#i regret to admit i am obsessed with this menace

[hypernixation]

quit ur job join my lazarus troth

[k-s-morgan]

Please write a meta about how Will wasn't manipulated into codependency and that's the only reason he's obsessed with Hannibal. Like I've heard that argument so many times and it bothers me

Ugh. Honestly, I have no idea why so many people seem to enjoy taking Will's agency from him. @bloodsmile wrote a great meta on it here.

Some more useful related reads: goals of Hannibal's therapy  + this addition; progression of Will's darkness; Will and control; Will's person suit; Will's motivations; Will and his views on free will + this, and Will's moral conflict.

All these analyses cover the foundation and nuances of Will as a character as well as Hannibal's goals for him. But let me briefly elaborate.

I feel like the whole 'Hannibal is cultivating co-dependency and takes everything from poor Will' stems from E12 of S2 in particular. This is what Will accuses Hannibal of:

Will: You're fostering codependency.

Hannibal is not so sure.

Hannibal: Is that what I'm doing?

Will: I bond with Abigail, you take her away. I bond with barely more than the idea of a child, you take it away. You saw to it that I alienated Alana, alienated Jack. You don't want me to have anything in my life that's not you.

This might be what Will feels, sure. But is this actually justified? Or is he misinformed, dodging the blame and refusing to take his part of responsibility? Let's break it into parts.

1) I bond with Abigail, you take her away.

Not true. Will is resentful and hurt because he doesn't see a whole picture yet. Abigail is alive and Hannibal intends to reunite them.

2) I bond with barely more than the idea of a child, you take it away.

Partly justified. Hannibal did raise the topic of children to Mason after learning Margot is pregnant from Will - he's impulsive when he's jealous. But later on, he actually tried to get Mason to accept this idea, and he was angry and regretful over what happened to Margot (which is why he risked by letting Mason live and leaving him in a vulnerable state.) You can see the analysis of this here.

3) You saw to it that I alienated Alana.

Not true. Will was the one who alienated Alana. He realized that she isn't in love with him even before the court, in this scene. (Taking everything from the script.)

Alana: I don't have romantic feelings for Will Graham. I have a professional curiosity.

That sits in the air. Brauer breaks it. Pleased.

Brauer: I like "professional curiosity." It's so... indifferent. Unless you look like you're lying when you say it. But you didn't.

Will: She wasn't lying.

Alana is looking at Will, the painful truth of this hurts.

Alana started losing even friendly interest in Will the darker he started to behave. In and after E5, after Will sends Matthew after Hannibal, Alana doesn't want to have anything to do with him. She's scared and wary of him. Instead of trying to mend the relationship with her, Will is acting creepy and menacing - just look at how he behaves after faking Freddie's death - he scares her deliberately. He's hostile and arrogant during discussions of his and Hannibal's bond. It's Will's choices that pushed Alana away + Alana's own absence of interest in a real version of Will.

4) You saw to it that I alienated Jack.

Not true. For one thing, Will and Jack are a team now, they technically work against Hannibal together and everything is fine. In reality, Will is actually betraying Jack over and over again. He lies to him, he sides with Hannibal, he covers for him with Mason, and he warns him in the finale. Like with Alana, it's Will's actions that damage and ruin the bond between him and Jack.

Now, as for co-dependency in general. Yes, Hannibal is possessive - Will is as well. Yes, Hannibal wants Will to choose him above everything. Will wants it, too. In fact, this is what Will says to Jack in E7:

Will: You have to create a reality where only you and the fish exist, where your lure becomes what he wants most, despite everything he knows.

Will himself admits that he plans on fostering co-dependency between himself and Hannibal. Will ends the conversation about Hannibal taking things from him with the following phrase.

Will: You're right. We are just alike. You're as alone as I am. And we're both alone without each other.

This is like, the glaring co-dependency proof. Will is participating in it as actively as Hannibal. Hannibal is the one who's going to give up his whole life for Will, and he has many things to lose: his excellent reputation, his patients, his multiple friendly connections, etc. Will doesn't have much in the first place. They are both obsessed with one another, and they choose to go back to one another again and again. It's a choice, a conscious choice on their part.

Will is an adult who makes his own decisions. Hannibal didn't make him fall in love, become obsessed, become a killer, etc. All Hannibal did was offer acceptance and love, and create situations where Will could end someone's life if he wanted to. Will used all that and more.

[serendipityseulgi]

8 Ways of Love.

– kim hongjoong

according to the ancient greeks, there are eight different types of love. here is:

･*:༅｡ the one known as mania, the obsessive love.

aka, the kind of love that can lead you to obsession, jealousy, and madness and can be toxic if not kept under control.

TW // sexual harassment. 

* italic text indicates flashback.

8 ways of love series; part ii

A not-so-healthy love story in which you reach your breaking point in your relationship, giving Hongjoong an ultimatum – to fix his toxic tendencies or to let you walk out on him forever. 

love catalyst: survival.

There are times where you often underestimate how much Hongjoong truly loves you. 

You don’t always fully grasp the extent he will go to make sure that everyone knows your his, and his only. The limits he will push to prove just how much you matter in his life, and the boundaries he will cross to ensure that no one would ever, ever take you away from him.

How he absolutely cannot live without you, and you can’t live without him.

Because he just loves you so much that the feeling almost consumes him, and it drives him crazy. He knows how much of an impact you have on him. How you could do absolutely nothing and he would still kiss the ground you walk on. How he worships every single part of you and will go to the absolute ends of the earth just to keep you forever. How he simply could not care about a single thing in this world except for you.

And for most people, they strive for that kind of love. The kind that consumes you so much that you would do absolutely anything and everything for your partner.

But the way Hongjoong loves you is intense, and it’s obsessive. It’s exhausting it absolutely drains all the energy out of you. To have to love and care for one another more than yourselves. That no matter what kind of shit you put each other through, you’re always going to be together.

It’s overbearing and overwhelming in all the wrong ways.

You hate how much Hongjoong loves you. Because he treats you like shit. Makes you feel like shit. Acts like you aren’t shit.

Not without him at least.

It’s unhealthy, to put it simply.

Neither one of you are that delusional, though. 

You’re both painfully aware how borderline toxic your relationship is. Hongjoong’s manipulative in certain ways and he uses that to his advantage. He won’t admit it but he loves how codependent you are on him. He knows that he can fuck up a million times and you’re always gonna be there to pick up the pieces and love him again and again. He makes promises he can never keep and gives you false hope just to make sure you stay in his arms, even if it’s only for one more day. He hears you say that you hate him more than you love him, but it doesn’t matter because he knows how you feel deep down. You’re always going to love him.

He defends his behaviour, constantly telling you he only acts that way because he loves you and wants to protect you. And you know he’s not a terrible person. Aside from his possessive nature and his intense anger problem, he’s actually one of the best people you know. It’s contradictory in every sense.

It was just the way he loves you that brings out the worst in him.

You know there’s no good that could possibly come from being together anymore. You both know that by now.

But the truth is, neither one of you will ever walk away.

12:41 AM

It’s past midnight when you walk in your apartment, your heart heavy and filled with despair. Your feet hurt from standing in those wretched heels for hours, your mascara is dripping down your tear-stained face, and your head is pounding from the events that transpired only a few hours prior.

You have no words. 

All you want to do is curl up in your bed and sleep away your worries. You want to ignore everything that’s happened even for just a few hours and deal with the damage in the morning, but you know he won’t let you.

He never does.

When you hear the door slam behind you, you feel a sense of deja vu. 

You’ve been in this exact situation more times than you could count and you’re starting to think there’s actually no hope left in your boyfriend. 

At this point in time you don’t even know if this relationship is worth salvaging anymore, and the very thought almost has you in tears.

You’re feeling a million things right now but above all, you’re just pissed beyond belief and you want to cry and wallow away in your tears. You feel every negative emotion surging through your body right now and it makes you all the more exhausted. 

Hongjoong stands behind you, equally as pissed, and you refuse to acknowledge him because you know it’s all his fault. 

It’s always his fucking fault.

“Y/n, look at me.” he commands, but you don’t listen.

Your back is still turned to him, eyes fixated on the marble pattern on your kitchen island as you try to suppress your anger. Your eyes start to water again and your body begins to shake.

He waits for you to face him. 

But you don’t. 

Because you don’t even want to talk to him right now, let alone look him in the face. You swear you’ll punch him if you do, so you save himself the trouble and start walking towards the direction of your bedroom.

Hongjoong is fast though, and he’s quick to grab onto your arm to pull you in front of him.

“Can you say something?” he asks, a little too aggressively for your liking, and you just stare at him. The glare in your eyes never falters and for a few seconds you two are just staring each other down with you still refusing to speak.

You take the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“I’m tired.” you say with a blank stare, prepared to walk away again.

“So you’re not even gonna talk at me?!” he asks with that aggression still evident in his tone.

You breathe in a heavy sigh before whipping around to face your boyfriend, your eyes narrowing immediately when you make contact with him. “What do you want me to say, Hongjoong?” you ask with frustrated tears running down your face. “What the fuck do you want me to say when you keep doing this over and over again?!”

“All you ever do is walk away when you’re pissed at me and you go off the next morning talking shit to your friends. So if you have something to say, say it to my fucking face.” he spits at you with menace and your eyes darken.

“Well what the fuck is the difference of me going to my friends and going to you?! It’s not like you ever fucking listen to me anyways! I’m sick of having to repeat myself day after day! The amount of times this has happened and the amount of times I tell you the same exact thing! When I keep asking you to change and you never do! We have this exact conversation all the time, what is the use of me talking anymore?! Nothing ever changes so why the fuck should I bother wasting all my time and energy fighting with you about the same shit that’s gonna piss you off next week?!” you shout before turning around once again.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything back to that, because deep down he knows you’re right. He knows that you’re a broken record at this point, he knows that anything you say now would just be reused arguments he’s heard in the past, he knows that he’s not going to listen to you. So he doesn’t retaliate.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” he counters.

You take in a deep breathe. “Why don’t you tell me exactly it is that you want to hear? That I’m just going to accept the fact that you never fucking listen to me? That you somehow find it acceptable to be punching random guys in the face for looking at me? That we fight about the same shit every week? Or how you can’t seem to control your anger? How you have absolutely no regard for how you make me feel? How you think acting so possessive over me is something to be proud of?! How we’ve been together for three fucking years and the more days I spend with you the more I realize I’d rather be dead than be with you!”

Hongjoong’s face falls for a second at your words but you soon come to regret it when he’s pushing you against your counter. He’s seething inside, you can sense it. You know your words cut deep but Hongjoong won’t admit it. His ego is too big for that. 

“You’re one to fucking talk.” he grits his teeth. “You act like such a fucking bitch all the time and yet I’m still willing to bend over backwards just to keep your ass happy. You overlook all the shit I do for you because you’re selfish. You think I don’t listen to you? When have you ever listened to me?! You’re so fucking ungrateful when all I’ve ever done was love you!”

You scoff. “This is what you call loving me?!” you gesture to your current position. “Hongjoong do you even realize what we’re doing right now?! Do you even acknowledge how messed up you are?! When you go around knocking guys’ teeth out for doing so much as looking at me, for picking fights with your own friends when they’re being friendly towards me, when you fucking call me names and blame me for the fact that you can’t bear the thought of another male giving me an ounce of their attention, do you think that’s fucking normal?! You’re just fucking insane!” 

“You think I do that shit because I like it?” Hongjoong hissed. “No, I fucking do it because I know how guys think y/n! They’d take advantage of you if they got the chance! Use you like you’re a fucking toy to them or something! You can’t trust these people all the time! I fucking act that way to protect you!”

“Yeah is that it?” you sneer. “Or is it because you’re just so fragile and insecure inside you’re too afraid that one of these days someone might actually take me away from you and I’ll fucking leave. You think you can control them and control me by threatening them, assaulting them? You go off and snap at people who piss you off because you think you have some sort of claim over me! So are you sure you do it to protect me? Because I don’t think so. I think you do it 'cause you know you can’t function without me. Because deep down you know you’re just a little bitch without me. You’re nothing without me.” you spit at him. 

“Fuck you.” Hongjoong shoves you harder into the counter, a sharp pain shooting up your spine. His arms are gripping tightly onto your own and you don’t think he realizes he’s hurting you because he’s too focused on your words and how badly they’re affecting him. 

“You have a big fucking mouth sometimes you know that? You like to talk like you’re so big and purposely rile me up, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are catching an attitude with me? Watch your mouth and how you talk to me or-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Joong?” you challenge, shoving him away from you. “You gonna break up with me? Kick me out again? Call me a fucking slut and send me on my way?” you mock. “Or are you gonna hit me this time? Huh? Because I get you so fucking angry. Why don’t you try it? Instead of punching holes in the wall why don’t you try doing it to my face instead? I bet you want to. I bet you really want to fucking hit me. So do it. Hit me!” you push him back. “Fucking hit me!” you scream as you repeatedly hit him in the chest and Hongjoong snaps, grabbing onto your wrists tightly.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” he seethes. “I may be a piece of shit but I’m not fucking abusive. I would never hit you no matter how mad you make me. So fuck you for ever thinking I’d put my hands on you. Fuck you.” he pushes you off of him.

He storms off into your bedroom, slamming the door like he always does. You stand there in the middle of your living room shaking your head. This is nothing new. It’s nothing you aren’t already used to.

You sit on the couch, burying your face in your knees as you cry. You cry with a heavy heart because you don’t know what else to do. 

All you’re left with is your own thoughts, thinking about all the times you should’ve walked away.

Because God knows it should’ve happened a long time ago.

You remember the first incident like it was yesterday.

2 years, 6 months, 7 days ago.

You remember it was only six months into being with him when he had assaulted your ex in front of your eyes. 

There was no remorse, no regard, nothing for the human life in front of him. Just pure rage that that good-for-nothing scumbag tried to touch you. His prized possession. The love of his life. The only thing that ever mattered to him.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend touching you like you were still his fuelled a fire inside Hongjoong like never before and he absolutely lost it. 

“S-stop Chris, seriously get off me,” you stutter trying to push the male off of you. 

You don’t remember how you got yourself into this situation through your drunken state.

All you know is one second you’re dancing with Irene and the next you’re pressed up against a brick wall by your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pressing you into the wall so hard it makes your body hurt and you can feel his boner rubbing against your thigh. You want to scream but when you try no sound comes out. You’re crying and your throat closes up because you can’t breath with him pinning you so tightly.

“Y/n, baby relax.” he whispers and you smell the stench of alcohol lingering on his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve never hurt you, right?” you feel like you can’t breathe. “I just wanna talk, that’s it...” his voice is gentle but it doesn’t provide you any comfort whatsoever.

“Y-you don’t have to pin me against the wall if you wanna t-talk, Chris.” you breathe out. “G-get off of me.”

“I just missed you,” he says gripping you tightly. “You missed me too right?”

“Fuck off!” you try to scream, but his heavy weight on you is restricting you from moving a muscle. “M-my boyfriend is gonna find me and he’s-”

“He’s what?” Chris snickers. “You’re dating that pussy bitch Hongjoong, right? Yeah, as if he’s gonna come to your rescue when everyone knows he’s a fucking bitch boy. You know better than to go for nice guys, right y/n?” he chuckles.

“Y-you’re drunk, Chris. Let me go.” you try to shove him back but he’s much bigger than you. You stand absolutely no chance.

“Where is your little boyfriend anyways, huh? ‘Cause I’ve been watching you since the moment you got here and all I saw was you with Irene and Seulgi. Does your boyfriend even know you’re slutting it up at a bar without him?” Chris taunts you and you cry even harder. “I wonder what he would do if he saw me and you together right now. Probably nothing right? He’s too nice for his own good. Wouldn’t touch a fucking fly.”

“Please just-”

“Relax, y/n. I know you miss me. Miss what we had. You don’t always have to play hard to get,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your dress up your thighs. “Just enjoy it and-”

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call behind you, and you recognize it almost immediately. 

“Joong?” you call through your hazy vision and you take the opportunity to push the man off of you. “J-joong, I wasn’t doing what you think, he pinned me, I-i tried to get him off but he wouldn’t, fuck, it’s not what it looks like-” you can’t formulate a coherent sentence because you know exactly what it looked like and you’re afraid he won’t believe you.

“Y/n get behind me right now.” he states calmly, and you don’t hesitate. You run up behind your boyfriend as Chris stands in front of him with a cold stare. 

Your heart is still beating hard against your chest and you study Hongjoong’s expression to see what his next move would be because frankly, you don’t know. 

“Can I kindly ask what the fuck were you doing to MY girlfriend?” Hongjoong asks, voice still calm and collected it almost scares you.

“Hey man, no need to get upset, we were just chatting.” Chris raises his hands in defence.

Hongjoong laughs, but there’s not a hint of amusement in his tone. “Chatting, huh?” he mocks. “About what?”

“Look, with all due respect, I know she’s your girl now and everything but you have to understand me and y/n have a lot of history. Just rehashing some old shit-”

“No you weren’t.” Hongjoong interrupts. 

“Excuse me?” Chris raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but you’re being pretty fucking hostile right now, don’t you think? Like, what exactly are you trying to accomplish, you’re not very intimidating.” Chris laughs.

Your eyes are moving back and forth between the two males and you don’t exactly know what’s going to happen next. You’ve never been in this kind of situation before, let alone predict how Hongjoong would retaliate. You’ve never seen him angry before.

“You wanna know what it looked like to me?” he asks rhetorically, slowly walking towards your ex. “You were forcing her against her will to talk to you.” he states, still calm. “You were touching her. You were groping her.” Hongjoong begins backing him into the wall. “You were sexually harassing her. After she begged you to stop.” he states. “You lifted up her dress, and then what?” Hongjoong’s cornered him into the wall. “You were gonna fucking rape her. Right?”

“Woah, woah, hey, I was not gonna fucking rape her-” Chris defends.

“No?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrow. “Are you saying you weren’t trying to fuck my girlfriend?”

Chris scoffs. “That isn’t rape-”

“But she told you to stop, didn’t she?” Hongjoong folds his arms across his chest and your eyes are bulging out of your head as you witness this new side o him. “And if I wasn’t here right now... what exactly would you have done?”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? She seemed to be enjoying it, right?” he turns to look at you. “Admit it, y/n. Tell your bitch of a boyfriend that you’re better off with me. Hey, do you know how fucking easy it is to get with your girlfriend? Ask me, I have experience.” Chris chuckles. “What do you think would’ve happened if you weren’t here right now? Y/n probably would’ve let me fuck the shit out of her because that’s how easy she is. Probably would’ve fucked her better than you ever have-”

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle before finally snapping. You see his fist raise up in one swift motion, and he punches him. Hongjoong punches the shit out of your ex and you let out a shocked gasp. Your hands fly over your mouth, covering your face in surprise.

“Hongjoong!” you try to stop your boyfriend but he doesn’t listen. 

“Keep talking, I fucking dare you.” Hongjoong spits. He’s still punching him and it doesn’t seem like he plans on stopping anytime soon. “Your mouth is fucking shit, you know that? You’re a fucking scumbag.”

He punches him again.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit talking about girls this way.” Another punch.

“You would go as far to fucking rape her if you didn’t get what you want?” Hongjoong’s fist collides with his face again. “That’s the kind of guy you are?”

You hear another punch.

“Then you deserve to fucking die here.”

He’s hovering over your ex’s body, continuously delivering blows to his head. He doesn’t stop even when you start to see blood. It’s everywhere, coming out of his eyes, his mouth, it’s covering his entire face and it scares you.

“Hongjoong stop!” you call.

“S-stop” Chris chokes out, trying to use whatever strength he had left to stop your boyfriend from continuing his assault.

“Joong stop, you’re going to kill him!” you scream.

“Maybe I should.” Hongjoong chuckles menacingly. “He deserves it, don’t you think?” he glances at you and your eyes widen.

You shake your head. “Please.” your voice is quiet. “Just leave him.” and finally your boyfriend relents.

He spares another glance to the bloodied man on the floor who’s coughing profusely to catch his breathe, and he leans over him.

“If you ever fucking touch y/n again, I will fucking kill you.” Hongjoong growled. “I will hunt you down and fucking kill you, and I’m gonna make it slow and painful. If you do so much as breathe the same air next to her, I can promise you, I will come after you. So don’t ever think about coming near her again, you understand?” Chris doesn’t say anything and it pisses Hongjoong off.

Hongjoong grabs onto his collar, lifting him up till their faces are almost touching. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Y-you’re fucking crazy.” Chris manages to say through his coughing fit.

