#he also keep some of his trauma there for safekeeping

[beeftendergroin]

the sith slayer

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 64: The Darksaber

summary: High tensions between the Mandalorians lead to unexpected conflicts, as well as unexpected gifts.

warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of trauma, angst, fluff

rating: T

word count: 5.863k

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chapter 64: the darksaber

It’s only when the hyperloop pod steers them away from Plazir’s domed city that Din can fully relax again, his armored shoulders rising and falling in a breath of relief. He’s aware of Astra moving closer to his side, something that only adds to his new sense of calm. His daughter babbles to Astra all about her and Grogu’s adventures while they were gone in another layer of sweet content.

But Din can’t ignore the way their ally sits across from them with her gaze stuck on the outside world. Bo-Katan’s eyes are glazed over with an anxiety Din’s familiar with, the announcement of their approach to landing field three bringing not a single change to her expression. It brings Din back to the day he first returned to his covert as an apostate, the turning of helmets and tightening of weapons. He can’t help himself from trying to bring her some amount of the same relief he’s just gained.

“They’re Mandalorians,” Din says. The only gaze he earns when he speaks is Astra’s, which burns through the side of his helmet as he goes on. “You’re their leader.” He adds a nod of reassurance. “They’re going to follow you.”

Bo-Katan’s gaze falls before it returns to the transparisteel. “I’m not their leader anymore,” she insists. She peels her gaze from the view of Plazir to look between Din and Astra. “Axe Woves is.”

Din shares a quick glance with Astra and tilts his helmet. “Then what’s your play?”

Grogu coos from the pod at Astra’s side, as if he’s asking her the very same thing. Bo focuses on the little one with her brow furrowed in evident distress. She waits a long moment before she answers. “I’ll know when I get there.”

Din sees Astra nod at Bo-Katan out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll be right there with you,” she reminds their ally. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Bo-Katan looks between both of them with a small smile of gratitude. She returns Astra’s nod. “Thank you.”

The tension of the serious moment is broken by Zora as she points towards the transparisteel. “Luh’!” Zora exclaims, tapping both Din’s and Astra’s pauldrons to make sure they’re paying attention. She points outside again. “Boo!”

“Do you like the blue sky, Zo?” Astra says, her voice soft as she speaks to their daughter.

Zora’s little finger lowers towards the green grass and she furrows her brow as she looks at Din. “Bah?”

“That’s grass,” Din tells her. He keeps his voice low and gentle as he also points to the long stretch of green grass. “There was a lot of it on Sorgan, where you were born.” Din’s visor glances at Astra, who’s beaming at him in the way he adores most. His mind rewinds him to that difficult yet calming time on the agrarian planet. “The grass there was very soft.”

“Gr…” Zora tries to say. “Guh…” She looks over at Grogu in the pod. “Gogu!”

Grogu coos with delight when his sister says his name. “Yes!” Astra says and gives Zora’s head a kiss. “Grogu is the same color as the grass! Green.”

Zora furrows her brow in focus. “Gr… gruh…”

She babbles on and on until the hyperloop pod comes to a stop. Din watches as Astra sets Zora into the pod with her brother for safekeeping before he offers his hand to her to help her stand. The group makes their way out and down to the landing zone, a long stretch of green grass sitting between them and the area that houses the entire Mandalorian encampment.

Din’s so focused on the sight far ahead that he almost misses Astra calling for him. “Din,” her voice remains hushed. Din’s helmet turns her way, his visor meeting her gaze before she flickers hers to the metal hilt that hangs from his belt. “He’s gonna want that.”

“It’s not his to earn.” Din sets his hand on Astra’s lower back, underneath her jetpack. He hesitates and forces himself to go on. “It’s… not even mine to pass on.”

Astra furrows her brow and gives Din a once-over. “What are you talking about?”

Din sighs and swings his helmet away from her. This is a burden he didn’t want her to have to carry, even if the weight of it fell upon his own shoulders the moment he realized this truth. The peaceful rising and falling of her bare back as she slept on his chest that night had only strengthened his resolve to keep it to himself. Now her peace on the matter has been disturbed, and if he’s not upfront with her about it, then the weight of it will only grow more and more for both of them. “You told me that you and Bo-Katan used the Darksaber in my rescue.” Din faces Astra again, continuing to keep this conversation only between them. “Right?”

Astra gives the upcoming Mandalorian encampment a nervous glance. “Right.”

“You said you were the one to finish that thing off.”

Astra’s armored chest inflates with a careful breath. “I was.”

Din runs his gloved thumb over her back. “You defeated the enemy who defeated me.”

Astra’s eyes start to widen at him as the realization dawns upon her. “Are you trying to say it’s… mine?”

Din tilts his helmet at her. “Technically, yes. It is.”

The encampment gets close enough for their conversation to need a conclusion. Astra shakes her head at Din. “I can’t…” she stops, glancing at Bo-Katan, “it should be Bo’s, not mine.”

Din grimaces. “You can’t give it to her.”

He glances at Astra and watches her gaze light up with the excitement of a new idea. “I have a plan.”

Before Din can ask her to elaborate, he’s forced to follow the silence of those who surround themselves. He holds the tension within him as he observes the encampment of Mandalorians. Cargo crates, Kom’rk-class fighters, and the stolen light cruiser take up the space, along with Mandalorians who wander throughout. Once the group gets close enough, every head turns to them, the idle chatter stilling as if everyone’s holding a simultaneous breath.

Din tries his best to remain unbothered. He and Astra stop and stand alongside Bo-Katan as her united front. The hilt of the Darksaber on Din’s belt weighs even heavier after his conversation with Astra and serves as his reminder of just how much their presence could mean to the success of Bo’s mission.

“Have you come back to join the mercenaries?” Axe Woves calls out from where he sits upon a cargo crate.

Bo-Katan remains unshaken by his words. “I’ve come to reclaim my fleet.”

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it?” Axe lifts the cup in his hand in a mock toast. “I’m now in command and grown quite fond of it.”

Bo steps forward, leaving Din and Astra behind. They exchange a cautious look. “Then I challenge you, one warrior to another.” Axe scoffs and draws a sip of his drink. Din watches Bo-Katan stand firm as she maintains her sense of composure. “Do you accept my challenge?”

Axe sets his drink aside and stands. Din holds his breath for a moment, though it gets released in a somewhat troubled exhale once he begins to speak. “There’s no point.” Axe shakes his head. “You’ll never be the true leader of our people.” His attention turns to Din as he gestures to him. “You won’t even take the Darksaber from him. He’s the one you should be challenging.”

Astra tenses at Din’s side. He gives her a warning glance, though he’s certain it’s gone unnoticed. “Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled by our own hands,” Bo-Katan says, a haunting history tightening her voice into an emotional yet powerful strain. She pauses and looks around the group of Mandalorians that have since gathered to watch the confrontation. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Axe points an accusatory finger towards Din. “But a misguided zealot possesses the blade.” Din tightens his jaw at his harsh words, though his anger is nothing compared to that which Astra thrums with at his side. Her hand’s hovered over her blaster and Din’s given no time to reassure her as Axe goes on. “One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.”

“If you’re so fond of Mandalorian blood,” Astra sneers from Din’s side before she can be stopped, “then let’s see some.”

Din’s rendered motionless in his shock when Astra uses one hand to unclip the hilt of the Darksaber from Din’s belt and the other to engage the blade in her vambrace. She uses her jetpack to get herself to Axe as soon as possible, and though no formal challenge was offered, the way he lunges at her in return becomes his acceptance.

Without his jetpack, Din’s left to run towards them, leaving the pod where it is as he calls out to her. “Astra, no! Stop!”

Astra and Axe have already gone back-and-forth with a strike of her vibroblade against his vambraces and his defensive maneuvers pushing her and the ignited blade of the Darksaber back further and further. Axe takes advantage of the Darksaber weighing Astra down for a moment and he kicks her middle to force her down to the ground, disarming her of the blade. He’s only able to retrieve the hilt when Bo-Katan beats Din to the fight and flies in with her own jetpack, kicking Axe with both her legs and sending him as well as the hilt down to the grassy terrain.

Bo-Katan and Axe engage in their own intense duel, but Din’s only focused on Astra. He makes it to her side and helps her to sit up before he assesses her for any wounds. “Are you okay?” Din asks, breathless. Astra nods, her cuirass rising and falling in rapid breaths of her own. Din furrows his brow underneath his helmet. “What were you thinking?” Realization hits him as he glances at the Darksaber’s hilt on the grass beside them. “Was this your ‘plan?’”

Astra looks away from him for a moment, her eyes finding the sealed pod that still lets some of Zora’s upset cries escape from it. “I didn’t have time to think of a better one,” she answers, her voice low in guilt. Her jaw hardens with anger as her gaze finds Din’s visor. “And I couldn’t let him say those things about you.”

Din tilts his helmet at her. “I appreciate that.” He steadies himself with a careful breath. “You’re so damn quick on your feet.” Din holds her face between his hands. “But none of this should have to come at the cost of your safety.”

Astra’s gaze falls to her hands as they wrap around his wrists. She minds their audience as she eases his hands from her face and nods, her gaze observing the Mandalorians who watch Bo-Katan’s and Axe’s ongoing duel. “I know.” Astra looks at Din with a crease in her brow. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Din offers her a reassuring nod. “Thank you for protecting my honor.” He stands to help her do the same. “And for your crazy-ass plan.”

Astra laughs, letting Din help her up from the ground once he’s set the nearby hilt of the Darksaber on his belt once again. They retreat to the place where their children await them in the sealed pod. Din keeps an eye on the duel that’s almost reached its end as Astra kneels down to open the pod and comfort the distressed Zora. His gaze is torn away when their daughter calls out for him. “Papa,” Zora whines, earning Din’s devout attention as he steps closer to the pod and sets his gloved hand upon Astra’s shoulder. Zora’s lip wobbles as she points between him and Astra. “Mama?”

“She’s fine,” Din reminds her in his softest voice. He gives Astra’s armored shoulder a gentle squeeze. “See?”

Zora shakes her head and furrows her brow, pointing at Din with even more passion. “Papa.”

Din tilts his helmet until he recalls the way he’d called after Astra when she leapt into the fight. He straightens himself in understanding. “No, baby girl, I’m not mad at her,” he rushes to assure Zora. He wraps his gloved hand around Astra’s head and gently urges it to rest against his hip. “See?” Zora starts to relax at that. “I was just worried. That’s all.”

Din can see Astra giving Zora’s hand a squeeze, but the sudden silence from Axe’s and Bo-Katan’s direction forces them to redirect their attention. Bo-Katan has since forced Axe to yield, though she retracts her blade and stands. Axe is slow to get off the ground and he scowls at Din and Astra. Astra’s back on her feet at Din’s side as Bo-Katan faces the gathered crowd and speaks loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the Way,” Bo-Katan says, “just as our ancestors did. He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were. Certainly as much as any of us.” She glances back at the two of them and nods.

“But according to our ways,” Axe argues, “the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber.”

Astra nudges Din’s side. He looks over at her and watches her gaze flicker to the hilt on his belt. He sets his shoulders and raises his voice loud enough to be heard by those who surround them. “Then she shall have it.”

Din closes the distance between them and Bo-Katan, with Astra and the pod following close behind him. He takes the hilt from his belt and offers it to their confused ally.

“This belongs to you.”

Bo looks upon him with gratitude. “It’s not a gift to be given,” she insists, “no matter how well intended.”

Din glances at Astra and gives his helmet a determined swing. “It’s not a gift.” He steps past Bo-Katan to fully face the group of Mandalorians. “While exploring Mandalore, I was captured, and this blade was taken from me.” Din gestures with his helmet to the women behind him. “Bo-Katan and my wife, Astra, worked together to slay my captor.” He tightens his gloved hand around the hilt. “Astra used this blade to finish them off, which means it became hers.”

Astra steps up beside Din. She offers an encouraging smile as he hands the Darksaber to her. “Then, I used this blade in my fight with Axe,” Astra reminds them. “He disarmed me, and then Bo-Katan disarmed him.” Astra nods at Din, letting him finish for them.

“Astra defeated the enemy who defeated me, and Bo-Katan defeated the one who defeated Astra. Would this blade then not belong to Bo-Katan?”

The crowd remains silent as they ponder the truth of Din’s and Astra’s words. Din scans their faces, though he keeps a particular focus on Axe, whose gaze remains downcast at his inability to find a relevant argument.

“Would it not belong to her?” Din repeats himself.

Axe is the one who starts to nod, his eyes set on Bo-Katan as the aggression fades from his expression. “It would.”

Din and Astra glance at each other before she steps up to their ally. “I return this blade to its rightful owner,” Astra says, handing the hilt off to Bo-Katan. They move together back to Bo’s side, letting her test the weight of the hilt in her gloved hand before she ignites the blade. The surrounding Mandalorians have since tightened their postures in pure respect for their leader.

The moment suspends itself in time until Bo-Katan sheathes the Darksaber and sets the hilt on her belt. She nods at those who surround her, the green of her eyes now gleaming unlike Din’s seen them ever since the moment he won the ancient weapon from Gideon. “We’re going to Mandalore,” she informs them, her chin held high in resolution. “It’s time we return to our homeworld, at long last.”

The Mandalorians share smiles of relief. Astra offers the very same to Din before he sets his hand on her shoulder and keeps her close.

“We won’t be alone in this effort.” Bo-Katan glances back at Din and Astra with gratitude. “Din Djarin’s fellow Mandalorian allies will be working with us.” She waits a beat to quiet any protests, but none arise. Din lifts his helmet in approval. “We’re going to rendezvous the fleet with them on Nevarro to make further plans.” Bo-Katan gestures to their surroundings. “Let’s pack up the encampment and set out.”

Bo-Katan’s words are followed without hesitation. Din tilts his helmet at Astra when she presses her gloved hand upon his cuirass to lift herself closer to him. “Funny how they call you a zealot,” she murmurs, “yet they won’t follow someone unless they have a sparkly sword.”

Din barely holds back his laugh as he sets his hand upon her back and shakes his head. “I’ll give you that one,” he responds with a fond smile on his lips. “But they’re our allies, now. We can’t hold anything against them if we wish for them to do the same with us.”

Astra’s gaze searches his visor, the corners of her lips tugging up in a soft smile. “So wise.” Her voice is a gentle breath as her gloved hand rises to tap his beskar cheek. She takes a deep breath and gestures towards the crowd of Mandalorians. “I guess we should help them pack up the encampment, then.”

Din nods and follows her lead. They walk towards the busy group, though they’re intercepted by Bo-Katan before they can go any further. The Mandalorian leader looks between them with a gentle furrow in her brow. “You two have already helped plenty,” Bo insists. “Your family needs rest before we set out to Nevarro. Let me take you to one of the refurbished cabins on the light cruiser.”

Din and Astra exchange a quick glance. The idea of rest isn’t something they have to debate. With the all-nighter they pulled for the investigation and Astra still fully recovering from her wounds in the siege of Nevarro, rest is exactly what they need for the journey ahead. “Thank you,” Din answers for them, his modulated voice strained in gratitude.

Bo-Katan smiles as she nods at him. “This is the Way.”

The Mandalorian leader takes the Djarins across the stretch of grass, saying hello to those whose path she hasn’t crossed ever since Din won the Darksaber. It fills him with an odd sort of guilt, even if the burden of the beskar hilt isn’t his own anymore. The reminder of it being freed from Astra’s shoulders washes away that guilt with a strong wave of relief. The ancient weapon’s at long last in the right hands, no matter how eager Din might’ve once been to prove himself with it.

Stepping onto the light cruiser is harder than Din thought it would be. The way Astra presses herself closer to his side says the very same thing. He takes her hand, no longer wary of the allies who surround them. The corridors are rather empty with most of the Mandalorians packing up the encampment and loading various transports. That’s something Din’s grateful for, especially as his visor glances upon his exhausted family. He hadn’t realized just how much this one adventure had worn them down.

Din’s starting to think they shouldn’t leave Nevarro with the rest of the Mandalorians.

He keeps this to himself for now, instead focusing on getting his family to rest as Bo-Katan leads them inside a refurbished suite no doubt once given to a high-ranking Imperial. She waves a gloved hand over the spacious cabin and offers a friendly smile. “I’ll return with some food and updates about our departure,” Bo informs them. “I’d like you to join me in the Gauntlet when the time comes.”

“Thank you,” Astra answers for them this time. Her expression is as genuine as the words she speaks.

Bo-Katan nods, dutiful and kind as ever, and sets her gloved hand upon Astra’s armored shoulder as she leaves the suite. As soon as the door slides closed, Din and Astra sigh in unison, drawing a soft laugh from each of them. They step forward and start to make themselves comfortable.

“I’m glad we didn’t even have to ask for this,” Astra confesses. She bends down to the pod and sets the drowsy Zora upon her shoulder, resting their heads together. “You’d think I’d be used to the all-nighters, but I’m well out of shape from our old lifestyle.”

Din huffs and lifts his hands to his helmet. “That makes two of us.” He takes his helmet and sets it on a nearby table and tugs his gloves off with his teeth. Din sets them next to the helmet and cards them through his mussed hair in a vain attempt to lessen the helmet’s effect on it. He stops and looks at his wife again when she remains silent, watching her gaze remain on him as if she’s stuck in a trance. Din furrows his brow and steps towards her. “What is it?”

Astra blinks a few times and looks away as if she’s embarrassed. “Nothing. I just…” she pauses, gaining the faith to meet his gaze again, “you’re very handsome.”

