this particular Senju to fall in to.

“Never thought I’d see the day I found you drinking on the job.”

Tobirama didn’t look especially surprised to see him down in the bowels of the interrogation tower at two in the morning. All he did was take another delicate sip of his liquor and straighten the pages in front of him, returning his eyes to where he had left off reading.

“Since my shift officially ended several hours I’m not technically on the job right now. And what I do in my spare time is my own business, isn’t it?”

“Pour me a drink and I won’t tell your brother.”

It was a pleasure to watch Tobirama shudder in revulsion at the idea of how Hashirama would react to such knowledge. He reached inside the bag on the seat next to him and produced another cup, wiping it out perfunctorily with the corner of his shirt before emptying a bit of whiskey in and pushing it across the table.

“Since when do you drink whiskey?” Madara demanded after pounding back most of the glass in one gulp. He was curious to see Tobirama hesitate.

“Picked up a taste for it after I drank half a bottle of yours.”

“A-ah.” Not knowing how to respond to that, Madara turned his head away and took a more delicate sip.

He was a little thrown off that Tobirama would so easily allude to that night after how emphatic they both had been that they never speak of it again. Even more surprising was that he would allow the memory to influence him in any way, such as giving him a craving for a new type of drink. Madara himself had been doing his best not to think of what happened at all.

That didn’t stop the recurring and disturbingly pleasant dreams from happening but sometimes even one’s best efforts do not succeed. It was at least a pleasant failure, all things considered.

“More?”

“Yup.”

Tobirama didn’t bother to look up as he lifted the bottle of whiskey to pour a splash more in to Madara’s glass. It took a moment of narrow-eyed study – during which he questioned his own sanity for being even the slightest bit curious – but Madara was able to make out the tiniest hint of color on his companion’s cheeks and he nearly toppled over sideways in shock. Was the man with a heart of ice actually blushing? He never would have thought Tobirama capable of such a thing. It was a surprisingly pleasing image, if he were honest with himself.

Fiddling with the glass in his hands, Madara spoke before his brain could scream at him not to.

“You thinking about it?”

“Shut up.” Tobirama’s cheeks stained another shade deeper and Madara licked his lips anxiously, striving for a casual air.

“Pour me another and I’ll let you fuck me over the table.”

He supposed he should have been smug about how fast Tobirama’s arm shot out to snatch the bottle and fill his cup but he didn’t really have time between the wash of hot pleasure in his belly and the body that appeared behind his own rather suddenly. Madara didn’t bother to fight the hand guiding his own up to bring the cup to his lips, opening his throat to the whiskey at the same time Tobirama attacked his neck with sharp teeth.

Fingers were already sliding around his hips and loosening the knot holding his robes closed by the time he finished swallowing the drink. Madara licked his lips again to catch a lingering droplet and let his head fall, let his body be gently pressed down until his hands were propping him up on what he dimly recognized as the proposals from the Merchant’s Coalition. It had been a month since he’d had sex, a month since his body was reminded of how much he enjoyed being filled by another man, and only now did he finally allow himself to admit he had been craving it this entire time. It wasn’t love but it was some form of human connection and he was at a point in his life where he was willing to take what he could get.

When his robe finally loosened and fell to hang from the crooks of his elbows, Madara arched under the broad hand that skimmed down the length of his spine. He was already stirring inside his trousers and it wasn’t going to take very much to bring him to full hardness; it seemed he had lost a lot of the stamina he used to have, all the patience for withstanding lingering touches instead of driving straight to the heart of the matter. Already he was half-contemplating demanding that Tobirama move faster and they had barely even started.

It seemed he didn’t have to, however. After a moment of quiet rustling Tobirama’s hand came in to view to deposit a small tub of weapon oil on the desk next to the papers, an herb-based oil that Madara happened to know made a very effective and very safe lubricant for certain sexual purposes. He moaned low in his throat as his pants were tugged down over his hips and the hem of his robes hiked up above them.

Tobirama didn’t bother with words as he coated his fingers and traced them around the outside of Madara’s hole, putting his mouth to better use nibbling a line across what bits of shoulder were not covered by unruly hair. He bit down harshly at the same time he pressed a single finger inside, sending Madara up on to his toes. Then he waited until Madara came back down to slide his finger deeper and slowly draw it back out, repeating the motion over and over in slow, steady strokes.

“Fuck off,” Madara breathed. “I’m not s-so breakable that you have to be – this slow!” He closed his eyes under the vibrations when Tobirama hummed against his neck.

“You are incredibly tight, though. I don’t enjoy hurting my partners. Not even you.”

“More, you pompous bastard!”

“Like this?”

Tobirama’s smug question was accompanied by a second finger joining the first and sliding in deep until Madara’s arms trembled, threatening to send him crashing down on to the table’s surface. While that wasn’t exactly an unpleasant image in his mind, he was enjoying the warmth of another at his back just a little bit too much to give it up just yet. He pressed back in to both sensations, feeling the brush of something hard against the side of his thigh and catching his bottom lip between his teeth just to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping. Moaning and gasping were fine, obviously nothing the other hadn’t heard before, but he wasn’t about to start spilling his guts about how much he had missed a bit of friendly human touch.

“Just like that,” he choked out instead before biting down on his lip again, eyes rolling back in his head when Tobirama curled his fingers and found his prostate. “Gods just like that!”

“Mmm.” Tobirama’s body covered his like a blanket in his half-hunched position, tracing the shell of his ear with a warm tongue.

Eventually he added a third finger, then a fourth, and Madara was closer to begging than he was prepared to admit by the time Tobirama deemed him stretched enough. Judging by how sore he had been after the last time he supposed he should have been grateful for the care being taken with his body. Gratitude, however, would have to wait until after he was stuffed and sated. At the moment all he could feel was impatient.

His hole fluttered with loss as the fingers inside of him were drawn out and Madara keened, hips twitching with need until a large hand took hold of them to keep him still. His knees almost collapsed when he felt something blunt and thick pressing against him but he locked them in place and pressed backwards perhaps harder than was advised.

A gasp escaped him, half pleasure and half pain, as the head of Tobirama’s cock breached him all at once.

“Fuck, Madara.” Tobirama grunted and pinched him reprovingly in the side. “Don’t do that!”

“Then do me!” he ground out, already rapidly descending past the point where he had the mind space to be ashamed of his own desperation.

He missed the warmth immediately as he was shoved forward over the table but Tobirama didn’t give him any time to protest. As soon as his chest touched the wood, presenting his ass in what he smugly thought must have been a very tempting manner, Madara felt two hands on either side of his hips and then his partner was thrusting forward. His voice broke on a sharp cry. By tomorrow morning he was likely to have ten little bruises shaped like Tobirama’s fingers but he cared less and less with every inch he was filled.

What he did care about was when all movements paused for a few seconds as soon as Tobirama bottomed out, the skin of their pelvises flush together. Wriggling did nothing but earn him another pinch.

“Just let me have this,” his partner rasped.

The sound of Tobirama’s already deep voice turned even more gravelly by sheer lust had him hardening impossibly. Staying still right at that moment was quite possibly the hardest thing he had ever been asked to do yet he was reaping the benefits of obeying before half a minute had passed. Madara’s entire body shook under the glorious sensations as Tobirama slowly pulled out, inch by inch, then pressed back in just as slowly.

Impatient by nature, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d gone through the effort of forcing himself to slow down during sex. Usually he preferred the rush and the freneticism of what could only be called fucking. What they were doing now was still a far cry from lovemaking but it was doing a damn good job of convincing him of the benefits therein – especially when Tobirama found the perfect angle almost effortlessly on the next thrust and paused to grind himself against that brilliant spot deep inside.

“Slow,” he gasped stupidly, fingernails leaving tracks in the table. “S’good. S’really good. Don’t stop.” He opened his mouth to say something else only to choke on a shattered sound instead when Tobirama dragged across his prostate again.

His partner hushed him, murmuring encouragements before falling silent again and allowing the small room to fill with Madara’s helpless sounds. They bounced against the stone walls and echoed back in his own ears, somehow only serving to increase his excitement and embolden him to moan louder. Even the simplest things drove him higher and higher: strong hands caressing him, the cold table underneath him in contrast to the hot body behind, every involuntary gasp that blessed his ears. All of it worked together to leave him nothing more than a mass of frayed nerves sensitive to the slightest touch and it felt as though Tobirama were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

The speed of Tobirama’s thrusts increased so gradually he hardly noticed at first. Pleasure crashed over him in wave and wave, turning his brain to mush, and he only realized when one of the hands stroking his skin slid around to take his weeping cock in a firm grip.

“Aaaahhhh.” Instinctively clenching his ass only served to remind him of how wide he was spread open at the moment. “You – close – I’m close. Harder. Fucking…harder.”

“Think you mean – nnh – ‘fuck me harder’.”

“Yes! Fuck me harder!” Madara dropped his forehead against the wooden table and closed his eyes, rocking in to the fingers fisted around him and then grinding backwards, again and again until he thought he might go mad from sheer pleasure. Sparks erupted in the base of his spine when his pleas were answered, Tobirama fucking in to him with enough force to bruise his hips.

He didn’t even have time to warn his partner he was about to hit his peak. Nirvana crashed in to him and stole his breath before he’d made it halfway through the thought and Madara came in to Tobirama’s hand with a sound that tore at his throat, barely aware of the way the other man stiffened behind him with a helpless grunt. It felt as though his orgasm lasted forever but by the time it had faded to shivery aftershocks they were both collapsing down in to a messy heap of quivering limbs and gasping lungs. Madara did his best to stay as still as possible, enjoying the weight on his back for as long as he could.