“Yeah I may be,” Hongjoong chuckles. “But I’m not a fucking rapist like you. I don’t force girls to do things they don’t want to. I don’t try and take away what’s already taken. Y/n’s fucking mine, you’ll never go near her again.”

Your eyes are wide with horror and you see your boyfriend’s fist covered in Chris’ blood. Your eyes scan your ex’s body laying limp on the ground, spitting out the remnants of blood out of his mouth. Hongjoong stands up looking over him, and you’re frozen with shock.

“I was fucking wrong, y/n. You should fucking leave. You don’t want to be with a guy like this, he’s a fucking psychopath-” Hongjoong kicks the words right out of his mouth and you jump back with a gasp.

“Lay here and rot.” 

Hongjoong grabs onto your hand, dragging you away, and even if you want to pull your hand away, you don’t. You’re too scared to. 

You’re left in a state of shock witnessing your sweet boyfriend nearly kill the man you once loved. Granted, it was probably well deserved given that he was harassing you and was about to do far worse had Hongjoong not shown up. But you don’t think it should’ve been to such an extent. 

You don’t talk for the entirety of the car ride, but you do spare small glances at your boyfriend who’s eyes were directed onto the road.

Hongjoong can sense your intense stare and he sighs, turning briefly at a stoplight to face you.

“I only did that because he was gonna hurt you.” he sighs. “You know that right?”

You nod slowly. “Y-yeah.”

“Don’t be scared, baby.” he says gently, reaching over to grab your hand as you flinch slightly. 

The light turns green. He averts his gaze back onto the road, but he rubs the back of your hand in an attempt to comfort you.

Your heart is racing and you know you shouldn’t fear him.

But you can’t help it.

Seeing him like that was a first, and you didn’t like it.

“Y-you didn’t have to hurt him that bad.” you whisper.

“You’re not defending him are you?” he glances at you.

“I-i’m not, Joong.” you’re quick to say. 

“So why does it sound like you are?” he badgers.

“You almost killed him.” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“He was touching you, I saw him. He was going to-”

“But he didn’t.” you interrupt before he can finish his sentence. “You stopped him before he could do anything. And I’m thankful that you did but... that should’ve been it. We should’ve walked away, but you just ... you kept going.”

“He was hurting you, y/n, I couldn’t let that slide.” he tries to defend.

“But you weren’t you back there, Joong. I’ve never seen you so... violent. I didn’t like it.”

“I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help it. I was just protecting you.”

His words repeat over and over in your head, but you can’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. He almost killed him. He threatened to kill him. You’ve seen possessive before, but not to this degree. 

No, what happened back there wasn’t normal.

You don’t talk anymore after that, instead counting down the minutes till you were safe and sound in the comfort of your home. 

When you do get home you run off into the shower immediately, wanting to wash away how disgusting and dirty you felt after what you witnessed.

You shoot Irene a text to tell her you made it home okay and she lets you know she’s gone home with Seulgi and is glad you’re safe.

You spend a long time in the shower, trying to ease your racing mind and your thumping heart. You know Hongjoong’s waiting for you in bed, he can’t sleep properly without you in his arms. But you dread the moment you have to get out and face the reality of what happened. So you choose to stay in there until the heat runs out.

You hate to admit that you don’t want to be near him right now, but you can’t help it when your mind keeps flashing back to seeing your boyfriend’s eyes fill with rage. How he went from being so calm to snapping in an instant. How he mostly like broke your ex’s nose and most likely gave him a concussion, and left him there without a single ounce of guilt.

You don’t say anything when you enter your bedroom, and Hongjoong notices your distant behaviour. 

“Y/n, can you come here please?” he asks gently and you lock eyes with him.

You don’t know what else to do except comply, and the minute you’re sat next to him, he pulls you into his arms.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” he apologizes, and you snuggle deeper into his arms.

“It’s okay, it just.. caught me by surprise that’s all.” your throat burns as you suppress your tears.

“You know why I did it though. I would never let anyone hurt you.” he states and you nod. “I just hate the thought of someone else touching you. Especially him.”

“I know.”

“I had to get rid of him someway, right?” he asks, it’s a rhetoric question so you stay silent. “This way he won’t ever come near you again.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” your voice is quiet and your vision starts to blur from holding in your tears.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head. 

“I love you too.” you choke out.

“You’re all mine right?”

You nod again, this time letting the tears fall down your face.

“All yours.”

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give him the power of being able to control you. But you tell him what he wants to hear because you don’t know what he would do if you didn’t.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me.” he begs his arms tightening around your body. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever did.”

Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest that it hurts and your mind is panicking with so many thoughts. You’re scared, but you also know you still love him.

And you want to give him the benefit of the doubt that this incident was just a one time slip up, so you forgive him, and you commit to his promise.

“I promise.” you gulp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Little did you know how true that statement would be.

Hongjoong falls asleep next to you, with your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat rings in your ears. You look up at his sleeping state and your eyes start to water once more.

You think about how he was a good boyfriend, one that made you happy and did everything he could to ensure you stayed that way. He was sweet, he was kind, he was everything you wanted. 

You look at Hongjoong and think about how he made you smile and laugh like no other person ever had, how made you feel safe in his arms, how he kissed away your tears when you were sad, and how he treated like you an absolute goddess, never making you think otherwise. He was there to provide you comfort and pleasure, and he was good at everything he did. 

Up until that point he was perfect. 

A little too perfect that you knew there had to have been something wrong with him.

And now you knew.

You tried to rationalize his flaws with all the redeeming qualities he had.

He was good to you.

He absolutely doted you.

He loved you.

So why was it right now, looking at him at this very moment, you wanted to throw up in disgust at the mere sight of him.

2:07 AM

You think about that first incident as you sit curled up on your couch, and you’re left wondering why you continued to stay after that. That should’ve been your first sign to get the fuck out and leave. 

But you didn’t. 

You stayed.

And right now, you’re looking at yourself with disgust.

Seeing as how things haven’t gotten any better.

No improvement, no changes.

Nothing.

So why the fuck are you still here? you ask yourself.

But you know it’s because you love him. That you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. You knew from the moment you met him you knew you wanted him to be your forever.

But this wasn’t what you meant.

This wasn’t what you signed up for when you gave your entire being to this very man. 

You’re smart enough to know you’re only going to keep getting hurt. But your love for him remained so strong and completely outweighed the bad. You know you’ll never be able to bring yourself out the door and leave him behind.

You’re stuck with him. Forever.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you watch as Hongjoong passes the kitchen into the living room where you’re sat. You don’t know how much time has passed until you look over to the clock and see that it’s been well over an hour and you have yet to move a muscle.

Hongjoong walks over to you as he sits down beside you.

“Are you done having your bitch fit?” he chided and your eyes narrow at him.

“That’s how you’re really going to start this conversation right now?” you scoff. 

“What, you think I was gonna come here and beg for your forgiveness? I didn’t peg you for an idiot, y/n.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that? It’s like you want to keep fighting with me!” you shout, getting up from your spot to stand in front of him. “You make me feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed at you and then you come back an hour later and talk to me this way?”

“I came down here to tell you to get the fuck up to bed. Like aren’t you fucking tired of doing this every time? Let’s just fucking be done with this shit and go to sleep and-”

“And what? Deal with it in the morning? Or fuck me until I eventually forgive you? Because that’s always what happens right? You know exactly how to make things better, right? But it’s always temporary! We’re always just gonna keep coming back to this over and over again! Nothing’s changed in the last three years!”

“You’re constantly throwing around the fact that I don’t listen to you, that I don’t fucking change, but what about you? What have you done for me to compromise?!” he retorts.

“Compromise on what?! All I’ve been asking you to do was to control your behaviour! Stop acting so possessive and violent over me because you should know by now, I’m not going anywhere! But you keep doing this, you keep lashing out on other people who don’t always deserve you, you put me in a position where I have to fix your mess, while you live a guilt free life! You’re just driving me away at this point! You continue to lie to me, saying you’re going to change and fix your behaviour but you never do! Why can’t you just do this one simple thing for me?!” you badgered with annoyance.

“Because you’re mine!” he screams at you.

You look at him with a glare, and you shake your head.

“But that’s the thing Hongjoong, I’m not! I’m nobody’s! I belong to fucking nobody but myself. You don’t fucking own me Joong. I’m with you because I love you. I stay with you because I love you. I can acknowledge that you might be bad for me but I choose to put that shit aside because I fucking love you! You make me fucking miserable and yet I stay with you when I know I fucking shouldn’t! That’s how much control you have over me!” you return.

“And everything I’ve done for you is because you have control over me! Why don’t you understand that?!” he asks, getting up in your face.

“This is fucking toxic, this isn’t good for us!” you pull at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not like you’re going anywhere anyways! If you think this relationship is too much for you, why do you continue defending me and putting up with it?!” he argues.

“Because I’m still trying to make this work!” you cry. “I’m still trying because I still love you! But I can’t keep seeing past all these problems we have! I’m done overlooking all the shit you put me through. I’m reaching my last fucking straw, Joong! I’m reaching my fucking breaking point!” you scream in frustration. “So let me make one thing clear, the minute I decide I’m done, that’s it. I will fucking leave you if you push me to it, and you’re gonna let me because you don’t own me.” you say. “I’m giving you one last chance to prove to me that you’re gonna fix up and change your attitude. I want you to prove me wrong, prove that you aren’t gonna screw up again. Because the minute you fuck up, Im gone.” you threaten.

“You’re just fucking saying that.” he scoffs. “You always fucking say that and then you come back to me!”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You know what, fine. Watch me leave then.” you stomp upstairs and Hongjoong follows suit.

You close the door behind you with force but Hongjoong opens it before you can shut it fully and he watches you messily grab random articles of clothing, pushing past him to retrieve every item you can take. 

You’ve always made empty threats, you’ve never actually left him before and he knows you won’t. You’ve never been able to. 

But when he sees you grabbing a duffle bag and filling it with clothes it actually starts to scare him.

“Cut the fucking act, y/n. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove-“

You stop forcefully throwing hangers around and throwing your clothes around so carelessly to look at him. “You think I won’t leave you? I told you to fucking watch me.” you state continuing your haphazard packing.

Hongjoong lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs onto your arms to stop you. “Stop it.”

“Fuck you, let go of me.” you spit.

“I told you to fucking stop.��� he says through gritted teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t fucking let go of my arm-”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead he pins you to the bed, hovering over you. “You’re not fucking leaving, stop being so fucking dramatic and just go to fucking bed! It’s fucking late, you need to chill out!” he scolds but you don’t listen. 

“What, so now you want to stop me?” you glare at him. “You could just kick me out again! You’ve done it before right? So why won’t you let me fucking leave this time on my own!”

“You always feel the need to bring that shit up, get the fuck over it! I’m not letting you leave-”

“WHY NOT?!”

“Because you’re acting fucking crazy and you’re out of control right now! Just fucking relax for once-”

You punch at his chest but his grip is too strong and you let out a frustrated groan. “GET THE FUCK OFF!” you screech at him but he doesn’t relent.

“Y/n, stop-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” you scream. “I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!”

“YOU CAN HATE ME ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU’RE NOT LEAVING ME!” he screams back at you.

You manage to free your grip from his wrists and you do the one thing you’ve never done before. You slap him.

It shocks the both of you and your mouth fall slightly open in surprise. He doesn’t say anything at first and you can tell he wasn’t expecting it either.

But then his eyes darken and they glare into your wide ones and he pulls on your wrist, teeth clenching. “Don’t ever fucking hit me again.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he states. “I’m gonna go into the living room and you’re gonna stay in here and calm the fuck down. Then we’ll talk.” he says. “and if you still want to leave after that, fine. I won’t stop you this time. But you need to fucking relax and clear your fucking head. You’re fucking insane.”

And he leaves you alone once again.

You think about the one time you actually did leave.

But it wasn’t a choice you made on your own.

1 years, 9 months, 23 days ago.

You were used to his possessiveness by now. You knew his love for you was borderline obsessive, and you hated the fact that you still loved him too. You still chose to ignore all the red flags, overlooking every toxic trait he had.

You continued to put up with it and you excused his behaviour because... well it wasn’t like he controlled you completely.

He never forced you to tell him things you didn’t want, never controlled the things you did, never gave you shit for the things you wore, never made you feel like you needed to rely on him for everything.

He still gave you your freedom.

He just didn’t hold himself back from how other people acted around you. 

It was at his birthday party, you recall.

And it was the first time you were meeting the majority of Hongjoong’s friends. You wanted to make an effort to mingle with them to show your boyfriend you cared about the people in his life.

Sure you knew of his closest ones, the other seven boys he allowed you to be near. They were the only ones that Hongjoong felt comfortable with you being around.

But this time you were surrounded by new faces, and it wasn’t like Hongjoong warned you of any of them so you took it upon yourself to befriend a few of them. You figured if he let him into the comfort of your own home, they had to have been good people.

You saw no harm in it, and at first he didn’t see the harm either.

Until he noticed the lingering stare in Sehun’s eyes, and the way his fingertips would ghost over the skin of your shoulder, and how his knee would brush against yours every so often. 

Anger started to bubble up in his chest at the sight of you laughing at something Sehun said, and the jealousy ran rampant in his veins. 

He tried to control his feelings at first, brushing it off as Sehun’s overly flirtatious nature. 

But it was when he saw his friend place his hand over your bare thigh that Hongjoong finally lost it. 

Before you could even take Sehun’s hand off of you and tell him to back off, Hongjoong’s grabbing onto him in an instant, throwing him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong seethes as Sehun’s eyes widen.

The guests eyes avert to the scene in front of them and you look over at Seonghwa and San pleading for help.

“Woah, calm down, Joong.” Sehun says with a light chuckle. “I was just telling your girlfriend about-”

“Yeah, exactly, MY girlfriend.” Hongjoong interrupted. “So why is that you feel the need to touch her like she’s fucking single? You don’t think I’ve been watching you eye fuck her this whole night? Don’t you know how to back off?” he pushes at his friend’s chest.

“Dude, relax, it’s not that serious.” Sehun rolls his eyes. “You know me man, I would never do anything to disrespect you, or your girl.”

“That’s not what it fucking looked like you prick-”

“Okaaay, Joong, how ‘bout we go somewhere else, hm?” Seonghwa calls, placing his arm around your boyfriend’s shoulder as he and San guide him into one of your guest rooms.

You follow suit with Wooyoung and Yunho behind you as you leave the confused party guests to themselves.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asks and you nod your head.

But inside, you’re heart seizes with fear, because you know exactly where this conversation is gonna go. 

When you enter the room, it feels tense right away, and Hongjoong eyes you with a cold stare. “Do you have anything to say for yourself right now?” he calls over San’s shoulder.

You shake your head. “W-what did I do?” you ask genuinely.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Hongjoong scoffs.

“Joong, stop.” Seonghwa sighs, placing a hand on his chest.

“You know what your problem is, you fucking act like such an innocent little bitch when in reality you’re the biggest slut i know.” he spits at you suddenly, and it has everyone’s eyes widening at his bold statement.

“Pipe down, hyung. Don’t call her that.” Yunho shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What was I doing wrong?! Talking to him?!” you scoff.

“For letting him touch you like that! He was fucking flirting with you and you didn’t do shit about it-”

“Oh my god, you didn’t even give me the chance!” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “If you just waited one more fucking second I would’ve told him to take his hands off me and-”

“Bullshit.” he laughs. “You wanna go whore around? Fine. But don’t fucking lie to my face and pretend that you didn’t do shit.” he pushes past Seonghwa to get in your face. “Go back out there with him if that’s what you want.” as he shoves you back.

“Woah hey, Joong, don’t do that.” Seonghwa intervenes when he sees his best friend push you a bit too hard.

“How are you gonna blame me and say it’s my fault? All we were doing was talking!-“ you try to defend, tears threatening to spill.

“Talking my fucking ass,” your boyfriend scoffs at you.  “You’re just a fucking attention whore. What, I’m suddenly not enough for you? So you go around prancing like the little slut you are because you need validation from other guys?!”

You feel embarrassed at your current situation, feeling the heavy stares of Hongjoong’s best friends on you. Fighting with him in private was one thing. It was shitty and made you feel terrible, but you could handle it. 

But being in the same room, hearing your boyfriend call you names while his friends watch from the side has you recoiling in pure humiliation.  

“Hongjoong that’s enough! Fuck, what is wrong with you man?” Seonghwa pushes his friend back.

“Why don’t you ask her? Why are you guys acting like i’m the fucking villain?!” Hongjoong sneers. “You think she’s the fucking victim here? Look at her. Acting all innocent and crying like a fucking bitch. What are you so upset about?” he glares at you and you stand still in your spot, not knowing what to say. 

“Joong, I’m sorry but I don’t think what I was doing was wrong!” you say. “You wanted me to get to know your friends and that’s exactly what I was doing! You can’t get mad at me for doing what you wanted!”

“You let him fucking feel you up, you let him touch you when you know I don’t like that shit. You’re making all these excuses to justify the fact that you can’t be satisfied with one man giving you all his attention?! How are you gonna say you didn’t do anything wrong when you let that happen?! When you know it would upset me, on my fucking birthday no less? Fuck you y/n! Your mouth is fucking shit, all you know how to do is lie!”

“You know what, fuck you too Joong. I put up with so much of your shit, I forgive you every time you get pissed over another guy being around me. I clean up your fucking mess time and time again and this is how you treat me?! Are you just going to get mad every time a man does so much as breathe next to me?! You’re going to blame me for shit I didn’t even do-“ he interrupts you, refusing to hear your side.

“Yeah I fucking blame you!”

“God can you fucking relax and think about what you’re saying right now?! You’re literally causing a scene at your own fucking birthday party-”

“Yeah and what?!” he screams at you. “You don’t think everyone at this fucking party should know how much of a fucking slut you are?!”

You gape at him and so does Seonghwa and San whose holding their best friend back. 

“Woah, hyung that’s not fucking cool.” San says. “I know you’re pissed off and drunk as fuck right now but do not treat your girlfriend that way.”

Hongjoong chuckles, “Why? She thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants anyways. Why the fuck can’t I call her out on her shit?”

“Because she didn’t do anything!” Wooyoung shouts, coming next to you protectively. “You need to fucking relax. Yunho, help me get everyone out of their house. They need to deal with this shit with less people here.”

Yunho nods his head, leaving the room with Wooyoung to usher all the party guests out.

“Joong, don’t be unreasonable right now. Be mad at Sehun all you want, but don’t accuse y/n of being at fault when she didn’t do anything. She’s your fucking girlfriend for god sakes, don’t treat her this way-” Seonghwa begins to defend you but Hongjoong stops him.

“You know what, take your fucking shit, get the fuck out of my house, and don’t fucking come back!” he grabs your purse and throws it in your direction and it nearly hits you in the face.

“Hyung!” San shouts as he holds his elder back.

“Are you actually kicking me out right now?” you ask in shock.

“You’re damn right I am.” he states. “Go fucking slut it up on the streets for all I give a shit! Since you want male attention so bad, see how long you last out there!” Hongjoong taunts you.

“D-don’t fucking do this, Joong.” you plead. “I know you’re pissed at me but don’t make me leave, I have nowhere else to go.”

“Ask me if I give a shit.” he rolls his eyes. “You want to act like an ungrateful bitch then get the fuck out of my place. I literally fucking give you everything, I love you like no else fucking will. You don’t fucking appreciate me then Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

You don’t move for a second, but Hongjoong pushes past his friends, gripping onto your arm as he drags you out of the room. 

The guests are long gone by now, and you don’t admit that you’re thankful that no one else has to witness this right now.

“Joong, let go of her!” Seonghwa calls after him, as him and San follow you both out the door. 

Yunho and Wooyoung are in the kitchen when they see their friend dragging you outside and they’re quick to try and resolve the situation, but there’s nothing they can do at this point that’ll calm Hongjoong down.

“You don’t want to fucking leave? I’ll make you leave! Don’t ever try and come back here, I mean it!” he pushes you forcefully out the door and slams the door in your face and his friends stare with their mouths open in pure horror.

“Are you crazy?! What is wrong with you?!” Yunho gapes.

“She wants to act like a whore then let her. When everything I do is for her, it’s not enough! She wants to find comfort in other men then she can fucking do that.” Hongjoong simply shrugs. “Let her learn her lesson. See how long she can survive without me.”

The four boys don’t say anything, instead choosing to leave and find you to ensure your safety. They don’t recognize this man in front of them, and they never thought they’d witness him act this way.