It’s Din’s turn to be embarrassed as he swings his head away from her. “Thank you.” He lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile. “But this is supposed to be a restful excursion.” Din faces her and points his finger at her. “Restful.”

Astra closes the distance between them with a smile of her own painted on her sweet lips. She lifts a hand to his cheek and keeps her voice low enough for only them to hear. “I can compliment you without making love to you.”

Din doesn’t have to see himself to know how deeply his face reddens at her words. Astra chuckles and kisses his cheek before she walks off with Zora, entering one of the two bedrooms and letting the door slide closed behind her. Din’s focus remains on the closed door even as he starts to fidget with his gloves on the table.

A coo from Grogu draws Din from his musings. He turns to look at the little one who’s since climbed out of the pod and onto the table. Grogu’s hands rest upon Din’s helmet as he tilts his head at his father and laughs.

“It’s not funny,” Din mutters, though he’s unable to keep himself from smiling even as he lovingly gives Grogu’s fuzzy head a push. He pulls out one of the chairs and lowers himself into it, resting an elbow upon the table. “You and I haven’t talked one-on-one in a while, you know.”

Grogu babbles an agreement, his petal-shaped ears lowering a bit.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, buddy.” Din takes a deep breath and continues to lean back in the chair. “I’ve put a lot on you during this journey.”

Grogu coos and steps forward, setting his tiny hand over one of Din’s.

“I know you can handle it.” Din runs his thumb over Grogu’s hand. “But you shouldn’t have to. You’re still just a foundling.”

Grogu furrows his brow and tugs on his robe, revealing both his chainmail and the rondel. He points at the pod and then lifts his hand.

Din tightens his lips. “You can’t be an apprentice until you speak the Creed, Grogu.”

Grogu’s expression falls before it hardens in resolve again. He gives his foot a little stomp and points towards the door Astra and Zora had walked through.

“Yes, you did prove yourself on Mandalore.” Din shakes his head. “It’s just… it’s not my decision to make.” He finds a way to smile again as he pats Grogu’s head. “It’s good to know you’re ready for the next step, though.” Grogu coos at that. “They’ll give you my first name when the time comes. Once your apprenticeship is over, you’ll officially earn our family name.”

Grogu claps his hands together in delight. He taps the mudhorn on his rondel and walks close enough to Din on the table to tap the mudhorn on his armored shoulder.

Din nods and gives Grogu’s little hand a squeeze. “That’s right. Din Grogu.” He takes Grogu in his arm and holds him near his cowl. “That’ll be your name one day, if that’s what you want.”

Grogu coos in the affirmative and nestles his cheek against Din’s cowl, closing his weary eyes and taking a soft breath. Din rests his head against the little one’s. He truly owes so much to Grogu and the pure heart that encouraged him to unguard his own. Without him, Din never would’ve met Astra, much less marry and start a family with her. Grogu will always be the beginning of Din’s forever.

Now Din remembers why it was so hard to breathe without him.

The sound of a door sliding open draws Din’s attention over to Astra. She emerges from the room without Zora, her gaze softening at the sight of Din and Grogu. “There are my boys,” she announces, keeping her voice quiet as she approaches them. Astra stops and kisses Grogu’s head before she pushes Din’s hair back with her hand and does the same to him. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah.” Din runs his thumb over Grogu’s hand again.

Astra grins at the two of them. “Do you want me to put him where Zora is?”

Din shakes his head. “I’d like to keep him here for a little while.” He looks down and watches Grogu’s lip curl up in his deep slumber. “I haven’t spent time like this with him in too long.”

Astra’s gentle when she runs her knuckles along the side of Din’s face. “I’m glad you two can have this time.” She gives him a knowing look. “Just have grace with yourself about it. This has been a long journey of ours.”

Din fights the urge to grimace at her words. “It has.” He glances at Grogu and finds a small smile stretching onto his lips. “Grogu’s been very brave through it all.” Din meets Astra’s adoring gaze once again. “He told me he wants to become an apprentice.”

“I remember you mentioning that before.” Astra keeps her hand set on Din’s free shoulder. “Who makes that decision?”

Din sighs, exhaling a troubled breath. “Technically, Grogu does. He has to take the Creed.”

Astra lifts her brow. “But Grogu can’t speak yet.”

Din tightens his jaw. “Exactly.”

Astra crosses her arms over her cuirass. “There has to be another way.”

Before Din can respond, a knock sounds from outside their main door. Din starts to make a move for his helmet, but Astra stops him, taking his helmet and sliding it on for him. He watches her in hardly concealed amazement even as she makes her way to the door and opens it for Bo-Katan. She hands over a holocart of food for their family and lets them be. Astra pushes it over to the table and, after removing Din’s helmet for him, fixes a plate for both Din and herself.

“So,” Astra begins, her gaze flickering to Din before it focuses back on the task at hand, “when were you gonna tell me about the Darksaber?”

Din shrugs, his face warming in shame as he focuses on Grogu. “I was gonna get around to it.”

Astra sets Din’s plate in front of him and uses her fingers to tilt his chin up towards her. “You didn’t have to carry that weight on your own.”

Din smiles at her and the lack of anger she holds for him. All he can see is the genuine care and concern she always extends towards him. “I know.” He frees a hand to take her fingers and presses a kiss on her knuckles. “I just wanted to keep it off your shoulders for a while.”

Astra beams at him and gives her head a loving shake. Din lets both their hands lower to their utensils as they start to eat their respective meals. The silence that sits between them is comfortable even as both their minds continue to work, with Din’s focusing on the events of the day.

“You took it way too easy on Woves,” Din informs his wife. He offers her a knowing smile even as he eats.

“That was the point,” Astra insists with a small laugh. “I needed him to beat me.”

Din tilts his head. “He wouldn’t have had a chance if you were at your full potential.”

Astra raises an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

Din huffs. “Cyar’ika, please.”

“I think you’re a little biased, my love.”

“Hey.” Din points his empty utensil towards Astra, still keeping the sleeping Grogu balances in his other arm. “Don’t discredit your skill and your strength, rid’ika.” When she starts to smile at him, Din gives his utensil another jab. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Astra uses her utensil to push his back towards his plate. “It’s just a very kind thing for you to say.”

Din looks at his plate as he responds. “And it’s true.”

“Trust me, I believe you.” Astra fights a grin and goes on. “You’re a bad liar, so I’d know if you weren’t telling the truth.”

Din’s gaze snaps up to hers. “I compliment you and you insult me?”

Astra laughs. “It’s not an insult if it’s the truth!”

Din tries to hold back his chuckle and fails. “I don’t know, rid’ika. That sounds like quite the accusation to me.”

“Maybe I’m just good at reading you.” Astra stands from her place at the table and sets her empty plate back on the hovercart. She approaches Din and runs her hand over his head. “That’s how I know you have something much more worrying than the Darksaber on your mind.” Din’s gaze falls to their sleeping son in his arms. Astra kisses his forehead and takes his empty plate for him. “Why don’t you bring Grogu to bed, and then we can talk?”

Din nods, opting for just the physical reassurance as he stands and takes Grogu where Astra had brought Zora earlier. He sets Grogu beside Zora and lets himself sit with them for a long moment. Din smiles at the sight of both of his sleeping children and dwells upon their visible peace. They, along with his wife in the other room, are the most precious people to him in the entire galaxy. The last thing he’d ever want to do is disturb their safety, rest, and happiness.

He’s done enough of that already.

Grogu’s worried coos and Zora’s terrified wails haunt Din’s mind like the worst kind of living nightmare. It’s all Din’s been able to hear whenever he’s looked at his children ever since Mandalore. The thought of bringing them back there makes Din want to take them across the galaxy and as far away from the destroyed planet as possible. But Din’s a man of his word; He has to see this through. That’s something he has to show his children, too.

Din manages to tear himself away from his children and lets the door slide closed behind him. The common area is empty aside from the neatly stacked hovercart, leading Din towards the bedroom on the other side of the suite. The door slides open and reveals Astra awaiting him, her armor already removed and set aside. Din fights the urge to shake his head at her as she steps up to help him remove his armor and accepts the shirt he offers her. Their work is done in peaceful silence, an acknowledgement of the conversation that’s to come but an appreciation of the love their routine shares.

When they finally get to lay together, Astra lets Din rest his head on her chest and cards her fingers through his hair. Her actions already help to soothe him and the darkness that swirls underneath the surface. The thought of this being their future on Nevarro somehow both helps and hurts him.

“I’m having second thoughts about going to Mandalore again.” Din makes himself say the words before they become stuck to his chest.

Astra’s as gentle as ever with him when she responds. “Why is that?” Her voice is as light as air, a gift to the tension Din’s built within himself.

Din takes Astra’s free hand and threads her fingers through his own. He lets himself take a deep breath. “I’ve put our family through too much already.”

Astra gives his hand a squeeze. “You can’t take responsibility for what the galaxy’s dealt us, Din.”

“That doesn’t quiet Zora’s cries inside my head.”

Astra exhales and kisses Din’s head. “I wish I could take all that pain away from you.”

Din closes his eyes and listens to Astra’s heartbeat underneath his ear. “You already do.” He hesitates before he goes on. “And… that’s why I’m unsure about Mandalore. You’ve been hurt too, in many different ways. I can’t…” He trails off. The memory of Astra’s scarlet-soaked shoulder is too much for him to bear.

“I’ve always adored and appreciated your protectiveness over us, riduur.” Astra’s voice is thick with the wisdom Din admires. “But I know how badly you want to help your people. The speech you gave on Nevarro was as passionate and genuine as I’ve ever seen you.” She gives his hand another squeeze. “You’re a man of honor and you always have been. Our family will learn from your strength while you see this through.”  Astra kisses his head again. “And I’ll be right by your side for all of it.”

Din sighs in sweet admiration and relief. She never fails to say exactly what he needs to hear. It’s as if every burden’s fallen from his shoulders at the mere reminder of her presence and her loyalty. He lets himself rest even more against her as he speaks with the most honesty and passion he can muster. “I love you.”

Astra’s smile is nearly audible. “I love you, too.” She releases his head and pulls him closer to her. “Now rest. Mandalore awaits us.”

Din finds it easy to take up her request, his mind eased of the fears he’s held close ever since he agreed to help their ally. There isn’t a single thing he regrets about the decision to help his people, just as Astra said. They deserve a better life, especially after the way Din’s actions on Nevarro drove them into exile once again.

What Din dwells upon is acknowledgement of the unknown, the shadows cast upon Mandalore that hide the things and the people Din may not be able save his family from no matter how hard he tries. The last thing he’ll do is let that darkness consume any one of them, so long as he can help it.

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[joannamjohnson]

Chapter 3 - Will You Go?

( Also available on AO3)

He didn’t like to keep secrets from Bronwyn. And he wouldn’t for much longer, he’d tell her this very evening. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself for nearly a fortnight.  

The letter was still tucked in his pocket, as though secretively hidden away, but he told himself it was just for safekeeping. It burned against his leg, even now as he sparred with Hádred. His attacks and defenses were both slower than usual, and had been for days. Control your mind! He told himself, just before he was knocked to his knees with a blade at his throat.  

“That’s twice today!” Hádred said, as he stuck a hand out to Arondir.  

Arondir nodded and took the man’s hand, though he could not bring himself to return the smile. Being bested did not bother him, there was only on thing he could think about. Consuming him.  

“Well fought.” He said with a nod, then turned and walked away from the sparring field. The others would continue their training, but he could not. He thought for a moment to turn to the cottage and take on some of the midday tasks, but just when he thought he’d decided to do so, instead he turned away from the village altogether and began to walk.  

There was no path, but he knew the way. The hills were made of rocks and craggy trees. Here and there was a copse of trees, but most of the forest sat on the edges of his view, all around them. Locusts sang in the summer heat, their buzz bringing him back through every summer he’d spent in the southlands.  

It had been just after summer when he and Bronwyn had first laid eyes on this little valley. And not much longer after that when they’d first discovered this little hidden gem. He stepped through a line of trees, and stopped. The sound of rushing water had been present, but didn’t fully envelop him until he could see it. A waterfall was set here on the hill, running down into a stream that whipped away, always rushing down through the trees.  

A rock plateau stretched out between the trees on either side, the water cutting a groove through the center. He stepped forward and sat beside the stream, close enough that a mist from the waterfall fell on him like rain.  

There had been so much laughter that first day, when they’d tried to climb up to the top of the waterfall and Bronwyn had slipped and ended up soaking wet. Then she’d splashed him for laughing at her and tried to pull him in after her. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to pull him down – blame the elf in him and the wound that she’d gotten only a month or so prior – but he’d let himself fall into the water anyway.  

They both laughed, the absurdity of the moment a delightful diversion from the traumas they’d all experienced so recently and the uncertainty of the future. He wasn’t one to laugh often, but she made him want to.  

He looked up now, the sunlight glinting off of the water as it flowed, highlighting all the individual droplets that broke away from the mass.  

The letter.  

His hand instinctively moved to rest on his hip. It was still there, he knew. He’d hoped, for just a single irrational moment, that it was not, and was just a fear he’d conjured. But no, there it was, as always. The orders he was meant to obey.  

“Bad day to be an elf.”  

He turned his head to find Theo stepping through the trees to stand beside him. His heart jumped to his throat, and he looked back at the rushing water. Theo could not have known how true such a statement was.  

The boy flopped himself to sit just to Arondir’s right, and followed his gaze to the stream.  

“Took the losses that hard?”  

Arondir chuckled, but considered for a long moment whether to go along with the assumption or not. It would only require a minor hit to his self-image, and a little bit of exaggeration to sell the farce.  

“Bad day to be an elf, indeed.” He raised a knee and rested his arm on it. “How do the humans fare?”  

“Improved, I think.” Theo said, then he shrugged, and leaned forward to put his hand in the water. Arondir nodded his head as though pointing from Theo’s hand up to the top of the falls.  

“Will winter come early this year, do you think, or shall summer hold on a bit longer?”  

Theo pulled his hand from the stream and shook it.  

“From... the water? You can tell that from the water?”  

Arondir smiled and looked up at the top of the waterfall, the peak a blinding white in the sun. The water rushed, and rushed, never to stop.  

“In Valinor, the water speaks all things. So it is said.” He looked back down to Theo and acquiesced.  

“But here... no. I cannot do so. At least, not always.”  

He stood then, and held out a hand to help Theo back to his feet as well. The fatigue hit him suddenly – he hadn’t realized just how tired and sore he was. Nor how late it had gotten.  

“Come, your mother will be looking for us.”  

Theo left Arondir when they’d nearly reached the village, seeking out a friend before the evening meal. There was still an hour or so before supper, so he just continued alone to the cottage.  

Bronwyn was just heading inside when he arrived, a pile of freshly cut herbs in her apron. Wisps of hair blew around her face as she lit up into a smile. He accompanied her into the house, and sat to separate the herb cuts when she dumped them onto the table.  

“How was sparring?” She asked, in a tone that made him think she already knew the answer. He smiled.  

“Some might think I’m losing my touch.”  

“ You ?” Bronwyn said, far too gleefully.  

“Mmm.” He responded, choosing to focus on his hands separating the herbs, one at a time. They were both silent for a few minutes, then Bronwyn spoke.  

“There is something that bothers you.”  

He looked up, deep into her concerned eyes. He sighed.  

“Yes. Not...” he chuckled, “not the sparring.”  

“Well, then,” Bronwyn moved over to the table and began gathering a few leaves from each pile, “tell me.”  

He didn’t speak for another minute, trying to decide on how to start, how to say... anything. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He held it out and she took it.  

She opened it and stared for a few seconds, then looked up at him.  

“It’s in Elvish.”  

He nodded, then realized what a fool he’d been, yet again.  

“You can’t read it?” He spoke it as a question, but did not need to. Bronwyn snorted a laugh.  

“Of course not. Not much need for Elvish in these parts.”  

She set the letter on the table and moved back to the pot simmering above the fire.  

“So,” she said, nodding her head toward the letter before leaning to stir the stew. “What does it say?”  

He took a breath. He’d have to say it after all.  

“It’s.... a request. A demand, really. To go to Lindon and provide my account of the dark powers arising in the south. Perhaps to stay, for some time. Elven... time.”  

She’d stopped stirring the pot and just sat against her heels, staring deeply into the floorboards. They both understood the value of silence, and he simply waited, letting her mull over the predicament. At long last, she looked up, her eyes boring deep into his soul.  

“And you?” She said, her voice calm and measured. “Will you go?”  

[cielsosinfel]

reading log before I forget:

I finished the novel Henry, Henry by Allen Bratton. I haven't read a single part of The Henriad since I was in high school maybe so a lot of the foundational influences and how things were being remixed went over my head.

But it's seriously, seriously one of my favorite novels I have read this year. It's so good, it's so perfect. (Other favorites of this year, which also all touch on trauma: van der Wouden's The Safekeep, Butler's Kindred, Conley's All The World Beside)

(CW: CSA (protagonist is 23 years old in the novel though), cross-generational incest, substance abuse mentioned)

It is so rare to find narratives about sexual trauma- especially ongoing familial sexual trauma- that actually depicts the victim having complicated feelings and unanswerable uncertainty around the relationship and the abuse. About victims who are uncertain of their own agency as they continue to go back to their abuser, as they continue to shy away from what may or may not be opportunities to end the abuse (or which may just be opportunities to be utterly disappointed by other human beings when sharing what's happening goes nowhere good.)