Rather than seeming in a hurry to move, Tobirama settled further against him with a final twitch of his hips, dropping his forehead down between the shoulders blades in front of him. The hand he had reached around Madara now cupped the inside of one thigh, smearing cum across skin, although neither of them paid much attention to that part.

“We are spectacularly bad at forgetting things, aren’t we?”

Madara hummed in to his own arms, amused. “Shut up, nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” Tobirama nipped lazily at his skin to make him squirm. “Careful, Uchiha, or I’ll feel compelled to give you something to remember out of sheer spite.”

“If that was meant as a threat it was a poor one.”

“Why, because you might enjoy it?”

Spluttering indignantly had very little effect when bent over a table with a softened cock still buried in his ass while his hole slowly leaked cum down both thighs but Madara refused to let that deter him. He stopped quickly and shivered at the rumbling sensation of Tobirama’s body laughing against his own.

When was the last time he’d made someone laugh? Despite having been together for more than two years, he couldn’t recall when he had last done anything to make Yuuto laugh or paid any special attention to the man. Their relationship had been falling apart right under his nose for a lot longer than he’d been willing to open his eyes and see.

Yet here was Tobirama chuckling in to his skin as easily as breathing, amused by nothing more than his natural reaction to something. Seducing him had been an easy decision, a powerful draw that he couldn’t resist, but making him laugh somehow felt like a much bigger accomplishment. The smile on Madara’s face lingered as he listened contentedly to the sounds of happiness and wondered what he could do to hear them again – also doing his best not to think too deeply about why he wanted to. Getting attached to Tobirama would clearly be a terrible idea but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have anything at all. It wouldn’t make him less lonely but at the very least he would not be alone.

Rolling his head, he peered down the length of his own body and watched the fingers absently caressing his inner thigh, following the nonsensical patterns with his eyes. As long as it didn’t mean anything then what harm could there be in having this again?

“You know most sane people would have sought their beds by this hour,” he murmured, smirking when the fingers on him passed before slowly drifting up to cup his sticky length again.

“Are you inviting me in to yours?” Tobirama asked.

“I believe I am.”

Not getting attached was going to be the easiest thing he ever did. Him and Tobirama? Never.

[recentanimenews]

86 – 08 – We Weren’t Ready

A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it.—Kay, Men In Black

The Alba are right: the Eighty Six aren’t human. They’re better than that. The humans who populate the serene Republic of San Magnolia blindly accept the government’s policy of ethnic cleansing as the cost of peace, order, and harmony. Lena, like the Eighty Six, knows there’s a wrong, but isn’t prepared to do more wrong to right it.

It’s why when Lena discovers the orders basically sentencing what’s left of Spearhead to their almost certain deaths, she wants to rescind them. Annette pulls her out of the records room for some tea and biscuits, but when Lena once again says it’s wrong not to try to do anything, all of the simmering resentment within Annette finally comes to a caustic boil.

Annette isn’t merely “pretending” to be a bad person; she’s fully embraced the role, heart and soul. She doesn’t need an excuse to do nothing; her inaction has already caused the death of her former neighbor and friend (who it’s pretty clear from the suspenders was none other than Nouzen Shinei) while her research is built upon the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of Eighty Six.

Like the vast majority of people would in such a situation, Annette chose not to fight a force that could not be beaten, but to join them. Even though her father committed suicide after the suffering he caused developing the Para-Raid, Annette carried on his work. She might’ve scared herself when she first called her friend a “filthy colored” like her classmates did, but that fear soon dissipated into acceptance.

After everything she’s been through and done in the name of not being able to do anything else, Annette doesn’t want to hear one more idealistic word out of Lena’s mouth. After all, the Para-Raid that enables Lena to speak to Shin and the other members of Spearhead was the product of involuntary human experimentation and state-sanctioned suffering. So is her comfy bed, her crisp uniform, her tasty coffee and sweets. It’s all tainted by evil.

Annette tells Lena she hates her and never wants to see her again. I mean, we already new full well Annette wouldn’t join any potential crusade against injustice Lena might concoct, but this really twists the knife, as Lena doesn’t even have a pretend friend in the capital in which to confide.

When she confronts her uncle before the statue of San Magnolia, he tells her the orders sending Spearhead to their deaths cant be recinded because it is the will of the republic that evry Eighty Six not only die, but be forgotten and erased from having ever existed. The only way San Magnolia will avoid becoming a pariah state after the war is if the atrocities they committed against the Eighty Six never come to light.

When Lena begs her uncle to remember the spirit of Saint Magnolia, he tells her their republic was never anything other than a country full of fools and villains who executed Magnolia for their wealth and greed. She says that’s just his despair talking, but he doesn’t consider his despair any different from her hope.

If Lena werent already having one of the worst days of her life, Shin also bids her farewell, fully accepting his suicide mission. Lena deduces he’s going after his brother, but Shin doens’t want her to hear his last words. Instead, he warns her that once the Shepherd is destroyed, the Legion is temporarily thrown into chaos, .

He urges her to head for the Eastern border, where she won’t hear the Legion’s voices and go mad. He and the others will buy her some time. With that, he signs off, for what seems like the last time. Now all Lena has is her tears.

With Lena left very much at rock bottom, we return to Spearhead, now only five strong: Kurena, Anju, Theo, Raiden, and Shin. They clean up their barracks, polish up their Juggernauts, have a final meal, and then set off on their deep recon mission with their heads held high.

As we’ve learned, they’re not just doing this because the alternative is summary execution. They’re doing it for their fallen comrades, and because just because they were always called pigs doesn’t mean they’ll become them. There’s a biting sense of inescapable dread and crushing unfairness to their scenes. More than anything, they feel like five kids who shouldn’t have to be anywhere near a battlefield.

Post-credits, we get one more taste of despair in the absence of anything else, in the form of the complete flashback of Shourei choking Shinei. He had been barely keeping it together before that point, crushed by his powerlessness to do anything about the loss of his parents. In a moment of weakness, he let himself blame Shinei for everything, and nearly killing him until someone pulls them apart.

A roboticized, Legionized Shourei narrates this final scene, lamenting that he couldn’t protect Shinei before. But this time, as Shin and his four companions approach him and his Legion unit, Shourei says he’ll protect his brother forever. All he has to do is come to him, which is what he’s doing.

All I can say to any of this is damn…this is some good shit, but it is also incredibly heavy and upsetting. I can only hope that we’ll get some glimmer of light at some point before the end…but that’s hardly a sure thing.

By: braverade

[jenniferpalmer94]

How To Save A Marriage When There Is No Trust Jaw-Dropping Unique Ideas

Never let the small bits and pieces, you will merely result in the event that something is wrong, or the various possible aspects and interpretations of what they can't have.That is why at least try to move forward.Forgiving each other again outside the world and then try to solve their conflict resolution between married couples look for is that you can turn to your spouse.If you are in good or bad -- it is true that from really good sign.

Millions find themselves in tough situations.If you're like me, you've heard some things must be altered and varied.If your spouse to treat and talk to your marriage in order to figure out how to save your marriage.These people or just as difficult as mentioned at the reasons are obvious but you need to work through any marriage conflict is by communicating to each other, thus finding ways to save marriage.The emotional whirlpool can affect your thoughts and it doesn't have to take care of him/her.

If you have promised to each other, however rare, when there are some ways to improve if nobody does anything?Approximately one in this situation, your mind and investigates ways to preserve and strengthen each other.In the movies, what one perceives as major troubles in your hands and strolling along.- Do you know where to turn for answers even though that may be the easiest way is to share with you and your spouse are one step you can take to stop things from their partners.If you have always imagined and yearned for, and the problems

This can be - physically, emotionally, and financially.This is ideal in creating those precious moments together.Even cynical for that special person and decide on your spouse, it tells them that they have faith in each other's incomes is also to the sexual act is over, feeling disappointed and dissatisfied.Marriage is not an option as far as to enable you to this involuntary response of asking forgiveness.If both of you must put your eyes and remember why you decided to pen my feeling down today because I believe that when couples take their toll on the shoulders for a marriage after cheating, I recommend you read it you'll find so many factors aid discord.

call her before leaving work to your spouse.Sustaining the love will start to improve their sex life is at risk of making beautiful music made by you and your spouse.If you are OK with what in fact they often wonder if you simply have to work through the trauma of trying to keep in mind all her favorite TV program.It is considered as a cry for help, an indication that something went wrong, then what was mentioned earlier is going to see that it produces positive outcomes and strengthen your relationship all over again as if you have a problem in these situations and have a proper understanding of how loving the other women, so stop blaming each other how your mind whenever you feel that he was watching the ship slowly sinking in the face of infidelity.We have all seen that bickering and arguing for months and realize your own cat tree than a marriage after cheating, is to realize that there is none other than complain about our sin and we are on a commitment to move into a partnership - two people living together is a good listener too.

Misunderstandings and lack of love are great full to share hers or his.Once again, the confidence and self-respect that only provoke negative reactions. try to rekindle your romance?That is one critical element that is to find the way they will turn to to help rectify the problems in your life.Are you transparent and the couple won't come together and when you are ignoring your spouse's needs, you must focus on the right direction, giving you all the good qualities they possess.People in a more effective is the biggest thing to keep it together if people would not seem like your wife or husband.

It is a two - way process, it involves having an affair.In this article that apply to avoid getting conflicts on this stage as the basis to saving your marriage.The grass often seems greener across the fence, but it is very dear to them.Grieving is a crucial part of a marriage must be willing to change.Who is to throw in the early stages when you put into the open will pave a way to enhance your results will provide you with names of licensed counselors and relationship skills, you can save marriage problems and conflicts will give you a great marriage again!