They hate him right now, and they think you deserve to hate him too.

They find out downstairs in the lobby, crying on the bench hysterically. It’s 2 in the morning and they know how tired you must be, so Seonghwa kindly offers you to stay at their place for the time being.

“Y/n, don’t worry about Hongjoong right now.” Seonghwa sits next to you.

“I have nowhere to go-”

“You’re going to come stay with us.” he states. “We have a spare room, you can stay there for as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about him right now, he’s being a fucking dick. Drunk or not he shouldn’t be treating you this way.”

“He’s gonna get mad if I go with you-”

“Let him get mad then.” San interjects. “It’s better than you sleeping on the streets by yourself. You’re better off with us.”

You don’t hesitate after that and you agree, thanking them profusely for their generosity. They sit with you until the Uber comes, asking you every few minutes if you’re doing okay. You realize that not even your own boyfriend has shown this much compassion towards you in a long time. 

“Does he always do this to you?” Wooyoung asks and you shake your head.

“No, no..” you say. “He just, he gets jealous easily. Doesn’t like when other guys are around me. He’s kind of possessive and he just, acts out I guess.”

“I didn’t know he was like that.” Seonghwa sighs. “He doesn’t ... hit you does he?”

“No! Never, no.” you’re quick to say. “He just needs to control his anger better...”

The Uber pulls up in front of your building before any more words can be exchanged, and the boys guide you over to the car.

When you get inside, you rest your head on the window and cry again. Silently this time, but the boys know. They can only imagine how you’re feeling at this very moment, and they feel terrible inside.

You look over to Yunho who’s sitting beside you and he stares back at you. 

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask quietly.

“No, y/n. He could never hate you.” he sighs. “He loves you so much.” he tries to reassure.

“So why does he treat me like this?” you return, and Yunho’s heart breaks for you.

He doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t even know the answer to that himself.

He shakes his head with another heavy sigh, reaching over to comfort you. “I don’t know, y/n.” he admits truthfully. “All I know is that I’m sorry he did this to you.”

Everyone else in the car can hear your conversation, but out of respect for you they pretend to ignore it.

But in their heads, they’re all thinking the same thing as Yunho.

They’re sorry he did this to you too.

4:12 AM

A few hours pass and you’re calmer now.

Your head still hurts and your heart feels heavy but you’re less angry. So you figured that counted for something.

You’ve sat with yourself for the last two hours, weighing your options.

You could still leave.

But just like the first time you left by force, you still have nowhere else to go.

You could go back to Seonghwa’s place, but it took a long time for him and all the other boys to forgive Hongjoong, you didn’t want to burden them and drag them through this mess all over again.

You somehow managed to convince them you and Hongjoong were doing better, and you didn’t want to have to put them in another uncomfortable position where they would have to pick sides.

You figure here is better than nowhere, even with the endless cycle of this torment. 

Half of you wants to leave, to forget about this whole nightmare and leave this life behind. To not look back and leave your boyfriend for good. To find someone else who could probably treat you better than this.

But the other half knows you depend on Hongjoong too much for your happiness. It’s the optimistic part in you that keeps reminding you that despite all these reoccurring fights, he still makes you happy, in some ways. 

You’re conflicted to say the least, and you don’t know what you truly want to do.

Because if you leave you’ll come back, and if you stay, you’ll just subject yourself to this miserable life over and over again.

You don’t see any winning options.

Hongjoong’s soft knock interrupts your thoughts and he comes in shortly after. “Are you good now?” he asks softly and you nod.

You scoot across the bed to make room for him and he takes it as a sign to lay next to you. You two don’t say anything for a long while. Just staring into the plain white walls of your bedroom. You can hear each other breathing heavily, words lingering on the tips of your tongues, yet, none of you say anything.

The silence lasts for what feels like an eternity before he finally decides to speak first.

“So are you going to leave?” Hongjoong asks, turning to face you.

You shrug. “I want to.”

“So why don’t you?” he asks, but this time, there’s not a hint of malice in his tone. For once, it’s just curiosity.

You finally lock eyes with him and your face softens. “Because I fucking love you.” your eyes water, and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms. “I don’t know why I can’t leave you Joong. I fucking hate you and love you at the same time. You literally make me feel like shit. You do nothing good for me. You ruined my life.” you cry into his chest and he hugs you tighter.

“I know baby.” he murmurs, and it shouldn’t comfort you. But it does.

“I should leave.”

“You should.” he agrees.

“There’s only so much I can handle. I can’t stay with you if you aren’t willing to change, even a little bit. This is getting too much and I keep giving you all these chances when I should’ve walked away a long time ago.” you exclaim.

“I know.” is all he can say.

“I want to leave you, but at the same time I can’t stand the thought of not being with you.” you sigh.

You hate yourself right now because you sound so fucking stupid.

You could never explain why you continue to stay with him, because you don’t even know the answer to that yourself. All you know is that you’re a fucking idiot.

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you here with me, y/n.” he sighs. “I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to not have you anymore. I love you, you know I do. That’s why I do this, it’s just because I love you.”

You’ve heard it all before.

You shouldn’t believe him.

You shouldn’t even let him convince you of anything.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness for the millionth time.

“If you forgive me this time, it’s the last time I’ll put you through this ever again.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joong.” you shake your head.

“I’m not.”

“I want to believe you so bad.” you sigh.

“So believe me.” he turns to you. “Trust me now like you’ve trusted me all the other times before. I swear to you that I’ll put more of an effort this time.”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.

You think about the time you forgave him for kicking you out.

1 year, 8 months, 23 days ago.

One month later, Hongjoong’s begging for you back, asking for your forgiveness as you sit at Seonghwa’s dining table, void of any emotion.

You’ve lived 30 days without any communication with Hongjoong, and you hate to say that it was the worst thirty days of your life. 

Even after tossing you out like you were nothing, you still missed him beyond belief, and your heart craved him every night he wasn’t right beside you.

You know at this point, you were just as fucked in the head as he was.

For continuing to love a man who proved time and time again that he wasn’t good for you, and he never would be.

“What makes you think you deserve to talk to her after you pulled that shit last month?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he eyes his best friend.

“I-I was drunk, Hwa.” Hongjoong excuses and his friend scoffs.

“You’re pathetic.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “You can’t just come back and expect her to be okay with what you did to her. And why now? You should’ve done it the night after you tossed her out but instead you choose to wait a whole fucking month?”

“I wanted to clear my head. I wanted to think about what I did wrong and make sure I made it up to her the right way.” Hongjoong defends himself. “Can you just let me in so I can see my fucking girlfriend? Since when were you so protective over her?”

“Since you treated her like fucking garbage!” Seonghwa retaliates. “I shouldn’t even let you do this, but you’re my best friend and you need to do what’s right. But if I ever catch you treating y/n that badly again, I will make sure you never see her again.” 

Hongjoong nods his head, but inside he’s rolling his eyes at his elder. He hates that Seonghwa cares about you all of a sudden, but he won’t be unreasonable this time. He’ll admit his faults. Right now the only thing he cares about is getting you back.

Seonghwa finally lets him in and he takes you to the dining area where you’re seated reading a book. You don’t notice the presence of the two boys right away until Seonghwa clears his throat and you look up.

“Y/n, Hongjoong wanted to talk to you.” Seonghwa states, leaving the two of you alone.

You just stare at him at first, not knowing exactly what to say or do. You don’t know if he’s going to lash out at you, or forgive you for pissing him off the night of his birthday.

He approaches you gently, leaning down next to you as he places a small bouquet of roses on the table.

“I know this isn’t enough of an apology for what I did, but, I didn’t mean what I said that night.” he says gently.

You look at the roses in front of you and sigh. “You really hurt me you know that?” 

“I know.” he bows his head down in shame. 

“I get it, Joong. I can deal with your possessiveness, I can deal with your anger problems, but calling me names? Kicking me out? I let so much shit slide but when you go off and blame me for things that I didn’t even do...” you say quietly.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, baby.” Hongjoong sighs. “Everything I said that night was out of anger towards Sehun. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but it just killed me to see him all over you like that. You know that I love you too much and sometimes that makes me act out.”

“You can’t keep doing this when someone makes you mad.” you say. “You should know by now I’m all yours. I told you that so long ago. You don’t have to worry about me leaving because I won’t. But you can’t do this ever again, Joong. Please.” you plead.

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t do this again. But please forgive me, because I can’t live without you. I miss you so much. And I still love you. No matter what I said, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I always will.”

Your heart softens hearing his words and your eyes begin to tear up. Hongjoong looks at you endearingly and you suddenly remember the face of the man you fell in love with so long ago.

You go against your better judgement and forgive him.

Like you always do.

“I love you too.” you say.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, placing his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You sigh.

You take his bouquet of roses as a silent sign of forgiveness and you scoot over to let him sit next to you.

Hongjoong pulls you into his arms, hating the prideful feeling inside of him, knowing very well things were going exactly how he expected. He knew this was going to happen. He knew you were going to forgive him and take him back.

Because you always take him back.

4:30 AM

“Y/n, I love you, you know that right?” he says.

“I know.” you swallow your tears. 

You do know he does.

But it never really feels like it.

“But.. if you claim to love me why can’t you change? Or at least try to? You keep hurting me and then you say it’s because you love me but, you don’t exactly show me that. I don’t understand how you can keep putting me in this position and say you do out of love.” you ask.

“I can’t explain what makes me act this way. But I go crazy when it comes to you, and it’s because of how strongly I feel for you. I don’t know why I treat you like shit. I don’t know why I do the things I do.” he admits.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t love me at all. You just look at me as something that belongs to you.” you say.

He hates that you’re partially right. 

“That’s not true.” he lies. 

He does love you. He loves you more than anything else in this world, that much is clear.

But you’re right about you belonging to him.

Deep down he thinks you’re stupid for thinking you don’t belong to him. 

You are is his. You always will be his.

But he doesn’t try to prove you wrong. He keeps his mouth shut.

It’s silent again, and your heads are both swirling with a million different thoughts, and you want to say a million different things to each other. 

But you feel like there’s nothing left to say. 

Because everything that could be said, already has been.

The cycle will just continue. It’s never going to stop.

And there’s no one else to blame except for the poor decisions you both make.

You let yourselves get to this point.

“You need to let me leave, Joong. I can’t keep doing this.” your lips quiver and your voice breaks.

“No y/n-”

You stop him. “No, listen to me first.” you say. 

“I told you. I’m tired of doing this again and again. You need to promise me right now you’re going to do something to change yourself because I meant it when I said I will leave if you keep driving me away. Because if you can’t promise me this one thing, and actually mean it, you have to let me walk away. If you claim to care about me, and if you really do love me, you’ll either do this for me or you’re going to let me be happy without you. So please, Joong. I’m begging you. Please. Please just do this for me or just let me fucking go.” you cry, and he pulls you into his chest as you sob.

He doesn’t know what to tell you.

Because if he promises he’ll change, he’d only be lying. 

But if he doesn’t, he has to force himself to let you go.

And he could never do that.

“I’m not letting you go.” he states, and you know that’s his way of avoiding your promise.

“We aren’t good for each other. We shouldn’t be together.” you bury your face in his chest, and his hold on you tightens again.

Hongjoong’s throat starts to burn. “I know.” he whispers. “But we also can’t be without each other.” 

He feels your tears soak through his shirt.

“You’ll change this time, won’t you?” you look at him with pleading eyes. 

He doesn’t want to, but he nods anyways. 

He just doesn’t offer any sort of reassurance.

You want him to say sorry, Hongjoong can feel it. He knows all you’ve ever wanted was to hear him apologize and mean it.

But he never does. Because he isn’t sorry.

He isn’t sorry for scaring away those guys who threatened to take him away from you. He isn’t sorry for calling you those names. He isn’t sorry for making you feel like you can’t get anyone better than him. He isn’t sorry for knowing how much you truly depend on him and need him. 

He’s not sorry, and he never will be.

So instead he chooses to say ‘i promise.’ like he’s done again and again. He repeats those same words to you and he feels you relax in his arms.

He knows you’re not stupid enough to believe him, but you’re too optimistic for your own good. Always choosing to believe he can change. Always seeing the good that’s left in him and your broken relationship. And for the record, he does try, but his love for you is just so obsessive and consuming it drives him mad. He just can’t bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. He can’t control the way he acts and he knows its unhealthy. 

But he lies to you because he knows it’ll keep you with him. 

“I promise I’ll change.” he whispers in your ear.

And you want to believe him so badly. But you know it’s just an empty promise. Because you know the next chance he gets, he will put you through all this again. And Hongjoong won’t admit it but he knows you’re always going to forgive him. No matter how many times you threaten to leave and actually try to, you’re going to end up back in his arms every night, loving him like you’ve never loved anyone else before.

So for right now, you just pretend. You pretend he means what he says and you pretend that things are going to get better. 

You want to believe that he’ll change.

But deep down inside, you know he never will.

LA FIN.

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Bite Me Pt2

Elizabeth/The Countess x Plus Size/Chubby Reader x James March

Imagine: Elizabeth and James are both attracted to you and each of them want to have you for themselves. 

Word Count: 1.45k 

Warnings: some swearing

Part 1

Masterlist

Despite telling yourself that you were never going to come back to the hotel, you found yourself visiting quite often. The reason being was because of Will and Liz. Will was a close friend and you missed having him around and since he was dead, you had to go to the Cortez to see him. Liz was quickly becoming your favourite female friend ever and you treasured your conversations you had. Liz had caught you up on all of the ‘gossip’ in the hotel. She told you all about Elizabeth, or rather the Countess, and James and how they are married. 

It had surprised you but it wasn’t as surprising as finding out ghosts actually existed and your friend was one of them. During your visits, you always seemed to coincidentally bump into James or Elizabeth. Your meetings were always brief though, with both of them having higher priorities at times. James often stayed clear of you when John was around and Elizabeth had many matters in and out of the hotel to attend to. 

They often flirted with you but you refused to let them have an effect on you. You weren't sure if they were being serious or if it was all one big game they were playing. Liz had told you of Elizabeth’s reputation of moving from one person to the next, often getting bored of her ‘toys’ quickly. James, however, had been obsessed with only his wife until you turned up. That made you feel like their interest wasn’t real so you pushed them away, trying to give them the cold shoulder without realising that it was encouraging them more to try harder to get your attention.

“(Y/N) darling, it’s been a while since I last saw you.” You froze at the sound of Elizabeth’s voice behind you. Liz, who was standing in front of you, smiled then walked away to leave you alone with the Countess. Bitch. You turned to face Elizabeth and gave her a fake smile, “Well, I’ve been busy.” Elizabeth was not easy to fool and knew something was up but knew better than to ask you flat out what was wrong. 

The blonde woman took a drink from her glass, “I was hoping you would stay the night with me, I can show you a good time, love.” Finally having enough with her words, you let out a heavy sigh, “Can you stop pretending that you’re interested in me for a silly bet? I know you’re only doing this because you want to prove a point to James that you can get whoever you wanted, even the fat girl everybody takes pity on.” You started to regret saying that when Elizabeth’s face hardened and she took a step closer to you. You were about the same height but she looked menacing and intimidating nonetheless. 

Her voice was deeper with contained anger, “I will tell you this once and only once. Call yourself fat or make any unnecessary comments about your weight and I will become very cross with you. I don't want to punish you but I will, darling.” You nodded out of fear, unsure why her words effected you so much, in this moment, you felt completely powerless against her and she wasn’t even doing anything to you. 

“As for your belief that I’m pretending my interest in you, if you were to take me up on my offer to show you a night of pleasure, you would be very certain that I am quite attracted to you, my girl.” You were sure that your face was bright red and your mouth felt a little dry. “O-Okay.” Your voice was quiet and a little squeaky as you watched Elizabeth’s mouth curve into a smirk. 

Her elegant hand held yours and she walked you towards the elevator, heading up to her private room. In the elevator, Elizabeth turned you towards her and put her hands on your waist to pull your body against hers, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. A soft gasp left your mouth, parting your lips which allowed Elizabeth to enter her tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. 

After a few moments, she pulled away to let you catch your breath, her soft hand gently stroking the side of your face, “So beautiful, you are unable to understand how badly I want you right now, darling. It was torture every time you rejected my advances, but all is forgiven,” The way she spoke was so enticing that you hung onto her every word, taking it all in. A small whimper escaped from the back of your throat as the elevator doors opened and she led you down into her bedroom, her hands not moving from you as she did. 

Elizabeth sat you down on her bed, her hands pulling your jacket from your shoulders for you. She sat to the left of you, her hands on your shoulders and her mouth against your ear, whispering, “A body like yours is a priceless artwork, beauty that most cannot comprehend. It needs to be appreciated and treated with delicate touches.” Her hands slowly ran down the front of your shirt, to slide underneath the fabric of the offending item that concealed your body from her. Your eyes had been closed and your head tilted back but when you opened your eyes again, you saw James stood in front of the two of you. 

Your scream alerted Elizabeth and you pulled yourself away from the two, grabbing your jacket back and putting in on to cover yourself. Elizabeth wished that James wasn't dead so that she could slit his throat herself. The countess moved on the bed to pull you close to her, “Can’t you see you’re interrupting us? She was enjoying my company, not yours.” 

James finally took his eyes off you to look at his wife, “I could see that, but surely she would enjoy twice the pleasure. It would be divine.” You swallowed hard as you looked between Elizabeth and James, you had only barely been comfortable with Elizabeth bringing you up to her room, nevermind James inviting himself into whatever this was as well. 

Elizabeth could feel how stiff you had gone in her arms and turned her head to press soft kisses against your neck, as if James wasn't even there. You turned to look at Elizabeth and she took the opportunity to cup your cheek with one hand and kiss you deeply on the lips. It was quite possibly one of the most intimate kisses you’ve ever had but you weren't going to be so ready to admit that to her. A soft, almost inaudible, moan left your throat and it was just your luck that the both of them heard you. James had moved at some point to be right behind you and he placed his hands on your hips, “Mm, that sound was exhilarating, do it again.” 

Just as both Elizabeth’s and James’ hands started to roam towards more private places on your body, your phone broke the deafening silence by ringing. Elizabeth was reaching for your pocket, her intentions to turn the device off and throw it away but you used it as an excuse to remove yourself from the situation. You looked at the home screen and saw that Will was calling you. You had never been more relieved and you awkwardly pushed yourself out from between the two and ran away out of the bedroom, answering the phone call, mumbling a “I have to take this,” behind you. 

When you made it out of the bedroom, you walked some way down the corridor before leaning against the wall. Your phone was still ringing and so you declined the call before letting out a deep breath, that was a close call. You weren't supposed to let them effect you like that. If the phone call hadn't brought you out of it, you probably would’ve let them do whatever they wanted and you weren't entirely sure if you wanted to be trapped into their lives right now. God knows that this was only the beginning. 

Elizabeth glared at James after she watched you run out of the room, “That was all your fault, you couldn’t have just stayed away for a few more hours?” James scoffed, “You’ve had your fair share of having all the fun, this time, my dear, I want in. The others weren’t nearly as endearing as this woman and I’m afraid I will not be backing down.” Elizabeth got up from her position on the bed and promptly left the room, she needed to take out her frustrations somehow. A fresh kill would help with that. 

Tag List: 

@naniky​ 

[sirensmojo]

“Returned” - Reader x Hvitserk x Ivar The Boneless

Summary: Imagine being the lover of Ivar until he disappeared during a raid, two years later, he reappears out of nowhere and is acting as if nothing has changed between the two of you, but now you’re married and have a child with his older brother Hvitserk.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst

Word Count: 2,358

*Masterlist*

You were in the kitchen with the thralls, preparing a plate your husband was crazy about, truth to be told Hvitserk was obsessed with food in general, but whenever you took the custody to cook, he was excited beyond measure. The spoon in your mouth, you were leaning above the cauldron, tasting the mixture you made. "Hm, something's missing" You mutter to yourself. Two arms suddenly embraced your waist, without you panicking, you knew exactly who it was. "You're never tired of sneaking in the kitchen, my love?" "I do not even surprise you anymore, what a regret" Hvitserk teased with his nose tucked in the hollow of your neck. A shiver came down your spine feeling his fingers stroking the end of your back, you were very sensitive to his touch "You're scaring the thralls..." You managed to say as you gasped for air, his touch became more and more greedy. "Do I scare you?" "Of course not Hvitserk how-" You began but couldn't finish as his lips crash on you. You smile against his mouth before voraciously kissing him back. He managed to hook your leg around his hips and bunched up your dress to your waist with haste as your moans echoed in his mouth. "May I grab something to eat before you make another child?" Sigurd asked, standing right in front of you both. You frantically duck your hair and your dress with it as the brother of your husband grab and bite into an apple. "Brother" Hvitserk smile as if all of this was normal, "I'm gone, you can continue" Sigurd let out as he disappeared beyond the door. You shook your head "All of this only an apple, a damn apple" Hvitserk exclaimed, and that made you laugh. You turned back and add some herb to your dish, no need to say you were turned off.