There's no clear-cut idealized happy ending where Hal's father dies, or goes to prison, or anything that would read as painfully unrealistic and simple. Hal tells his boyfriend Percy he's a victim of sexual violence and nothing changes, nothing improves, in fact it almost makes a mess of things when Percy opens his big fat mouth in front of Hal's family- and his abuser- in a righteous drunken rage- except he's told someone and that means something on its own. There's no explosive confrontations between Hal and his father. Hal comes to some realizations, Hal bundles those realizations up, and Hal's life goes on. It never really feels cathartic for him, or the other characters, though I know him being able to bury Richard in the family tomb was a cathartic moment, but I still felt a catharsis upon reaching the final page.

I do appreciate that the scenes between Henry and Hal were written in this grotesque intimate, even erotic tone, and that the dynamic is brought into Hal's sexual relationships with other men like Jack. Explicitly. I love how his lack of concern for his own boundaries is a recurring theme- how even when he's with Percy, who AGGRESSIVELY concerns himself with Hal's consent and boundaries and comfort, Hal still just shrugs and doesn't care to care about himself.

I really, really love that Hal shows more concern for the possibility his younger sister philippa may have also been a victim of their father than he ever does for himself. I love the direction their relationship grows as Philippa comes back from her ED inpatient treatment and becomes aware of something happening between her father and older brother- never quite certain what, never quite bringing herself to voice the things she thinks she's nearly borne witness to. And Hal is aware, and she's aware, and they're there for each other without diving into that ugliness.

I'll copy what I said on Bsky

9/8/24 I need to share this book I'm finally starting. Henry Henry, a modern queer rendition of the Henriad

But it opens in the first 20 pages with the protag trying to do dadson roleplay with his middle aged lover and then when his lover doesn't do it right, protag flips things to roleplay his own father

AND THEN

30 PAGES LATER

WITH HIS ACTUAL FATHER

this book was made for me perhaps

9/12/24

Reading more Henry Henry and it's keeping up the very weird dadson dynamic but also I think I ship the protag with his overly earnest guilt-drenched not-friend that he hates & who shoots him in the face (think it may be heading that direction. Percy's gay awakening, worst possible option, let's go)

Oh as soon as I went back to reading Percy kisses hal lol

God. First the extremely heavy scene where hal is bathed by his father who just walks in and starts washing his body. And now this. And then this chapter ends with Hal walking himself into his father's bedroom not long after this wound touching scene.

9/17/24

Finished 'Henry, Henry,' definitely in my top 5 novels for this year, definitely among my favorite CSA narratives I've read ever. I'm so glad it didn't have a cliche ending where the abuse ends and wraps up all nice and neat and clean and impossibly unrealistic.

also I'm really uncertain how to explain but I really appreciate how Hal's cocaine addiction was written not really related but I'm also. thinking about how perfect a CSA narrative and addiction narrative Sketchtasy is. I need to reread but its so heavy.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 316

Nihilism/Damaged Goods

Huzzah!! It only took uninstalling, reinstalling, and then restarting Netflix and then my whole tv to get picture back on but I did it!! So an spn double header

“Nihilism”

Plot Description: as Sam and Castiel try to free Dean from Michael’s control, it falls on Jack to protect the bunker from a monster horde outside

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died. I’m guessing that this is happening in Dean’s mind as either a way to pacify him or convince him to be Michael’s vessel forever

Omg it took a second watch of the first five minutes to realize that Rocky’s Bar (the bar this Dean owns) is in the Rocky and Bullwinkle font…like moose and squirrel, like Crowley used to call them 😭 I miss Crowley

That was a really good distraction to get the angel cuffs on Michael

The reapers have SHIFTS to babysit the Winchesters now?? Amazing

Then how did they get back to the bunker?? If violet didn’t take them there

Ugh… the way Dean is living the same rainy day over and over in his mind. Please wake up from this groundhogs day

Jack’s faith in Dean is 🥺

MICHAEL. STOP LYING TO JACK.

Damn. Michael is even more blood thirsty than Lucifer

Sam’s so desperate for whatever cab save Dean

I’m not going to make comments about why Dean’s mind seems empty

It’s really just super dark because of the trauma

Oh good. Dean’s…….oh no. Michael’s adjusting Dean’s memory to fit what Sam and Cas are saying , but not faster than Sam can make him remember

TWO JENSENS??

Not only is Michael cruel, he’s annoying. He’s stalling til his monster army gets to the bunker

Oh damn!! Since they can’t actually kick Michael out, they shoved him in the cooler of the fake bar in Dean’s mind and now Dean is The Cage. Ngl. It was kinda hot to hear him say that for some reason

Me to Megumi 🤝 Cas to Jack: I’m not mad at you, I’m just trying to keep you safe, and you are making it SO. DIFFICULT.

Awwww it WAS Billie who got them out of the place Michael was at the beginning

Well, at least now I know that whatever fate is in Billie’s books can be changed because I know for a fact Dean doesn’t die the way her books tell it. It’s way, way stupider

Omg they’re really Avengers Infinity War/Endgame-ing this. All of the books say Dean dies with Michael escaping his mind and burning down the world….except one. The one where he dies on a rusty nail for some reason

That said, I can’t believe Billie let him read AND KEEP THE ONE BOOK WHERE IT DOESNT HAPPEN?!

“Damaged Goods”

Plot Description: Dean decides to spend some time with his mother—until Nick shows up looking for a secret Mary stashed away for safekeeping

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: if Nick wanted to kill me, he just would

How does this demon not recognize Lucifer’s vessel

“We don’t hug. I mean, we do, but only if it’s the end of the world or something” truer words never spoken, Sammy

I’m so glad Dean has Donna to take him to go get the best burger

😭😭😭 I’m so proud of Dean for making his needs known and seeing that they are met, even if he’s not forthcoming about WHY he needs them

I MUST know what’s in the Winchester Surprise

When did they get Garth out of the trunk?

Yeah, I ALWAYS think “I should do some welding” when the archangel banging around in my brain starts making my vision go wonky

Nick, you can’t roll up to a small town in a creeper van asking for the friend of the sheriff…

Nick better not actually hurt Donna

I hate that they’re probably right to worry about Dean, but I also don’t like that they’re going behind Dean’s back like this, ESPECIALLY Sam, who seems to be on his way to the cabin

Dean’s read the one way he won’t die with Michael taking over. I don’t know how the whole story goes or if they’re able to divert that to something else but…..let him have some time to process

Ok, we’re getting closer to whatever Dean’s really up to

So Nick is angry because Mary trapped the demon (instead of killing) who killed Nick’s family. I can’t believe he just asked her if she still had the box like she wasn’t dead for three decades

Oh…but she knows where the box is

I really hate Nick putting these women in danger.

The way the writers can’t come up with another way of describing an archangel possessing one of the boys other than “wearing me to the prom” it’s been like ten years, and they’re still going with that

Dean, you’re not talking about Nick when you mention people you think are past saving…or you’re not JUST talking about Nick

Nick, you dumb piece of shit, don’t you dare hurt Mary

Boys!! And Donna!! Thank god you showed up

You know it’s bad if Sam doesn’t think you’re worth saving

What was — oh. Oh no. Dean. Dean, you HAVE to realize Sam is not going to let you do this. He built some kind of box nothing can escape and is planning to pay some hush money for someone to drop said box (WITH HIM INSIDE) into the Pacific Ocean, so it’s just him and Michael duking it out in his brain FOREVER. Sam KNOWS what it’s like to be stuck with an arch angel or two. There is no way this happens

I can’t believe you were ever part of Team Free Will, the way you’re talking, Dean. I can’t believe you’re asking Sam to help you with this insane plan and I CANNOT BELIEVE HE AGREED

[luanna801]

On Jonathan’s PTSD Symptoms and Memory Loss

(Excerpt from a longer paper I wrote in college when I was getting a degree in Psychology, in which I went through all the diagnostic criteria for PTSD as laid out in the DSM-V and described how Jonathan checks off each criterion.)

The third criterion is avoidance of trauma-related stimuli after the event. One form this can take is avoidance of trauma-related thoughts or feelings, which Jonathan shows on several levels. He claims to remember nothing of his time in the castle, but whether this is true loss of memory (also a symptom of PTSD, discussed below) or avoidance is left ambiguous. Mina describes Jonathan’s memory loss with the disclaimer that “at least, he wants me to believe so”, further adding that “he has had some terrible shock, and it might tax his poor brain if he were to try and recall it”. Jonathan has also kept a detailed diary of his time in the castle and yet refuses to read it, handing it over to Mina for safekeeping instead, telling her to “Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know” unless as a last resort. This is both an avoidance of his memories of the castle and also avoidance of a physical reminder, the second type of avoidance symptom.

The fourth criterion is negative alterations in cognitions and mood, which must manifest in at least two different ways. One of these is inability to recall key features of the trauma, and as discussed above, Jonathan claims to remember nothing of his time in the castle after recovering from his initial delirium, Mina noting that “he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past.” After seeing Dracula again in the incident described above, Jonathan seems to have once again forgotten everything when he wakes up, and Mina worriedly comments that “I don’t like this lapsing into forgetfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the brain”.

Tl;dr, intentional avoidance of traumatic memories and involuntary memory loss are both symptoms of PTSD; in fact both are specifically cited by the DSM-V as symptoms to be used as criteria for a diagnosis.

My personal guess is that Jonathan is experiencing true memory loss, which would be an extremely common trauma response in this scenario. (I think for example, that the way he totally blanks out after seeing Dracula in this entry is probably all too real.) But he also shows signs of intentional avoidance such as refusing to read his diary, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume he doesn’t really want to recover those memories at this point because it would just be too traumatic.

Without getting into any spoilers, he also later brings up being afraid of whether his memories are even trustworthy or just a sign that he’s lost his mind, and that’s definitely a factor to consider here as well. My take would be that he has at least some total blanks in his memory, and the rest of his memories are so jumbled and terrifying that he can’t stand trying to focus on them, both because it would be too traumatic and because he’s afraid they’re just hallucinations caused by his breakdown.

[bijoharvelle]

once upon a time i was writing a watch guide for All spn and i never finished it but i DID give the major plotlines hilarious titles and descriptions and the world deserves to see those

SEASON 1 John Winchester, CEO of Fuck These Kids: we learn about how the boys were raised and all the various ways it affected their inability to communicate or have more than One emotion (Dean has chosen: Rage, Sam has chosen: Conflict) Azazel’s Children: Mary wasn’t fridged for nothing, there was a whole PLOT involving DEMONS and FREDRIC LEHNE

SEASON 2 John Winchester, CEO of Fuck Those Kids: he still be fucking them up Deal with the Devil: we learn about how to sell your soul to demons for fun and profit

SEASON 3 John Winchester, CEO of Fuck These Kids: from beyond the grave, he’s still fuckface mcgee Adam’s First Wife: Lilith isn't really the Big Big bad but that comes in season 4 All Hellhounds Go to Hell: selling your soul to demons is actually not that fun because you have to go to super mega hell at the end of it I Can Kill You With My Brain: turns out drinking demon blood has some nifty side effects...

SEASON 4 Surprise! Dean Has Trauma!: he was in hell for like 40 years dudes. cowabummer. Toy Soldiers: angels and demons aren’t always working on the side that you think they are A Show at SeaWorld: Lucifer’s trying to get turnt on this earth

SEASON 5 Apocalypse: Take Two: turns out Daddy’s Boy Michael is here to end Lucifer’s fun, also something something The Four Horsemen Lucifer Needs A Suit For Prom: and Sam is just his size Noooo Dean Don’t Say “Yes” to Michael, You’re So Sexy Ahaha: Michael is also going to prom and needs a suit and wouldn't you know it... Thus Spoke Zarathustra: God is dead, long live God It’s Up That I’ve Fallen: tracking cas’s rebellion as he falls in love with one (1) idiot and all of humanity.

SEASON 6 You Just Can’t Have It All: dean wants the apple pie life, no he doesn’t, yes he does, no <3 Superman Goes Darkside: cas has been naughty The Hottest Sam Has Ever Been: Sam came back different from Hell Summer Camp They Just Hate Women: Eve is the big bad and the Writers keep proving their Misogyny

SEASON 7 We Are Legion: levianthans! Sorry, The Old Cas Can’t Come to the Phone Right Now!: why? well first it’s because he’s god and then it’s because he’s emmanuel and THEN it’s because he’s honey!cas Surprise! Dean Has Trauma!: this time it’s because he can’t save everyone in the world The Writers are Twelve-Year-Olds: convinced Dick Roman was only written to make Dick jokes Sam, Interrupted: speaking of, Lucifer is a dick AP Prophesizing: Kevin Tran deserved better

SEASON 8 Desaturated Monster Thunderdome: it’s purgatory! Boogie oogie oogie! Also Benny Hunters but in a Librarian!AU: the boys get a bunker and select their domestic skills (Dean has chosen: nesting, Sam has chosen: categorizing) which introduces us to the horrible retcon that John Winchester was also a legacy hunter but, like, the nerd to the Campbell’s jocks It’s A Purification Metaphor: Sam goes through trials It’s A Purification Metaphor, but with Angels: Cas isn’t himself Crowley At the Gates of Hell: more characters who deserved better than the writers of this show

SEASON 9 Earth Angels: the angels...they’re falling... Tahmoh Penikett Deserved Better: dean puts an angel in his brother. For safekeeping. Yas Kween: ABADDON!!! The Worst Character™: SURE METATRON HAS RIGHTS. THE RIGHT TO SHUT THE FUCK UP It’s All Biblical to Me: Turns out Dean and Sam are Cain and Abel Jody Mills’s Home for Wayward Girls: she collects them

SEASON 10 Deanmon: for like 3 seconds Dean is a demon Surprise! Claire Has Trauma!: Claire Novak comes to win hearts Future Queen of Hell: And what's this? It's Rowena, with the steel chair?!!? Commander Cas Needs His Grace

SEASON 11 I Guess God Has A Family: Amara and Chuck have domestics and I sprain something rolling my eyes so hard A Microaggression Against Me as A Queer: they tried to pretend that Dean and Amara had chemistry Casifer: the only Lucifer with rights

SEASON 12 Dead Mom Syndrome: guess who’s back from the dead! Surprise! Mary Has Trauma!: It runs in the family Damien Thorn In Utero: Cas is about to baby trap that man so good. Men of Letters, but British: nerd hunters from Britain String Theory for Dummies: pretty arrogant to think ours is the only universe

SEASON 13 i gotta be honest with you, i stopped watching season 13 after Wayward Sisters. I watched some scenes from some episodes, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care about the Apocalypse world thing. So figure it out for yourself, past that episode, okay?

Damien Thorn, Aged Up: jack kline protection squad A Curious Curl in the Metaphysics: what happens to an angel when it dies? Asmodeus Gross Lucifer Gross

SEASON 14 more honesty hour: I barely watched season 14. You’re on your own for this one, okay.

SEASON 15 Thus Spoke Zarathustra - We’re gonna kill God and we’re gonna be happy about it Sam Winchester, Physical Embodiment of Hope, I Guess: ?????? Dean Winchester is Losing His Damn Mind: like, damn, me too. he ain't special Damien Thorn Will Save the World: Once he learns how to tie his shoes A Curious Curl in the Metaphysics: bet you thought the writers forgot about Cas’s deal huh It’s Up That I’ve Fallen: CANON EDITION

[drummergirl231-2]

Out of the plots announced for next month, which are you most excited for? Mine is the Impossibin one mainly to see Della and Louie's relationship after season 2's drama plus Webby and Beakley's possible tension there (it may be the final episode before we go on another hiatus). Get the feeling Daisy may be more involved in the FOWL plot than we think since she hasn't been confirmed to reappear in any of these so far and we're gonna reach the half way point for the season?

samesamesamesamesamesamesaaaaaame

This is the sort of plot description where it sounds like there could either be a whole lot of angst, a whole lot of humor, a whole lot of fluff, or all of the above.

It sounds like (from the plot synopsis) the Louie and Della part will take center-stage. It is the first part of the synopsis, and the episode title refers to it. I wonder if Louie and Della volunteer for the task, or if Scrooge is just like, “You two. You’re my sketchiest babies. Be sketchy and try to break in. Or break out.” XD

This could be some very sweet fluffy bonding time between them, or it could be cute and funny antics. Or it could even be angsty because they both may still have some things to talk through. 

There may be a moment when they just sit down and talk just before the intense part of the episode really kicks off, like Scrooge talking with Dewey during the Ragnarok episode. 

Whatever happens, it’s gonna be so good.

HOLY FLIP I JUST GOT AN IDEA.

Della spent almost eleven years trying to escape from the Moon. What if all her efforts to escape from the “impossibin,” trigger her? I mean it’s a bit of a longshot but like...

We know Della now has the compulsive need to know how to get out of wherever she goes. And we know how she gets when she feels stuck in a place.

I’m probably getting my hopes up, but we’ve seen little instances here and there illustrating how Della’s mind isn’t totally unscathed by her ordeal. 

Maybe this episode will take a bit of a closer look at her trauma?

And Beakley and Webby!

The B plot of the episode also sounds like something that could either be funny, angsty, or fluffy. Maybe it’ll build up Beakley and Webby’s relationship with cute fluff so that later on in the season it’ll be all the more heart-wrenching when Beakley’s secrets and lies come to light. 

Or maybe the whole thing will be humorous. I can imagine some ‘80s music montage as Beakley and Webby try to get everyone else into shape but everyone fails at the things they’re trying to teach them.