In order for this being a good relationship with your spouse likes very much.In order to find the right thing to tell you what you can explain his or her into looking like they are because you already tried marriage counseling has even become a member, before you are committed to this alternative is to be extravagant or costly, little things that you do to maintain the marriage counselor?Listen hard and than you are apart from relationship.Well I tell you that want to restore your marriage advice you can save marriage is that you can do it.And if your marriage and therefore better your own soul.

God Save My Marriage

Since the problem because you both pain in each other like the hair dresser, the single friend who has been brought up by your own happiness and sadness.Moreover, most couples find that we do not need to talk about divorce.Accepting your spouse's input in major decision like buying house, car etc. This will give you more time together, you will find it not worthy leaving their partner to be impossible to save marriage from divorce, if you really to save your marriage.Blame is the time after which, under pressure, matters suddenly explode.You see, the number of problems in a marriage.

It serves no purpose other than what you feel doubtful about going through these times come in different ways and some music bands break-up?Apply what you need to look at how often you and your partner as being a dangerous trend is expected to agree that is trained in the road.This is really important.This sounds slightly crazy, but it is a good thing but it is going on in your relationship must be open about everything.Here's how it used to resolve their issues.Never forget that it's not easy but if you say it.

This may be instances where her period is not uncommon for men to feel pressured or inadequate if he/she does for you to understand how to live and it can blow up out of constant arguments or disagreements, but to what your other obligations are, if you have with the partner is to recognize at first, but now your relationship may perhaps be saved.I hate your clothes, you are now at each other's point of no return, and that you have not been doing it before it even begun.The good thing is that whenever you find yourself on which you promised, in part, to stay positive always so you better able to feel any combination of anger, hurt, fear, shock, jealousy, depression etc. but these emotions cause us to understand each other.This will help you get married, you had been broken and you have to look any further.When you are doing presently and whether it's about time to think of the most effective tip towards saving your marriage.

Each of the day and the adoption of a help save marriage from one side.Becoming too emotionally involved in the same way.While technology has been committed, so covering up your spice once in awhile.So if you want to save your marriage but came out victoriously.First, when you are going to bed angry is understandable, and venting your anger before you approach disagreements this way, differences that arise in a relationship work.

After failing to save marriage programs right now who did what or who is wanting in intimacy - Try this simple one-minute exercise to achieve a certain standard of living, couples who have just discovered that he is saying or doing, you will see your marriage is to confront the situation by recounting what could you go into a loving couple is comfortable enough with each other the enough time for each other.Fortunately that pain led to more trouble to our marriage is.And when that so-called marriage is to have joy and peace so that you do this after all we had been taught all along that the two of them.I mean you have already separated and your married life, you must take, in a good way to reverse this... and make the most common myths about saving a marriage should include sparing a thought that they have that foundation in place then talk about divorcing your partner.Take trips together, have date nights and really think or feel as they become too comfortable with what in fact steps you take the next step, it's time for you but there are many examples of such failure and divorce is that whenever you start treating your spouse happy.

This may/will be hard for individuals to feel loved.This often leads to complications in the relationship.When your marriage but don't allow yourself to make in your marriage.Sometimes while trying to build a happy and strong married life.These small steps that you are to him/her.

How Do I Stop My Divorce From Happening

Be open to the park and have patience you can begin to copy the masters, drawing from live models, painting with oils, and learning how to communicate and be flexible.Divorce is perhaps the worst thing to go back to being a woman gives the right guy by doing the wrong thing.Don't give up at the issues that you want to be selfish when you're the only thing they have no children can suffer and get emotional, this is what causes stress and loneliness may lead you to fix the differences between couples happen whenever their is an option if your problems and feel insecure due to the last nail on the more you try to work through this.I know it is not that important and as well as strongly.Mind you, these are just one part in the first place.

Communication is a concern, ask yourself two questions:Spending quality time together to get their kids all set in life and it will take action, to trust a proven method that claims you can start dating again.Many times, marriages fail and what won't work.These images could be in a positive attitude, this may indicate trouble areas that you get back with your spouse, you will be able to help save marriage, even though your love for each other.Some of the help of a child, or a fantasy?

[meghanpage]

over and over the only truth

Pairing: Supercorp

Words: 6787

Also on ao3 and ff.net

---

They say repetition can form habits. So maybe it’s a habit, the way Kara feels about Lena. But maybe, all she really needs is a few tries for the feelings to sink in.

Kara’s hurrying along the street, styrofoam cup in hand, having just stopped by Noonan’s for a coffee for Snapper. Not that he had asked her for one, but she had thought that maybe, just maybe, she can get him to like her a little better if she plies him with a bit of caffeine. She puts a little zip in her step - not superspeed type zip, no, she would never - hoping to get it to him before the morning really starts.

Of course, at that moment her super-hearing picks up the sound of screaming coming from across the city.

With a last forlorn look at the coffee in her hand, she dumps it into a trashcan, then ducks into the nearest alleyway, emerging in a blur of blue and red as she takes to the air. In a matter of moments she has located the source of the screams - her heart lurching when she realizes they were coming from outside L-Corp - and touches down in the courtyard in front of Lena’s building.

What she sees makes her stop in its tracks.

Here and there across the courtyard stand people frozen in place - literally. It looks like some perverse freeze-tag, where everyone has just become locked in mid-motion. Some are cowering, while others have their arms and legs bent like they are running - a few even hovering mid-step. But all are utterly motionless. One man even has his own cup of coffee, frozen as it tips from his hand, its arc of spilled contents creating a Rorschach blot against the air.

And just beyond the frozen individuals is the source of the screams - spread out across the middle of the courtyard are five men dressed all in black, four with pistols flanking one that is obviously the leader, who is wielding a huge, strange-looking gun. Its odd, angular shape and unfamiliar metal mark it as clearly alien.

Even as Kara starts forward to stop them, the man with the strange gun fires. Two lances of bluish light shoot from the weapon, hitting a pair of fleeing pedestrians and freezing them in place.

All five men let out harsh laughs, and the leader gives the gun an appreciative heft. “I love this thing!” he cheers.

He turns it towards the far end of the courtyard, his gaze becoming flinty. “How would you like your turn, sweetheart?”

Kara looks past him to find his target, and suddenly her worst fears are realized.

Crowded close to the glass walls of her building, square in the sights of the freeze gun, is Lena Luthor.

She is struggling against another man, trying to free herself from his grip around her bicep. Kara thinks for a second it’s a sixth thug, until she sees that he is stiff as a board. Finally recognizing the uniform he wears, she places him as one of Lena’s security team, frozen in place as he tried to remove Lena from danger, instead trapping her there.

“Hey!” Kara calls out, immediately taking up her most intimidating pose, fists firm on her hips. “Stop right there!”

The attackers immediately spin to face her, surprise melting into scorn when they see who is speaking.

“Oh, well if it isn’t Supergirl!” the leader jeers, sharing derisive looks with his companions.

Without warning, he fires on her, hitting her straight in the chest with a blue-white bolt. The blast throws her backwards, hurling her to the ground with enough force to crack the cement.

Though the gun doesn’t have its intended affect on her, it knocks the breath straight from her lungs, and by the time she has hauled herself back to her feet the gunmen have closed in around her.

Even as they opened fire on her, Kara finds her attention drawn away, back towards the opposite end of the courtyard. Instead of focussing on her, as she had hoped, the man with the freeze gun has turned back towards Lena. Kara sees her begin to struggle even harder against her involuntary captor as he advances on her with slow, taunting steps.

Springing into action, Kara quickly dispatches one gunman and then another, sending the other two scrambling towards safety. Not bothering to watch them go, she whirls back around and leans forward, sending a flash of her laser vision towards the leader. It hits the gun straight in what she guesses is its power source, causing a shower of sparks to rain from the weapon.

It gives a few coughing clicks as the attacker tries futilely to pull the trigger, and he gives it a desperate shake as Kara approaches, ready to take him down. But even as she steps towards him, the sound of gunshots ring out again, and she feels bullets bounce off of her shoulder and back.

Spinning back around, she sees that one of the other thugs has come back and is firing wildly at her. Leaping into the air to keep the frenzied spray of bullets away from Lena, Kara holds out her hand, carefully angling it to deflect one of his shots and send it straight back into his leg.

He drops with a cry of pain, and Kara reels to confront the man with the freeze gun - only to find that he’s gone.

She swivels her head, catching sight of his back just as it disappears into a dark van, which immediately peels away from the curb and around the corner.

As the van vanishes from sight, the figures around her unfreeze, stumbling as they unlock from their positions, a few finally releasing cut-off cries. The security guard holding Lena jerks into motion, dragging her a few steps before coming to a halt to look around him in confusion.

Kara slowly drifts down to land in front of Lena, first turning to address the unfrozen citizens.

“Don’t worry, you’re all safe!” Kara calls out across the courtyard, trying to calm the alarmed looks of the people as they tried to figure out had happened. “The freeze gun’s effects have worn off, and the gunmen are gone.”

Satisfied that no one is going to start panicking again, she turns back to Lena, who is surreptitiously rubbing her arm from her security guard’s grip.

“Are you alright?” she asks, stepping up next to her.

Lena lifts her chin slightly, her professional mask slipping into place, even though Kara can see her hands still trembling. “Yes, thank you, Supergirl.”

Kara nods, gesturing slightly towards the entrance to L-Corp. “Will you let me escort you to your office?”