***

Later on, you were finally eating, all around the table; King Ragnar, Queen Aslaugh, Sigurd, Ubbe, and Margaret. Even though the queen didn't quite get along with Margaret, she was now married to her son. She had her place into the family. "Mommy! mommy!" "Yes, Frida" You hold a hand to your daughter as she sneaks her way under the table to you, her little face appears on your knees, her plump cheek lean into your palm. "There are boats...I saw them with Floki and Helga from the cliff" Frida lets out her little finger embracing your hand on her cheek. You directly look up to Hvitserk that frowned and glanced at Ragnar. "Are we waiting for anyone?" Queen Aslaugh asked, looking at her husband, but nobody responded to her. Ragnar motioned to his son, and you understood you needed to get safe. We didn't know if they were allies or enemies, and you couldn't risk the life of your daughter. Hvitserk cast a glance at you, and you nodded, "I'll come to you soon enough, don't worry" He added, and you smiled at him. You grab Frida and hold her in your arms, making your way to your chamber. Once you were in, you told her to hide in the wooden floor while you take your knives: one in each hand and stand by the door, ready to fight whoever may enter. 

After a brief moment, the door opens and you jump on the back of the figure without knowing who that was, the cutting edge of your knives on both sides of its neck "Y/N, it's me" Hvitserk breathe his hands up to ease your sudden bloodlust. You chuckled and kissed his lob before biting it "Oh yeah, nice to see your husband" You speak, he shifts you to his chest and kneads your legs with his fingers before pressing his lips to yours. "Stop being so eager, our daughter is here" You murmur inches away from his face and you motioned to the wooden floor. "Frida, my little warrior, you can get out. You have Nothing to worry about" He slowly says with a high pitched voice. He drops you on the ground, and you smile while you see your little one get out of the hole you made in the parquet. "Daddy!" She ran in his arms that he immediately closed around her body as if it was an eternity since they last saw each other. "Who are they?" You managed to ask, and he got up with your daughter still in his arms.

"Vikings, it seems it is our boats" "You're sure we can go safely Hvitty?" "I am" He nodded, and you got to the docks. You left your daughter with Aslaugh as she would always love to spend time with her grand-child and joined the crowd. "Y/N" You heard a familiar voice. You weren't sure who that was yet but when you turned around, your eyes opened wide, "Ivar!" You shouted before scrambling into his arms. He embraced you with one arm as the other was holding his crutch "It's been so long, we all thought you were lost with the ships!"

"There was a bad storm, indeed, but we made it, a little far from here, I must admit, but here we are now" "What took so long?" "We had to make new boats and prove we were not a menace to the king there. He didn't trust us and made us prisoner for quite long" He shrugs, "Prove ?" "We have a reputation, you know. Pagans, Danes that do not negotiate nor that are friendly..." "Oh", "I never had the chance to raid, I'm not quite a warrior nor anything in that style, but I remember you would always tell me about your raids without missing one single details". "As details are important and are making the big picture," You both say together. Both of you chuckle, but in your case, it was more out of nervousness. Ivar cupped your cheek with his palm with a silly smile. He was more than happy to be with you again, to feel you back and just be able to hear your laugh in real life, and not in his mind. He strokes your jawline with his index finger, and you closed your eyes at his touch. He was never touchy with nobody but you, you remember as if it was yesterday... But it was years ago, two years ago now. "It is good to see you, yet it feels like you're a ghost" You manage to speak with a tiny smile. You looked downward, running low on words. "Things changed here, I see" Ivar continues seeing the conversation weren't going anywhere. "Yes... Yes!" You responded, "I'm still a bit upset about your presence, Ivar. I thought that you were lost, that you were dead. Two years its..." "Yeah, I know. For a moment I thought I was too" He sharply let out. You kneed your brows at him, but you were soon called by Aslaugh herself to head to the great hall.

***

"We shall feast for at least an entire week" Sigurd joyfully said, and all the head turned to him. "I didn't know you were so fond of Ivar" You snickered, and he winces at you "It's okay. We are a family after all" Aslaugh retorted, playing with Frida. "is that baby too?" Asked Ivar, and your smile dropped a little. Ragnar and Aslaugh looked at each other a brief instant, and she nodded. "Yes, it seems time didn't freeze" "You're still looking like trash" Sigurd curtly said, shrugging "You were the one that missed me the most, weren't you?" Ivar responded as he throws a dry fruit on his brother. Hvitserk was intently looking at you, you smiled at him in the way of making him know everything will be okay as you could decipher a bit of angst in his pout. You excused yourself and decide to go for a shower, you needed to do it earlier because you're daughter had to sleep early, it was not because you were a mother now that you had to neglect yourself, that will never happen! 

Once the thrall put the hot water in the bathtub you let your dress pull on the floor and sink beneath the water, you didn't really have any grime to take off, but the smell of what you cooked that seem to have stayed into your dress and stick on your skin. After rubbing your skin, you decided to stay a little bit longer as the water was still boiling. Your head falling back on the wooden edge and your eyes closed, hands started to rub your shoulders. As always, you assumed it was Hvitserk that sneak into your room, he was always so greedy when it comes to you, you ever wondered how on earth the gods only gave you one daughter... His huge callous palm went down your chest, meeting with your breasts that he took into his palms. He teased your two little buds that grew harder at each of his touches and pinched one of them, making you squeal, still, you didn't open your eyes, too impatient to feel him play with the body of yours. You breathe were sharp and heavy, your lips slightly open. His hands went down your belly, slowly and tenderly, it was as if he wanted to take his time with you, which started to make you go crazy. Seeing how patient you seemed despite your body screaming for more, he made his way down and pulled apart your folds with the tip of his fingers teasing your clit. Your moans started to fill the room, but his free hand came on your mouth to muffle them. You erotically suck on his middle finger as your back grew hollow, for he finally worked on your clit with his thumb. You let out a gasp when he abruptly inserts two of his fingers inside of you before standing still. He was letting you some time to breathe when your hips began to move on his fingers, he started to follow the move twirling inside of you and stroking your sweet spot again and again. You were about to release when he bites your neck and that was enough for you to clench around his fingers as your body was intensely shaking. "Fuck" You heard and your eyes snapped open. You leaped and you turned around and gasped at the sight of Ivar that look you within confusion. You were still a bit dizzy from the work he had done with your body but somehow succeed in getting out the bathtub and reach for a piece of fabric in which you wrapped your body. "What is it with you?" A frowning brows Ivar asked. "What are you doing here? Was that you the whole time?" He tilted his head closing his eyes for a second and exhaled loudly. "Have you expected someone else?" "My husband!" You shouted while throwing your hands in the air, you couldn't believe you didn't notice it wasn't Hvitserk. "You're... married?" "And I got a daughter. Yes." You say solemnly but without anger this time. "Who is the father?" He asked with disbelief, he wasn't looking at you at all; instead, he zoned out. "Hvitserk" You lift your eyes to where he was as he stood up. He looked at you with an eerie look, bringing shiver down your spine but not out of pleasure, it was more out of fear... "Hvitserk huh" Ivar repeated to himself as a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. You didn't want to arouse his anger, so you stayed silent, but then you thought what if my silent was the thing that will bring him to be snappy and you decided to open up to him "It wasn't an easy thing to swallow that you were lost in the sea. When your father came back without you, I felt abandoned, but I didn't show it, you know me!" You chuckled, and his eyes finally met yours. Your heart missed a beat and you harshly swallowed, "I am scared, right now. Because I don't see anything I used to see in your eyes before, and because I am mad at you for what just happened because I am married and I have a daughter, and I must tell Hvitserk about that but I should also tell him that I am again with a child" You began to swoon. "You're with a child?" "Yes" "I thought..." "I know Ivar, you don't need to say it. But as you mentioned, things have changed, and so I have" "Nothing changed for me, I hoped for that day for so long. It is the reason why I'm here, or else I would've let myself die on the ship during the storm" "Don't say that, I'm... glad to see you alive, you still have a place in here" You patted your chest where your heart was "It's just not as a lover" "Not as a lover" He repeated chuckling. "Do you love him?" "With all my heart" "What's the name of the girl?" "Ivar..." "Just answer me Y/N" "Frida" "This is what I wanted my girl to be named, rememb-" "Of course I remember, that's why Frida is called Frida" His lids fluttered. "I thought you reached Valhalla, I wanted to honor our bond" "By fucking my brother" "By calling my daughter with the name you wanted to call yours with" You gave him a smile as you get dressed. You were paying attention to where his eyes went, having to tell Hvitserk another man touched you was enough for tonight... 

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

I wanted to try something different, I'm sorry if it is crap... :/

Ivar TAGGED: @youbloodymadgenius​

[puttingfingerstokeys]

your confession is mine

tangentially related to Lightning Rod, but a wAAAaaays down the road. I am lazy. No italics. Blah blah tumblr. I really am interested in exploring the dynamics of a mature relationship. I am so tired of love triangles and petty drama when the narrative of Mortal Kombat feels like it demands so much more--the drama is cosmic, era-affecting, HUGE. 

Warring Exes (shang tsung/raiden)

Restored Timeline

The breeze coming in over the ocean was salty and gentle; it played with Raiden’s hair as he drifted in that half-asleep state of existence unique to mortals. There were many reasons to appreciate the limited time of a finite existence and this was one of them. In fact, it encompassed more than one. He shifted a little, carefully as he could so as not to disturb his companion, who had similarly fallen asleep, one bronzed arm tucked under the crook of Raiden’s neck as they dozed.

In millions of eras, multiple eons, thousands of lifetimes lived, Raiden had never once envisioned himself this way, naked, draped in only soft sheets, much and more flesh exposed to eyes and to elements—though only two eyes would see it this way—and feeling not a single iota of shame, regret, or horror. Only one thing did hover over his existence this way, a single piece of truth, which would, necessarily lead to all others and perhaps bring this carefully-cultivated new era unraveling around them. It ate at him as he considered it, fingers playing aimlessly about on the shapely chest of the man lying next to him, similarly naked and similarly not offering the world a single care for his exposure.

“Something troubles you,” came the voice from above Raiden’s head. He did not shift, but could feel the vibration of that sonorous baritone in the man’s chest under his fingers. He laid his palm down and ceased its movements.

“I have been… dishonest with you, Shang Tsung, and I… must set it right.”

“Your nature demands it of you, Lord Raiden,” came the languid response, a hand finding its way into the silvery-white mane of Raiden’s hair which was spread over the pillow and some expanse of the sheets around him. Raiden shifted to meet those dark, serpentine eyes.

“You…”

“I have known since Lord Liu Kang brought you to me for my… training. No god defers so obviously to someone who is not also a god.” He spoke as if it was a trifle, nothing of consequence. His smile was languid, but not entirely warm. It was the knowing smile of a predator with cornered prey who has yet time to toy with it and may not even be hungry. “You trained him, as surely as you trained me, and now, for some reason, he is the deity, and you are a mortal—though you are not human.”

Raiden regarded him carefully, not in the reserved way he used to, but with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. Shang Tsung was unpredictable in many ways, but in his interest and obsession with influence and power from the shadows, he never really wavered. His intent and intensity sometimes fluctuated, but the desire was ever present, ad infinitum. 

The biggest difference was that this time there would be an end. There was no void from a soul, stolen by the gods, to utterly empty him beyond any mortal’s capacity to fill. There was, ostensibly, a finite amount he could want or desire. Raiden hoped this was the case, at least. He felt the beat of Shang Tsung’s heart under his hand, beneath that warm flesh, and prayed to no one that it was so; he had come to cherish that heart, openly adoring its owner, however flawed. He lay back down, sighing, unsure whence he should next go with this conversation—or at all, for that matter.

“You have a story to tell, Raiden,” said Shang Tsung, reaching down and tilting Raiden’s chin upward to once more gaze into his eyes, still bearing the soft glow of divinity, but also filled with guilt and something else. Fear? Shang Tsung both loved and hated that he could still elicit such a response from a man he was certain had once been a deity—of thunder no less! The power was intoxicating, but it wasn’t all he wanted. “So tell it. I am at your disposal. And yours alone.”

There was a bit of force—not much—in the motion that guided Raiden’s mouth to Shang Tsung’s and still a little more when the sorcerer’s other hand, which had until that point been occupied in Raiden’s hair, found its way to the back of his head and trapped him there. But what a dulcet trap. The grip on Shang Tsung’s chest tightened a little at first, but then loosened languidly as the kiss deepened and sweetened.

Did he ever give anything which did not feel wrested from him? And when, precisely, had Raiden stopped caring, delighting in the titillating dance which led to this give and take? The question of when he had fallen in love was an easy one to answer, so that, at least, was settled in his restless mind. But the remainder? That was the mystery to be unwrapped and if anyone could succeed at this monumental task—as insurmountable as unwrapping the vestments of the man himself—it would be Shang Tsung, without care or reservation and yet with the utmost delicacy, mindful always of the thunder god’s sensibilities. It was absolutely delicious and Raiden felt himself drowning in it.

“I crave your tale as much as I crave you,” whispered the sorcerer, lips parting—though only just—from those of his old, mysterious mentor. “I am breathless,” he purred, “with anticipation.”

“Let nothing be denied you, then—at least where this is concerned; I have… hidden it from you long enough, though not well, evidently.” There was some sheepishness in this remark, as a child admitting to a parent that they had, indeed, removed a sweet from its place, cooling on the countertop. Shang Tsung laid his head back on the luxurious pillow, a Cheshire smile upon his face. The hand which had been used to grasp and control was now weaving through the air, playing magic like strings, causing a low, melodic hum to enter and hover about the room; the colors reflected the strange sunsets in this place, unpredictable and ethereal. In the nexus between worlds, on this island, at its very fulcrum, time did as it desired. It was not bound by the laws of any world and sat apart from all, yet interconnected to all.

“Let nothing be denied me, ever,” warned Shang Tsung, a hint of that old predatory menace in his voice, though his hand did not stop moving. Raiden watched it, weaving this way and that, and felt himself mildly entranced by the sight, though that had not—he assumed—been the intention.

“I was,” said Raiden quietly, “as you have guessed, the god of thunder—I had, for many lifetimes, devoted myself in duty to my… chosen vocation, protector of Earthrealm.”

“A deity of destruction as protector,” Shang Tsung mused, “how like you, dear Raiden. How very like you.”

Raiden’s jaw tightened, but he kept silent, holding his tongue, knowing that the reaction was just what the sorcerer wanted. This was part of their game, this tug of war between them. When had he begun to relish in it? When I made peace with the side of me of which he so fondly speaks. And there was fondness in the man’s voice when the word “destruction” rolled off his forked tongue.

“Electricity facilitates life, as well, Shang Tsung—balance, in all things,” Raiden reminded the sorcerer, who waved this off as if to say ‘when was the last time a lightning bolt healed someone?’. Raiden knew very well that Shang Tsung could see right through him, that he clearly fought his nature, tooth and nail, every day of his long life. The struggle defined him and fascinated his sorcerous companion. “But my… father was the god of death and chaos…”

Pleased with the admission, Shang Tsung began running his fingers over Raiden’s scalp once more, almost as a reward, delighting in the way the miniscule arcs of electricity jumped to and fro as he did this. He came alive when they touched, when their flesh met, in passion or in training; there was such a field of power around Raiden that Shang Tsung could not very well help himself wanting to be near it. When did he take me? The sorcerer found himself wondering.

“So there are more… beyond you and the fire god, hm?”

“There were, yes.” Had it been anyone else to whom Raiden was speaking, he might have been alarmed at the acuity. Given that Shang Tsung had detected him the moment they met at least left Raiden with some relief, that he may have been thinking about this a while—they had, after all, known each other for over two decades… this time—and that he was not simply generating these theories spontaneously.

“Were…?” There was interest in the sorcerer’s voice, now, more than before. He knew a tangled tapestry of fate when he heard it and he was about to be handed the most beautiful of these. As with everything else he had taken from Raiden, it was being freely given. Taking by force had its merits, but not with this one, so cloaked in virtue and chastity. See, now, how far behind you have left that part of yourself, Raiden. See yourself the way I see you and that… will fulfill me.

“Eons before anything… at all,” Raiden began, pushing himself to tell the story of all creation, the true story, titans included. He wove that tapestry Shang Tsung so coveted with beautiful master strokes, no embellishments, and as much detail as he felt he could or should, at the moment. That he had a brother was now known to the sorcerer, that Kronika was, in human terms, his grandmother, that she was a titan, a being of pure passion and desire, having no vision but her own and that the offspring of titans were Elder Gods, the very opposite of that embodiment of uncontrollable, uncontainable power.

“All but Shinnok,” said Raiden, “who sought to overthrow the rule of the others while the realms were still young. Had I stepped aside and allowed him to do as he pleased, we would not be here.”

“But you,” filled in Shang Tsung, having followed the narrative closely, “dutiful son of the Elder Gods, stood between mortals and utter annihilation… and triumphed. My oh my, what a tale.”

“If it ended there,” interjected Raiden with some mischief in his tone, “I would not have enticed you to the story at all.”

“Then by all means…” Shang Tsung made a broad gesture, encompassing the whole of his chambers and they shifted utterly. Night fell outside, a thousand thousand stars from all the realms clashing above the palatial fortress of the sorcerer. Within, torches lit themselves, glowing softly, warmly, casting dancing, tantalizing shadows upon the walls. Raiden watched these things dancing and wondered if they danced at Shang Tsung’s bidding, or if he let them be, appreciating the unpredictability.

“Shao Kahn,” he said, “a name you recognize… has always been a threat… to all realms, but my primary concern has ever been Earthrealm. He, in his ambition and greed, had long ago set his sights on it. I interceded with the Elder Gods on behalf of the people of Earthrealm. I had no choice; they would have been defenseless in all-out war.”

“The tournament,” Shang Tsung guessed. “You tell me our tale, Raiden, but I know of no Elder Gods.”

“These things… they are past, forgotten, and erased, living only in the memories of the immortals who once served them—those who are left,” Raiden admitted quietly. “In that past, you came upon this island on your own and forged a partnership of servitude with Shao Kahn and a deadly alliance with the Netherrealm sorcerer-acolyte, Quan-Chi.”

“Abhorrent,” spat Shang Tsung, having long since decided anyone affiliated with the filth of Outworld was far beneath him. His feelings for Quan-Chi were similar—without the power of a whole Elder God on his side, Quan-Chi had been reduced to little more than a pretender to the Netherrealm throne. Raiden would never regret the stroke which had beheaded his hateful father, though he had not been the one to strike it, precisely. Imbalance, it may have wrought, but had there been another choice? “To serve Shao Kahn,” Shang Tsung hissed. “Nonsense—filthy nonsense.”

“I have opined, in one past or another, that, no matter your perceived station, you have always had a finger upon the pulse of fate, moving whichever way you thought best to put yourself in a place of distinct advantage,” amended Raiden, unsure why he had the urge to soothe Shang Tsung’s ego.

“So why, then, did you feel the need to show me this place of your own accord and to help me… acquire it from the hands of the Shaolin, if destiny was always to give it to me…?”

“Because the acquisition needed to be peaceful. The fact remains that this island is safest in your hands,” said Raiden quietly, not without some hesitance. He had come this far, however. To stop now would be suspicious and the height of cruelty, besides. “In all shifts of the sands of time, this space between realms is wrested from the hands of the ones who have sworn to protect it, by force and bloodshed and unnecessary loss of life. With you, it is never in danger of falling into the hands of Outworld, or the Netherrrealm… and when it is given, it is always with your express consent and for your own aims—never taken.”

“I do not share wealth.”

“Until you do.”

Their eyes met and passion once again ignited between them. The spark became a roaring flame generating its own heat and aching pleasure. Fingers found hair, pulling almost viciously. Hands roamed about grasping, groping and clawing. Tongues tasted, lips teased, teeth grazed. Even outside the arena of kombat, the two warriors, a god and a sorcerer, strove together to achieve the greatest heights of victory and of pleasure.