But I could also see a bit of growing tension between them like you said. Maybe Webby’ll be like “YEAH let’s take out F.O.W.L.! We got this!” and Beakley’s gonna be like “Mmmm no you don’t. It’s great to be prepared, but I’mma lock you up for safekeeping again, ‘kay?” Beakley might be really scared for Webby and not want to fully explain why just yet, and of course Webby wouldn’t appreciate being overprotected again. We saw how stubborn Webby was in “The Confidential Case Files of Agent 22!” But keeping Webby in the mansion again might just be Beakley’s strategy for her safety.

As for Daisy, I can’t imagine there not being some connection to F.O.W.L. or S.H.U.S.H. Hopefully the latter, since I get the feeling the whole “I may be on the bad guys’ side but only because I’m hurting and confused and deep down I’m good...ish,” arc will go to Gandra. It’d be cool to see Daisy as a S.H.U.S.H. agent. Of course, how the actual living heck...? Like, she’s trying to make it as a designer, she was Glamour’s assistant, AND she’s a spy? How many jobs can one queen have???

ALTHOUGH

(deep headcanon/speculation territory that is probably very very off)

I had that speculation a while back that HDL’s father could’ve been a F.O.W.L. agent. In Don Rosa lore, he was Daisy’s brother. Someone asked Frank about the possibility of Daisy’s brother being HDL’s father, and while he at first seemed to deny it, when someone sent a follow up question it seemed like Frank was neither confirming or denying... just refusing to talk about it. So I’ve had this little AU boppin’ around in my brain that Daisy had been trying to figure out what happened to her brother all those years ago because even she doesn’t know he was with F.O.W.L. Like he kinda shut her out at some point (for her own protection, unbeknownst to her) before his assignment to spy on Scrooge by getting close to Della. So for a while she investigated on her own with no luck or with S.H.U.S.H., but she’s kind of lost hope, and at this point doesn’t even realize her new bf’s sister had a significant connection to her brother.

I know I’m probably way off, but that’d be fun, right?

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.7}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Neither of them said a word, not even for wishing the other a happy new year, nor however did they make any move to leave. Eventually the noise made way for the silence again, and they were still sitting in their respective archways. Somehow Robin didn't want to be the first to go, even though she was starting to feel cold. But cold was usual, and comfortable was rare. A true feeling of comfort, at least. Especially now that Snape didn't come to the classroom in the evenings anymore. Robin frowned to herself upon the thought; when had his presence become something she enjoyed so much? For more than just the possibility of learning something, namely as in experiencing actual joy in having him around? She didn't know. It didn't matter. He was the only truly bearable person around, that probably was enough of a reason to appreciate his company.

"Your teeth are chattering." His statement finally brought Robin back to the real world, and she realized with a start that he was right.

"Uh, yeah, well… sorry. I should probably… go back inside." She said and got up, out of the arch, to shake out her frozen limbs. A few seconds later she started towards the dungeons indeed, and after another few he was walking next to her.

"If you have another second of your time to spare, I would like to give something to you." He finally said after a moment of just walking in the same silence they had been sharing for the past hour.

"Uh, certainly…" She replied with a small frown, and seeing as he made no attempt to stop walking towards the dungeons whatsoever, she simply let him lead the way.

"Wait here." He ordered once they reached the door to the laboratory, and Robin complied with the same frown on her face that she's been wearing for the past few minutes. As he disappeared into the room and closed the door behind himself, Robin leaned against the opposite wall and enjoyed the darkness around her. It was funny how she'd never actually used a spell for lighting up the hallways at night, when the candles were unlit, but always had thought that she could see well enough. Many of the Slytherins actually had gotten so used to the darkness of the dungeons that whenever someone used a lumos down here, it was almost always either a first year or someone from another house. That fact just seemed amusing to Robin right then, and she found herself smiling into the darkness even as the door was opened again.

"What, pray tell, is humoring you quite that much?" He asked doubtfully, the very second he seemed to notice Robin's amusement even as he stood next to her in the hallway again.

"Oh, just the darkness, professor…" Robin replied with another smirk, but then turned her entire attention back to him as he handed her a blank but closed envelope.

"Open it in private." He ordered in a pointed statement, but then continued normally. "As it turned out, your suggestion was indeed best fit for the circumstance… however I will not say any more on the issue."

Robin didn't know what he was talking about, but she took the envelope and held onto it for dear life anyway, purely on instinct. She did that with anything that seemed even remotely important to her these days… had done so ever since the incident with her backpack in early October.

"Alright…" Her voice was more of a whisper than a real statement, for no other reason than that she didn't know what to say in the first place, since he had made it clear that he would not give her any further information. Seems like she would just have to open the envelope and see what's inside… her skin crawled at the thought, stuck somewhere between anxiety and excitement.

"Happy new year, Miss Mitchell." He said after a moment of merely looking at her in the darkness, with another unreadable expression that made Robin wonder even more what was in that envelope.

"Happy new year to you too." She replied with a small smile, then both of them headed their ways without another word.

The very moment Robin stepped into her room, having it to herself for the moment just like last year, she lit the fire in the oven and jumped onto her bed after shedding her jackets and shoes in lightning speed. Then she held the envelope in her hands again, heart beating frantically, and finally opened it with the utmost care. The first thing that fell into her hands was a small note, and she went to read it immediately in the hopes to make some sense of this situation at last.

‘Over the course of the last weeks I have taken precautions to ensure that it is not destroyed, but can never be used again. Yet, it would be unwise to keep it in my possession in its entirety, so I am giving half of it to you now, for you are the only one who can know. Keep it safe.’

Slowly Robin was starting to understand what was going on, what all this was about… but once she took the second piece of parchment out of the envelope, there was no doubt. Snape had given her half of their project, instead of destroying it. That's what he'd meant when he'd said her suggestion had been the best choice!!! Bloody hell… He had actually listened to her stupid idea! And now he was giving half of the greatest discovery of the century to her for safekeeping. Robin's lips parted as she stared at the tiny piece of parchment in her hand. It had been shrunken down to the size of little more than a fingernail, the letters not even readable as they floated over the page like a snowstorm. But it was unmistakably the same page they had restored a month ago. Well, half of it at least.

As Robin moved to take off her necklace with the locket on it in order to place the precious piece of parchment inside, she wondered why on earth he would have chosen to give it to her. Out of all the people, there… oh. She was the only person other than him who knew about the potion's existence, and she was the only one who could know in return. That's what he'd meant, and that's why he had given it to her. Admittedly, he also could have kept it to himself, or hidden the parts without having her in the picture at all... But he hadn't. He's had the choice, and he had chosen to give it to her. Robin felt unbelievably proud of that, and stunned beyond words as she tied the locket back around her neck. She would keep it safe, as part of her promise to keep their secret. As a piece of proof that she deserved his trust.

Professor Snape had given her the best Christmas present she had ever received, and somehow, Robin found great delight in the fact that he would deny it to the very end.

_______________

Whenever things went too well for an extended period of time at Hogwarts, Robin had learned to grow suspicious. In this instance, everything between the start of the new year and the beginning of April had been such a period of time. She had indeed been able to join the 'care of magical creatures' class, had spent every night in the potions classroom working on assignments or private studies, sometimes with and sometimes without Professor Snape being present, and not once had she been bothered by any of her peers or teachers. Really, it was highly suspicious. But one single class in the middle of April brought a sudden change to that, be it for the better or –more likely– for the worse.

It was Wednesday afternoon, one of those days when every ounce of concentration was hard to come by, and unfortunately also the time of day for Robin's defense against the dark arts class. The first surprise had come when the students had entered the room to find it cleared of all tables. Instead, right in the middle of the room, there stood a huge chest with a large lock on it. That… was odd.

Robin set her backpack down in the back of the class like they all were instructed to, and couldn't help wondering what Professor Morgan was up to today. He'd been suspiciously indifferent to Robin all year long, and somehow she rather hoped that this wouldn't change now. A few minutes later and the riddle came to an end: they would be getting some practical experience for once! Morgan seemed rather pleased with himself as he explained the task… the chest held a boggart, a creature which transformed into the darkest fears of whoever faced it, and today the class was to learn how to defend themselves against it. Individually.

Robin already couldn't stand the task from the very second it was explained. She had read about boggarts, of course, and she wasn't all too concerned about facing one, but she wasn't all too fond of the idea of everyone in class seeing what she was most afraid of either. The thing was… she had absolutely no idea what she was most afraid of. Sure, there was a huge array of things she was scared of, but she had no idea which one was the worst fear of them all. There literally were a million things that scared her, but not one she wanted anyone to know about.

Professor Morgan did a quick demonstration of how to use the riddikulus spell, while however –so Robin noticed immediately– he refrained from actually facing the boggart himself. Maybe he was too scared of giving his own fears away, or he knew that he might as well fail at even such a simple task; who knew… Then he had the students line up in a long row in front of the chest. Robin tried to stand as far in the back as she could, in the hope that maybe classtime would be over before it was her turn to go against the creature. She really wasn't looking forward to finding out what her worst fear was, especially not at the same time as her classmates and Professor Morgan did.

For a good while, Robin quietly observed what the other kids were scared of… A lot of snakes and spiders, some clowns and scary dolls, but also some more substantial things like murder or disease. The latter were particularly unpleasant to watch, as they gave Robin some serious chills and only furthered the churning of her stomach and the anxiety that she hid under her neutral facade as always. What on earth could be her own worst fear? Loss? Failure? Disappointing people she cared about? She really had no idea, but the more students successfully ridiculed the boggart, the closer she got to finding out.

Time indeed wasn't on her side today, and before long the person in front of her in line had successfully ridiculed the boggart to a dog with a sunflower as a head. Really, what a curious imagination some people had… Robin forced away every ounce of anxiety and wonder as she was up next, and drew her wand as she took on a defensive stance. To hell with this, she'd fought Professor Morgan and the Whomping Willow… there was nobody and nothing that could shock her now. She had rid her mind of fear, and every other emotion that could possibly be used by the boggart, so really, what was there to be scared of?

The sunflower dog looked up at Robin with kind eyes, panting quietly while Robin waited for it to change. A few seconds ticked by, people started whispering, and Robin took a step closer to the boggart. She held its intense gaze and put her entire focus on it, and yet it refused to change… she surely wasn't afraid of a cute little dog with a sunflower head! The whispering behind her grew louder, and Professor Morgan said something to address the class, but Robin's heartbeat drowned it out in her own ears entirely. If the dog didn't change soon, she would just-...

Then, in that moment, it did take on its form at last. The room fell silent but for a few quiet gasps, and Robin's lips parted as she stared at the new form the boggart had taken on… She stared at herself. Her very own eyes, not even an arm's length away, her very own body entirely. A few chuckles in the rows of students behind her, a few new whispers. But Robin only frowned as she stared at herself in confusion. She wasn't afraid of herself! The boggart must be wrong. And yet, when the boggart-Robin took a step towards the real one, the latter took an immediate step backwards in return. There was something in her own eyes that was eerie, something hollow, something ineffably dark. Boggart-Robin drew her wand and pointed it at the real Robin with a wicked smile that left the real Robin breathless, thoughtless even.

"Damn it, Mitchell, react for heaven's sake!" Professor Morgan's angry yell reached her through the thick fog in her mind, and the real Robin lifted her wand as well, in a weakly defiant attempt to fight her… it… this.

But her own eyes simply wouldn't let her go, the dark abyss behind them trapping her like an inescapable prison. She heard herself speaking the spell, but she didn't know which one of her it was that spoke. There wasn't a difference anymore, she was both of them and neither. She was falling into a bottomless abyss. In a last vain attempt to protect herself from her other self by any means, the thing that was her more than itself now, she thought of its lifeless body, splintering, like the mirror she had become, her own one, and tried the spell another time, any spell, anything. But the abysmal nothing had greeted her as one of its own already, and she became part of the darkness within herself. Darkness, but not her own.

… … …

Voices… distant sound. A small murmur of broken speech. More words… more voices.

"You should leave."

"Whatever for?"

"You have no business being here in the first place."

"But you do?"

"She is my student."

"As she is mine…"

"What is it that you did to help, then?"

"Could you two be so kind and discuss this elsewhere?!" A third voice snapped, and Robin felt a sharp pain in her mind as she slowly came to. So the talking hadn't been a dream…

"Bloody hell…" She groaned under her breath in return, and all three voices died down immediately. Her eyes fluttered open, and she once more stared at the ceiling of the infirmary. Oh damnit… not again. At least it was lit by daylight for once.

"Oh, good, she's alive…"

Robin knew that voice, that feigned cheerfulness… She turned her head and blinked for a moment until the figures standing in the aisle between the beds regained some sharpness. Yup, undoubtedly, that comment had come from Professor Morgan. Honestly, Robin had expected nothing less than sarcasm and pretense from him at any point. But… what exactly had gotten her here again? She'd just been in class, and now…

"In that case, I will excuse myself… It is nearly dinnertime." Morgan said in a shallow positivity and Robin saw the blurry figure that was him leaving the scene. Good, he was going away… that could only make things better, really.

"Are you experiencing any sickness or dizziness?" Madam Pomfrey's voice on the other side of the bed drew Robin's attention to her.

"No… I'm just…" Robin moved to reply, distracted by her constantly sharpening vision that now allowed her to see that she'd merely been placed on top of a bed. That could only mean that it hadn't been long! But what had gotten her here in the first place? Oh gosh, that blackness… that boggart, the abyss… How did she feel? Not good, suddenly, not good at all. Panicked, anxious, drained, unsafe. Robin sat up abruptly, her eyes finding the matron at the end of the bed. "I-I'm totally okay, it's absolutely nothing, I'm very good. Just… fainted. A little. Can I go now please?" Her heart was pounding in her chest all too painfully, and she actually felt terrified… but why?

"Any headaches?" The woman asked again, completely ignoring Robin's pleas.

"No! I'm okay!"

"Cramping in any muscles?"

Robin rolled her eyes, and had to forcefully bite down the desperate wish to give in to the flight instinct. "I. Am. Fine." If she let on any of these weird symptoms now, she would never get out of here. For some odd reason, she felt absolutely desperate to leave.

"What is your assessment, professor?" The matron asked with a glance to somewhere off to the side, and as Robin's eyes followed her line of vision, she almost jumped visibly indeed. She knew that the other voice had been familiar as well! But… what was he doing here? Sure, Morgan's presence had somewhat made sense, seeing as Robin had fainted in his class, but Snape? Why was he here?

For a few seconds Robin held his piercing gaze, and with every single one she found herself more and more unable to keep up her neutral facade. The anxiety, the wish to run, it was getting the upper hand. Why did Madam Pomfrey ask for his assessment? What was going on?

"I believe there is nothing that would warrant Miss Mitchell's stay in the hospital wing." He finally replied, and a second later Robin had already jumped off the bed and was getting ready to run without running.

"Thank you, for your… help with… whatever happened to me." She sputtered as she summoned her backpack with a wordless accio, before turning around and making her way out of the room as quickly as dignity would allow. That was rather rude, Robin knew that, but she also couldn't help it.

Once outside of the infirmary, she got no further than to the end of the hallway before a hand on her shoulder stopped her in her haste abruptly. Robin yelped, the surprise causing the tension within her collapse like a card house, and she could barely blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes in return.

"We should go for a walk." Snape said before Robin could apologise for her previous mode of exit, and she found herself merely able to nod. His hand stayed on her shoulder as he led her out of the castle unseen by another and in mutual silence, through hallways and doors Robin didn't even know existed, until at last they arrived under the grey sky that showed the first signs of dusk. Only then he released her from his grasp, and oddly enough Robin immediately missed his hand on her shoulder once it had disappeared.

But she was away from everyone in the castle, outside under the open sky, and that finally allowed her poor heart to calm down bit by bit. For a while they followed a small path, still without a word, and Robin eventually felt like herself again. Almost… content. Especially when they arrived by the shore of the black lake, which really did look like a silver coated blackness now, in the fading light of day.

"You certainly have a talent for getting yourself into trouble." That was the first thing he said after half an hour of silence, and Robin let out a helpless chuckle in return. He was absolutely right, she did have a talent for ending up in some kind of trouble, while yet she never did anything to deserve it. Other than being who she was, that is.

"I apologise, repeatedly and profoundly." She sighed in return. "But I honestly don't even know what it is that I did this time. Or why they had to bother you with it. Or why I felt desperately inclined to get away from the infirmary."

"I can answer the first two questions. The answer to the third however, while I was well aware of the fact from the moment you woke up, shall remain as much a riddle to me as it is to you."

"You knew I had to get out of there?"

"It was hard to miss."

"Is that why you said they could let me go?"

"Yes. And seeing as a change of scenery has indeed seemed to calm your urge to flee, I would say my assessment was correct."

"Thank you…" Robin sighed again, and walked along the shoreline at the exact spot where water met pebble. An odd little quirk she had picked up over time. "So, you said you could answer the first two questions…?"

"How much of what happened do you remember?"

"Well, I know that we were in class with Morgan, ridiculing a boggart all afternoon… he actually did a dreadful job at teaching us how to defeat it, if you ask me… anyway, I remember that when it was my turn to have a try with it, the stupid thing just didn't change for the longest time. Only after a while it did, and then… I believe it changed into myself." Robin paused for a moment as she frowned to herself and dug her hands deeper into her pockets. "Is that even possible? Or did I faint before that and simply dreamt the whole thing?"

"You did not faint." He replied calmly, factually, as he walked next to Robin at a slower pace now to adapt to the conversation. "And neither did you dream."