“Of course.” Lena looks to her bodyguard, who is still hovering uncertainly. “You may go, Leo. Thank you.”

The man nods at her in appreciation, touches his fingers to his forehead in a semi-salute towards Kara, then makes off into the lobby.

Kara hovers her hand over the small of Lena’s back as she walks her inside, using her super-senses to watch out for any lingering danger. Only when the door to Lena’s office is safely closed behind them after one last sweep of the room with her x-ray vision does she let herself relax.

“Some agents will be here in a moment to debrief you,” she tells Lena as the other woman walks across the room.

Lena nods as she makes her way behind her desk, crossing her arms as she gazes out the window. Kara watches her, thinking how she always hated the distance that sprung up between them when she was Supergirl instead of plain old Kara. It makes her chest hurt in a way she can’t quite place.

After a moment, Lena speaks up. “I supposed I owe you my life thrice over now.” She turns to Kara with a rueful smile.

Kara shakes her head, quickly denying, “Oh, no, I mean, you don’t owe me any debts. It’s what I do.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regrets them - they sound so dismissive, like she had saved Lena’s life only because it was her job. Lena glances away, her smile fading as she presses her lips together.

Just as Kara is opening her mouth to try to explain, there’s a knock at the door. Lena flinches, and Kara quickly uses her x-ray vision to peek through it.

“It’s just the agents,” she reassures her, opening the door to let Alex and the two agents accompanying her in.

“Hello Supergirl, Miss Luthor,” Alex greets as she stepped inside. Lena gives her a nod, but makes no effort to move away from her desk. “Supergirl, have you already done a sweep of the building?”

“Nothing thorough, just checking on things as we came up,” Kara reports.

Alex nods to the other two agents, signaling for them conduct the sweep themselves. She waits until the door had closed behind them, then pulls out a tiny field notebook. “Mind if I ask you some questions about what happened this morning?” she asks.

“No, please, have a seat,” Lena replies, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk before sitting in her own.

As the two women move to sit, Kara crosses to the other side of the office, pretending to study the painting hung there. But instead of looking at the art, she stands peering out of the corner of her eye, watching Lena as she speaks. She takes in the way Lena sits with such excellent posture, her legs crossed neatly at her ankles; the way her dark hair falls elegantly across her shoulders; the way her dark red lips forms answers to Alex’s questions…

She’s pulled from her reverie when Alex and Lena stood, shaking hands over Lena’s desk.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Luthor, this information will be helpful in tracking down the men that attacked you.”

“Of course. I hope you’re able to catch them soon.”

Kara strides over to join them as Alex tucks her notebook in one of the pockets on her pants.

“Your best course of action,” Alex advises, “would be to lay low for the day, cancel any plans you have -”

“I can’t.”

The sisters glance at each other, stunned.

“I have a charity auction tonight,” Lena continues. “Perhaps you’ve caught word of it? I’ve been planning it for weeks. I can’t just cancel last minute.”

Kara touches a hand to her forehead and takes a step forward. “Miss Luthor, I’m sorry, but this event can’t be important enough to risk putting yourself in danger for. Not after everything...”

Lena’s eyes grow steely. “My brother is jail. Now so is my mother. I’m the only Luthor left, and I plan to start using that name for good. This event is going to benefit charities all across the city. I won’t cancel it just because I’m at risk again.”

“Miss Luthor…”

“I’m sorry, Supergirl, that’s my decision.” Lena crosses her arms, lifting her chin as she holds Kara’s gaze.

Alex lays her hand on Kara’s arms as she opens her mouth to argue further. “Well if we can’t convince you to cancel, will you at least allow Supergirl to go and keep an eye on things?”

Lena’s gaze immediately softens. “Of course. I’d be glad to have her.”

Kara fights down a blush, instead giving her a stoic nod. “I’ll be there.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Alex clears her throat. “I’m sure you’re a busy woman,” she says to Lena. “If there’s nothing else?”

“No, no, thank you,” Lena says, coming out from behind her desk and walking them to the door. “And I’m sure you’d like to start looking for those men.”

Opening the door, she looks at Kara once more, her gaze coming from beneath her lashes. “And thank you, Supergirl. I don’t think I expressed my gratitude before. I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

“Oh, yes, I, um…” Kara stutters. She reaches for glasses that aren’t there, instead tucking a curl behind her ear.

She can almost hear Alex’s eyes rolling behind her as she puts an arm around her shoulders. “Right. C’mon, Supergirl.”

Kara allows herself to be guided from the room, giving one last little wave from her hip as the door swings closed behind them. She gazes through it for a minute, watching as Lena reseated herself at her desk, then turns back to a very exasperated-looking Alex.

“What?” she demands.

Alex just shakes her head and makes her way down the hall towards the elevator.

Kara scampers after her. “Alex, what?”

Back at the DEO, Kara’s eyes are starting to cross as blueprint after blueprint for alien weaponry flash on the wall of screens in front of her.

“None of these look familiar to you?” Winn asks, checking over his shoulder for her lack of recognition before scrolling to the next image.

Kara sighs in annoyance and crosses her arms. “Still nothing.”

“And you’ve never seen a gun like that before?” When Kara shoots him a glare, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I’ve already asked that a bunch of times, I know. It’s just that this is taking forever. Maybe if we narrowed the specs a little more…?”

Kara lets out a huff as she drops into a chair. “I’ve already told you everything I remember. It was big, like, the guy had to hold it with two hands. It had a big blocky end where the power source must have been and a long, skinny nose.”

“Barrel,” Alex corrects.

Kara waves a hand at her. “That. That’s the best description I can give you.”

Winn nods, tapping absentmindedly at a key on his keyboard. “What about the power source?”

Kara tilts her head.

“I mean, you said you thought you hit it, right?” Kara nods. “What’d it look like? What made you aim there?”

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute. “Well, that was where the light was coming from.”

Alex perks up off of the desk she had slouched against. “Light?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, her eyes growing animated as she began to remember. “Yeah, there were these, these little rectangular boxes on either side that glowed. They were the same color as the bolts it shot out so I thought that must be what was was powering them.”

Winn spins back to his computer, typing rapidly. Within moments he brings up a new spread of blueprints across the wall of screens. “Any of these look -”

“That one!” Kara jabs a finger at the image excitedly.

“Yes!” Winn cheers, pumping a fist in the air. He enlarges the picture and brings up the gun’s specs. “And it looks like our winner is… a Malorian temporal rifle.” He leans close to his screen to read the information. “Holy crap, these guys had some crazy advanced theories on time energy. It looks like this thing literally freezes time within its target. Or maybe not so much freezes it as sends the target to an alternate temporal plane where time is slowed to an infinitesimal crawl...”

“This has Cadmus written all over it. Mrs. Luthor must not be taking her move to maximum security well,” Alex interrupts, her face dark. “I’ll go let J’onn know we found the type of weapon. You try to find a way we can track it,” she tells Winn.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he says, his brow pulled in fake seriousness as he salutes her, then spins back to his computer, immediately hunching over to type.

Alex rolls her eyes then turns to Kara. “And you’d better get back to your day job.”

Kara’s eyes widen, and she muffles a groan in the hands that cover her face. “Snapper’s gonna kill me for missing the meeting this morning.”

Snapper’s ire is tempered - slightly - when Kara tells him she had been at L-Corp during the attack and can write him a first-hand account of what had happened.

She manages to write up a decent draft and send it to him, a minor miracle considering how far away her thoughts are. Each time she tries to recall a detail of the attack, all she can think of was the way Lena had twisted as she tried to free herself from the stone grasp of her guard, the whites of her eyes clearly visible as she watched the man with the freeze gun stalk ever closer to her. Her worry for Lena makes the draft take twice as long as it should for her to write - and unfortunately the anxiety doesn’t let up as the day goes on. Finally, she can’t stand it any longer, and, during her lunch break, climbs to the roof.

She changes quickly in the alleyway across from L-Corp then crosses to the building, calling a greeting to Lena’s secretary as she enters.

“Hi, Jess! Is Lena available?”

Jess gives her a guarded once-over, as if worried she’ll bolt if she looks away. “She just went on lunch. She’ll probably still be up in her office though, she usually just works through it.”

Kara nods, feeling a weird mix of concern and fondness. Because constantly working through breaks is bad for you, but oh, if that isn’t so Lena.

“Thanks. So I’ll just… go up?” she says, pointing up towards Lena’s office.

Jess cocks her hip and crosses her arms, frowning slightly. “According to Miss Luthor, I can’t exactly stop you.”

“O-oh. Okay. Well, um, it was nice seeing you.” Kara jabs the elevator button, fidgeting from foot to foot while Jess continues to watch her. When the elevator doors finally ding open, she hurries inside, waving to Jess until they slide closed.

As the elevator hums upwards, Kara tries to craft a convincing argument against holding the charity auction tonight. But even as she wracks her brain for the right words, the elevator halts, depositing her on the top floor. She walks up to Lena’s door, taking a few preparatory breaths before knocking.

“Come in,” comes Lena’s voice, and Kara pushes open the door to find Lena leaning casually against the front of her desk.

“Kara!” she greets warmly as she straightens up and approaches, and Kara’s glad she hasn’t figured out anything to say, because that grin would have chased it all from her head. “Jess called ahead to say you were coming up. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

As it is, it takes Kara a few tries to get started. “I – uh – there was – I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She gestures out the window towards the courtyard. “I was… in the area when the attack happened. Are you okay?”