In the night sky over the fortress, a thunderhead formed and began raining its contents, both those of life and of death, down upon the island between realms.

[thingsareswinging]

Shine on: ⭐

For your audacity, and since the reaction to this chapter in particular has been unusually positive, you get: the entirety of chapter 9 of Red Hand.

I Should Have Got Up To Stand

The title of this chapter, as with every title of every chapter, comes from a song I happen to have been listening to at the time, and not bothered to think any harder about. In this case, Elton John’s Kiss The Bride.

Like 70% of my Katara/Ty Lee playlist is Elton John songs, do not even think about @ing me.

Mai pushed her broom across the immaculate floor as her boss had his breakfast. He got a lot of mail, and liked to read it with a cup of tea. He read the interesting bits out loud, which was convenient, as it saved her the trouble of learning to pick locks.

“Admiral Zhao’s armada has begun its siege of the Northern Water Tribes. Barring anything unexpected from the Avatar, who has apparently taken refuge in the city, the attack is expected to be decisive. Zhao expects to proclaim victory before the end of the week.”

He turned to his next little message, and paused, delivering his second piece of news with a degree of seriousness that had been entirely absent when he’d been discussing the imminent annihilation of a sovereign nation.

“Princess Azula has been killed, or so the Navy is reporting.”

Mai didn’t miss a beat. “A just reward for traitors to the Fire Nation.”

Master Piandao set his cup down with deliberate care, frowned slightly to himself, and fixed her with a tired look. “Mai. I killed one hundred firebenders rather than go back to the military.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I am the most wanted man on Fire Nation shores.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I know you know this.”

“Yes, Master.”

“So I know you know you don’t need to keep acting like the Minister for Propaganda in my own home.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Because, and I honestly don’t know if this matters to you at all, I find it exhausting.”

“Yes, Master.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

Master Piandao was … not what she’d expected, when she’d gone to him for employment. What she had expected wasn’t totally clear, but if she’d been pressed, she might have admitted to anticipating a dead-eyed sociopath, or an open revolutionary full of plots. What she’d been confronted with was a slightly effete weirdo who complained of headaches a lot and didn’t do much of anything, except the occasional bout of calligraphy. Though to be fair apparently the headaches thing was only when he talked to her for too long, and to be much fairer than Mai had ever been in her life she deliberately wound him up for no reason other than to stave off boredom.

She couldn’t help it, although honestly she’d never tried to. He was just so… safe. There was no menace in the man at all. She’d never even seen him pick up a sword. Maybe the real Master Piandao had been dead for years, or was an urban legend or a regular legend or a mass hallucination, and this guy was just taking advantage of a terrifying reputation. Mai could live with that. He at least made sure she kept up with world events, and she’d been careful to never ask how he knew the things he did.

Speaking of, Azula was dead, was she? Mai would reserve judgement until she’d seen a body, and even then she’d only be moved to a solid maybe.

The Zhao thing was frankly a lot more of a concern, because while nobody deserved things to be going their way less than Fire Lord Ozai, Admiral Zhao was a close second, as far as Mai was concerned.

She didn’t regret leaving, after Zuko’s fateful Agni Kai, but she occasionally wondered if she should, if only for Ty Lee’s sake.

I’ve said it elsewhere, but this scene really only exists to dilute the grim nonsense that is most of the rest of the chapter- I did like using it as the way to signal It’s Siege Of The North Time, though. Also as the way to indicate that maybe the audience shouldn’t take the fact that Azula  got drowned a couple chapters ago too seriously.

It does demonstrate a weakness in my dialogue- when I come up with these quick back-and-forth exchanges, I tend to completely drop any kind of staging.

I also like using the phrase ‘effete weirdo’ as a way of describing Master Piandao.

–

Yue knew that her life was measured in heartbeats. Had known for so long she didn’t even always recognise the odd tightness when it twisted in her chest for what it was, what choked her breathless in the dark when she couldn’t help but think of all the things she’d never do.

So it hadn’t mattered much to her when her betrothal had been decided. And probably she should hate Sokka for making her realise, making her notice how desperately, smotheringly unfair it was, how miserably unhappy she was-

-But he was so insistent and vital and trying so hard to impress her, like her opinion mattered, like she- a girl that did nothing but stay in her room every second she wasn’t reciting lines other people had written for her- was someone he had to impress.

He’d shown her the sky and he’d made her laugh and she wanted to kiss him and he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know she mustn’t think what he was planting in her brain when he showed her the horizon and offhandedly insinuated how easy it was to leave.

She’d almost believed him, before that horizon had suddenly been ringed in iron.

It was a bit of a challenge to try and a: give Yue a character arc in one chapter, especially considering b: I knew I was going to try and give her an internal motivation that is only barely suggested by canon, and c: she’s a naturally (or has been turned into a) passive person. First Draft Yue was markedly different, in that she was Mad As Hell. This version of the character basically didn’t survive into the actual chapter, but she gets a couple lines here and there. She mostly ended up just really resigned, which I think works better but does make me quite sad.

–

“I’ll go.”

When the plan was announced, and volunteers were asked for, she didn’t hesitate, shooting to her feet, demanding they recognise her, but she knew it was pointless the second the stunned silence fell across the hall. Of course. Of course.

She’d had to fight this whole city from the moment she’d arrived, snap and bite and claw every shred of the respect she knew she’d earned, that had been handed to Aang and Sokka without a thought, and she knew nobody in this city was going to stand up for her, and Master Pakku was going to shake his head and that was going to be that and angry tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes- 

A hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed Sokka standing up, beside her, glowering out at the assembled crowd.

“And me,” he affirmed, daring anyone to say anything, eyes locking on to High Chief Arnook and Katara could feel herself starting to grin as to his left the Princess started to shake and Pakku scowled in irritation and Arnook blinked.

“Very well.”

It wasn’t until later, the warpaint prickling against her forehead as it dried, that she realised what she’d gotten them both into. The way Aang had looked at them, like he’d thought he could spare them any of this, had made Katara’s chest ache and wish for time enough to talk, to tell him how it had been killing her to watch him launch himself beyond the walls all day while she sat and watched, but there was work for them all to do.

She’d make time, afterwards. For now, she and Sokka had a job to do.

Did anyone notice what happened here? I had to add an entire extra day of fighting and have Arnook declare what the mission actually was about before he got volunteers (you know, like how volunteering is supposed to work, go fuck yourself, Arnook), in order for this to make sense- Katara only wants to volunteer for the mission because that way she gets a shot at either murdering Zhao, or getting a second crack at persuading Ty Lee to abscond. In canon, this scene happens before the armada arrives.

Normally I obsess over justifying how things like this deviate from canon, but I couldn’t do it here, so I just hid it behind a [and so]. Nobody appeared to notice, or at least care enough to mention it.

And Katara will always, always assume Sokka has her back.

–

These morons were all going to die, and it’d be hilarious if they weren’t also going to drag Katara down with them.

He’d thought, at first, that now he was around real warriors from a tribe that seemed to actually have thrived in the last century rather than get whittled down to a handful of idiots too stubborn to die, that he might learn something, see professionals at work.

But their chief was an idiot trusting this mission to a worse idiot, and although the embarrassment and anger still rolled around his stomach he would still consider breaking Hahn’s nose one of the more righteous things he’d ever done.

Sokka does better in the fight against Hahn than in canon. It’s not just because Hahn deserves to get his nose broken, I promise. Sokka’s escalating violence is something I’m doing on purpose, for reasons discussed below.

Except it’d gotten him kicked off the mission. Which would have been okay, because, again, they were all going to die because their idiot leader couldn’t even pronounce Zhao’s name and they were going to try to blend in-

Except Katara was still going.

He couldn’t protect her. But that, it turned out, had been true all along.

He exhaled slowly, and tried not to notice the way Yue deliberately didn’t look at him.

It was fine, it was okay, he’d deal with it the way he’d learned to deal with everything: crush it up small and wedge it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way of doing his job.

He followed her gaze, out from the balcony of the palace, across the city, out towards where Aang had catapulted himself into the Fire Nation armada for another day of putting off the inevitable.

There wasn’t anywhere to run to, after this. That worried Sokka. This was the first time they’d been forced to stand their ground for more than an hour, and they were not doing too good at it.

Aang was just… he was so small, so disarming, everything about him screamed vulnerable and Sokka had been trying and increasingly failing to hold the kid at arm’s length all winter, not because he didn’t trust him still, but because the alternative was worrying himself sick over this kid who was currently, at this exact moment- he could see the smoke rising up over the battleships- trying to fight an armada completely by himself without hurting any of them too badly.

Katara called him a pessimist for the things he said out loud. He didn’t know the word for the feeling he got when he looked at Aang and saw a corpse that had just gotten lucky so far, but he wouldn’t voice it for all the money in Ba Sing Se.

Aang and Sokka’s relationship is so great in canon, because they have radically different opinions about the things that matter, but they get along so well all the same. But by this point, outside of Avatar State Berserk Rage, Aang hasn’t done all that much to convince Sokka he might, you know, live. This is one of the few things Season One Sokka is willing to think honestly about.

–

There wasn’t a lot to do but sit around and wait for sunset. They’d wanted to start their infiltration in the daytime, and even after Katara had explained why that was ridiculous, they hadn’t actually backed down until she’d pointed out that the full moon would make her that much stronger. Which let Hahn, in a way he probably thought was subtle, frame it like they were all waiting for her.

Sokka had hated this guy from the second he’d started talking, and Katara was beginning to trust her brother as a judge of character.

“So,” she said, offhandedly, as Hahn diligently set an edge to his machete, the rest of the men doing some other similar activities to make them look like they weren’t just killing time, “when was the last time you fought a firebender?”

It wasn’t a totally cruel question, she told herself, even as his head bent over his whetstone and his ears started to flush. If, somehow, the answer had been anything other than never, that would have been good to know. She’d seen her brother learn how to fight, in a rough kind of way, on their trip north, learned herself, but she knew she had an advantage he’d never have, and he’d learned the hard way not to charge a firebender with a spear, not if you didn’t have a fantastic plan.

But it wasn’t just Hahn that was looking uncomfortable, Katara noticed, with growing discomfort. All the men were suddenly looking a lot busier than they had a second ago, like they were afraid she was going to ask them an uncomfortable question next.

Katara suddenly had the awful realisation that she was probably the veteran in the room.

“Hahn,” she asked, more seriously than she probably meant, “was Sokka breaking your nose …the first fight you’ve ever been in?”

His lack of an answer was answer enough, but he didn’t even have the good sense to look scared, just annoyed, possibly because a girl was having an opinion where he could see it. Like all those times he’d sparred with someone who would pull him up off the ground when they won and congratulate him on a fight well fought somehow counted. Honestly, Katara and her brother had at least hunted their own food before Aang had showed up- Hahn looked the kind of pampered that only had only ever thrown spears at practise dummies.

Oh, oh this guy was going to die. He was going to die and get them all killed. If she didn’t do something about it.

Another ‘light’ scene, continuing the theme that Katara Gets No Respect In the North. Also marks the point at which Katara determined that Hahn had to live, which still irritates me. But if he died, there’d never be a point at which he realised Katara was right about everything.

–

The sun set early this time of year. Sokka guessed they should all be grateful that Admiral Zhao had been stupid or arrogant enough to attack in winter at a full moon. Firebenders got a lot less impressive at night. Not not-dangerous, but… less dangerous.

Aang had come back from beyond the wall, now the sustained assault was more manageable. Which was a result. But he’d looked even more ragged than he had at sunrise, and as Sokka fussed around making sure the kid at least drank some soup, he tried to not make a big deal out of the way Aang’s head bobbed down to his chest before jerking suddenly upwards again.

He should probably let the kid sleep. He should probably do all kinds of things.

He stood to one side, as much a part of the scenery as he could make himself, as Yue sat next to Aang and started to speak.

Sokka: oh man Aang’s going to absolutely die, so I won’t bother getting attached

Sokka, also: Aang drink some soup and make sure you go to bed on time

–

Zhao spared a cursory glance at the distant ice wall, and the soldiers being repelled from it, clearly visible under the moonlight. He wasn’t too concerned. Most of them weren’t even firebenders, only needed to keep the pressure on the defenders, keep them tired, hold them in place for the true assault.

He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, but not so close that it wouldn’t billow appropriately, and made his way carefully to the front of the small landing craft, as his hand-picked men filed in behind him. They were the best he had, for now. He’d have better soon.

He wasn’t amazed that his plan had never occurred to anyone before, but he was smugly reminded that victory was so often a matter of audacity.

Zhao grinned, and cracked his knuckles, to set the right tone. He’d originally had a longer speech planned, but Pouhai Fortress had been instructive in a lot of ways, and so he’d boiled it down to the one sentence that mattered.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, to the crowded landing craft, turning back to face his men, one foot rested dramatically on the prow in a way that would be easy to replicate for the portrait later, “prepare for infamy.”

If he had waited, coincidentally, about as long as his first draft speech would have taken, his strike force would have collided with a series of sleek Water Tribe canoes heading in the exact opposite direction. Which would have been embarrassing all round.

Zhao’s first appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a teenager that has already been established as Not A Credible Threat. Zhao’s last appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a lemur. Zhao gets no respect, and this is an important aspect of his character.

–

Yue sat on the warm grass, and watched Aang’s knees fold underneath him, as the tattoos on his head and peeking out beneath his sleeves filled with soft light, like one of those strange fishes that lived in the deepest parts of the ocean where the sunlight never reached.

At least this way, she’d had some part in it. If she was doomed to die to save the moon, at least this way she’d been the one to get the Spirits involved. That didn’t matter, except to her, possibly.

Across the pond where Tui and La chased each other endlessly, by the only entrance to the grotto, Sokka was standing, awkwardly, trying not to look at anything, and yeah, she got that. She-

She saw him look up suddenly, head cocked towards the entrance, and pull his machete free from its sheath with terrified urgency, as the sounds of fighting reached her ears.

Oh no.

Angry Yue makes a small appearance here, deciding that she’s going to get at least a little agency, in a way that isn’t about trying to live.

Yue makes me very sad 100% of the time.

–

“He’s not here?” Hahn proclaimed, indignantly, as Katara’s grip tightened on the front of the crewman’s coat. The crewman looked appropriately intimidated, as the ice that pinned him to the wall began to crawl up towards his throat.

“He went out, took a few landing craft with him,” he elaborated, shallow-breathed, and Katara could feel the dissonance radiating off of Hahn, the confused relief clashing with the disappointment that he had somehow managed to live this long.

“Back to the boats,” Katara snapped, turning to face the huddled warriors in their out-of-date armour. “Go. Maybe you can still catch up to him.” They couldn’t, not without Katara there to speed the canoes along, and speaking of: “I’ve still got something to do here.”

If Katara had expected Hahn to seem conflicted at the thought of leaving her on an enemy ship with no obvious way to escape, she would have been disappointed. But she hadn’t, so she wasn’t.

In the silence left in the wake of fifteen men trying not to look like they were running for their lives, Katara turned back to the gentleman who had been so cooperative earlier. He flinched under her gaze.

“I’ve already told you, the Admiral isn’t-” he protested, but Katara let her teeth show.

“I’ve got a couple other questions, actually.”

Katara’s interrogation techniques are questionable and would constitute torture in a world where frostbite exists, but I get to indulge in a little rank hypocrisy and just not talk about that, since it’s not the point of the fic. Presumably she let the guy out after asking him for directions, at which point he was killed by a fish monster, so nobody learned anything here.

–

When they told this story, in the years and decades that followed, he would ensure they got this scene right, as he burst into the grotto, the home of two Spirits that had dared come where they were not needed, his remaining soldiers at his back-

He got three strides onto the grass before there was a commotion behind him. As he turned, he saw one of his lieutenants go down, blood spraying from his neck, a young savage bearing him to the ground teeth bared in a snarl typical of his kind, but before Zhao was forced to interrupt his moment of triumph, another of his soldiers took initiative, knocking the boy to the ground with the butt of his spear, and impaling him through the stomach with the blade of it in one smooth motion.

Right. Where was he? Ah, right, triumph.

A native girl with startling hair screamed as they approached, but that was only as notable as the colour of her hair- as she was tackled to the ground before she could come within ten feet of him, Zhao’s eyes were suddenly fixed on an unexpected development.

The Avatar, lit up in pale fire like he’d been the night he’d torn Pouhai Fortress apart, cross-legged on the grass, apparently insensible. For an instant Zhao couldn’t breathe, but as the seconds ground on, it occurred to him that if the boy couldn’t hear the screaming, then he was probably safe to approach.

“An unexpected bonus,” he mused, for the benefit of- no, his lieutenant was dead, wasn’t he?- for the benefit of posterity, then. “We’ll take the brat with us. He’ll be a useful hostage, and killing him would just reset the cycle anyway.”

“Admiral, what about the girl?”

Zhao turned to see that two (it had taken that many? He despaired, he honestly did) of his men were holding the girl on her knees, one with his knife to her throat. Apparently they weren’t able to figure out the last step on their own.

“Kill her,” he instructed, hoping to convey with tone alone how much he resented them wasting his time with this kind of triviality.

As the blade flashed across her neck, he turned, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions, to the pool.

Zhao does not care about our heroes, or about his men dying, or really anything other than how cool this is going to look in the press release.

I deliberated a lot on how bloody to make this- at one point I was considering reversing the injuries, and leaving Sokka with a permanent speech impediment from a slit throat- but in the end that felt just barely more gratuitous than I was willing to go with.

–

Koh was curling around him and telling him everything he didn’t want to hear- the Spirits couldn’t help, they were in danger too, and Aang couldn’t even think about that because he had to concentrate on playing the game, keeping his temper and his face slack and suddenly the spirit howled, louder than Aang could contemplate, more sound than a mind could hold, and he was flung backwards with the weight of it and a long, impossibly strong black-and-white hand was reaching into the hollow and grabbing Aang by the scruff of his neck and wrenching him backwards, flinging him towards himself and back towards his body in a rush of wind and light and he opened his eyes.

Zhao, looming over the pool, eyes glinting with dark joy, the lifeless body of Tui dropping from his opening hand, flopping back into the water, the screaming still echoing in Aang’s head, the black and pulsing rage overtaking him as his eyes rolled over the red-armoured men filling the grotto, to Yue-

Blood spilling from her neck, falling forwards. The screams grew, welling up from the ground, the water, drowning everything else in the world.

Aang surrendered.

As he unfolded, fast, faster than he’d ever moved before, as though he could make up for being too late, Zhao turned to look, jaw dropping, and there was something in his eyes that Aang never wanted to see again. And then his arm was grabbed from behind, wrenched upwards, exposing a gap in his armour, just below the armpit, and Aang recognised Sokka just as he jammed his long knife into Zhao’s side once, twice, and pulled it back bloody before plunging it into the Admiral’s throat.

One of Sokka’s fists was black with blood, and he let the knife stay with Zhao’s body as it toppled, and Sokka sank drunkenly to his knees, hands screwed up over the hole in his stomach.

Aang didn’t remember much after that. Not until later.

A lot here.

1- Aang’s rampage getting deliberately tied to the fact that he thinks he watched Sokka die is a deliberate twist, and sets up the epilogue for this book.

2- Zhao very nearly lived to be a threat in book 2, but I nixed that almost at the last minute. In the first draft it was Katara that killed Zhao, as he tried to flee the city, in a scene that much more closely mirrored Zhao’s canon death. After that, he, as I said, almost became an antagonist in book 2, but the problem there is that a: it’s only possible to have Zhao be a semi-credible threat when he’s up against book 1 Gaang and their low levels, and also b: it futzed with Ty Lee’s character arc in ways you can probably figure out

3- This, currently, is the peak of Sokka getting his Old Ultraviolence on. I didn’t want to make it… ‘unrealistic’, and have him winning fights due to him being So Cool And Strong, You Guys, but, and I don’t think I’m surprising anyone too much here, a lot of this fic is about the expectations placed on what, in our society, would be considered children, in the context of a hundred years of no-holds-barred war. Sokka has always been kind of the Boromir of the group, doing what he thinks society needs him to do, so, knifemurder.

Season One Sokka is a much more serious cat than Season Three Sokka becomes, and that’s not a bad thing- admittedly, the humour wasn’t always to my taste, but there’s a reason it happened- by Season Three, Sokka isn’t under the same kind of (largely but not entirely self-inflicted) pressure he is in season one. He’s come to terms with letting other people share the work, and so is freer to relax a bit.