"Then what happened?"

"To Professor Morgan it appeared that the boggart took on your very own appearance indeed. As far as he can tell, you cast the wrong spell to fight it, which caused you to lose consciousness."

"That sounds like such a vaguely useless description only Morgan would give." Robin groaned in annoyance as she frowned down at the moving waterline next to her shoes. "I may not know what exactly happened, but I'm absolutely certain that it wasn't as easy as that."

"It wasn't."

"Huh?" Her eyes snapped back up to Snape in mild irritation, as she wondered what he meant by that. He hadn't even been there, how would he know?

"Do you seriously believe I would have gotten involved if it was merely for a student fainting over a boggart?"

"Well, no… that's why I was so surprised to see you there when I woke up in the first place." Robin shrugged, but kept looking at him for an answer. "But why did you get involved, professor?"

"My assistance was requested, seeing as nobody else could determine what exactly it was that had happened to you. Based on Morgan's observation, you should merely have fainted, 'like girls occasionally do', as he put it..."

"I most definitely did not!" Robin rolled her eyes, but she was well aware that those were Morgan's words indeed. Snape's dismissive sarcasm was a rather precise indicator of that.

"That is what I told them. The spell you cast affected the boggart as much as it affected yourself, thus the spell's effect is what caused your… surrender to unconsciousness."

"Like a mirror?" Robin wondered before he could go on with his explanation. Yup, she was definitely feeling like herself again if she could succumb to curiosity. "Seeing as it and I… were reflections of each other, that would only make sense."

"Precisely like a mirror, Miss Mitchell." He seemed rather pleased with her conclusion, if the not-smirk was anything to go by. "Maybe they should let you teach Professor Morgan's class, seeing as he did not only fail to come to this conclusion, but also refused to understand it once it was explained to him. There are houseplants with more mental capacity than that man possesses."

Now that was certainly the most direct bashing of the defense against the dark arts teacher Robin had ever heard from Snape, or anyone really, and she couldn't help grinning to herself. It was true, after all… Morgan was an idiot for all she knew.

"Anyhow, my involvement in the issue resulted out of the sole fact that nobody could tell what spell you had cast, seeing as nobody had heard you saying a single word in the first place." Snape continued after a few seconds, clearly trying to pretend that the previous row of insults hadn't happened. Robin did him the favor and went along with it, seeing as the new information she was getting captured her attention anyway.

"But… I heard myself speaking." She frowned at the path ahead as they left the shore behind and grew more and more enclosed by woods now. "I mean, I don't know what spell I used either, actually… I can't recall if the boggart-me attacked me first or if I was the one attacking… It kind of swims together in my head." While that was entirely true, the memory of the hollow darkness in her own eyes still caused her to shiver, and the wicked smile on her lips made her blood freeze.

"It never made an attempt to attack you. You and the boggart stood frozen on the spot for multiple minutes, from what I heard." His reply barely registered in Robin's mind for a moment, but once it did, she didn't understand any of it.

"But… I saw it coming at me! I… I saw myself fighting myself! It grinned and… and raised her… its wand to attack me! Or did I? Gods, this is just complete madness." She groaned to herself and hid her face in her hands for a moment. Why the heck was she her own worst fear?! What was that supposed to mean?

"It is quite complex, I have to admit." He mused, sounding like he was also trying to make sense of it, but still he did not sound even remotely as confused as Robin was.

That's when another one of those lightnings of insight struck her mind, and she looked up at her professor with a start. "How did you know what spell I used if nobody heard me saying it? I mean obviously you must've found out what happened and how to undo it, seeing as I'm fine and taking an evening stroll with you."

For once it was Snape who carefully avoided Robin's eyes as he replied. "Everyone saw how you stared at yourself as if in a trace, and yet nobody understands what happened between you and the boggart. They saw no spell, and they saw nothing to fear. I was asked to look into your mind to make sense of it in order for them to help you." Going by both his tone and expression, he expected Robin to be angry about his violation of her privacy, even if it had only been meant to help her. Wait, did he actually feel concerned about angering her? That was surprisingly considerate… and yet Robin wasn't surprised at all. She knew that he wasn't indifferent to her well-being, he'd proven that often enough.

Admittedly, Robin did feel like her heart dropped into her stomach for a moment, then jumped up into her throat, and finally settled for a fast and steady beat in its rightful place. But she wasn't angry. Not at all, actually. "What… exactly did you see in my mind, professor?"

"You used a peculiar kind of petrifying spell, which I believe would indeed have worked to stun a boggart, under different circumstances. It could be undone fairly quickly with the correct procedure."

"That's… good to know. But it's not what I meant." Robin looked up at him with an expression that hopefully said more than her words did, for she didn't know how to actually put into words what she wanted to know.

"What did you mean, then?"

Robin sighed and rolled her eyes to herself in sheer dread of having to ask, then stopped in her sauntering and turned to face him straight on. "Did you… did you see what happened to me before the spell?"

"Yes."

Robin's eyes widened ever so slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. "Did you understand any of it at all?"

His expression fell into a scowl immediately. "What kind of pathetic question is that?"

"Sorry!!! Sorry… I really didn't intend for it to sound so rude, and it probably came out all wrong in the first place." She apologised immediately, her face a mixture of regret and worry. "It's just…"

"Do go on."

"But it's pathetic indeed." She reasoned with his own words, but when he rolled his eyes and waited for her to go on in feigned annoyance, she complied. Somehow, she didn't mind that he knew about her deepest fear. Not that she's had much of a choice in that, but going by his words, neither had he. Someone's had to go into her mind to help her, and she was glad that it had been him. Maybe, he could help her make sense of it now. "It's just that I myself didn't understand it, sir. I have no idea what the boggart believed to be my deepest fear for it to turn into myself, and even thinking that it was myself I was afraid of leaves me no wiser."

"I merely saw what you saw, Miss Mitchell, and I felt what you felt. That is how it works. I cannot see more than you know, but I can draw my own conclusions out of it."

Now that was news to Robin… Snape had taught her quite a bit about occlumency, but legilimency in return had never been a part of that. If he had seen what she had, then maybe… "So you saw the… eyes?"

"I see your eyes every day, Miss Mitchell, that is hardly new to me."

His statement left her with an odd tingling on her skin that wasn't even all that unpleasant, but she ignored it for now. There were more burning matters. "Do they really look like that?" Once he raised an eyebrow at her in that annoyed, questioning urgency, Robin rolled her eyes against her better judgement and added, "I mean… do they really hold that-"

"Empty darkness?" He prompted, but didn't wait for a reply before answering in return. "No. They don't."

Robin let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, then closed her eyes for a moment in relief and turned away from him towards the lake in the growing distance. It was slowly getting too dark to see that far. Why had it been such an unknown burden to her that she might actually look like the boggart's version of her? Why was it such a relief to know that she didn't, in fact, look that dark, or insane, or empty? Maybe she was her own worst fear indeed… what lay in her mind without her knowing, what she could become if she wasn't careful. But yet, she wasn't like that version of her she had seen. She believed Snape in that. Without taking her eyes off the barely visible shoreline between the trees, she felt the need to address something else she's had on her mind for the last minutes. "I… apologise that my actions put you in a situation where you had to look into my mind without my explicit permission."

"That is an odd thing to apologise for, seeing as it was your thoughts and memories I had to look into. Yet I do not believe that you are at fault for what happened today."

"But neither are you, sir."

As the silence took over once more after Robin's statement had faded into the evening, she turned back to see that Snape was looking at her in return, not with the scowl she had expected but in almost curious consideration. But he did not say a thing.

"Thank you for taking the time to go for a walk with me." Robin finally spoke up again. "I really appreciate that it was you who helped me make sense of this. And to be honest I also doubt that anyone else would even have been able to."

"That makes two of us." Snape replied with a not-smirk that for once was fairly obvious. "There hardly would have been another person who has even a remote understanding of the true complexity of the issue."

"Maybe it's better like that…" Robin sighed, as they started making their way back towards the castle. "I mean… how boring would it have been if my worst fear was anything short of absolutely confusing and ineffable? That would be so… ordinary." She actually heard something like a badly suppressed snort coming from the professor to her right upon her words, and that made her smile.

"Actually, I believe you are inherently incapable of being ordinary." He replied in that perfectly neutral tone again, in absolute seriousness with maybe the tiniest hint of humour shining through, and Robin simply had to laugh brightly in return, while a new wave of tingles ran from her head all the way to her toes. (A curious feeling, really…)

Maybe they could take walks like this more often. It was delightful, entertaining, calming with just the two of them... He'd probably find that rather dreadful, wouldn't he? Robin had no idea.

But right then he looked almost content as he walked up the hill towards the castle, through the impending darkness and comfortable silence, consciously staying next to Robin despite her being slower than he probably fancied.

The afternoon had brought a lot of bad for Robin, with the very likely possibility that she would be severely mocked for the incident, but it had at least led to one of the nicest walks she'd ever gone on, and maybe that might just be worth it. In her mind, it definitely was.

_____________________________

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[doctorguilty]

Animal death ment, maggots ment, vulture culture, generally super grody

Guess who just came back from the dirt trail under the train tracks where some brodudes buried a recently deceased raccoon face down in a narrow, sandy ditch so it wouldn't gross them out while playing Sports tm and got aggro when I was poking around the area the other day so I went with a flashlight and a shovel at 11 at night and dug up it's poor dirt matted corpse and pulled it out and held it in my hands as literal piles of maggots fell out of it and brought it home to put in my freezer for safekeeping until I can work on it and give it love and preservation also made a pit stop at the convenience store to buy snacks while covered in dirt and my hair matted down with dirt and sweat ......

I'm so upset I think its fur is ruined I had seen it the other day and hoped no one would mess with it!! I didnt have my bigger freezer at the time ;_; It just made me feel so heartbroken the more I dug and it wasnt even laid down nicely like a grave just!! Shoved in a hole face down booty up! It would have been better off naturally decaying in the brush it just.. seems so wrong....

Also!!! A very strange thing happened while I was digging... I heard a rustling in the bushes and a little racoon came slowly crawling down the hill behind me, curiously looking at me and getting strangely close, stopping in place for a while..? and then it continued casually walking off along the trail.... it felt very very auspicious

I just got out of the shower cause I felt super gross and dirty and ngl I did make my skin crawl a little bit cause the whole experience is certainly .... really gritty... I still feel a little crawly under my skin.. but at the same time I feel a sense of relief I have the racoon now. He doesnt have to rot away face down in a ditch at the hands of some dudes who for some reason thought that was more appropriate than just moving it into the woods or something like where a racoon belongs??

I'm so sad about his fur but I also feel excited to eventually give him a bath and brushing who knows, maybe some can be salvaged.. most definitely his bones can be ofc!! I'll take good care of him, lovingly preserve him in a warm cozy home

Sidenote.. I very much feel that sense of catharsis again processing my trauma with death and the way it makes me feel helpless.. especially in this situation where something made me upset, the way something dead was discarded and disrespected, just like the way I felt about someone who died in my life.. but in this case I had control and I could exert my power to reclaim something and keep it as my own and feel empowered by the notion that no one can take it away from me now. And I and only I can decide how this creature will be processed with my own hands.. every single part of it.

It might sound strange but for me this is most definitely a comfort I've never experienced before and I think my journey as I move forward will be very exciting!

I actually now have most of the tools I need for working on the animals, I'm just basically working on getting a table and stuff set up outside and continuing to watch videos and educate myself until I truly feel ready! I don't yet.. but that's another beauty of this. No one can rush me. I don't have to decide right away. That was another part of my trauma.. everything happening so fast before I even processed the death even happened....

I can take as much time as I want with my animal. They're frozen and preserved just like that until I decide otherwise. I like the comfort this makes me feel so much.

[momokiiafterdark]

“You Can’t Run So You Must Hide”

Title is from the song Wyrd (Glass Animals) I do recommend it highly. 

Yuuimori belongs to my friend @popsweeties

This Post Contains Themes of: Stalking, Breaking and Entering. Assault, Bone Breakage.

                     “Wanna know the story of how I got a BF?”

He looks to be around mid 20s, he’s tall, he’s got short dirty blond hair that rests perfectly on top of his shoulders and pretty hazel eyes, also freckles. I caught a glimpse of him while out shopping for dinner, he stole my attention extremely quickly. I needed to see more of him! So, I followed him around the store. Peaking around isles, passing him multiple times, pretending to look at things so he wouldn’t notice me, this was all short lived though. Soon I was forced to watch him check out, when he finished bagging his items and paying, I knew I had to act fast. Leaving my cart behind, I proceeded to follow him out the store.

I quickly scrambled in my purse for my keys and ran to my car, getting in while still watching the man. It’s dark out but I see His car, a galaxy purple Toyota, was parked across from mine. I reach into my glovebox and pull out a pad of paper and a pen. I scribble down his license plate or, what I can see of it in the moonlight, and put the piece of paper into my purse. I look back at him, his car’s running, I soon follow, putting the keys in my ignition and turning my car on. I wait for him to pull off, and I continue my pursuit. 

My heart’s beating out of my chest, my hands are sweaty and my body is hot and shaky. I try my best to forget about my nervousness and focus on the car in front of me. We drive about 6 blocks until he pulls over to this small house. Letting out a small sigh of relief, I pull over across the street, but not where he can see me.  I shut my car off, and open my window, the cool air hitting my sweaty face. The man is now carrying bags to the front door, his keys in hand. I stare and let out a displeased groan when he gets in his house, shutting the door behind him. I sit and think for awhile, before I write his address down. “I... I want to get in..” I say to myself. I soon start my car up, looking back at his house one more time, I sigh and pull off, returning to my home. 

I didn’t get sleep last night, and I’ve been thinking about him all day. it’s already evening and I haven’t moved from my bed, I need to.. I get up, get dressed, (dark clothes obviously, can’t get caught now!) and grab my keys off my table, getting in my car, I drive to the address I wrote down last night. I park in the same spot and shut my car off. I look around, his car isn’t there, he must be out for the night. “thank goodness” I say under my breath as I get out of my car. I walk over to his home, looking in the windows, no sign of life, but I had to be sure. I try to open the front door, I knew it’d be locked but thought he might forget.. he did. It was that easy? “Ah!” I let out a surprised noise as the door opens. I look around to see if anyone has saw me, no one’s around and I’m not willing to get get caught, so I rush into his home, quickly shutting the door behind me. 

It’s pitch black in his house, I feel against the wall for a light switch and voila! The room lights up, the brightness blinds me for a few seconds. His home is neatly arranged, roses in vases here and there, it’s very cozy. I search around, going through drawers and seeing if I can find something of interest..  I eventually find his bedroom, I impatiently open his bedroom door and turn on the light. His bed is all cleaned up, there’s a open laptop and papers on his desk across from me. I put it aside, and go into his closet, searching around through his drawers. 

I find a small bottle of cologne, I take the cap off and spray some on my wrist, the smell intoxicates me, the urge to bathe in his scent overtakes me. But I snap out of my fantasy, and slip the bottle into my pocket for safekeeping. I turn around and I’m met with clothes all neatly arranged on hangers. My eyes falling on a light gray hoodie, I grab it, pulling it off the hanger. I push it to my face and inhale, smelling the clean scent of him.. I hold it to my chest and leave the closet, and walk over to that laptop. He left it on, tabs open of various social medias. Before I look even more on his PC, I go through the papers on his desk. His name on one.. “Yuuimori” He’s even got the name of an angel. The rest are drawings of various people. He’s very talented~ I find a blank piece of paper, and grab one of his markers, moving back to the computer, I write down all his social medias. His email and his passwords to each of the accounts. 

I leave his house around an hour later with his cologne, hoodie and all his account data! I get in my car and set everything down on the seat next to me. I drive off hurryingly. Once I get home, I rush to get in my house his things in my shaky arms. I get inside my house, and sit down on my couch. I pull off my shirt and slip on his hoodie, it’s nice and warm and smells like his house~ I spend the rest of my night going through his accounts.

A week passes, I’ve got a shit ton of info on Yuuimori and I’m thankful for it. I’ve spent yet another day thinking about him.. Tonight however is different, I’m returning back to his house. I haven’t taken off his hoodie, I can’t.. that doesn’t matter, because tonight, I will be wearing every piece of his clothing. I get in my car, a metal baseball bat sitting in my back seat. I drive off in the direction of his house. The entire drive there, I think about him, and how we’ll soon be together forever. 

Once I arrive, I’m shaking. Reaching into the backseat I grab the bat, and take it with me. I exit my car, my fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the weapon. I reach his door, his car’s parked in the driveway, his lights on. My body is shaking almost violently at this point, my breathing has now turned into panting.. I swallow my spit, and knock on his door. I grip the bat in both hands now, quickly glancing behind me to see if anyone is around, no.. good. I ready my weapon as I hear his footsteps getting closer. The doorknob turns and so does my stomach, the door opens and in a split second, I swing my bat, HARD. I watch him as he topples to the ground with a loud groan. I must’ve hit him hard enough to break his nose.. I stare down at him, there’s blood pooling from his head, tears falling down his face. I ready my bat again, this time though, I swing at his legs, over and over. His cries and choked out screams echo within his house and possibly can be heard by his neighbors. I stop hitting him once I hear loud cracks. I knew I did enough damage.. 