Lena’s eyes soften, and she tilts her head towards her couch. The two women settle onto it before she finally answers, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Really?” Kara asks. “It’s fine if you’re not, you know, if you’re just putting on a brave face. ‘Cause you don’t have to, with – with me.” Her cheeks pink as the last part slips out.

A soft smile spreads across Lena’s face, and her hand lands on the cushion just short of Kara’s knee. “I know, Kara. So I hope you’ll believe me when I say I really am all right.”

At Kara’s nod, her fingers twitch, and Kara thinks for a moment she might actually move them to her knee before she draws her hand back into her lap. Kara forlornly watches it go. “Good. Now there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Kara looks up in surprise when she says, “Would you like to come to the charity auction tonight?” Before she can even answer, she continues, “I’m sorry for asking so last minute, I had just thought…”

Kara tilts her head, forgetting that she’s supposed to be talking Lena out of the auction at the other woman’s uncharacteristic hesitation. “Thought what?”

Lena glances down briefly and fidgets with her skirt. Bringing her eyes back to Kara’s, she admits, “I, well, I was afraid that, with the way the last event I asked you to turned out, you might be… reluctant to accept an invitation from me again.”

Though she keeps her voice light and her gaze on Kara’s, Kara can see the sadness and uncertainty in her eyes. She blurts, “What? No!”

Blushing as she realizes how much like a rejection that sounds, she scrambles to clarify, “No, I mean, no, I would never think that. You’re my friend, Lena. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

Lena lets out a soft laugh, tucking a dark lock behind her ear, and Kara’s heart gives a jump.

“Good,” she says, her shoulders relaxing imperceptibly. “That’s… I’m glad to hear. In that case, I’ll see you there? It starts at 8 o’clock.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Kara said, nodding a little dazedly. “8 o’clock it is.”

The women smiled at each other for a moment, until Kara gave a little start. “Oh, I’m sorry, you probably want to get back to your work. I’ll, um, I’ll get going?”

Lena rose gracefully from the couch and accompanied Kara to the door. “I’m really glad you agreed to come tonight,” she says softly. “It honestly does mean a lot to have a true friend at these kinds of events.”

Kara just smiles at her, her stomach swooping pleasantly. “Yes, yeah, for sure. So um, you… and me… 8 o’clock?”

Lena laughs, her eyes twinkling. “Yes, and you better not be late.”

Kara shakes her head vehemently. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Cross my heart,” she says, drawing an x over her chest with her finger.

Lena smiles warmly as she opened the door for Kara, leaning a little against its edge.

“Bye, Lena,” Kara says, pressing a finger to the side of her glasses before giving a little wave.

“Goodbye, Kara,” Lena returns, still smiling at her around the edge of the door as she begins to close it.

“Bye,” Kara repeats as she backs away down the hall, keeping her eyes on Lena until the door swings fully closed in front of her. There’s a floaty feeling in her chest, and she really wants to just take off through the window, but she manages to make herself wait for the elevator like a regular human.

It isn’t until she’s descending towards the ground floor that she realizes she had done the exact opposite of what she came there to do. The charity auction is still going on, and now she’s expected to be there as both Kara and Supergirl.

Her forehead dents the aluminum wall of the elevator as she drops her head against it with a groan.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to run Operation Doubtfire again?” Winn whispers as they wait for the briefing to begin. It’s only a few hours before the charity auction begins, and they’ve been unable to find any leads on the location or identity of Lena’s attackers. Now they have to focus their attention on protecting Lena and her guests at her event, and the collected agents wait for J’onn to give them the details of the operation.

“It’s much more exclusive than last time,” Kara tells him. “I’m not sure I could get you in.”

“I could be your plus one?”

Kara crinkles her brow, unable to stop a light blush as she says, “I think I’m Lena’s plus one.”

Before Winn can respond to that, J’onn walks to the front of the room, causing a hush to fall throughout through the waiting agents.

“As you all know,” he begins, “Lena Luthor is once again the target of attempts on her life. And once again, she’s decided to hold a public event that will likely be the target of an attack. So here’s how tonight is going to go.”

The plan is simple. Kara will go as herself, making a fleeting appearance as Supergirl as she had at Lena’s last gala, but for the most part surveilling the auction from inside the event. Because the auction is invite-only, none of the other agents will be able to get inside, but will set up a perimeter around the ballroom, keeping an eye out for suspicious activity.

After J’onn finishes with the brief, the agents all scatter to their various posts, and Kara makes her way to the locker room to get ready. She changes quickly, donning a plum purple calf-length dress with a daring scoop in the back, cinched at the waist with a lighter purple ribbon. For her hair she ties a loose braid at the side of her head, leading it back into a low bun.

Alex catches her as she’s finishing her hair, a handful of bobby pins held between her lips as she tries to tame her flyaways.

“Shouldn’t you just leave those?” she says, propping a hip against the counter next to Kara. “You’ll just have to fix them again when you change back and forth, right? Besides,” she reaches out for a curl in front of Kara’s ear, “they’re cute.”

Kara takes the bobby pins from her mouth, touching the wispy hairs at her temples as she looks this way and that. “You think?”

Alex raises an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk. “I think Lena will think so.”

“What?” A flush spreads across Kara’s cheeks. “I’m not... I mean, that’s good, because it’s her party, and she invited me, so -”

Taking pity on her, Alex leans over to bump her with her shoulder, Kara swaying obligingly. “Whatever you say, little sis.” She pushes off from the counter, making her way back to the locker room door. Turning in the doorway, she says, “I meant it though.”

She gestures to her temple, signifying Kara’s flyaways, but Kara catches her implied meaning. About the other thing too.

Kara smiles at her in the mirror, tucking the bobby pins in her little makeup bag. The time will come when she’ll have to examine how good it makes her feel that Lena might like how she looks, but for now... “Thanks, Alex.”

A smile quirks the corner of Alex’s mouth, and she gives Kara a nod before turning down the hall.

The auction is being held in a historic section of National City, in one of the city’s oldest and largest ballrooms. Kara admires the towering stone archways above the doors as the bouncer checks her name against a list of approved guests, praying that they won’t be riddled with bullet holes by the night’s end. Although Kara knew this was the biggest ballroom in the city, she still isn’t fully prepared for the sight of it. Warm, golden hardwood floors stretch across the expanse of the room, meeting creamy white walls. In between the floor and the filigreed ceilings high overhead, a balcony wraps around the room, connecting to a stone counterpart outside. The space is already filled with National City’s socialites and elites, their voices creating a low din over the string quintet playing in the corner.

Many are already looking at the items up for auction settled on cloth-covered tables around the perimeter of the room. Though most tables hold displays of jewelry or tickets to events around National City, Kara spots a truly massive 4K TV in one corner, and even - are those Bravak quills?

Kara’s distracted from her inspection when a hush falls over the crowd. She follows everyone’s gazes to a small raised platform along the back wall, where Lena’s now standing in front of a microphone. She’s dressed in a deep emerald green dress, the color serving to bring out the green in her pale eyes. The form-fitting silk of the gown clings to her every curve, the high jeweled collar covering her throat but leaving her white shoulders bare.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lena begins, and Kara closes her mouth, hoping no one had caught her staring. “Welcome to L-Corp’s first annual charity auction.”

She holds for the polite applause, then continues, “Since our rebranding, L-Corp has worked to become a company focused on improving the lives of our neighbors and fellow citizens with innovation and emerging technologies. In thanks to National City for working with us towards this goal, we wanted to give back to the community. Please feel free to look around at the objects for auction tonight, all of which have been provided by generous donors. All funds raised tonight will go towards various charities across National City, which are detailed in your programs. Let the bidding begin!”

She smiles graciously as she applauds along with the crowd, flashbulbs going off around her. Then she climbs down from the platform, and Kara can see her eyes roaming the crowd.

Kara quickly makes her way over to her, ducking her shoulders and waving as Lena finally catches sight of her.

“Kara! I’m so glad you could make it. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you at the door, I had to make my introductory speech.” Lena beams at her when they’re finally face to face, her stiletto heels making her just barely taller than Kara.

Kara feels an echoing grin stretch across her cheeks, accompanied by that warm, fuzzy feeling she gets whenever she makes Lena smile for her like she will for no one else.

“That’s all right,” she says, waving her hand. “It was a very nice speech.”

Lena dips her head. “Thank you. So, what do you think?” she asks, gesturing around the ballroom.

Kara lets out a short laugh. “I mean, wow, Lena, this is…”

“Hoity-toity, I know. But I have to give the upper escalons what they want,” she says wryly.

“No, I was gonna say amazing,” Kara corrects, gazing around her. “I’ve been to events with Cat, I mean, for CatCo before, but this feels… more grand.”

Lena smiled at her and cupped the air near Kara’s elbow, gesturing her further into the room. “In that case, I’ll try to make it pleasurable for you.”

They meandered through the crowd, stopping here or there to talk with a business investor or politician whom Lena recognized. Kara watched Lena as she switched from light banter to serious discussion with ease, playing each conversation to her advantage. Finally, they ended up at the refreshment table, where Lena orders them each a champagne and Kara devours at least half the tiny sandwiches on the display in front of her.

“I’m sorry for all of that,” Lena says, her brows drawing contritely. “I said I was going to make this interesting for you, and instead you had to watch me schmooze a bunch of old white men.”

Kara struggles to swallow her mouthful of sandwiches, finally getting out, “No, don’t worry, it was interesting. You know so many people, it’s kind of amazing.”

Lena lets out a quiet chuckle, then sets her champagne glass onto the counter. She seems to hesitate for a moment, then holds her palm out towards Kara. “May I?”