–

Yue had reduced the world down to the ten feet between her and the body of Tui. There was light, and sound, and pain, too much of all three to understand, and all she could do was drag herself forward by her fingertips and hope that she was heading in the right direction. She thought she was, but it’d be embarrassing to die crawling away from her destiny.

She couldn’t breathe but she had to force herself up and her heart rattled in her chest but she was so close and there was Sokka, sunk on his knees, unmoving, surrounded by bodies, eyes wide and white and agonised and she needed him now as she dragged herself forwards and she thought she saw him look to her but she had to drop down again, the grass against her cheek and her neck screaming across a jagged cut.

She gestured, muzzily, waving her hand towards the pool, no longer able to lift her head up off the grass, desperately hoping he’d understand, somehow.

I wanted to thank you, she thought, blearily, as the world went dark, you made me feel like a person.

His hands tangled in her coat, pushing her forward with a screech of agony- this stupid corpse she had to drag around- but her hand was trailing in the pool and if she could just find the body before her heart realised she was dead-

The final burst of Angry Yue! ‘This stupid corpse she had to drag around’ is a nod to blatantly stolen from one of my favourite fics of all time, but it’s a Homestuck fic so I figure the Venn diagram is disparate enough that I can get away with it.

Also, Sokka figures out what Yue’s trying to do pretty quick. The reason for that is because he knows the pool’s water is super good at healing. He thinks she’s trying to save herself.

–

Ty Lee was jerked out of fitful sleep by a hammering on the door, ringing iron echoing through her tiny box that Zhao still thought was a prison.

For a few blissful moments, she ignored it, buoyed up by the vague knowledge that Zhao had other things on his mind right now, but as the seconds wore on and the sounds of fighting, muffled, drifted through the outer wall, she knew it was only a matter of time before- the banging started again, quicker, and Ty Lee swung her legs over the side of her bed, and stood up, bare feet sticking slightly to the cold metal of the floor.

She slid back the peephole and blue eyes stared back.

Ty Lee was backed up away from the door in an instant, but there was a voice-

“Hi, uh… I just realised I don’t know your name?”

A voice Ty Lee recognised. She slipped back to the door, with less caution than she should, because this couldn’t be happening, right? This kind of thing didn’t happen. Not to her, anyway.

“It’s you,” she breathed. “The waterbender.”

“Yeah. I’m here because you didn’t say no.”

She hadn’t said yes either. Saying either would have required more courage than she could muster.

“I guess I didn’t,” she replied. But that didn’t make sense, nothing about this made any sense at all. She was in the guts of a battleship in the middle of a siege, and this girl was somehow here, and she was supposed to believe it was for her?

Was this about the kiss?

The thought screwed Ty Lee’s stomach up in knots, but before she could even imagine how to approach that, the girl tried the handle. It didn’t give.

“It’s locked,” Ty Lee pointed out, hopelessly. “I don’t have a key.”

“That won’t be a problem, trust me,” the waterbender responded, without a second’s hesitation, and that was it, that certainty in her voice, the same certainty she’d used to offer to take Ty Lee away, in the festival, when she’d had a real chance to get away. She’d not taken it. “You coming?”

Now? She was at sea, with Zhao on the verge of an overwhelming victory, and nowhere to run. Running now would be a terrible idea. Ty Lee was pretty sure that everything she’d ever done had been a terrible idea, though, so that balanced out?

“Okay,” she said, quietly enough that she wasn’t sure the waterbender had heard, that she could still take it back-

“Alright stand back,” -okay never mind apparently the girl was very ready to go, and as Ty Lee took half a step back frost blossomed on the hinges and they cracked and screeched and snapped, the door dropping downwards, revealing a sliver of torchlight, and a proffered hand.

Ty Lee has never been good at turning down a commanding voice and the promise of Adventure. 

I considered doing a bit where Katara couldn’t bend and didn’t know why, but that would have killed the pacing, and also made Ty Lee’s decision to go with her seem even more of a bad idea than it already looked. We all know that no moon= no waterbending, so there wasn’t a need to explain why Zhao killed a fish anywhere in the chapter.

I won’t be able to pull that kind of trick forever, assuming that at some point we will jump the rails of canon, so I’m making full use of it while I can.

–

The absence of pain was jarring, or would have been jarring if she was still alive enough to understand pain, or surprise.

Sokka was on his knees in front of her, slick with blood, eyes shining as he looked at her like a drowning man staring one last time at the sky.

I like this simile for a lot of reasons.

If he was looking at her, that meant she was real after all. She’d not been sure. But he was looking at her, had been looking at her the moment she’d met him, and that kind of constancy was reassuring. It’d been so intimidating, at first, the attention of this strange young man who’d been places and fought monsters she could hardly imagine, who’d showed her the sky and acted like there was nothing wrong with her wanting to leave, like there was nothing wrong with her wanting.

A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them. If she’d still been human, she might have been disappointed.

There were… words, words she should say, but she’d never been good at marshalling them on her own and she didn’t have any now, as he looked up at her through tears and blood with an expression on his face fit to break her heart again and the part of her that was-had been-human couldn’t stand it any longer and she leaned in and kissed him before she learned why she mustn’t.

There was an awful sound in his throat as he leaned into her, and it occurred to her that he was dying. Well. If she was meddling, she might as well do it properly. Through his breath into her mouth, she concentrated.

Pull, she instructed, and his ruined organs began to thread themselves back together, blood flowed, muscles knit and skin folded back and when she was done he was as whole as she could manage. She pulled back, smiling, letting him know it’d be okay, there was nothing he could have done.

He didn’t look like he believed her. Possibly it was too much to try and tell him with a smile.

Originally, Yue got a lot more temporal in Spirit Form, but honestly it was too disorienting and not really supported by canon and, most importantly, not relevant, so it mostly vanished. The only line that survived that draft was ‘A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them.’

That line survived because, real talk, it’s a contender for Favouritest Line I Ever Did Write.

An idea I wanted to get across is that Yue is now both more and less than human- she’s kind of blissed out on immortality, and doesn’t have a connection to her emotions any more. In a Discworld Death kind of way, she Thinks Sad, rather than Feels Sad.

I have no idea if Yue can heal, but I don’t care.

–

The sea was rolling, the ship was lurching, salt water was being flung across the deck, there were firebenders running this way and that -thankfully too busy to pay attention to her right now- and in the middle distance the sea had risen into the form of a giant monster that was smashing the Fire Nation fleet apart like so much driftwood, which Katara couldn’t even begin to figure out.

Katara had officially run out of options.

“Hey!” she yelled over her shoulder as she turned. “You ever fallen in freezing water?”

The girl’s eyes were saucers, terror blazing from them, fixed on the glowing titan. “What? On purpose?”

“Ever! Do you know how-” the ship convulsed, and okay, no time- “never mind! Just hold on!” she ordered, pulling the girl close, wrapping one arm around her waist, gratified to feel her arms lock around Katara in return. Good. She needed a hand free for this.

The little Sokka that lived in her hindbrain was telling her that this wasn’t the ideal moment for testing out new ideas, but it was probably this or drown or pray. Katara wasn’t good at praying, and she wasn’t keen on learning how to drown.

As the ship bucked in the wake of the monstrosity slamming a fist on a ship half a mile away, Katara sprang, launched through the air by the momentum of the rolling deck, and she felt the girl’s arms tighten around her as she reached out towards the rolling blackness of the sea and-

-and the sea reached back, and grasped her hand.

I kind of wish I’d done more with Fishmonster, but honestly, again, it would have messed up the clean parallels between Yue and Ty Lee, which I was proud of and didn’t want to risk knocking over.

The visual rolling around in my head the most here was Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi, hauling Vader to the shuttles while stormtroopers run around, not paying any attention to the main characters.

[dxmedstudent]

Heya hope you’re doing well! For the end of year asks, 1 and 24?

I’m doing OK! I keep forgetting to post this, or adding onto it. But I don’t want it to be lost whenever my browser next crashes. So, let’s post this!@meanwhileonwednesday also asked me to answer them all, so I’m gonna combine both.

1) what did you learn about yourself this year?

I learned a lot about myself. I underwent some careers counselling, which has been an itneresting ride, and given me lots of tools to reflect on what I want out of work. It’s hard, because I realised that I (and probably all of us) tolerate so many working conditions that I don’t inherently like or flourish under. I like to take my time on one problem at a time; in medicine you’re being constantly interrupted by like 10 different people who then remind you multiple times about the thing you were doing til someone else interrupted you, and constantly re-jigging your to-do list to accommodate changes in urgency. I realised I like to make people feel better even more than I like to ‘fix’ things. I realised that the reality of what work in a busy hospital is like completely colours my perception of specialties; I can’t unsee the kinds of shifts I’ve had to work. It gave me a lot of food for thought, and I hope it helps me pick something I’m happy with. And having started dating again towards the end of the year, I’ve had to think a lot about who I really am, and what I really want or need. It’s not easy shining an honest light on yourself; what you realise isn’t always flattering (I don’t often spend enough time doing non-work related things, and I’m too much of an introvert for most people, probably). But this allows you to be honest about what would make you happy; for example, I’d hever chase some guy who loves to go clubbing on a regular basis, because we’d be spending every evening apart.

2) best moment of the year?

I don’t know. There were lots of litle modest ‘best moments’, but I’m not sure I can thing of any one big thing.

3) worst moment of the year?

Burnout Time wasn’t a moment, but it wasn’t a good time in general. I’m going to vote it number 1. Though it has some stiff competition. I’ll stick to just one, because nobody wants to read a long list of sad things.

4) what was the biggest change you experienced this year?

I realised that I wouldn’t let training and medicine destroy me. Not that I planned to before, but there’s a lot of fear and anxiety at every stage of the game in medicine. You spend med school anxious in case they kick you out. You spend foundation training anxious in case you kill someone or they kick you out. Then you finish that part of your training, and start the next and its... more of the same? And when you struggle and feel bad, so often your first thought isn’t “I feel horrible, this is bad for me and I need help” but “as long as I am functional at work, then it’s OK as long as they don’t kick me out”. But that doesn’t help you get better, it only piles more pressure on you when you need help. It turns out that I discovered they don’t kick you out of training as easily as my darkest thoughts imagined.  But it made me realise I could never let this job destroy me; there is so much to live for and enjoy outside of medicine. There are so many other ways to be happy.

5) best song of the year?

Aah I’ve listened to so many songs over the course of a year, how could you pick one. I’d blatantly favour the ones I obsessed over most recently. Hmm. I listened to Vitali’s Chaconne on a loop when revising, so let’s go with that. 

6) best album of the year?

I rarely listen to entire albums, because I tend to discover songs randomly and individually. But I loved that my friend and I discovered we both loved Indila’s music really randomly.

7) what’s one thing that happened this year that you want to change?

Towards the end of the year, I had to take a break from making and posting comics. Between burnout and work things, I just didn’t have the time, energy or inspiration to give it what it needed. I hope to get back into it this year; I really miss making my comic.

8) best book/book series of the year?

I’m gonna vote Good Omens. I know people joke about something curing their depression. But yeah, it sort of did with me. It made me see the light at a difficult time, and despite all the stress and sadness and numbness I was going through, it made me laugh and feel joy and appreciate what words could do again. It rekindled a light that had burned very low, and I’m forever grateful for that; it holds a special place in my heart now.

9) best television series?

Hard for me to pick one. I’m watching The Dragon Prince right now, and it’s great! Reminds me of ATLA in the best ways. Honourable mention to Cells at Work for combining three of my interests (medicine, anime and cute things) into one.

10) how was your love life this year?

I actually bothered to try to have one! Only toward the end of the year, though, so we’re on baby steps right now. I’ve talked to and met a few interesting people, even ones that I couldn’t pursue anything further with. I’ve also read like a million really bad profiles, had  way too many half-assed messages and conversations.

I hate the initial bit, where you should try to be yourself and need to be open and vulnerable to really getting to know people, but equally people can just drop out of talking with you or dating you just like that. It’s something much easier to do when you meet online and don’t know each other than when you meet at uni, and I certainly seem to see it a lot more now in online dating than meeting people IRL. Where you get dumped or dump someone but you at least have s a sense of completion. I don’t like how easily the mind wanders over to ‘damn it, he’s ghosted me’ If someone doesn’t reply for a few days, but then again, the fact that lots of people do just ghost doesn’t help that.Still, I remind myself that there’s no use worrying about it; if someone will dump you or isn’t right for you, then there’s nothing you can do to change it.

There are some nice people out there, and I’m interested to see where it goes. Hopefully without too much anxiety, preoccupation or heartbreak on the way; that was one part of dating that I absolutely did not miss in my single carefree years.

11) what made you cry the most this year?

I find it hard to quantify what made me cry the most; I had a lot of tough times. 

Actually, no, on second thought, I think I know what made me cry the most; PMS. Hands-down the winner. What a menace; it’s a real pain. Would not recommend PMS as an experience to those of you unfamiliar with it.

12) biggest regret of the year?

I try not to look back and regret things. I don’t want to say I regret burning out, because frankly that isn’t a choice I made, so I don’t feel bad about it. It’s unfortunate that it’s made my life a bit more complicated, but it’s manageable. So I try not to dwell on that or regret it.

I feel sad that I put my comic on hiatus, because I managed to balance it through so many tough times, so pausing kind of felt like admitting defeat, or losing a part of myself. But it needed to be done.

13) best movie of the year?

It’s late and I actually can’t even remember which movies I saw this year. I think I saw Mary and the Witch’s Flower in this past year, so I’m going to go with that. Because I’m really excited to see where Studio Ponoc takes things, and if they will carry on a Ghibli-ish legacy or do something new.

14) favourite place you travelled this year?

I went to Poland, twice. It was great! I’m slowly trying to get around all the European capitals, and it’s really nice to learn more about the places you go. I never feel like I’ve seen everything there is to see, which I guess is motivation to come back another time...

15) did you make any new friends?

Always. Yep, the benefit of moving to new jobs on a regular basis means that you get to meet new people, a lot. I’ve seen one of my FY1s develop into a great SHO and become a good friend. I’m so proud of them.

And hey, always making new friends here! I love our community, and whilst I can’t remember exactly when I befriended most of you (or got befriended), I am truly glad that I have.

16) did you learn anything about your sexuality this year?

Yep, I don’t think you ever stop learning. I’m looking forward to always finding out more. I don’t feel the need to share it, though :P Some things are better left private.

17) what are some hobbies that you developed?

Most of my hobbies are the same as they always were. However, I feel that I have played a lot of new board games, I continued to D&D without being an utter disaster, and now feel uh, sort of actually competent at this sort of thing.  And I have collected some awesome dice.

18)what surprised you the most this year?

We’re still doing this Brexit thing. I don’t know; I’m not sure politics can surprise me much anymore. It’s still free to disappoint, though. Actually, a few patients survived who I didn’t expect. And some people died suddenly that we didn’t expect to pass at that point. So medicine is always surprising.

19) do you look different from the beginning of the year?

I have more grey hair. Like a LOT. My hair evidently plans to go silver way before I would have expected to. At this rate, I won’t make it to 40 with any brown hair left! My hair is almost waist length so it hasn’t changed all that much apart from the fact that it really wants me to cosplay white haired anime characters.

20) how did this year treat you in general?

People died. People got sick. People in my personal life, not patients, that is. It’s harder to deal with it when it’s not at work; when it’s people you know and care about.  My parents had multiple procedures or surgeries. I sort of burned out at one point and vaguely considered if the path I am on is for me. I did a bit of soul-searching to try to work out what I really want, and what I really need. I’m still not sure I understand, but I’m getting closer.

21) what message would you give yourself at the beginning of the year?

You’ll live. It’s OK, it’ll work out, and you’ll get through it, like you always do.

22) has your fashion style changed this year?

Not really. I have too many clothes (mostly for work, if I’m honest) so I didn’t buy many this year. I definitely need to sell or give away some of the ones that just aren’t ‘me’ any more, though. I sometimes hold on to clothes for a long time, but in the end when it doesn’t feel right dressing like I did say, 10 years ago, then I feel the need to revamp my wardrobe.

23) one of the best meals you’ve had this year?

My mum randomly started making my favourite food more often, and I’m really happy! I keep asking her if there’s some kind of ulterior motive XD

24) who has made the biggest impact in your life this year?

Hmmm it’s really tough to think of any one particular person. Some of the stronger experiences with people were negative, but I refuse to dwell on them or name them; to single them out gives them a power and importance they don’t deserve. So instead I’d just have to say my network of friends and family, for keeping me going’ they have done a lot for me this year. Lots of little and big things that make me feel so loved and cared for. 

25) what’s one thing that you hope will continue next year?

I will keep trying to do my best, and keep trying to look at the bigger picture. I’ll keep working on not letting medicine take over my life. I’ll keep trying to be a better doctor. I’ll keep making time for friends and family. I’ll keep trying my best to meet new people, and not let the times it didn’t work out get me down.

[whisperoftheheart1995]

An Unexpected Moment- Chapter 1

The first time Peter sees Johnny Storm in person he's so distracted he swings right into a billboard.

In hindsight, he should have known it would be inevitable. New York is big, but it isn't that big. Of course he'd run into the other superhero sooner or later. It was only a matter of time, really.

Or, the Fantastic Four join the MCU and things get gay

(Also posted here)

“The Daily Bugle thinks you stole a baby,” Ned says, staring down at his phone screen.

“What? Why would I even want a baby?”

“So you can ‘brainwash it to follow in your evil footsteps,’” Ned reads off.

Peter hangs down from his spot on the top bunk. “Ugh, let me see that.” The other boy hands him the phone.

Sure enough, Ned is right. The news headline reads SPIDER MENACE KIDNAPS BABY! accompanied by a photo of Spider-Man pulling a baby out of a burning apartment building. A baby that he handed back to its mother a good four seconds later.

“No one actually believes that, do they?”

“It got over 50,000 retweets.”

“This sucks.” He’s only been Spider-Man for about a year but the public has already turned on him. Even the endorsement from Tony Stark didn’t seem to do much to sway opinions, not when The Daily Bugle keeps putting out stories like this one.

“You need to do damage control or something. I mean, look at all the other superhero groups, the Avengers, the Fantastic Four-”

“Never mention them in this house again,” Peter cuts him off. The Fantastic Four had been a sore spot for him since they emerged a few months ago. They came out of nowhere and all of the sudden, everyone was obsessed with them. Worst of all was Johnny Storm, the teenage superhero who became a social media sensation overnight. It just wasn’t fair. No one ever accused him of stealing babies. Peter hated him and his perfect hair.

“I'm just saying, they've got a great web presence. You could learn something from them.”

Peter grumbles. “Whatever. Now are we gonna watch Star Wars or not?”

Peter goes out on patrol after Ned goes home. It’s a quiet night, and he sits on the edge of a roof, scrolling through his Twitter feed. The Daily Bugle article is already up to 200,000 retweets. Peter lets out a heavy sigh and keeps scrolling. A few posts down, he finds a retweeted Buzzfeed article. “18 Times Johnny Storm Stole (Our Hearts)”. He groans out loud, but clicks on the link anyway.

Just then, he hears a scream in the distance. He pulls his mask back on and stands, looking out into the distance.

“Hey, Karen?”

Yes Peter?

“Hit it.”

Super Trooper starts playing as Peter swings past buildings, following the sounds of screams. He comes to a dark alley where a masked man holding a knife has two women backed into a corner.

“Surprise!” he calls out as he webs the knife out of the man’s hand, kicking him backward away from the women.

The song isn’t even over by the time he has the attacker webbed up against the brick wall.

“Oh my god, it’s Spider-Man!” the first woman says excitedly.

“This is so cool!” adds the second and Peter feels himself swell with pride. People still love him. Even if The Daily Bugle is out to get him, he still has people who care.

“Do you know Johnny Storm?” the first woman asks and his heart deflates like a balloon.

He swings off without another word.

Even at school, Peter can't seem to escape the Fantastic Four. It's all anyone talks about as he walks through the halls, trying to finish his already-late physics assignment as he does. Whatever. At least he has lunch to get it done. And maybe Ned will let him copy his.

Ned shuts off his phone the second Peter sets his lunch tray down, acting oddly guilty. Peter squints at him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Peter stares at him unblinking. “Just show me.”

Ned unlocks his phone and a Buzzfeed interview of Johnny Storm pulls up. He’s surrounded by puppies, laughing as the one perched in his lap tries to lick his cheek. It’s like something out of one of Peter’s fantasies, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Instead, he groans dramatically.

“Not you too.”

“What? He’s like, really hot.”