I drop the bat and kneel down, grabbing his pathetic squirming body by his soft bloodied hair and drag him into his house, kicking the door shut behind me. I drag him to his living room. He’s loud, very loud even when his nose is broken, so I shove him hard against his floor, sitting on top of him. One hand clamped firmly around his mouth, the other is struggling to keep his wrists together. I shush him, tears falling out of my eyes.. I’m.. crying. I hurt the one I love.. but, he asked for it! He should’ve came up to me at that store! “FUCK!” I scream out, roughly grabbing his hair with both hands now, and I slam his head down against the carpet. There’s a half scream before more soft sobs slip through his lips. Blood pooling around his head, staining not only the carpet but his soft colored hair. After awhile, he stops struggling. I think I killed him, I quickly check for a pulse, he’s alive, he must’ve passed out from blood loss and trauma. I get off of him, throwing myself on the floor next to him, my face in his pool of blood. 

                   I pass out with him, hoping to see him in the dreamland.

[popatochisssp]

Individual Skeles (Wave 1)

Sans (Undertale)

Random Headcanons: 1

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2

Sans is a basic bitch

Stuff he enjoys in bed * 

Virginity?

Pokemon team

...Well, one of you is gonna have to change.

-

Love in a Ball-Pit

-

Papyrus (Undertale)

Random Headcanons: 1

A-Z Ask Game: 1

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

Pokemon team

-

Get Dunked On

-

Sky (Underswap Sans)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2 | 3

With a s/o who’s never been in a relationship before

On marking his partner *

Stuff he enjoys in bed * 

Pokemon team

His cautious opinion of humans

Would he ever Judge his s/o?

-

Best Worst Day Ever

-

Paps (Underswap Papyrus)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2 | 3

With a s/o who wears thigh-highs

Paps is not a basic bitch... but he IS a college cryptid (or maybe a Victorian gentleman...)

Stuff he enjoys in bed * 

With a dyslexic s/o

With a friend who unintentionally plays on his daddy kink

Pokemon team

-

You’ve Goat to Be Kidding

-

Jasper (Underfell Sans)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2

A-Z Ask Game: 1

With an artist s/o who wants him to pose for them

Jasper is a crunchy marshmallow (burnt but still good!)

With a s/o who wants to dom him in the bedroom

With a s/o who wants to kiss and nuzzle his forehead

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

Feelings on collaring (but also, on collars with a s/o)

Pokemon team

The baby pictures he keeps of his bro

With a s/o who wants to flatter/fluster/pamper him

On knitting

-

Bad to the Bone

-

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2

With an artist s/o who wants him to pose for them

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

Feelings on collaring (but also, on collars with a s/o)

Pokemon team

Theatrical romance

-

Better Than Expected

Family First (Platonic)

As You Like It

-

Mal (Swapfell Sans)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2 | 3

What is Swapfell Indigo?

How to start winning his trust

On marking his partner *

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

With a s/o who doesn’t want to wear a collar......or wants to wear it as a bracelet instead? Or maybe a big bow? (Would he wear a bow collar...?)

Adapting to the surface

Pokemon team

If someone were to try and boop him (Being booped by a s/o specifically)

With a self-negative s/o

With a s/o who’s scared of rough stuff in bed *

With a s/o who doesn’t like fancy styles of clothes

Mal and his Princess

Aftercare best practices *

-

Mission Impossible

Dirty Laundry (plus The Hamper [WIP] for extras)

-

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3

A-Z Ask Game: 1

What is Swapfell Indigo?

With a very small, very affectionate s/o

With a s/o who hasn’t had the best life

With a diabetic s/o who cannot accept sweets from him

Stuff he enjoys in bed * (and if his s/o is kinda subby, too)

How his s/o’s first period around him might’ve gone

Why he’s a little more vulnerable when he comes from a Kill or Be Killed universe

His feelings on collaring (and if not being able to beat Mal is an obstacle...) Or if his s/o wants to wear a big bow as a collar?

Adapting to the surface

Pokemon team

With an argumentative s/o

-

Resisting a Rest

Snuggle Therapy

Dirty Laundry (plus The Hamper [WIP] for extras)

-

Slate (Horrortale Sans)

Visual reference (commissioned)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2 | 3

On fixing the hole in his skull

Making it work with a small normal-sized s/o

With a s/o trying to wear his clothes

Why is he so big?

With a s/o who wants to dress up fancy to go on a casual date

With a s/o recovering from anorexia

With a s/o who wants to kiss his hands

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

A meet-cute

Pokemon team

If his Phantump discovered some...memories...

With an adopted sibling in college who’s working too hard

With a s/o who has as much LV as he does

Is he a sadist?

Using his poor memory to trick/prank him

Can he see out of both eyes?

Skull damage

-

Fur a Good Time, Call... (plus Snips & Snails for extras)

Safekeeping

-

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus)

Random Headcanons: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

A-Z Ask Game: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

With a s/o who struggles with anxiety/depression

Making it work with a small normal-sized s/o

With a s/o trying to wear his clothes 

With a s/o who likes to be picked up

Why is he so big?

With a s/o recovering from anorexia

With a loving, domestic s/o

Stuff he enjoys in bed *

Pokemon team

With a s/o who isn’t intimidated by/likes his height

Trauma/coping from the Underground

-

A Modest Proposal

[sinafay-the-defiant]

| Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III |

Saving Sinafay - Finale

The atmosphere on the lower level was dreary to say the least. The air felt stifling and there was very little illumination. It would be impossible to tell night from day this far from the surface. The elevator stopped in the center of a circular room. There appeared to be two levels of cells and a guard station. The room was linked to four corridors, though the lighting made it impossible to see where they led to.

Aelissah frowned. It was such a stark difference from the lovely architecture she’d seen above ground. This place reeked of suffering and death.

Woeful moans and wails echoed faintly down the corridors, accompanied with clanking, banging, and the rattling of chains. What was this place? Grakkar growled, as he peered around the poorly-lit room.

It wasn’t long before a Draenei emerged from the guard station. He approached, unarmed, in an expedient manner. Grakkar narrowed his eyes, prepared for a fight… but held as he looked the Draenei over. She was a younger one, from what he could tell, wearing darker, unscathed armor and a cordial expression on her face. As she neared, she brought her hooves together and bowed her head respectfully.

“Light’s blessings.” she greeted them, politely. “You are the inspectors, I presume?”

Grakkar looked to Aelissah, and nodded - hopefully she understood it was time to play along again… He cleared his throat, and looked the young Draenei over. The Ancestors smiled on him, it seemed! He was both relieved they had some kind of excuse… but also worried. If she was expecting inspectors, that meant the real inspectors would likely show up soon! They didn’t have a lot of time.

“We are.” he replied, adopting his usual grizzled tone - it seemed fitting, to sell a measure of authority over the Draenei. “I am Prelate, uh--”

He coughed, then shook his head. He had to think of names, and fast!

“--Prelate Jarrol.” he nodded. “And this is Adjunct… Korvaan.”

He pointed to Aelissah - or ‘Adjunct Korvaan’ - while making a silencing gesture with his hand.

“The Adjunct does not speak, they are only here to observe.” Grakkar explained, hoping that made sense. “And we are on a tight schedule, so let’s make this quickie--err, quick!”

He cleared his throat after the brief misstep. The young Draenei quirked her brow, but didn’t seem to be bothered by it. At least, it didn’t seem to instill any suspicion in her. She bowed her head politely again, once to each of them, as she motioned further into the room.

“Well met, Prelate. Adjunct. Please, follow me. I’ll give a concise brief.”

She led the two down the corridor, amidst the numerous cells They were all dark inside. Some were occupied, indicated by pairs of glowing eyes that seemed to watch their every move.

“As you can see, we keep the prisoners in Light-denied cells, as directed, to increase the effectiveness of the suffusion process.” the Draenei explained, as she approached one of the cells. “The stark contrast from dark to Light seems to take deeper root on most subjected to it - a sixty-five percent rate, which is higher than anticipated!”

She turned a crystal knob beside the cell, illuminating a dim light in the cell before them. Grakkar nearly gasped - it was an orc. The prisoner orc was malnourished - that was plain to see. His eyes glowed with the Light, but through the shine they appeared tired, mirthless… hollow. He looked up at the Draenei, barely able to even snarl at them. Bruises and cuts on the wrinkled skin of the orc were painful to look at, seeming to fester as if denied the chance to heal naturally.

“This one is due in next for suffusion. It will be his fifth and final cycle.” the Draenei went on. “He’s been resistant, but he finally broke yesterday.”

Grakkar swallowed hard - how he wanted to snap this young little Draenei in half, and tear the cage open. He stifled a growl, fists clenched, as he looked her over. He exhaled a sigh - he couldn’t blow it now… not yet. Not until he found Sinafay.

Aelissah had no idea what the conversation between Grakkar and the Draenei was, but apparently they were now being given a tour, which was convenient. She followed along, attempting to peer into the cells… not that she’d recognize Sinafay if she saw her. Most shapes she was able to discern was that of orcs. Perhaps Draenei prisoners were kept in a different wing? She frowned, hoping it wouldn’t be a different floor altogether.

Grakkar handled himself well, especially given the terrible shape the orc in front of them was in. He didn’t look that far off from withered. She swallowed hard, forcing re surging memories to the back of her mind. She rolled her shoulders back, keeping her neutral poker face on, nodding to the guide’s words. Thankfully, they were led away from the cell and through a strong set of double doors.

An illuminated circular room greeted them, almost blinding considering the darkness of the cells. A large crystal stuck out of the ceiling in the center of the room, glowing intermittently. Directly beneath it was a sturdy looking table. Aelissah eyed the strong looking restraints; strong enough to hold down the strongest of orcs, no doubt. She didn’t need to understand what the Draenei was saying to know this room’s purpose was to forcefully infuse the Light into a subject. She wondered how many orcs died during this process… part of her didn’t want to know. Again, she nodded, pretending to understand what was being said.

They were led back out of the room and down the corridor, returning to the main room for a moment. More talking, more nodding along, before they were led down a different wing. These cells were just as dark as the ones the orcs were kept in. There didn’t appear to be as many prisoners in this part of the prison.

These cells didn’t contain orcs, however. Their guide kindly lit one of the cells, showing a Draenei female within the cell. Like the orc, cuts and bruises littered her body. Golden eyes peered at them defiantly through a mess of blonde hair. They weren’t glowing like most of the Draenei Aelissah had seen. There was a strange looking collar around her neck, dark red gems seeming to absorb whatever Light was around it. No doubt a method to keep the prisoner weakened. Hands were bound together in cuffs chained to the ground.

Aelissah looked to Grakkar, wondering how much longer he’d be able to hold it together.

The answer was not much longer. Grakkar’s eyes flared as he looked into the cell - it was her! Sinafay! He snarled, snapping forward and gripping the crystalline bars of her cell, eyes locked onto her.

“--Prelate!” the Draenei protested, stepping up beside him. “It is alright, this is not an honored citizen anymore. This is the Traitor of Beastwatch.”

Grakkar turned his glare to the young Draenei. He could’ve reached over and crushed her skull - horns and all - with one hand! How desperately he wanted to shatter this Draenei, and use her corpse as a battering ram to break Sinafay out… but he couldn’t. Feeling the crystalline bars, he knew they were sturdy. Reinforced by the Draenei’s precious Light magic. He could feel the sting of it through his skin, even now. He stepped back, glaring at the Draenei guard for a moment, before looking back to Sinafay. He took a deep breath… ‘Not yet…’ he told himself.

“--Ah. Good.” he uttered, painful as it was to describe Sinafay’s captivity as such. “I heard she was dead.”

He looked to Aelissah, chest still rising and falling quickly from being so worked up. He narrowed his eyes, knowingly, at his partner - there she was! This was who they had come here for! The Draenei Guard shook her head, as she stepped back.

“Understandable. I know it can be upsetting to see a Draenei in a cage.” she waved a hand. “But rest assured, this one deserves it.”

Grakkar grunted, twitching as the Draenei spoke. ‘NOT YET’ he reminded himself. His fists clenched, as he looked at Sinafay once more. He gazed into her eyes - they wordlessly told the story of her pain and suffering. The horrible trauma she’d endured - she continued to endure! He didn’t know what that collar did, but the skin of her neck around it was horribly discolored. Whatever it was… it wasn’t good.

But it wouldn’t be much longer.

“We are getting some use out of her, at least.” the Guard went on, explaining to the two of them. “The nullification collar capacitates her Light-energies - and this one has quite a bit, being a former Vindicator. We swap them out when the draw knocks her unconscious, and use them as catalysts for the suffusions.”

“Hmph.” Grakkar grunted, voice grisly and coarse. “How do you change them out?”

“Well, we simply unfasten the restraining bolts, and the collar comes apart.” the Draenei explained. “We guards hold the bolt driver on one of us, for safekeeping. Today, it’s me!”

The young, naive Draenei beamed with pride, as if holding the driver was some kind of accomplishment. Grakkar grunted once more, as he looked her over. Knowing she had the key all but sealed her fate…

“Last question…” he growled. “How do you open the cell?”

At that, the Draenei raised her brow. She glanced between Prelate Jarrol, and Adjunct Korvaan, discerningly. This was a test, surely! She wondered, for a brief moment, if she was being inspected, as well. Lightly, she cleared her throat.

“W-Well… the main controls in the Guard Station open and close the cells we need.” she informed them, suddenly very anxious - she hoped she was doing well so far! “Aah, but, the manual release levers are just over h--”

She turned to motion to one of the crystalline controls on the wall beside Sinafay’s cell… but she never got a chance to finish her sentence. The instant she turned away from ‘Prelate Jarrol’, he rushed at her, grabbing the back of her head and slamming it into the wall in front of her. Her lifeless, limp corpse fell to the ground immediately. Grakkar stepped over her body, and looked over the control panel.

“Find a tool on her.” he said to Aelissah, in Orcish. “It’ll remove the collar.”

His eyes settled on the manual release lever - he pushed it without hesitation, causing the solid, crystalline-Light-infused bars to retract into the ceiling. He moved to the side, and looked at Sinafay once more.

“The sun hides away…” he said, still in Orcish, while approaching her. “The moon hides face…”

Sinafay’s eyes narrowed as one of the Draenei turned on the other and opened up her cell. Instinctively, she attempted to move away, though could only get so far with the shackles. Clearly, she was expecting some form of abuse. She bared her teeth as her tail flicked dangerously behind her. Despite her condition, she was fully prepared to put up a fight.

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking Orcish, but when he did, the defiant glare turned to confusion, and then a spark of recognition as the secret phrase Grakkar always spoke during their secret meetings was uttered. Her tail ceased its flickering, and she stopped her attempts to move away, allowing him to walk up to her. She opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t utter a word. It seemed the collar was keeping her silent on top of draining her Light energies.

She stared at the Draenei, eyes brimming with tears. No one else knew to say those words. No one knew of their relationship. It was the one secret she’d managed to keep. He looked like the enemy, but she recognized his voice. Grakkar’s voice. She didn’t know how it was possible… but he’d found his way back to her!

Aelissah’s lips pressed into a thin line. Surely, the sound of the young Draenei’s skull smashing violently into the wall was heard down the hallway. Her ears picked up alarmed voices coming from a crystal at the guard’s belt. Someone would be investigating soon. They had to move fast!

Kneeling down, she searched the guard’s body for the tool Grakkar mentioned as he moved in to calm his mate.

“Crush the crystal to dispel the illusion,” she said, “Our cover is blown anyway. We make our escape once you free her of the bindings.”

She collected the tool and made her way into the cell with the other two. She handed the bolt driver to Grakkar, assuming he knew what to do with it through his conversation with the guard. Her other hand plucked the illusion crystal from her pouch, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under her boot and revealing her true form. Her ears flickered, listening for sounds of reinforcements. She cursed to herself as she took out a lock picking kit. It would take longer with her injured hand…

Grakkar reached into his pocket, and drew out his crystal. He crushed it in his hand, causing the illusion of the Draenei to shimmer away into nothing, leaving only his normal self standing before Sinafay. He smiled weakly at her - it wasn’t easy to see her in such a state, but he was happy to see her at all!

“It’s alright.” he said, voice still rather ragged from speaking - speaking Draenic, no less. “We’re getting out of here!”

As Aelissah handed him the driver, he set to work immediately.

“Hold still.” he told Sinafay, as he reached out and took hold of the collar.

He felt the tingle of energies as he touched it - clearly it was doing something. Presumably, he was unaffected because the Light didn’t flow through him. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to his beloved Sinafay, though… his brow furrowed, as he quickly set to undoing the bolts on either side of the circular collar. It looked like it came apart in halves.

“Get these shackles off of her, quick!” he called over to Aelissah. “Then, we have to get to the Guard Station and--”

“DO NOT MOVE!”

Grakkar grunted, turning quickly - two more guards showed up behind them! They approached, weapons and shields at the ready as they blocked the only way out of the cell block. The Orc snarled. He finished undoing one bolt, which was enough to open it up and remove it from Sinafay’s neck. That was all he needed, for now.

“Lissah will get you out.” he told Sinafay, in as calm and comforting a voice as he could muster - so practically shouting. “I’ll hold them off!”

He drew his axe as he turned from Sinafay, interposing himself between the cell and the guards. Grakkar had seen more than enough to make him angry down here. The withering orcs subjected to this torture, the horrible restraining table with the shackles where the ‘suffusions’ took place… seeing the abuse and maltreatment they inflicted upon Sinafay - one of their own! - all because she was the only among them with any sense of honor! It made Grakkar’s blood boil! He snarled at the guards, hand clenching around his axe. The time for sneaking around was over. Now, it was time to fight!