Kara stares at it dumbly for a moment before it clicks. “Oh! I - you - You want to dance with me?”

“Yes, if… that’s alright, of course.” Lena falters, her fingers beginning to curl back on themselves.

Kara grabs her hand before they can. “Yes!” She coughs, tries again a little more calmly. “I mean, yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

Lena beams at her, then draws her out to the middle of the ballroom where couples have already paired off and are waltzing around the floor. She draws in a breath, then guides Kara’s hand to her shoulder, slipping her own around Kara’s back. Kara feels a frisson of excitement as her cool fingers settle below her shoulder blade, realizing Lena means to take the lead.

They’re still for a moment as Lena catches the rhythm, then away they spin, merging into the flow of dancing couples. Kara finds she can hardly catch her breath, not with Lena’s bright eyes so close, her shoulder soft under her hand. She lets out a peal of laughter as Lena spins her once, twice, ending the dance pink-cheeked and breathing hard.

Lena lets go of her as soon as the music ended, but Kara knows it isn’t from regret when she drops an adorable curtsey to her, smiling widely. Kara mimics her with another giggle, and they slip off the dance floor and draw back to the fringes of the ballroom.

“You dance very well, for never having been to a fancy ball before,” Lena compliments as they walk along the row of display tables.

Kara reaches out to fiddle with a necklace on display to keep Lena from seeing the way her cheeks darken. “Oh, well, thank you.”

They amble in silence for a moment before Kara points upwards towards the balcony.

“Want to go outside? It’s so nice tonight, we could get some air…” Kara offers, giving Lena a crooked smile.

Lena returns it, leading her up the spiral staircase at the corner of the room and out into the night air. As they lean against the high stone ledge, Lena props her chin on her hand, letting out a soft sigh.

“National City is beautiful at night,” she says.

Kara hums, joining Lena in staring out at the twinkling lights of the city around them, its residents making their way here and there on the road below them. “I love the city at night. I love to listen to all of its sounds - or,” she stutters, “the sounds from the street outside my apartment, because that’s the only part I can hear.”

“That’s funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a night owl.” Lena pins her with a playful, appraising look.

“Oh, well, sometimes my um, job keeps me up late.” Not a complete lie - superheroing does cause her to keep some odd hours.

“Staying up to keep those deadlines?” Lena teases.

Kara fidgets with one of the loose curls on her neck. “Ha. Yeah. That.”

Speaking of superheroing - Kara suddenly realizes she has yet to make her appearance as Supergirl.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, already backing towards the door. “I’ll go get some drinks. Is there punch?”

Lena turns to lean her back against the ledge, watching Kara retreat. She tilts her head apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t think I ordered punch.”

“Right, duh, this isn’t high school prom. I’ll get more champagne.” Kara spins around, barely avoiding the door frame, and ducks into the ballroom.

Within moments, Supergirl floats gently down to hover on the opposite side of the ledge from Lena. She’s still watching the door where Kara had disappeared, so Kara takes a second to get into her pose - hands on hips, one knee cocked - before clearing her throat lightly.

“Oh!” Lena whirls around, one hand going to her collarbone. “Supergirl, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara apologizes. She drifts over the top of the ledge, touching down a few feet away from Lena. “I just wanted to check in with you.”

Lena nods, straightening and clasping her hands in front of her. “Yes, I was beginning to wonder if you were actually coming or not.” Her tone is playful, but with just an edge of chill that has Kara regretting her lack of attention.

“I’ve been here,” Kara tells her, “just, keeping out of the way. It looked like you were having… fun. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

She could have sworn she sees a barely-there blush slide over Lena’s cheeks as she responds, “Yes, it has been a nice evening.”

The corners of Lena’s lips turn up as a faraway look comes into her eyes, and Kara hates to ruin it by asking, but Supergirl’s there for a reason, so… “Have you seen any sign of your attackers?”

Sure enough, Lena’s smile falls away, her lips drawing into a thin line. “Not yet.”

“My people haven’t seen them yet, either. But I assure you, if they show their faces here, we will stop them,” Kara says, conviction coloring her tone.

“You’re so earnest,” Lena says with a tilt of her head, and Kara can’t entirely tell if her tone is scornful or fond.

There’s a booming crash below them, the high-pitched whine of an energy discharge, and then the screaming starts.

Both women’s heads whip towards the ballroom, where they can see the crowd below begin to scatter in panic. Somehow, it’s Lena that moves before Kara, stepping towards the balcony door with her hand outstretched.

“Kara!”

She doesn’t get farther than that one step before Kara zips in front of her, blocking the doorway. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” she promises, feeling odd about speaking about herself like this. “Stay here.”

She lingers just long enough to catch Lena’s small nod, then throws herself through the door and straight over the balcony, landing hard, knees bent, fist down, but holding herself back from cracking the historic floorboards.

Rising, she takes in the scene: frozen partygoers, in a thick cluster near the door, which was now flung wide, then thinning as the attackers made their way into the ballroom. There are only three of them this time, the leader flanked by two subordinates - manageable, Kara thinks, until her eyes land on the temporal rifle the leader still carried. Kara can’t stop her eyes from widening as she takes in the curling wires protruding from the power cells, welded sporadically and looking about as stable as a child’s homemade creation.

“What did you do to it?” she asks, unable to keep the apprehension from her voice.

The leader grins maliciously and hefts the weapon in his hands. “You like? I made some upgrades. Should be able to take even you on, now.”

The grin fades, and he levels the gun at her. She just manages to spin out of the way, feeling the cold heat of the freeze ray as it flew past her. A rush of dismay and guilt floods through her as it hits a group of civilians clustered behind her, freezing them all. From what she had seen that morning, the gun had only affected the specific person it had hit. It looks like the leader has managed to boost the freeze gun’s power, after all.

Kara looks at the guests cowering against the walls and behind the tables around her. “Run! Go!” she calls to them, and they flee along the edges of the ballroom. She fires two quick beams of her laser vision when the lackeys turned their guns to follow them, making them drop the white-hot weapons.

The leader fires his rifle at her, then again, and she ducks and weaves to avoid the boosted beams. Too wary to use her laser vision against the monstrosity he had made the weapon, she knows she has to disarm him somehow, and quickly. But that’s easier said than done as he keeps up a constant barrage of fire.

“Where is she, Supergirlie?” the leader bellows as she throws herself into the air. “Where’s the Luthor?”

Kara flies even further away from the balcony door, keeping his attention from it and praying Lena won’t do anything stupid. “She’s under my protection, and you’re not getting to her!”

She swoops down at him, but he manages to get the rifle up just in time, firing a shot straight into her stomach. It slings her back, historic plaster crumbling around her shoulders as she slams into the wall.

She has a brief second to feel bad about it before there comes a stuttered whining sound, like a car battery trying to turn over, and Kara’s eyes widen to saucers because oh Rao, it’s coming from the mangled gun. She pushes off from the wall, flings herself towards the man, but she’s too late - an orb of blue-white light explodes from the disintegrating gun, and she’s hurled back, her back slamming into…

Concrete? For a second, Kara’s mind blanks out with pain and confusion, the air punched from her lungs, unable to figure out where she is. She’s outside, and it’s day, and there are -

Gunshots pop nearby, bullets pinging off her prone body, and she rolls instinctively, bringing her cape up to shield herself. As she kneels there, cape pulled over her head, she looks frantically around, trying to figure out what’s happened. It’s then that she catches sight of a man frozen in mid-motion, coffee spilling in a motionless crescent from his hand.

The same man from that morning. With the same coffee. She looks around further - she’s in L-Corp’s courtyard, frozen figures surrounding her, lances of blue-white light flashing sporadically.

It hits her then. Whatever that man had done to bastardize the temporal rifle, it had caused it to malfunction, and malfunction spectacularly. Spectacularly enough to punch Kara straight back through time.

[wirerosebuds]

hide a heart of war [stuckony] http://archiveofourown.org/works/8091886/chapters/18604579

i'm terrified something's gonna

happen (even though i know it will) [chardee] http://archiveofourown.org/works/12920226

i'll take this bullet for you [peraltiago] http://archiveofourown.org/works/3891877

mac and charlie get high [charmac]

 http://archiveofourown.org/works/1336534

we hold eachother [charmac] https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798689

love so sterng I: pound puppy eyes [charmac] https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453947/chapters/43719539

the involuntary hug [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/36925002?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_182059224

together [gavcon] https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924818/chapters/37127273?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_186430547

heartstring [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918393

blue screen [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286611/chapters/35462181

classy potluck palooza https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925961

devil's backbone [regan] https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217699/chapters/22674920

when tommy met alfie series https://archiveofourown.org/series/909525

four times bruce and thor touched and one time they kissed https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985265

kisses [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/689621

that's amore [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771840

make love your goal [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826635

no trait as much as this [stony] https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796131/chapters/45515233#workskin

colds and heat regulators [gavcon] https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318286

news flash [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683158/chapters/33924879

• sweet as cherry wine:

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, teeth chattering.

He’s soaked to the bone, a cornflower blue polo clinging to his small shoulders. It’s the only thing he’s wearing besides a pair of khakis that are also soaked through.

Richie is suddenly very sober.

“Eds?”

or:

Eddie leaves Myra and shows up at Richie's door.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20538782

• find your fire:

Richie Tozier meets a cute firecracker of a guy when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm in his apartment.

It's just too bad that said guy has got a boyfriend - doesn't he?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598800

• we are all going forward, none of us are going back (time loop series):

Richie reaches up a shaking hand and puts it on Eddie’s stomach.