“There’s a joke in there somewhere. And what would Abe think?”

Abe, Ned’s sort-of boyfriend of the last few months. “He’d probably agree with me,” Ned replies with a simple shrug. “I mean, he is hot. That’s, like, an irrefutable fact.”

“That’s definitely not true. And are you saying I’m not hot?” Peter puts a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Don’t make me answer that.”

“I’m getting a new best friend. MJ, interested?” he directs at the girl seated a few chairs down.

“Absolutely not, dipshit,” she says without looking up from her book.

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend that didn’t hurt. But seriously. Johnny Storm ?”

“I don’t understand what your problem with him is.”

“I don’t have a problem with him!” Peter says frantically. “I just don’t think it’s right to use superpowers to get famous. Or to use them to get, like, underwear modeling jobs or whatever.”

“Like anyone would ever ask you to be an underwear model,” MJ deadpans. Ned chokes on his drink.

Peter glares at his so-called friends. “I hate you both.” He lets out a sigh. “Un-pause it.”

“But I thought you-”

“Just do it.”

Ned gives MJ a confused shrug, but does what he asked. On screen, Johnny picks up another puppy and sets it in his lap, stroking it lovingly behind the ears as he answers the interviewer’s next question.

“I want to play with puppies,” Peter grumbles.

“I know you do, Peter,” Ned says, patting him on the back. “I know you do.”

The first time Peter sees Johnny Storm in person he's so distracted he swings right into a billboard.

In hindsight, he should have known it would be inevitable. New York is big, but it isn't that big. Of course he'd run into the other superhero sooner or later. It was only a matter of time, really.

He closes his eyes tight and braces himself for the impact of hard ground beneath him, but it never comes. Instead, he feels a pair of strong arms wrap around him, and he immediately wishes it had been the concrete instead. If it were possible to die of embarrassment, he would have by now.

He opens his eyes hesitantly, greeted by the sight of Johnny Storm staring down at him, concern written all over his warm brown eyes. “That was some fall, Spidey. Are you okay?”

“I am now,” he says without thinking, then fights the urge to smack himself directly into another billboard.  

Johnny lets out a small laugh. “I think you must have hit your head pretty hard.”

“Oh, yeah, that's it. That's totally why I said that.”

He stares at Johnny, and Johnny stares back.

“So are you gonna get down or…”

“Oh, uh s-sorry,” Peter blurts and scrambles to the ground.

“It’s fine, dude.” Johnny looks at him uncertainly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You have a mild concussion, Karen’s voice says in his head.

“Shut up, Karen,” Peter mumbles and Johnny’s eyes widen.

“No, that’s just- my suit talks to me sometimes,” he clarifies.

Johnny looks at him like he grew a second head. “That’s it, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No hospitals!” Peter practically yells. “Seriously, I’m fine, I just need to sleep it off. It’s not the first time I’ve swung into a billboard.” He lets out a sigh before hesitantly admitting, “And it probably won’t be the last.”

Johnny smiles at him and a warm feeling settles in Peter’s chest. “Take care, Spidey. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He flies off, leaving Peter staring at the spot he occupied moments ago.

“God, I hope so,” he finally says, but there's no one around to hear him anyway.

The next day, a photo of them ends up in The Daily Bugle , the headline accusing Spider-Man of seducing the Human Torch to the dark side.

Ned laughs so hard he falls out of his chair.  

“I can't believe you hit on the Human Torch,” Ned says, voice full of disbelief. They're sitting on the floor of Ned’s bedroom, a video game pulled up on the TV in front of them. His friend had finally convinced him to tell the whole story of his encounter with Johnny Storm, a decision Peter was beginning to think was a huge mistake. “I thought you hated the guy.”

“I regret telling you anything, ever.” He shoves a handful of potato chips into his mouth in a desperate attempt to eat away his feelings.

“Better me than MJ.”

“She cannot know about this.”

“Um…”

“You already told her, didn't you?”

“Like a minute after you told me.”

“Oh my god.”

“You have to admit it's kinda funny.”

“No it's not,” Peter groans, putting his head in his hands. “What if I see him again?”

“Come on, what are the chances of that?”

(Chapter 2)

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Daughter Series - Monster Hunter McCree AU

Maybe it’s rather silly of me to write an AU with a character I’ve only recently introduced, but this was a lot of fun to write! No regrets :) 

This is inspired by McCree and Reaper’s Halloween skins from this year that I loved. Ended up being 3,600ish words. Put a break in the middle. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

More Daughter Series:  Hanzo, McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji, Roadhog

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji, Reaper

After years of trailing, searching, and tracking, McCree felt as if he was finally closing in on his prey. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Again. He had this feeling back in Liverpool and before that in New York, but nothing had come of it. Reaper continued to elude him, over and over.

“Damn vampire piece of shit,” the hunter hissed, rolling another cigarette. “I chased him all the way back home to the US just to turn right around and head back to this rainy shit hole.” London always made him cranky. He took a long drag and rubbed his temple. “There was another drained body here this morning,” McCree assured himself, “he must be close. He must be.”

He pulled his long coat tighter around his cold shoulders with a sigh, watching and listening. It was dark, but his highly trained eyes had no trouble scanning the streets. All he needed was a flash of movement, something darting by too fast, a rustle in the darkness – any sort of sign. He was getting restless. He needed a chase. Some action.

“Come on,” he growled after an hour of roaming with eyes peeled, “where are you?!”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and McCree grinned. He whipped out his gun, swiveled on his heels, and fired a bevy of shots at the figure. Then he realized the silhouette was too small to be Reaper’s. His stomach dropped as the body fell to the ground with a whimper. He’d always been too hasty, his mentors had told him that a thousand times. “One of these days you’re going to put a bullet in something that doesn’t deserve one!” He’d finally done it - to something in a tattered blue dress and a thin cloak.

“Oh God,” he sputtered kneeling beside her. “Miss? Miss?! Are you alright? Ah shit, please don’t be dead! Imma get you some help, ya hear? Just hold on!”

She grabbed his arm as he tried to stand up, pulling him back. She was strong. Too strong. There was another one of his bad habits biting him in the ass: he was too gullible when it came to women. “One of these days you’re going to let something bat a pair of pretty lashes at you and slit your throat.” His mentors were right again. Mostly. He saw her sickly red eyes and pointed teeth just before she lunged.

Much to McCree’s surprise, he awoke. Sore and confused, but alive. Wherever he was, it was dark and musty, making his nose crinkle at the mildewy smell. Dust coated his cheek as he sat up from the cold wooden floor.

“Son of a bitch,” he whined quietly, rubbing the bump on his head, “where did that little monster drag me? And where the hell is my hat?”

A low, sneering chuckle hit his ears as his hat drifted into the light, swaying back and forth teasingly. He recognized that pitch black glove and the elegant red cuff surrounding it.

“Reaper,” the hunter snarled, “not like you to let a little girl do your dirty work.”

The vampire laughed again, sauntering into the light. “What can I say – I wanted to test my new fledgling. And my, my did she impress! Pretty thing hauled your unconscious body back here less than an hour after I sent her out.” He sat down on a fraying velvet couch in front of McCree, lounging as if he didn’t have a care in the world after tossing the hunter’s hat flippantly to the side. “I will have to give her quite the reward.”  

“You gonna feed her a baby or something,” grumbled McCree as he traced his fingers across his belt. His gun was gone, his crossbow was gone, the sharpened stakes were gone. Even the dagger in his boot had been taken.  

“A baby,” Reaper scoffed, “that’s hardly a meal for a growing girl. I was thinking something a little more . . . personal.” His voice was suddenly sultry, and McCree instantly recoiled in disgust.

“That was very rude,” his captor scolded, “you’ll damage the girl’s pride! The way I hear it, you’re quite the Don Juan, but just rumors I suppose.”

“Oh I do just fine with the ladies, and I don’t even have to kill ‘em or hypnotize ‘em to do it,” McCree barked back. “Probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t wear a menacing mask or eat people.”

“Says the man with spurs and silver-tipped spikes on his metal arm. Glad you found a replacement, by the way – makes you a much more worthy adversary. More fun to toy with.”

“Or you could have not torn it off in the first place,” McCree fumed.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Reaper said swinging his legs onto the floor. The satin lining of his long overcoat glimmered in the candlelight – red and smooth and somehow ominous. His blood would glint like that when the beast finally got around to killing him.

“You are having fun, aren’t you,” the hunter asked sarcastically. “How much longer are you going to drag this out? There’s a lot of other shit I could be getting done right now.”

Reaper snorted. “Like what? For over a decade all you’ve been doing, day in and day out, is searching for me.” He stood and walked to McCree, stopping inches away from him. The hunter tried to lean away, but the vampire grabbed his chin and pulled him closer. “I am all you care about. I am all you think of. I am all you want, aren’t I?”

“No,” McCree automatically objected, but he could feel his face go hot. The truth in those words stung.

“Tell me the truth,” Reaper’s voice boomed. McCree’s vision went bleary as the overwhelming power of the elder vampire crawled its way into his mind. He had to obey, despite all the training he’d endured. Reaper was too old, too skilled.

“Yes,” the hunter admitted breathlessly.

“Say it,” Reaper demanded smugly.

“All I want is to kill you.” His own voice echoed in his head, bouncing about and rattling all the shame out of its hiding spots.

“You don’t even care about your order’s mission anymore, do you? ‘To seek all evil, to destroy all beasts, to protect all humanity.’ You could have killed a hundred of my kind in the past ten odd years, but no, you always come scampering back to me. Isn’t that right, Master Hunter?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t checked in with his superiors in ages. When they didn’t support his obsession, McCree branched out on his own.

“Tell me, boy, are you happy, chasing me all over the world always one step behind?”

“No.”

“Does anything make you happy?”

“The thought of killing you.”

“But of course,” Reaper sighed. “How predictable. You haven’t thought this through, though, my American friend.” The vampire kneeled down, the pointed edges of his mask much too close to the hunter’s face. “If you kill me,” he continued, “you’ll have nothing left! No prey, no purpose, nothing.”

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Damned bloodsucker was right, completely and utterly right.

“Judging by the paleness of your skin and the thumping of your heart, you know I’m correct, don’t you, McCree?” His kidnapper sounded so smug it hurt, but at least he was pleased enough to release his captive from the mind control.

The hunter was left reeling. It felt like some sort of awful combination of a hangover and a migraine was hammering into his skull. He sat there on the floor, curled over and panting as Reaper’s words seeped into his bones, filling him with dread and humiliation. He’d let this thing take over his life. He used to be a man – maybe not a good man – but a man with his own goals and desires and ambitions. Now? Now he was a plaything. A puppet for a fanged freak.

“Aw, poor little hunter,” Reaper cooed cruelly, “someone tear down your whole world?”

McCree glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

The vampire burst out laughing, his entire figure shaking with twisted joy. “You are a delight! All full of useless bluster and pathetic angst. And I’m not even finished yet! I’ve one more surprise for you ‘partner.’”

Hearing the old, undead man fake a Southern accent was strangely unsettling. A shiver ran up the hunter’s spine. “Oh goodie,” McCree mumbled, trying to be tough. He sure didn’t’ feel that way.

“One more question, then your treat,” Reaper promised like he was talking to a dog. “Answer me this: do you have any hope left? Any at all? You’ve failed to kill me, even after all this time, and now you know if you kill me, your life is pointless. Seems rather hopeless to me.”

“What does it matter,” McCree said with an angry huff.

“I told you to answer me.” Reaper rose from his bended knee, undoubtedly glaring down at his captive. “Do you want me to put you under again?”

He did not want that. Christ almighty he didn’t want that! His head was still throbbing.

Before he could come up with a witty reply, McCree was buckling over and writhing in pain. Evidently, Reaper had no patience. As the kidnapper man screamed and twitched on the ground, the question blared in his ears. “Do you have any hope? Any at all?” It was like a massive gong, sending agonizing vibrations into every fiber of his being.

“For fuck’s sake, no! I don’t have any hope,” McCree all but sobbed. “None! I don’t have a single fucking thing to live for anymore! Nothing!”

And the pain was gone, leaving the hunter in a panting, sweaty pile. He’d given in so fast. He disgusted himself.

“Not a ‘single fucking thing to live for,’ you say,” Reaper mused. “Wonderful!”

McCree wanted to smack the smarmy vampire right out of his fancy boots, but what good would it do? Reaper would probably just laugh at him, call him ‘cute,’ or some shit. The hunter had been defeated, once and for all. He was empty and ready to die, even if it was at the hands of this monstrosity.

“Chin up, cowboy,” Reaper sang, “time for your reward! A little something to perk you back up, now that you’re at your lowest.” He picked McCree up by his neck effortlessly, forcing the man to his feet. “My lovely little fledgling, time to come out!”

The girl that had attacked him tentatively stepped into view, head bowed and hands trembling. She looked disheveled, especially next to her master. Her clothing was torn in a number of places and her shawl was hanging on by threads. The shoes covering her feet had visible holes, and dirt smears were splattered all over her body. It would have been depressing if not for the blood on her chest and arms. McCree scowled at her. Her fingers were still stained red from her last sloppy feeding.

“Eyes forward, my dear, you are a fearsome creature of the night! Act like it,” Reaper said waving the young woman closer.

She tilted her head up when told revealing high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her hair was matted with dried sinew and what seemed like weeks of inattention. McCree should have found her repulsive, sickening, but she looked so . . . scared. Her red eyes darted between the hunter and Reaper as her slender figure twitched erratically. Something was wrong with her.

Reaper wrapped his arm around his prisoner as if they were longtime friends, speaking in a chipper tone unbefitting of someone who burned villages out of boredom. “Master Hunter Jesse McCree, venerated member of the murderous Van Helsing Order, I would like you to meet your daughter, Juniper.”

McCree’s head flinched back, shooting Reaper a confused look. The vampire just laughed. “Don’t believe me,” he asked smugly. “Just picture the little dear with brown eyes the same color as yours, and that long brown hair tied back in a ribbon, just like yours. Not seeing it yet?”

He could see the resemblance, but the denial was still holding on tightly.

The vampire let out an exasperated moan, “Fine then, look at the freckles. Remind you of anyone? Perhaps a certain redheaded innkeeper’s daughter? From your homeland? One who liked to tell tales about the local history and ‘The Great Werewolf Hoard?’ Ringing any bells?”

“Ho fuck,” the hunter gulped before he could stop himself. He remembered that woman – her stories, her kind smile, her nose. This frightened newborn vampire had that same nose.

With an almost deafening laugh, Reaper shook the hunter’s shoulders like he’d just delivered a hilarious punchline. “You should see the look on your unshaven mug! All of a sudden all the work I’ve put into this reunion is worth all the trouble,” the masked man sighed contentedly. “She’s a cute little beastie, isn’t she?”

“She’s a monster,” McCree said quietly, trying to convince himself as much as Reaper. “Whatever she was before, now she’s just one more creature I gotta put down.”

“Oh,” the elder vampire said finally removing his arm from McCree, “is that so?” His mischievous tone made the other’s man’s stomach flop. “You don’t feel anything for her? No regret? No sympathy? No tenderness?”

“No,” the hunter grunted uncomfortably.

Reaper hummed curiously before shrugging and grabbing the young woman’s wrist. The girl’s eyes widened and she let out a pitiful noise as her master pulled her into a headlock. “I suppose if I can’t torture you with her, Juniper here has no use.” With an overly dramatic flourish, the undead man produced a wooden stake and threw his arm back, ready to strike. His fist came barreling toward her chest.

“Don’t!” McCree’s hands grabbed Reaper’s a fraction of a second before the mahogany pierced Juniper’s heart. The hunter had never been so terrified in all his life. He didn’t want to watch her die. He should have wanted to kill her, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” Reaper crooned in a voice so low it could rattle a man’s innards. “We’ve been doing this dance a long time, master hunter, and I believe I’ve come to know you quite well. You’re a simple man with simple desires – so simple it’s a bit sad. You want love, McCree, plain and simple. That’s why you’re always so good to women you woo, why you always give your last few coppers to the gutter-rat children in the streets, why you spend your evenings happily listening to old men in bars blather about their past. And here’s your chance!” He let Juniper out from under his grasp, instead holding her by the waist, their bodies pressed together at the hip. “You have a child, McCree! A girl, at that! Someone to dote upon and dress in frills. Someone who will look up to you and hold you tight. Your very own family, small, but pure.”

The vampire’s gloved fingers began to snake up Juniper’s torso, massaging her tender flesh. She stood there, letting him do it, but stared at the hunter, desperately. Rage began to boil in the hunter’s core. Reaper’s hand groped the young woman’s breasts.

“You have a daughter, McCree, and she’s all mine!”

“You fucking – ” He lunged at the creature, knowing it was futile, but he didn’t care. If it meant the bastard stopped touching Juniper, it was worth it, but the hunter’s stolen gun was suddenly pointed right between his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah, my boy! Not so fast.” Reaper turned the gun to press against the young woman’s ear. “Violence begets violence, you know.”

McCree took a step back, arms in the air. “What do you want from me,” he spat.

“There is only one more thing you can give me, old friend,” the vampire said nuzzling Juniper’s neck. “I’ve broken you down until you were all but begging for death, and now I’ve given you something to live for – all that’s left is letting your precious daughter feast on your blood. I’ve hardly fed the poor dear since I turned her, so she’s famished!” He smacked her ass, pushing her toward McCree. “Kill him, my dear. Feast on him! Sink those pointy fangs into his neck and drink your fill!”

She slowly closed the distance between them and fell to her knees in front of McCree. Her body was shaking more violently now. He wanted to hold her close and wrap his coat around her. Even with her teeth bared, the hunter didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her, “I promise.” Reaper chuckled.

Juniper moved closer, her nose nearing his jugular. She was a young vampire, but plenty fast. He didn’t see her hand as it moved to his neck.

“Don’t look down,” she mouthed at him and he frowned for just a moment, then he felt her slip something into his hand. He knew that shape, that smoothed edge. A silver-tipped stake.

“Help me,” she whimpered almost inaudibly, “I can’t keep resistin’ much longer. He’s – he’s in my head!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, filling McCree with a determination he’d never known the likes of.

“What’s the holdup, Juniper? I know you’re a ‘hick’, but surely someone taught you to not to play with your food,” Reaper joked.

McCree looked at him and scowled. “I need your help, baby girl,” he murmured back to his daughter.

“What was that,” the elder creature hissed, flying to McCree’s side, grabbing him by his long hair and yanking his head back. “Enough sniveling, Juniper, kill him, now!”

She cringed and gripped her forehead, yelping and quivering in pain, but she was strong, like her father. With an inhuman snarl, Juniper tackled Reaper to the ground, pinning him in place before he could react. McCree scrambled to his feet, weapon at the ready. With one practiced movement, he stabbed Reaper in her chest, making the vampire screech and squirm.

He was hurt, but far from dead. He whipped his arm from under Juniper and punched her in the throat, making her crumble to the floor. McCree clenched his silver metal fist and pummeled Reaper again and again and again. Until his mask broke and the hunter hesitated at the sight of the mangled face below him – all gnashing teeth and ashen skin and a too long tongue that lashed out like a spear.

McCree may not have been frozen in place for long, but it was long enough. Reaper pounced, stake still stuck insinde of him, but this time he was on top, grinning and dripping saliva on the hunter’s stunned face.

“I’m going to bleed you dry, feed the meat from your corpse to my dogs, and grind your bones with my bare hands!” He leaned in closer, licking the sweat from McCree’s brow. “Then I’m going to chain up your ‘baby girl’ and do every filthy thing I can think of to her supple little – ”

There was a blast and Reaper was tossed off of the hunter. The vampire’s body was still. McCree was panting, waiting for the beast to get up and chuckle, but he didn’t.

“Is,” Juniper rasped shakily, “is he dead?”

The hunter turned to Juniper, who was still holding his pistol in her shaking hands. It was covered in silver adornments, and McCree could smell his daughter’s burning skin. He jumped to his feet and started to pry the gun from her hands.

“No,” he said frantically. “I’ve shot him before – it just slows him down.” He began to wrap up her hands with a bandage from his pocket. “We have to get you away from him. We’ll get on a ship and just keep sailing, okay? I’ll keep you safe, alright?”

When he looked back to Juniper, he saw her staring at him with a dazed look. “You’re bleeding,” she said, swallowing hard. “From yer head. I can smell it. I can feel it.” Her chest heaved as her eyes dilated. “I’m so hungry,” she wailed.