The first Draenei Guard moved in, shield raised and hammer held overhead in preparation to strike. Grakkar met his movement, rushing for him with a furious howl! He slammed his shoulder against the energy shield - sparks jolting into him as he did - as he brought his axe up to block the hammer swing. He shoved the Draenei back, sending him stumbling, as the other came up to engage. Grakkar was quick - and angry! He reacted instinctively by dropping low to a kneel to evade the lateral hammer swing, meanwhile swinging his own weapon low to sweep the Draenei’s legs. It worked  - perhaps too well - as both the guard’s legs were cleaved out from beneath him in one swift stroke! He let out a yelp as he collapsed.

The first Guard looked on, horrified! He muttered something in Draenic - Grakkar didn’t hear it, or really care to! If it was a plea for mercy, it surely fell on deaf ears. The Orc lunged again for the Guard, swinging his axe downward into his shield. More sparks flew, briefly illuminating the cell block with each repetitive hit. Energy coursed through the axe into Grakkar’s body, causing him pain and burns. But he was enraged - the jolts of pain only fueled his fury! After the sixth or seventh strike, the energy shield burst, shorting out! Grakkar pressed the attack, swinging his axe again. As expected, the Draenei desperately brought his hammer up to try and defend. Grakkar twisted his axe as the weapons connected, ripping the hammer from the Draenei’s hand entirely as both weapons were tossed aside! He reached out with his now-free and grabbed the guard by his chin tendrils.

“Brace yourself!” Grakkar growled in Draenic - a phrase he used in other heated moments.

He lifted the Draenei’s face, exposing his neck. Quickly, he brought the collar around and clamped it closed around the Draenei, before shoving him back. The Guard writhed, mouth open as if to scream in pain - but he couldn’t. The collar continued to do what it was designed to do, draining the Light out of the Draenei just as it had done to Sinafay for Ancestors-knew how long. Unlike the Draenei who did this to his beloved, however, Grakkar didn’t let the Guard suffer for too long. He retrieved his axe, and brought it down quickly to sever the suffering Draenei’s head from his body - cleaving through the collar as well. It sparked, discharging the Light energy in a brilliant flash! Nothing but ash remained of the corpse, now.

Along with his axe, Grakkar retrieved the Guard’s hammer. He tossed it back, letting it bounce, then slide back into Sinafay’s cell, stopping at her hooves. He grunted.

“We have to get to the Guard Station!” he shouted back, listening as more Draenei guards chattered down the corridor. “The Master Release will open all the cells, and free the Orcs here, too!”

Aelissah worked as quickly as she could, but the shackles were tricky. Unable to use her injured hand, she had to use her teeth to hold one of the tools in place as she worked the other with her functioning hand. Thankfully, Grakkar bought them plenty of time as he unleashed his fury onto the guards. Her ears flickered, and she couldn’t help but smile some at the vengeance he was able to get out of his system. He’d done well keeping his temper in check… much better than she expected! It was only right that he got the chance to channel his anger.

With a clicking sound, the shackles released their hold, freeing Sinafay’s wrists. The Draenei nodded her thanks, rubbing at her wrists. The glider glow of her eyes had returned now that the collar was removed. Her neck looked terrible, though. Raw and burned. No doubt, it would leave a scar, even once healed.

“She is free!” The rogue yelled to her partner, hoping he wasn’t to far into his rage to hear her, “It is time to leave!”

Her answer came in a crystalline hammer sliding into the cell. Her ears pinned as his words rang out.

“Grakkar!” She snapped, “We cannot take on all the guard’s ourselves!”

She looked to Sinafay, hoping the Draenei could talk some sense into her mate. To her dismay, she did the opposite! Sinafay picked up the crystalline hammer, getting to her hooves. Her eyes flared with righteous fury as she walked out of her cell to join Grakkar’s side… weakened and without armor! Foolish!

She understood the need Grakkar felt to save his people, but they were in no position! Perhaps if their cover had not been blown so early, but too many guards were alerted to their presence now.

“Sinafay! Grakkar!” Aelissah growled, running up behind the two, “We did not come all this way to die! You have each other! We need to leave! Now!”

Grakkar held his position, axe at the ready, as the numerous hoofsteps echoed down the corridor. The set behind him caught his attention, as Sinafay strode up next to him. He was so happy to be with her again. Ragged and bruised as she was, she was truly a sight for his sore eyes. He’d missed her terribly! There was so much he wanted to say to her. So much he wanted to tell her. But most of all, he longed to hold her in his arms once more. But that would have to wait! The encroaching Guards needed to be dealt with first.

Right?

Aelissah’s words struck him hard as he looked Sinafay over. She had a fighting spirit, undoubtedly. But she was in no condition to fight off the Draenei coming their way. He saw the exhaustion, the fatigue… the pain in her expression. It was all she could do just to stand there shoulder to shoulder with him. He couldn’t lose her again… not like this! He scowled, glancing down the corridor once more, as the ominous glow of the Draenei guards’ weapons, armor, and eyes began becoming more clearly visible. This wasn’t a fight he could win… Aelissah was right - they had to leave now!

“--Bah!” Grakkar huffed, as he turned and took Sinafay by the hand. “Let’s go!”

He dragged Sinafay back towards Aelissah, the wave of Draenei guards closing in rapidly behind them. The three met in the middle, where they stopped.

“--The pocket watch!” Grakkar grunted. “You know how to use it? We have to us it now!”

Aelissah let out a sigh of relief as Grakkar finally listened to reason. She dug the pocket watch out and looked it over with a frown. Circadia had never specified how to use it, and of course the rogue hadn’t fiddled with out of fear of accidentally setting it off.

Sinafay was easily pulled back, not because she was cooperative, but because her mate far outranked her in strength, especially in her weakened state. Her eyes never left the approaching guards, fury evident in her gaze. The frustration of being pulled away from the fight was enough to cause tears to spill down her cheeks. She knew she couldn’t win, but she was so angry… She gripped the handle of the mace tightly as guards filled the corridor in front of them.

It was now or never! Aelissah brought her arms around her two allies as her thumb pressed down on the crown of the pocket watch. A lucky guess! One that served them well as she felt the familiar arcane energy encompass the trio, pulling the back through time and space, leaving only bewildered guards staring at a now empty hallway!

~*~*~

“You did it! You actually did it!”

Circadia’s excited voice broke through the disorientation, causing Aelissah’s ears to twitch. She’d never been more relieved to be home.

“I think… I need a vacation after that,” she managed to say.

Grakkar grunted, releasing Aelissah to provide his full attention to Sinafay. He held her close, both to sustain her and keep her on her hooves, as well as to finally embrace his beloved. He’d missed her so much… worried ceaselessly for her in his absence… it was an unprecedented relief to hold her once more.

“It’s alright…” he assured her, sheathing his axe to embrace her with both arms. “We’re safe now.”

The intricate boardroom was as they had left it - destroyed chair and all. The differences now from when they left included a spread of food and washrags on the table, dimmer lighting, and a spread of pillows and blankets arranged neatly in the back corner near where the pocket-watch-portal had deposited them. The room itself also seemed… different somehow. That tinge of Arcane enchantment was much stronger now, than before...

Circadia approached the trio of inter-dimensional travelers, relieved smile gracing her features. She looked first to Aelissah, ensuring her dear friend was alright. She noted the injured hand, and looked for other indications she’d been hurt - seeming pleasantly surprised both her eyes remained intact. She looked then to Sinafay, smiling to her as if she’d known her for years! She was mindful to keep a respectful distance, however - knowing better than all but the Draenei herself what torment Sinafay had endured, and the agitated, alert… and frightened state it had left her in. She had no intention of traumatizing the poor thing any further than was necessary. Nonetheless, she seemed delighted to see her here.

“Welcome back to Azeroth, friends.” she spoke softly-yet-excitedly. “The end of an arduous journey… but the advent of another to come, hm?”

She let out her melodious laughter, stepping - or floating - back from the group and over to the table.

“But first, a reprieve is in order.” she nodded, knowingly. “There aren’t many places nearby such ‘mixed company’ would be welcome, but this room is one such haven. For now. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Rest, and recuperate as needed. You won’t be disturbed - the room itself is chrono-shielded. Take a day here, and only one Azerothian hour will have passed outside.”

Grakkar looked to Circadia while he embraced Sinafay, offering the Arcanist a nod of gratitude. He smiled lightly, a breath of relief escaping in one of his exhales. He still wasn’t fond of Suramar - the odd ever-present tinge of magic, the fabricated walls and furnishings, the dirty looks he recalled getting outside not too long ago… but it certainly beat the depths of that dank and deprived Draenei prison! He wasn’t sure about Circadia, at first. He found her too cryptic and yet far too jovial for his liking. But she facilitated the rescue of his beloved Sinafay! And now, offered them shelter from the outside, judgemental world as well! He never expected to owe two Nightborne Elves so much.

A debt to Aelissah and Circadia he could never repay.

“... Thank you.”

Aelissah simply nodded to Grakkar. Despite her frustrations during the mission, she was happy to see him reunited with his mate… even if she was a Draenei. She glanced to Circadia, giving the elf a knowing look.

“Funny, you -forgot- to mention it was a Draenei we were rescuing, hm?” She couldn’t help but mention with a cheeky grin. She didn’t bother to push for an answer as to why. Part of her already knew…

“I will seek out a mender and retreat to my apartment to rest,” she announced, turning her attention to Grakkar once more, “I believe the two of you require some time alone. Circadia will call for me when you are ready to return to Stormsong.”

With that, she bowed her head and took her leave.

Sinafay barely took notice of what was being said. Her arms wrapped around Grakkar’s torso tightly, her face buried in his chest as she sobbed. She was trembling in his arms, shoulders shaking, finally allowing herself to break down from the months of torture and captivity. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe in her lover’s arms; safe enough to freely express the emotions she’d buried over the months. Relief washed over her. She’d been certain she would die in that cell. A death she had fully accepted. Despite what she went trough, not once did she regret saving the Mag’har.

Finding her freedom again, being reunited with her love… there were no words.

“O-One by one… the stars go out,” she finally managed to answer her side of the code phrase, “but the light of hope… never falters.”

~*~*~

(( Co-written with @thefugitivemango / @grakkar-gorefang ))

[scarletwitching]

you said once that the whole limbo thing with Magik was an allegory for child abuse, i have an idea why but could you ellaborate on it?

This got pretty long (who is surprised?) and deals with a heavy topic so I decided to put all of it under a cut.

Warning: This post deals with childhood sexual abuse, and even though it isn’t a literal depiction of that, some of the language used might be upsetting.

Some historical context for when this story was written: The 1980’s saw a rise in public awareness about childhood sexual abuse in the United States. This increased visibility coincided with a couple of (somewhat connected) mass hysterias. One of those was called Satanic Panic.  

Satanic Panic is what it sounds like: a moral panic centered around the fear that widespread “ritual abuse” (physical and sexual, as well as murder, cannibalism, etc.) was happening at the hands of Satanists. Sometimes, the Satanists were just day care workers, and other times, they were basically the Illuminati, a shadowy, all-powerful cabal who wanted nothing more than to mutilate cows in front of your children. Possibly in the basement of a pizzeria that doesn’t have a basement.

This was tied to the (very fake) 1980 book Michelle Remembers, and it pops up in fiction even today. The first season of True Detective is a Satanic Panic story. (I haven’t seen the second season so I don’t know what that’s about.)

I’ve always read Magik’s origin as a Satanic Panic story with an actual Satan.

Another thing to keep in mind: Belasco was not an invention of Claremont. He was introduced in Ka-Zar the Savage, as a guy who liked to kidnap and rape women. A demon in need of a bride.

Belasco: They also changed my human form to one that more resembled their own, adding horns and a magnificent tail, and gave me the privilege of becoming father to a new demonic race – the race that would soon populate Earth! Yet I needed a bride! I kidnapped the lovely Beatrice and we sailed to the site of this mountain, which the Elder Gods had indicated was the perfect location upon which to carry out the spell. For safekeeping, I made Beatrice wear the incomplete pentagon in a locket…

Ka-Zar the Savage #12 by Bruce Jones & Brent Anderson

There’s also a connection made between the women he hypnotizes and assaults and his locket.

Which brings us to Magik and more specifically, Claremont’s mini-series about her time in Limbo.

Half my lifetime spent on Earth… and half in Hell.. where I was consort to a devil.

Magik #1 by Chris Claremont & John Buscema

The language Claremont uses to talk about Magik and Belasco is uncomfortable, right from the start. Illyana describes herself as Belasco’s “consort.”

Belasco: She is delightfully pure and unspoiled. Even Kitty Pryde wasn’t this innocent when I finally claimed her.

Magik #1 by Chris Claremont & John Buscema

I’m going to go ahead and say this is creepy, especially when you compare it to how Belasco refers to her later in the story (as “flawed and corrupt”).

There’s a broader metaphor at work here, the loss of innocence. It doesn’t necessarily have to be about sexual abuse, but the way things are worded and framed, that connection is very, very easy to make.

And I’m not afraid anymore […] Belasco’s voice is kind. His touch is gentle. He won’t do anything bad to me. He loves me. He said so. I hear Ororo’s voice. Far away, calling frantically. She wants to save me. But there’s no need. I’m in no danger. I’m growing! Getting bigger… getting older! But only this ghost me.

Magik #1 by Chris Claremont & John Buscema

Early on, Belasco corrupts a piece of Illyana’s soul, making it grow older and turn demonic. This is a smaller scale version of the overall story. Magik goes into Limbo as a small child and comes out as a 13-year-old, even though almost no time has passed on Earth. Her time with Belasco is something that makes her grow up too fast. It robs her of her childhood.

“Ghost” Illyana: Consider it a preview of what I’ll be once Belasco’s had his wild, wicked way with me.

Magik #1 by Chris Claremont & John Buscema

Again, the language here is unpleasant. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It’s on every page.

Belasco: Does this feel good, my Cat, shall I stroke you more?

Will Belasco do that to me, I wonder, transform me into one of his creatures? Or has he something even more awful in store?!

I’m scared – yet I can’t look away. I feel excited – I want to see him do more, I want to help!

Magik #2 by Chris Claremont & John Buscema

There’s a couple of things to single out here: the emphasis on touch (with Cat in this case, but there’s plenty of focus on Belasco touching Illyana too) and Magik’s mixed feelings about Belasco. She hates him and loves him and wants to please him and knows she should kill him. That bleeds into her feelings about herself. She’s consumed by guilt and shame. She doesn’t understand her own reactions. She feels rotten inside.

This is a common dynamic in abusive situations. Belasco has cut Illyana off from the rest of the world. She has every reason to hate him, but he’s her only possible source of love. Pleasing him is the only way she can get affection. Her sense of isolation continues even after she leaves Limbo. She finds it hard to connect with others after what she’s been through.

Nikolai Rasputin: Our Illyana is a baby. You’re a young woman, almost fully grown. […] No decent child would traipse about in such a costume! What are you really, some runaway wolf-girl from the circus?! Leave us be! You’re not welcome here.

Magik #4 by Chris Claremont & Sal Buscema

When she sees her parents again, they don’t recognize her. They shut her out. And they comment on the way she’s dressed.

Over the course of this book, her clothing becomes more sexualized. She’s only 13 when the series ends, and the last issue has her dressed in a bathing suit, ripped in true Savage Land style.

I’m not comfortable with the way the creators handle this. It helps to hammer home the metaphor, but it’s still bad. The thematic intention doesn’t erase the blatant sexualization of a child that’s happening here.

There are couple of things I do like about the ending, from a metaphorical/thematic standpoint:

1. When Illyana finally gets her mutant powers, they manifest as teleportation. The ability to escape. It’s a small detail, but very clever.

2. The soulsword. It’s one of the most interesting aspects of her character. She keeps trying to make an acorn, like the Limboverse Storm did. She wants to make something pure and good, but she can’t do it. So she gives up on trying to be “pure” and takes all of her pain and makes it into a weapon instead.

Illyana: Remember me?

Magik #4 by Chris Claremont & Sal Buscema

It’s the old Tumblr cliché: Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

Despite how uncomfortable this story is at points, I love it, especially the ending. It’s about reclaiming. Magik suffers, and then she turns her suffering into power. When we talk about characters being “powerful,” it’s almost always about their ability to kick other characters’ asses. But a fictional character’s only real power is in how they affect real people.

And for me, Magik is powerful.

I’m not trying to tell others how to feel about this series (and certainly, my own feelings are complicated), but as a trauma survivor, the soulsword always gets me. It’s hope. It’s looking forward, carving a new path that is informed by the past but able to look beyond it. That part is a metaphor for all kinds of trauma, not just sexual abuse.

[nathanjhill]

Do you deserve a break?

Scripture: Nehemiah 13:15-22

On Wednesday night, I was sitting in a church meeting at our regional office. It was late. Past 9 PM. It had been a long day with a ton of stuff on my plate. So I tweeted out a mild complaint - “I’m stuck in a church meeting - someone get me out of here.” And one of my friends on Twitter, Jason Poon, replied:

"Someone preach the theology of Sabbath to these people!!!"

Like many of you, I live a hectic life. As your pastor, my schedule is crowded with meetings and demands. Sometimes, I stay late into the night here at the church in vital conversation with you about the future of our church and how our ministry can bring Christ’s compassion to our community. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it and believe in the mission God has given us - but I am the first to admit that sometimes it wears me out. Sometimes, I get tired.