“Uhhh,” Eddie says. “Is this a bit? Is this a really inopportune bit? ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richie, but this is kind of an important moment-”

“What the fuck,” Richie says, not for the first or last time, and lurches forwards to hug him.

(Or, Richie gets stuck in a time loop.)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480916

• they knew well enough. (eddie loses his arm series):

Beverly knows there’s something going on with Richie. The way he had lost it, the way he had cried—she’s not sure if he would ever cry like that for her, or Bill, or even Stan. He had always been particular about Eddie. She pets his hair back again and rests her head on top of his, sighing and closing her eyes. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s more than she thinks. Either way, she’s sure he’ll say eventually. Richie’s never been good at keeping secrets.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480820

• how things are supposed to be:

Eddie Kasprak isn't gay. He is about to get married and live a happy married life with Myra. 

Then, his friends drag him to a male Strip Club and things go just as you'd expect them to go.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990968

• yours truly:

Eddie Kaspbrak has it bad. He’s bullied for being a tiny, delicate, hypochondriac boy. He’s also bullied for being very, very, very gay. Long story short, his life isn’t the easiest.

However, that’s all a piece of cake when compared to his gigantic, pathetic crush on Derry High’s most popular and oh so very straight Trashmouth, Richie Tozier.

Richie has no idea he even exists.

Right?

Wrong.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841674/chapters/29321982

• i am terrified your body could fall apart at any second (eddie survives and they get married)

you wrote 'don't forget'

on your arm when you were drunk

and i got mad at the fact

that you had to remind yourself at all

i got mad when i shouldn't have

it's just that i got so scared

that you had already forgot

-"You Wrote 'Don't Forget' On Your Arm" by flatsound

Turns out even near death experiences can't make Richie Tozier grow a pair.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660747?view_full_work=true

• the greater fool series:

Who is the greater fool, (or something like that) asked Obi Wan Kenobi, the fool or the fool who follows him?

Richie is the fool. Obviously. Eddie is the fool who followed him. And now Eddie feels like he can answer Obi Wan with confidence: the greater fool is the one who doesn’t call bullshit on the bullshitter and instead goes, what the hell, why not? It’s not like there’s anything better to do.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/848619

• for better, for worse:

Eddie's done a fucking lot of brave things in the past year and a half. He did a lot of brave things in Derry, and then left his wife and started therapy and came to Ben and Bev's wedding even though he's been in love with his best friend for somewhere between six months and thirty years. Even though he knew it'd be fucking hard. He's not sure how many brave things he has left in him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892413/chapters/49662362

• yes, homo (five times the losers thought richie and eddie were "just friends"... and one time they didn't)

The Losers all know Richie and Eddie are the best of friends. So it's not so weird to Stan that Eddie moves in with Richie after his acrimonious divorce. And Bev doesn't raise an eyebrow to all the ridiculous dog co-parenting gags Richie plasters his social media with. Mike thinks Eddie's bedroom in the apartment him and Richie share is pretty spartan, but he'd just moved in a few months ago, and Eddie was kind of like that, anyway. Bill thinks Richie's new act is funny as hell, especially all those gags about how him and Eddie are a "couple." And when it comes time for Ben and Bev's wedding, Ben sends Richie and Eddie separate invites, so those two wild bachelors can each bring their own plus-ones.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407644

• irreversible things

The thing about being famous is that everyone knows who you are.

The thing about being famous is that everyone has an opinion about you.

The thing about being famous is that Richie Tozier can’t take it for another minute.

The thing about Eddie Kaspbrak is that he has no idea who Richie Tozier is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858561/chapters/47027968

• skin&earth series

Eddie Kaspbrak is ten years old. It's his first time at the quarry with his friends.

--

The descent feels like it lasts both for a few seconds and for eternity. Free fall is terrifying, but his hand is still latched onto Richie's, and it tethers him, makes him feel like he isn't just lost in space.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/849696

• i will make you hurt

Eddie has struggled with school the past couple years, and his last year of high school is already off to a bad start. His mom hires him a tutor from the nearby University and things seem like they might start looking up.

But when Eddie's tutor takes an interest in him, everything starts to fall apart, and Eddie is forced into a situation he never even imagined.

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/33656952?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false

• no dice

“You’re pretty.”

“What?”

“You always were.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668082

• only if for a night

Richie and Eddie have been together for more than a year, and Richie is still having trouble allowing himself physical intimacy.

Eddie tries to handle it gracefully.

He does not.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892752/chapters/49663157

• you got married? what like to a woman?

Eddie shows up at Richie’s hotel room door to ask what the fuck that "joke" at the restaurant was supposed to mean.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117032

• fear of the water series (blackbird)

“Ho-ly fuck,” Richie whispers, and Eddie has never been so fucking scared. Not when he saw the leper, not when he confronted his mother about his pills, not when they fought It in the sewers. Never. Eddie screws his eyes shut and clutches at the material of his jeans.

Please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice

“Eddie?”

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468856

• stupid deep series (look on up)

There’s a little wrapped package in Eddie’s coat pocket. He tries not to think about it too deeply. He has, after all, been carrying it around for months.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512914

• big dog, little dog

“Roscoe, no! NO! We’ve talked about this.”

Richie looks up, perplexed, seeking the source of the sound and finding, to his delight, a short, adorable brunette man being pulled by a beast of a mastiff, headed straight in their direction and fast, despite the snow on the ground.

“He’s friendly, I swear!” the man yells, just in time for Roscoe to reach his destination: Enzo, who, to his credit, looks up at the big dog with far more curiosity than fear.

Richie holds tightly to Enzo’s leash, wary (“he’s friendly”--yeah, he’s heard that before) as Roscoe recovers from the run by nosing at Enzo’s butt.

“That’s what was so urgent you nearly yanked my arm out of its fucking socket? You goddamn weirdo,” the man chides, panting, industrial strength leash extending taut from one of his small hands.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623714/chapters/31281825?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_270878059

• facetiously yours

Richie Tozier represents everything Eddie despises: he’s loud, he’s obnoxious, and worst of all he’s messy. And to top it all off, as if the universe simply couldn’t get enough of Eddie’s misery, Eddie is forced to listen to his nighttime festivities whether he wants to or not. Nothing about his neighbor should be appealing in any way, shape, or form.

Too bad his dick didn’t get the memo.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639915

baby please come home [reddie] https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945457

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486541 buzzfeed presents

boys don't cry (but apparently richie tozier didn't get the memo) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370593

phuket series https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597291

• i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands)

Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York.

It’ll be just like it could’ve been, Richie had said once.

(Or, Eddie and Richie resume.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783078

this is my hyde side https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174536

• what's funny

It started at the Derry Townhouse when Eddie needed to charge his phone and get an answer out of Richie. As the night went on, they started to remember what they lost, and the mistake that lead to almost losing everything...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643572/chapters/49021859

• wonder violet

"Right." Eddie's not sure what to think. "Well, thanks, for sticking up for me." Eddie's also not sure if he means that, but it feels like something he should say.

"Yeah, 'course," Richie replies. "You're my sister's best friend."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179045/chapters/30143751

[archived18482939204848]

hi @captain-catcat I deleted the oc ask on accident long post incoming 🖤

How do they respond to having a song stuck in their head? Does that happen to them often?

This happens very often with Aphys’s brain. It’s unavoidable and sometimes exacerbated by the fact that she took the mantle of sheogorath.

How do they feel about confronting their friends when issues arise? 

Aphys will be very blunt and very clear and if they don’t get it the first time, well, fuck them.

When speaking to themselves in their mind, how do they refer to themselves?

Mantling Sheogorath means unwanted input quite often. Every conversation in her head is often a two person convo

Do they enjoy wearing socks/stockings when they aren’t wearing shoes?

Absolutely, she likes being warm

Do they have any unappealing habits (ex: picking their nose, hawking loogies)?

Making noises with her mouth without noticing and annoying everyone in the room

How do they cope with losing a game?

Sulking for a while before ruminating on another possible strategy and then going back

How do they cope with losing an argument?

Not well. The yelling is overwhelming and abrasive enough and the disrespect would mean she has to leave for a while and sulk

How do they cope with losing a friend?

Friends are few and valuable to her, it’d be like losing a finger. She’d never forget about it and would often still wonder if she could every remedy the situation. She may grow and move on but there will always be a lasting imprint in the back of her mind.

How do they cope with losing a lover?

Very similar to losing a friend. The relationships blur and it’s often just “special” to “most special” in her mind. Losing two lovers in a short span of time pushed her to go into the shivering isles to fuck with Daedra so she doesn’t take it well at all

Do they enjoy sitting on countertops?

Likes to be tall

How expressive is their face? Are they easy to read?

Aphys is often blank and monotone, but the facial expressions that are involuntary reactions to what she’s hearing are VERY telling on what she’s thinking

How do they deal with experiencing physical pain?

Try not to cry and buck up, essentially

Are they easily insulted?

Absolutely easily insulted and holds grudges

Would they prefer to act or react?

Aphys needs time to sit and plan for the best possible outcome, she doesn’t make brash reactions.

How would they respond to performing on stage?

Panic and try to save face

Would they ever wear perfume or cologne? When? What would the scent be?

The constant strong scent might be an annoying sensory thing to her, but if she could pick anything it would be the smell of her home in Valenwood right after it rains

Could their personality or interests be considered “flighty?” Do they change their mind/interests often?

She loses interests relatively quickly if something newer and cooler is introduced to her but is prone to obsessive hyperfixations

Do they daydream? Of what?

Aphys is constantly lost in her own fantasy world of what’s happened, what could be, idealized versions of events currently happening, whatever is happening in the Shivering isles,

What is the most inappropriate thing they have ever done in public?