Our church is made up of full-time students, federal employees, Uber drivers, teachers, contractors, consultants, and professionals of all kinds - each of you who knows this struggle - doing something that pays the bills and brings you joy but also wears you down. And even for our retirees in our church, some of you are busier after you retired than when you were working full-time.

Work is a gift - but friends, on this Labor Day weekend when we reflect on the gift of getting things done and enjoy a long weekend, I want to ask a practical but theological question -

Do you deserve a break?

In our capitalistic culture, we are taught and encouraged to work hard from a young age.

However, when we talk about vacation and rest in our culture, too often we treat them as luxuries, something that you must earn. Not everyone deserves a day off. Vacation is accrued. We call them benefits. We’ll pay you to work here, and as a bonus we’ll let you take a couple of days off every so often. Of course, those higher up on the food chain tend to have all the benefits they desire.

Too many struggling families have to make life or death choices over what they dare risk missing work for. Too many individuals could use a day off to deal with trauma and pain in their lives but cannot afford to do so. Too many bosses see a worker taking a day off as an annoyance rather than the best thing they can provide.

The word I want to focus on in my question at the core of this sermon is “deserve”.

Do we deserve time away from the hard work and stress of life?

Do we deserve the dignity of being able to recharge and refresh ourselves?

Do we deserve opportunities for self-care and self-love?

Do we deserve a chance to free our bodies from catering to the demands of others and instead experience being with God?

Whether or not you deserve a break is a question and a value that God is adamantly concerned about throughout scripture.

In our reading this morning, we pick up in the middle of the memoirs of Nehemiah, a Jewish leader and reformer who was tasked with helping his people return from exile and rebuild Jerusalem and their beloved temple. Jerusalem and its temple were at the center of Jewish religious and political life. This was a monumental task to be undertaken with great care and hard work.

Stone by stone, gate by gate, building by building, Nehemiah helped the people begin to put back the pieces of their homeland, torn apart by conquering armies years before.

In the midst of their efforts, Nehemiah’s people discover a scroll hidden away behind a wall in the temple, stashed there for safekeeping when the invaders toppled the walls and pillaged their capital. The scroll is a book of law, containing instructions for how to live according to God’s way. When Nehemiah himself hears these words, he tears his clothes out of grief for how much the people had forgotten how to live as their Creator asked.

Among those ways of God that the people had let drift from being central to their lives was Sabbath.

Deuteronomy 5:12-15 reads:

Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, so that your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day.

The Sabbath day was meant to be holy, but as human beings do, we find loopholes in our rules and regulations. Some ancient Jews no doubt asked, “Work is prohibited on the Sabbath, but can’t I go shopping? Shopping isn’t work.” Or, “If we Jews aren’t doing the physical labor, isn’t it okay to assign the work to those foreigners over there?” In Jerusalem, Nehemiah discovered that on Sabbath the gates of the city were left open so that those foreign merchants, who maybe didn’t have to follow the rules like the Jews did, could come in with their food trucks, credit card offers, same day delivery, and fine boutiques to the delight of the residents.

Nehemiah in his effort to restore the glory of his beloved city knew that rebuilding the walls would be useless if the people did not rebuild their care for the life-giving ways of God - if they did not restore the respect for the holiness and sacredness of their lives. Sabbath was intended to be a distinctive practice that shaped the people apart from the ways of the world. Sabbath challenged them to worship God rather than money, consumption, and stuff.

So Nehemiah commanded the gates to be shut, shutting out the marketing, so that on Sabbath, his people might rest and take a day off from moneymaking and wealth generation and buying and selling and improving their status and filling their closets.

For one day a week, shut the gates, so that all people might join Creation in rest.

Sabbath was not just for human beings - but for everything:

In God’s Sabbath, even the livestock that provide us with meat and milk and eggs deserve a break.

In God’s Sabbath, even those who aren’t like you or those lower on the economic ladder - even those who were “slaves” of ancient Israel - and those who are victims of modern day slavery - or stuck in minimum wage jobs - even they deserve the dignity of a day of rest.

Sabbath speaks directly to the reality that human beings too often treat each other as livestock. We treat fellow human beings no different or worse than we treat the animals. We treat each other as animals of burden to help us achieve what we want, creatures to be loaded up and worked to the bone until we can replace them with the next low-skilled laborer in line.

Sabbath is resistance to that - Sabbath affirms the value of all human beings and the value of all living things in Creation.

And when we begin to practice Sabbath, we might begin to imagine a world where there is no more slavery and economic ladders and rat race and debt.

The good news of God is that we all deserve a break, a day off, a time to relax, refresh ourselves, and feed our souls.

Nehemiah shut the gates of the city to create that possibility for the people of Jerusalem -

Will we shut the gates in our lives so that we may return to a cycle of rest with God and all of Creation?

What are some ways we can do this?

We can take a break from success. Our society teaches us to crave success. If we aren’t climbing the ladder, then we are going nowhere. Success is wonderful, but God is far more interested in our faithfulness. We must shut the gate to the idea that we are only worth what we do and achieve in life. We are more than our accomplishments and our failures. We are God’s beloved, and that is enough for today.

We can receive mental health care. All of us will experience times in our lives when it is life-giving and sacred to get help to deal with the stress, anxiety, and pain we carry. I am always happy to meet with you as your pastor and do my best to listen and pray together, but a trained licensed professional can help any of us sort through the burdens we carry so that our bodies, minds, and souls may rest. It is never a shameful thing to seek help. And if you don’t need it, maybe you will encounter someone this week who does. Here are two numbers to remember - National Suicide Hotline - 1-800-273-8255, UMD Counseling Center - (301) 314-7651

We deserve to be with our people. This may be family, this may be a circle of friends, this may be people who know your journey best and can understand you better than anyone else. Sometimes, this is your church family - but sometimes, even your church family can’t be this for you. We all deserve space where we don’t have to perform for each other. Where we can be who we are just as we are. Where we can shut our walls and be who God created us to be. Do you have people like that in your life? Do you have space like this in your life? If not, you truly deserve it.

We deserve no more church meetings that go past 9 PM. (Haha)

Black feminist author Audrey Lorde wrote, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Our Sabbath practice as Christians is resistance to a world and society that often seeks to devalue and degrade our human dignity - some more than others. In God, our humanity and our bodies are celebrated as temples where God’s Spirit dwells.

Yes, we deserve a break.

May we work for a world where all living things experience rest. May we care for ourselves and each other. May we take a break along with Creation

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: These Heroes Went Above and Beyond in 2019

From a 9-year-old boy who wanted no kid to go hungry to a high-school coach who reached out to an armed student, here are TIME’s heroes of 2019.

Defenders of Notre Dame

William Daniels—Panos for TIMELaurent Prades, left, and Antoine-Marie Préaut on Nov. 29

As flames leaped from the roof of Notre Dame cathedral on April 15, those who knew its innermost secrets ventured into the pitch darkness of the smoke-filled nave. Their aim: to rescue some of the most valuable treasures in all of Christianity. “There was no electricity, there was a lot of water, there were alarms going off,” says Antoine-Marie Préaut, conservator of historic monuments in the Paris region, remembering the moment he entered the cathedral with Notre Dame’s operational director, Laurent Prades, and a group of firefighters. “The atmosphere was apocalyptic.”

Millions across the world watched aghast as fire shot from the medieval masterpiece in the heart of Paris. Less visible was how close Notre Dame came to total collapse, and how narrowly its treasures were saved.

About 400 firefighters battled the flames for more than nine hours—some climbing the staircase in its north tower, despite the danger of being trapped, to keep the cathedral’s set of 13-ton bells from falling and potentially bringing down the towers and the entire cathedral with them. The roof was already almost gone. “I found a situation that was completely catastrophic,” says Jérôme D., a firefighter who climbed to the top, and who cannot be named in full, per the rules of Paris’ fire brigade.

Préaut and Prades were so focused on rescuing the relics that they tuned out the chaos. Then they heard a giant noise as the spire crashed into the nave, collapsing the roof. Inside the cathedral, the fire now raged at ground level. “We felt utterly powerless,” Prades says. “But then everything happened very, very quickly. We lost all sense of time.”

Amid darkness and flames, the men fumbled to unlock a strongbox in a back chapel. Inside were Notre Dame’s most precious relics—including the Crown of Thorns that worshippers believe Christ wore to his Crucifixion, as well as pieces of wood and a nail believed to be from the True Cross. The two became part of a human chain, passing the priceless items to safety. “We told the firefighters, ‘Take everything you can carry,'” says Préaut, 38. “They were shouting at us, ‘Get out, get out!'”

Toward midnight, police finally escorted Préaut to city hall, where the relics were locked up for safekeeping. As their van crossed a bridge over the Seine, Préaut was stunned to see crowds jamming the entire area. “There were thousands and thousands of people just standing on the street silently, in shock,” he says. “I had the impression like it was the end of the world.”

Indeed, that night was the end of an era for a tight-knit group that had worked together for years at Notre Dame. As the months have gone by, the memory has weighed on Prades, 44, who has been at Notre Dame for more than 20 years. Préaut still has trouble sleeping. “There is a trauma from the event itself, from the hours that I spent in the cathedral,” Prades says. “There is also the trauma of knowing what might have happened.”

The two men are among a handful of people who have spent months working in trailers in the cathedral’s backyard, helping to prepare for the mammoth reconstruction ahead. The treasures and relics have been moved to a safe room within the Louvre Museum, and Notre Dame is wrapped in scaffolding and plastic. It will be shut perhaps until 2024, while its roof and spire are rebuilt. Until then, its ravaged state is a daily reminder of that terrifying night. “We would be happy to turn the page, to recover and go back to normal life,” Préaut says. When that time comes, the relics will go home, to their place of honor in a cathedral that, against the odds, still stands. —VW

A boy who helped change the law on school-lunch debt

Courtesy Kylie KirkpatrickRyan Kyote used his saved allowance to pay off his grade’s lunch-money debt

Nine-year-old Ryan Kyote was eating breakfast at home in Napa, Calif., when he saw the news: an Indiana school had taken a 6-year-old’s meal when her lunch account didn’t have enough money. Kyote asked if that could happen to his friends. When his mom contacted the school district to find out, she learned that students at schools in their district had, all told, as much as $25,000 in lunch debt. Although the district says it never penalized students who owed, Kyote decided to use his saved allowance to pay off his grade’s debt, about $74—­becoming the face of a movement to end lunch-money debt. When California Governor Gavin Newsom signed a bill in October that banned “lunch shaming,” or giving worse food to students with debt, he thanked Kyote for his “empathy and his courage” in raising awareness of the issue. “Heroes,” Kyote points out, “come in all ages.” —M. Carlisle

A one-man crew amid the flood

Courtesy Angela ChandlerSatchel Smith worked over 30 hours straight at Homewood Suites during Tropical Depression Imelda in Beaumont, Texas in Sept.

It was supposed to rain for only a few hours. When then 21-year-old Lamar University student Satchel Smith got to his job at Homewood Suites in Beaumont, Texas, on Sept. 18, he planned to leave promptly when his eight-hour shift was done; he had class in the morning. But the rain didn’t stop. By nightfall, Tropical Depression Imelda had flooded the highway. No one could reach—or leave—the hotel, and Smith was the only employee there to tend to the hotel’s roughly 90 guests.

According to the Texas Tribune, Imelda dropped up to 43 in. of rain in parts of southeast Texas and caused flooding that killed five people. But inside the hotel, Smith didn’t panic. He answered the phone as it rang all night. In the morning, people started looking for breakfast. Despite not knowing how to cook, Smith raided the kitchen and made sure everyone got a hot meal. The storm set off the fire alarm; he ushered tired guests out and back into the building.

Angela Chandler, an educator from Nacogdoches, Texas, was one of those guests. She had come to Beaumont for a business trip and was already nervous about being away from home. But as she watched Smith, she suddenly felt grateful. “Satchel was in and out of the kitchen, answering the phone, taking care of guests with a smile on his face,” she says. “And I looked at him and realized, ‘That baby is only a year older than my son.'” She was floored by his composure, and shared her observation on social media.

As the day ticked on, it became clear Smith would also have to cook dinner. By then the guests had started pitching in. Helping him cook and clean, they made chicken and pasta. A few people walked food and water out to truckers stranded on the highway. Someone brought out playing cards.

“We all came together. They made sure I was all right; I made sure that they were all right,” Smith recalls. Finally, another employee was able to get through the water in a monster truck to relieve him.

He had worked over 30 hours straight, and stayed awake the entire time.

Chandler’s post about Smith’s steadfastness quickly went viral. While he says it’s nice to be recognized, Smith adds, “I kind of feel like I was just doing my job.” —M. Carlisle

A bus driver who brought kids in from the cold

YoutubeNicole Chamberlain, a bus driver in Waukesha, Wis., brought two kids in as temperatures fell on Nov. 11

As temperatures fell below 20°F on Nov. 11, Nicole Chamberlain, a bus driver in Waukesha, Wis., peered through her windshield and saw two children wandering alone outside, headed toward a busy intersection. “They were upset, frazzled,” says Chamberlain, 44, who pulled her bus over and called out to them. When the ­children—a 2-year-old girl and her 6-year-old ­brother—came bounding over, Chamberlain realized neither was wearing a coat and the girl had on only a T-shirt and a diaper. “It was mind-­blowing,” says Chamberlain, who was captured on the bus’s surveillance cameras wrapping her coat around the toddler’s bare legs. Chamberlain stayed with the children until police arrived, along with the children’s grandmother, who was babysitting when they darted out of the house. “It’s nice to have a feel-good story to share,” says Chamberlain. After a fellow driver tipped off a local news station to the story, strangers from all over the country agreed. “You saw something amiss and chose to step up to prevent a potential tragedy,” one wrote on her Facebook page. “I hope your example inspires others.” —M. Chan

A coach who embraced an armed student

Jordan Murph—Sports Illustrated/Getty ImagesParkrose High School football and track coach Keanon Lowe in Portland on June 25

When a distressed student appeared before him, armed with a shotgun, Keanon Lowe had no time to think. The football and track coach at Parkrose High School in Portland, Ore., lunged for the firearm, as students knocked over desks in panic. “It was a very surreal moment,” Lowe says, “all the kids screaming for their lives.” After a tug-of-war that seemed to last forever, Lowe, 27, wrestled the gun out of the student’s grasp. Then, in an unexpected move, he pulled the student in for a hug. “I didn’t see an evil kid,” Lowe says. “I saw a kid that was going through a lot.”

The student, identified by authorities as 19-year-old Angel Granados-Diaz, had been suicidal for several months, according to prosecutors, when he took the loaded and legally bought shotgun to school on May 17. Before Lowe intervened, the teen had already tried killing himself outside a bathroom, but the shotgun did not discharge. “What he needed was a shoulder to cry on and someone to hug him,” says Lowe, who has been coaching and serving as the school’s security guard for the past two years. “I don’t know the last time he got a hug.” While Granados-Diaz resisted the embrace at first and tried shoving Lowe away, the coach’s comforting words soon softened him. “I told him that I cared about him and that I was there for him and I was there to save him,” Lowe says. “He was surprised that I had said that. He said, ‘You do?’ and looked me right in my face. I said, ‘Yes, I do.’ He gave in to the hug, and that made a huge difference.”

Lowe and Granados-Diaz were strangers until then, but they held their embrace for at least 20 seconds, as Lowe passed the shotgun to another teacher. The moment, captured by a security camera, moved tens of thousands of people who saw it on social media. “No one would have batted an eye if he responded more aggressively,” says the school’s principal, Molly Ouche. “But he had compassion.”

For his bravery and kindness, Lowe was awarded a civilian medal of heroism from Portland’s police chief, and the city’s mayor declared May 29 to be “Coach Keanon Lowe Day of Recognition.” The accolades have been humbling and overwhelming, says Lowe, who played football at the University of Oregon. But he’s ready to move on, mostly so Granados-Diaz can do the same. On Oct. 10, Granados-Diaz pleaded guilty to having a loaded firearm in public and was sentenced to 36 months of formal probation, which includes mental-health treatment. According to prosecutors, his gun was loaded with only one round, meant for himself. It was evident that day that the student was “fighting demons,” Lowe says.

“This was just one moment in my life that’s not going to define me,” he adds. “And it’s not going to define Angel as well.” —M. Chan

A woman who kept dozens of dogs safe during Hurricane Dorian

ZumaChella Phillips has run Pawtcake Refuge in Nassau since 2015

Chella Phillips has lived in the Bahamas since 2004, and she knows what a storm can do. When Hurricane Dorian barreled toward her home, she got to work. Phillips has run Nassau’s Pawtcake Refuge, which cares for homeless dogs, out of her home since 2015. She had 82 dogs there already but searched out more. By the time Dorian arrived, she was hunkering down in her three-­bedroom house with 97 dogs, and she dashed off a quick Facebook post about the mayhem. Then she lost power. It was only after Phillips emerged that she learned her post had gone viral. Nassau was largely spared, but the storm devastated the Abaco Islands and Grand Bahama, killing scores of people and leaving many with a sense of hopelessness. Her story had become a bit of positive news to hang onto, drawing thousands of messages from around the world. “I [said], ‘Why are people so impressed about this?’” she says. “Anybody who cares about these animals would have done that.” Still, she’s grateful for the extra attention on the dogs: in the week after Dorian, Phillips sent 68 to homes or rescue groups in the U.S. —M. Carlisle

This article is part of TIME’s 2019 Person of the Year package. Read more from the issue and sign up for the Inside TIME newsletter to be the first to see our cover every week.

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