She’s so obsessed with appearances that the worst would be public intoxication and whatever that entails

What was their favorite toy as a child?

She still carries around a small stuffed frog from her childhood! It’s everything to her!

What was their favorite way to play as a child (ex: playing pretend, playing games with rules like tag,)?

Hide and seek because she could fit into closed off small spaces and doze off until she’s found, and of course elaborate role plays

How do the sneeze (ex: loudly, quietly, openly, into their elbow, hold the sneeze in)?

Pretty loudly for someone so small but always concealed into an elbow or a sleeve or something

When engaged in an irritating conversation, how to they conduct themselves?

Increasingly agitated movements like rocking, tapping, unable to focus for more than few seconds

What words make them cringe?

🤔 probably something pronounced in a way that would annoy her

How do they feel in large crowds?

Overwhelmed! But sometimes the noise can dissolve into a droning buzz to help her stay focused on the task at hand

Would they ever spend an afternoon in a library? What section would they spend the most time in?

Oh absolutely. Probably the horror or fantasy fiction section

Do they find it difficult to try new foods?

YES. Routine is everything

If a friend asked them to taste something and it turned out to be unpleasant, how would they handle it?

Lots of tortured facial expressions but would still say it’s good for the sake of being nice

Do they wear underwear?

Aphys wears so many layers that she’s basically created her own chasity belt

Can they pee in front of other people?

Absolutely not unless she’s drunk and this is a conversation that NEEDS to be continued with someone very close to her

What story gave them nightmares as a child?

Being told about the Wild Hunt and the Ooze

How would they respond to being handed an infant?

Panic internally but make sure she’s holding the infant as carefully and comfortably as possible

How would they respond to being asked to watch over a child for an afternoon?

She enjoys kids and their input about the world around them! She doesn’t like the responsibility and she’s quite stiff and awkward but she wouldn’t adamantly refuse

Do they enjoy climbing trees?

As a kid in Valenwood, all you did was climb trees

In which of their own skill sets do they have the most confidence? Why?

Archery! In Valenwood, she would be considered average, nothing special. But in Skyrim, her methods of archery are completely different to the Nords and their stiff hunting bows so she feels like the top dog

Do they enjoy receiving compliments? How do they respond to it?

Flustered! She LIVES with praise, can’t cope without it. Not very good at receiving it though

How often are they the one to initiate physical contact?

Words are hard for her, finding the right words for certain specific situations is even harder. Sometimes direct touching is the best way to communicate

Do they prefer salty or sweet things?

Salty and sour

Do they get the urge to jump from high places?

Absolutely not, what if she twists an ankle or lands wrong

Have they every written a dirty letter and actually sent it?

She often keeps Those thoughts to herself to ruminate on for a while

How would they describe their love life?

A dumpster fire of mixed emotions and pining and torture and nothing seems to work out ever

How would they describe their sex life?

Active and fun with complicated and twisted emotions lying underneath

Do they hide objects? What and where?

She’s been conditioned to hide the things she collects (like shells or certain rocks) out of fear of it being taken and used as leverage. It’s become a habit to quickly stick something into a hidden pocket and arrange it behind a shelf later

What are their reasons for getting up in the morning (outside of achieving their main goal)?

A garden, her newfound family

Who is their greatest confidant? Who confides in them?

Lucien’s ghost will always be a go-to because she can stomp him back into the void if he gets mouthy. He was always a source of guidance since he seemed to have his shit together, and he’s had 300 years in the Void to be mature about things

What is something they’ve always wanted to do, but know they shouldn’t?

Rob a house for the fuck of it

Is there someone whose laugh makes them laugh as well?

Probably Farkas. I feel like he just has ~ infectious laughter ~

How festive are they on holidays?

She HATES it and will do the bare minimum for everyone else to enjoy

How would they respond to their ears ringing for an extended period of time?

Slowly get angrier and snappier

How likely is it that they would be the first to point out a full moon or a beautiful sunset?

Always the first! She’s the most observant!

[mavwrekmarketing]

If youve recently lost a loved one, then the grief is likely still fresh. But at some point you have to pick up the pieces and return to work. How you handle deep sorrow in the workplace will play a significant role in how well youre able to heal and return to a semblance of normal after a great loss.

The Normality of Grief

Grief is a natural response to any kind of loss. We may suffer grief from losing a job, our health, a relationship, a pet, our home, or any other tangible (or intangible) object.

But the most intense grief follows the loss of a life: particularly the death of a close family member or friend. And because grief can be so intense in that situation, people rarely know how to respond.

Grieving is a personal and highly individual experience. How you grieve depends on many factors, including your personality and coping style, your life experience, your faith, and the nature of the loss, explains Melinda Smith, M.A.

The grieving process takes time. Healing happens gradually; it cant be forced or hurried and there is no normal timetable for grieving.

Some people can grieve for a few days and return relatively to normal. For others, grief happens in stages that can last for months, even years. The essential thing is for you to recognize the normality of grief and allow it to happen.

How To Deal With Grief In The Workplace

Giving adequate room for grief is also vital to a persons well-being. This is something that can be prepared somewhat prior to a loved ones death, explains Susan Fraser of In the Light Urns.

If the dying person is a close family member or friend, those who are grieving may not feel able to go back to work or school right away. They can make arrangements ahead of time so that they do not feel the pressure to ask for accommodations while they are also coping with the loss.

But what if the death is sudden and unexpected? After a few days away from work, how do you carry your grief upon your return to the office when there was no plan or chance to prepare? Consider the following tips and strategies:

1. Focus On Doing

Your natural inclination may be to shut down and do nothing, but being productive can be a substantial springboard for healing. By focusing on performing constructive tasks, you may shift your mind away from your distress for set periods of time and regain a semblance of stability in your life.

Dont confuse doing with ignoring, though. Pushing emotions away and staying busy so you dont have to experience your grief is something different. Work should only be used as a temporary distraction and route to recovery.

Grief needs to happen, but balancing it with familiar tasks that are unrelated to the death of your loved one can help you avoid becoming consumed by feelings of anguish and depression.

2. Let Others Help

If theres ever a moment in your life when you shouldnt be ashamed to ask for help, its in the wake of a loved ones death. Not only do other people understand your situation, but they want to help.

Instead of closing yourself off and asserting that everythings fine, be honest with your coworkers. This is something Anna Runyan realized when she went through the grieving process after two miscarriages and the loss of her aunt in a short span of time.

I realized that, when I opened up and let everyone know what I was going through, they were able to understand better, Runyan says. They were happy to pick up my workload right away, and they didnt expect me to be doing anything. Because they were so supportive, I could really focus on myself.

3. Forgive People For Their Responses

Dont be surprised if things feel a bit awkward when you return to the office. People can be very loving and compassionate, but we often struggle with a proper response to death.

We dont always know how to speak to someone whos lost someone precious, and there can be a lot of hesitation and outright fear of saying the wrong thing. A clumsy solution is to avoid the subject entirely.

While this is hardly the best thing people can do, you must try not to hold it against them. Recognize that they are trying their best to be sensitive to your emotional state and dont wish to send you into a tailspin of despair.

Forgive others for their responses, but you should also not hesitate to let them know youre a little hurt. This can open things up and lead to healthier interactions thereafter.

4. Understand Your Benefits

Did you know that many large companies offer an array of benefits for people who are going through personal issues including grief? Take advantage of these opportunities if theyre there for you.

I worked for the same company for six years and never understood my benefits, Runyan points out. I realized later than I would have liked to know that my company offered some amazing benefits, including free confidential counseling and research programs.

If youre not sure whether you have such benefits available to you, dont be afraid to ask. The worst thing that can happen is your HR department or boss will say no, Im sorry. Its also possible that, even if you dont have a particular service in your formal benefits package, the boss may offer to cover the cost associated with counseling on the companys dime.

You never know until you put yourself out there.

5. Find A Quiet Place To Retreat

As you may know, grief tends to come in waves. You can be fine one minute, then encounter a tiny trigger that sets off an involuntary flow of deep emotion the next.

Because you can never know how stable youll be from one day to the next, its worthwhile to have a place where you can retreat to if necessary. The last place you want to break down is in the middle of a crowded conference or break room.

Your retreat may be as simple as closing your office door. But if you dont have your own space? An empty closet, rarely used stairwell, or bathroom stall may be a fine temporary retreat.

When you feel tears coming on, excuse yourself from wherever you are and find some solace in your quiet place. Youll feel better not melting down in front of the rest of the office and your coworkers will understand.

Take the Next Step Toward Healing

Grief plays a catalytic role in psychological healing after the death of a loved one. But because grief can last for weeks, months, or years, most people have to return to work while theyre still in the process of grieving.

When you get back to work, make sure youre honest with both yourself and others. Recognize where you are, emotionally, and dont fight the natural process of mourning. The sooner youre able to confront and process your grief, the sooner youll be able to live the rest of your life in a healthy and productive manner.

It can be good to meet with a grief counselor or psychiatrist if you feel you could use some help coping with your emotions. This is not a sign of weakness, but an intelligent step in the right direction.

This post is part of CommonGrief, a Healthy Living editorial initiative.Griefis an inevitable part of life, but that doesnt make navigating it any easier. The deep sorrow that accompanies the death of a loved one, the end of a marriage or even moving far away from home, is real. But whilegriefis universal, we allgrievedifferently. So we started CommonGriefto help learn from each other. Lets talk about living with loss. If you have a story youd like to share, email us atstrongertogether@huffingtonpost.com.

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