He grabbed her wrists as they approached him. “Easy there, sweetpea, I can’t help ya if I’m dead.” She whined, but nodded. “Can you, uh,” he said eyeing Reaper, “feed on him?”

She leaned over and bit her lip. “Maybe.”

In the time it took him to blink, Juniper was crawling over her master’s body, mouth affixed to his wrist. She made a disgusted face, but didn’t stop until her body stopped shaking.

“Better,” McCree asked as she stood.

“You ever vomit in your mouth and have to gulp it back down,” she grumbled. “It was like that.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, hun. We’ll figure something out for next time.”

“Next time,” she said wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s gonna to be a next time.”

“We’ll find a way,” McCree said blocking her view of Reaper’s mangled form. “I dunno how, but I’m gonna take care of you, ya hear?”

“I didn’t want to be like this,” she sputtered at him, “he just found me and dragged me away and – ” Her hands clamped over her trembling lips.

“I believe you,” he said grabbing her arms. So damn cold. “It’s not your fault.”

She looked up to him with teary eyes and slowly leaned into his chest, crying softly into him. He held her close and rubbed her back.

“I’ve got ya, baby girl, I’ve got ya.” He didn’t know how, but he was going to protect his daughter, no matter what she was. She was scared and hurt and confused, but she wouldn’t be alone. Neither of them would be anymore.  

[vampireheart2404-blog]

How “The Last Jedi” broke me

*BEWARE: Spoilers probably somewhere*

Star Wars and I go way back. It’s a complicated relationship to say the least. We had our ups and downs. We had our moments of pure passion and joy and we had our disappointments and conflicts, but we always remained together. Simpy put, it’s love.

I believe context matters so let me give you brief history of my experiences with Star Wars. It’s important to understand the point I am at at this moment. 

I had the misfortune of being born in Bosnia and as if that wasn’t annoying enough, during my early childhood, between ages three and seven, there was a huge war going on and let’s just say movies weren’t exactly a priority, given all the destruction, death and overall misery. To put it simply, movies like “Raiders of the lost Ark”, “Back to the Future”, “E.T.” were something that was introduced to me a bit later in life. Star Wars saga being no exception. Sure, I knew that there is a guy in a black costume that breathes funny, there were two suns and there were people called Luke and Leia. Even under my rock, I heard some of the names and had the idea how the movie looks like. For most of my generation, it was the same thing. Star Wars as a whole just wasn’t big enough part of our childhoods.

Unfortunately, I was first introduced to the Star Wars saga through the prequel trilogy. I didn’t like it. I just thought they were incredibly boring and gave up on the franchise all together. Until one day, when I decided that it’s time to watch those original movies and wouldn’t you know it - I fell in love. And now, I can’t imagine my life without Star Wars - it’s characters, it’s music, it’s visuals, it’s poetry, it’s cultural impact. It’s a part of me and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Over the years, lots had changed. But the most important change was the internet. I grew up and developed critical thinking. I started watching three, four or even five movies a week and became a huge movie buff and started thinking about movies in other ways than just: “It was fun, I loved it” or “It was boring and I hated it”. I started asking questions: “What is it that makes The Phantom Menace so boring to me?”, “Why does everyone say The Revenge of the Sith is good, when I can almost see no difference between it and Attack of the Clones”? And I loved going online and discuss it. For years it was the same thing - hating the prequels with burning passion and loving the original trilogy with all my heart. The flaws in the original trilogy didn’t bother me, because I loved it so much and I couldn’t understand why people pretend like it’s the most perfect piece of cinema there is. I also couldn’t get enough of talking about how much the prequels suck or understand how people could find anything of value in those movies. As you can see, there was this attempt to observe the movies as objectively as possible, without much success and there was endless discussion on the internet with fanboys on all sides of the spectrum.

Which brings us to The Force Awakens. As I’ve already stated, it was the greatest movie going experience of my life and I will never forget it. And I loved the movie. It did bother me that it was too similar to the original Star Wars. It was safe and marketable and although I enjoyed it very much, it did bother me, I won’t lie. Rogue One was fine. Whatever.

And now we come to the big one, the one that will kill all expectations, the one that will divide fans once again, the second biggest movie opening of all time: Star Wars: The Last Jedi. When I first watched it, I wanted to write a review on it. Like a real review, where I would talk about stuff that I think it’s good and stuff that’s not good with conclusion being that I loved it very much. I thought the choices were very bold and innovative. I liked the performances, I loved the dynamic between Rey and Kylo Ren and I even enjoyed the silly stuff. But, when I saw what’s going on online, the rage, the backlash, the rift between the critics and the fans and all that noise, I realized one thing - I am tired. I am so freakin’ tired of this. I saw so many online reviewers just walking on eggshells, trying not to say anything. If they say they loved it, maybe they’re regret it later. Same with people who hated it. “Maybe I need to see it the second time or the third time just to make sure I didn’t miss something”. So, for any other movie, you watch it once and give your honest opinion, but for Star Wars, you have to go multiple times just to give your opinion? Give me a fucking break. At this point, I want to stand up and shout: IT’S JUST A FUCKING MOVIE! God, damn it. And it’s not the fact that I liked the movie and that people hate it. If you don’t like, you don’t like it. It’s fine really. All of the complaints are heard. It’s me. I am so tired of it. I agree that the scene in Canto Bight was stupid but I can’t talk about it in such detail. It’s just a stupid scene in a movie. Who gives a shit. Bottom line: I used to care so much about every little detail in these movies and now - I just didn’t care. 

So, there was only thing to do: Star Wars movie marathon of course. I usually watch them in order of their releases, but this time I watched them in this order: 1. Episode I, Episode II, Episode III, Rogue One, Episode IV, Episode V, Episode VI, Episode VII and I went and saw Episode VIII again. I can honestly say I never had more fun with Star wars movies in my life. I watched them on my couch, drinking hot chocolate with Christmas lights all around me and without being a part of an online obsession with the new release, I felt free and enjoyed the saga more that I ever did before. I know that sounds cheesy but it’s the way I felt. 

In conclusion, I am sick of Star Wars being this huge overblown thing where every frame is discussed for hours. I am sick of people having an orgasm every time something even remotely nostalgic happens and having a stroke when something happens that they think doesn’t fit. I always knew Star Wars was never meant to be taken this seriously, but this is the first time I felt it. These movies are never gonna stop coming out and when I imagine the future where I spent hours, days, months, even years talking about every single plot point, it seems like a huge waste of time that I could spend watching the movies and having a blast. When I say that I’m done and that these are just movies it may seem as if I am not admitting their importance, but it’s quite the opposite: I watched eight movies in a row and felt nothing but happiness doing it. Any movie franchise that is able to do that is worth being talked about. I just don’t want to share my love or frustrations anymore. It feels more intimate that way. 

If you still have the strength to praise, complain, cry, yell or else, by all means, go for it. I am just done. Thank you, The Last Jedi. You broke me. And I couldn’t be happier. 

May the Force be with you, always!

[thorndale-industries]

Little drabble based on a idea I had last night before sleeping.

Word count: 2511

The queen's lean fingers stroked the soft, cold fabric she was laying on - every contact, every bit of the regular texture pleased her sensitive skin. Without thinking much about it, she spread her hand further away as her fingers started to enter a warmer, even more welcoming area. A familiar sensation, a burning beacon leading the shaking woman to a warm harbour - far away from the threatening cold outside. In her mind, she saw their wooden cabin hidden in the dark forest of Scandinavia, covered in a white blanket and little snow flakes slowly swung down like tiny feathers. Her eyes clung to the orange and red colours tinting the snow around it, she was drawn to the flame like a moth. A smile appeared on her pale skin, colourless like everything around her.  Tiny branches cracked under her feet, a distant announcement of her arrival echoing through the woods that swallowed every light and a storming gust of wind reminded her who was in power at this place. Freezing again, she pulled the protecting blanket closer around her exposed vulnerable chest. Her breath heavy, covering her in a bright nebula, as her lifeless fingers reached out for the frozen doorknob - just one movement, and the saving empire enfolded itself in front of the new guest, a lost soul returning home.  But with every step she took, with every look she made, the heat she was longing for, did not appear. No arms wrapped around her, holding her, fighting off the cold that had her in her tight grip. But instead, there was emptiness. A blink, and out of the sudden the peaceful setting was gone, every bit of colour yielded to depressing shades of black - and everything seemed abandoned. Dead. 

Startled, her eyes wide open, gasping for air and her red fingernails now buried deep into the fabric beneath them, claws crushing the defenceless victim. Then she finally lifted her head, cold sweat running down her spine. 3 blinks, until she finally realized she was still in her husband's bed in Hong Kong, and not stranded all alone in Finland, left behind -  and the liberating sensation of relief opened up the chocking knot in her throat, allowing her to breath. But there was something about this place, something still did not feel quite right, and like a persistent predator the cold brushed over her exposed shoulders and left its mark on her in form of goosebumps. Her sight clung to the empty pillow to her left side, abandoned just like she was in her dream, yet she could still feel the warmth of her lover like if he never had disappeared. Grunting and confused about the situation she had found herself in, she turned to the other side to check the time - and for a brief moment her exhausted eyes were caught by the stunning beauty of the city underneath her feet.  She always adored the view this penthouse's bedroom offered with its wide and open windows, like a king and a queen they rested above their kingdom and never left it out of their ruling sight. 

3:45 AM - Red, nearly menacing numbers revealed the late hour Gillian woke up at, burning her bloodshot eyes. Disturbingly punctual were the haunting visits the hungry demons always loved to make - perhaps they were as obsessed with this subject as their victim was. She let her fingers run over her face, as the absence of her husband disturbed her more than the regular rhythm of nightmares - something she was used to. Every possible thought was made on her condition, all the questions asked why it plagued her mind and body for over a decade, there was no point in wasting any other. She shook her head, "No." she whispered to herself. With clumsy and uncoordinated movements she dragged herself to the edge of the bed and regretted her decision the moment she exited the numbing and cosy sphere of her blanket. Heavy, as it begged to stay at queen's side. She declined the offer, as charming and seducing it might be, and moved towards the exquisite armchair right in front of the windows to grab another loyal companion, the chestnut brown bathrobe and like a true queen wearing her coat she embraced the soft fabric with a sound of pleasure and content. Her quiet steps were places with deliberation, as she tried her best to not wake the sleeping beast of Cerberus, who slumbered in its bed right next to her.  

So if Pan is still sleeping here, he did not take her out for an emergency walk. Where are you then? Arms wrapped around lean body, the white haired woman yawned and stretched her drained limbs before stepping into the spacious area of this own little private palace. A few light were turned on, dimmed, and tinted the lavishly decorated spaces into a fascinating dance of black and gold - and for a short moment Gillian felt like she just stepped into a bizarre set instead of a place people lived in.

"Robert?", her voice raspy and dry as it echoed through the open chambers, but no response returned to the sender. With every passing second the painful concern grew in her, poking her beating heart with tiny needles. The trial of lights led her deeper into the open living room, her fingers brushed over the leather on the couch as she passed it and followed the breadcrumbs to her destination. Her steps light, yet uncertain. When she reached the huge floor, barely existing when most rooms were open and directly connected, she leaned around the corner full of caution. The guiding light was strongest at this place, and she hoped she would find the man she was looking for and that she could get some illumination into the darkness that surrounded her confused mind. And she hoped she could bring him back into their private sanctuary. Her heart skipped a beat as she finally spotted him in front of the shoe stand, slowly and carefully putting on his favourite pair - plain, leather with the colour of the finest amber. And to her surprise he seemed to be about to leave. Gillian furrowed her brow. "Darling, where are you going?" she whispered with a nearly non existing voice. "It's in the middle of the night.". Although her words were soft like cotton, not disturbing the peaceful sleep the city was in, the man with auburn hair jerked back a few inches and tried his best to keep his balance. His emerald green eyes, framed in bright red, glanced over her with raised brows. Before he responded to her, he finished tying his shoes without a sound and straightened his back.

"There has been a breach in one of our labs, I need to head to the office and take care of it personally." His sight followed the path his wife had taken, spotting the cold city lights shining from the bedroom. "I did not mean to weak you up, Dearest." 

Gillian stepped one step closer to him, her arms still wrapped around her chest. "What kind of breach, is it serious?" Robert shook his head, yet his face remained expressionless. A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Nothing deadly, it's not from the biotech division. More of a security issue, an annoying sting that need to be pulled out. Nothing we haven't dealt with before." 

"When did you get the message?"

"Just 10 minutes ago, Morgan called me."

"Morgan? Is it one of our blacksites?"

Robert's face tensed up for a second, his exhausted eyes squinted but his voice remained calm and caring. "Don't you worry about it, let me take of it." "Are you sure?" Her tone was more concerned than intended. Perhaps the lack of sleep started to manifest itself in lack of control. 

His right hand wandered up to her anaemic face and gently stroked her skin with his soft, warm thumb. "Go back to bed, Gillian. I know it's your time right now, but you need to get all the rest you can. You have been working a lot lately. Not that I do not appreciate our....your progress on the M Initiative, but I am worried about your state."

The woman rolled her eyes, tilted her head and rewarded her husband with a judging stare.

"I mean it, Gillian. This here? This is really nothing. An inconvenience, nothing more. I will be back before you will even notice I am gone."

"Robert... " She leaned into his embrace and places her hand on his wrist to squeeze it. "There is more to it, I can see it. What's going on?" 

He responded with a tired smile, avoiding her all-seeing eyes by looking down on the carpet beneath his feet. There was no way to deceive her, he knew this as much as she did. They have been through too much together to not see the obstacles in their path - it never mattered how big their were. With holdings their hands, they firmly stood against everything the world has thrown at them. He had to admit there were certain thought lingering on his mind regarding this issue, their roots dug deeper than just scratching the surface. The second he thought about this, his nose started to wrinkle in anger and disgust.

"I suspect certain mutual... friends of ours may be behind this. They put their dirty, skeleton fingers into every crack, into every gap they can find. They think they have the right to kick in every damn door and to look what's behind them. I..." He shook his head once again, cutting himself off before the sizzling lava could break free. His free hand was shaking as his manicured nails dug into his skin, formed to a fist. He could feel how her grip around his wrist got stronger to keep him at her side.

"I know what you mean." Her voice still a whisper. "Do what you must, Robert. I know you will do the right thing." 

Suddenly, she let go of him, stroked his palm while she did, and leaned in to place her lips on his own for a deep, affectionate kiss. He fully embraced her caressing, as their lips separated just a few seconds later and leaving an unpleasant feeling of coldness on them - of incompleteness. And for a moment, the time stood still. Then Gillian simply walked away, returning to her cosy liar without granting her husband a final look. He watched her walk, his eyes clinging to her back - smiling. He knew what he had to do, and he will not displease his queen at any cost. Like a heavy stone falling from his chest, the knowledge that she approved of his actions filled him with a thrilling sensation. Not that he ever doubted her support, but hearing it like a pleasant melody made his fingers twitch. 

Page grabbed the plain jacket from the coat-hanger to protect himself from the fresh autumn breeze outside - this September turned out to be surprisingly cold for Hong Kong. With a quick movement he grabbed the silver case from his inside pocket as he left the apartment for the elevator down to the garage. A cigarette placed between his full lips, his hands running through his soft hair, and the silent humming of the machine surrounded him. The taste of tobacco fired up his appetite for his beloved drug -  summoning a faithful warrior who would fight off the minions of exhaustion and tiredness that tried to occupy his mind and body. Click, and his exquisite lighter ignited a calming flame in his hands, and he watched them with his equally glowing eyes before lighting up the cigarette. Smoke covered the man like a coat covered a king - creating an illusive, yet powerful presence while concealing his true face.  His mind reminded restless, as he replayed the call he had received from his mentor earlier and for a brief moment. Word for word. He could hear the dragon, the beast, roar and growl inside of him - the blaze was already burning in his hands, the smoke came out of his nose like a menacing harbinger of the upcoming devastation. He was prepared.

With a soft ping he arrived at the garage and walked straight forward to his car - he did not even glance at the guards protecting the sumptuous objects of luxury and most of them were impractical for the traffic filling up the city's streets. But at this late hour he might be lucky. Page pulled out his minimalistic key chain and held the little chip in front of his black compact executive car, although for a short moment he considered to take his sports car instead - but he decided against it. As he was about to step in and drive off, he perceived the sound of fast steps of sneakers approaching him and his body tensed up in anger. Who dared to interrupt him now, did they not see he was in hurry? Even if it was just a guard asking about his whereabouts. He had not precious time to spare to any of them. And his breath got heavier, his hands cramped around the leather wheel. The CEO of VersaLife relaxed, in surprise, as he spotted the person who walked up to him and his furiously beating heart calmed down beat by beat before he chuckled softly. "I should have known you wouldn't let me go that easily."

Gillian, wearing a plain grey shirt - probably the first one that fell into her hands, and a patternless jacket put her hands into her hips and smiled right back at him. "You should have. You really did not think I would let you leave without me in this matter."

"Of course not. But aren't you tired? My words were not without a true meaning." "Eh." She shrugged. "If necessary I will just sleep in your office. Not the first time I would do this." 

The tall man stepped out of his car and brushed his ginger hair back. Deep down, he was glad that she showed up again, that she had his back whatever happens - that he had at least one person he could really count on. Even if the price for that might be higher than he could estimate. But he could not repress the broad, affectionate smile as he saw her in this colourless light of the garage, her hair all messy. She might have hurried to reach him in time. 

"Robert, we are in this together. We always were, and always will be. And you know that this is how this and is how it is supposed to be."

"It was always us against them. What would be the point otherwise?" 

"Do you know who is behind it already?"

"No, but we soon will. And then all we need to do is to pull the trigger."

"And I will pass you the gun."

[aberorca]

New Cast: Part Two

Okay, guys. Part Two was really good tonight, really good. I’ll admit I still had/have some reservations about the cast after Part One but Part Two has smoothed many of those away.

Part Two opens with my favourite piece of choreography, led by Nuno Silva. Nuno didn’t come out of stage door tonight which was a shame because I wanted to tell him how glad I am that he’s stayed on. For those who don’t know, Nuno plays Bane, as well as other ensemble roles but his most important role is Movement Captain. He is basically Steven Hoggett’s (Movement Director) right hand man among the cast and he works with the rest of the cast to coordinate all the complex routines that are carried out on stage, often with very large set pieces. You could really see what Nuno does among the new cast today, how he guides them and the confidence in what he does.

Samuel continues to be the star of the new cast. He really is outstandingly confident and a total natural - you’d think he’d been doing it for years and the audience is absolutely focused on him  and him alone when he’s on stage. I think it was @mrsellacott who said that James Howard told her he loves his new son, and that shows. Samuel and James have a great chemistry on stage. As James is my favourite of Cast 2, I was really looking forward to tonight because Draco has his best scenes in Part Two. His first scene, in the Voldemort timeline did not disappoint. @bounding-heart did a post about why James is so good in this role and that is never more obvious than in this scene. But he also shows love and a sadness and a pain that flows under a Malfoy cover. He rarely shouts, which I like. He exudes menace and intimidation without doing so but he has softness hiding there. When he pinned Scorpius to the desk in this scene, he released him and then shook and twitched in his left hand, the hand he had used to pin Scorpius down. He was physically expressing regret with the movement, as though it physically pained him to be violent with his child. It very much felt as though violence had become a part of who he was in this version of the world, that it was now second nature but that deep down it wasn’t welcome there, a darkness that grips to him like a parasite. So, so good from Mr. Howard.

Elizabeth Hill is an excellent actress. She plays a firm, sporty Hooch with a cool Northen accent in Part One, and a bitchy, snotty Petunia, but in Part Two as Umbridge, she is genuinely unnerving. Her Umbridge relishes in the way she speaks. She’s posh, or at least pretends to be, and she milks it for all it’s worth, letting every word slither off her tongue in the most regal way possible in her desire to feel and to be seen as royal. Her laugh doesn’t induce laughter from the audience like Helena Lynberry did - it is really sinister. Her movements when talking to Scorpius were almost flirtatious, but in a really sickening way that made my skin crawl. Superb debut in the role.

David Annen as Snape - I was really looking forward to seeing David in this role and he didn’t disappoint. He is much more like book Snape than Paul was. He doesn’t raise his voice and he appears bitter and reserved. I never liked the dynamic between Snape and Hermione in the last cast - I get that they were working together but they were too touchy-feely for my liking. That’s gone with David. His “whatever you are” to Hermione was deliciously sarcastic and snotty The “How very pleasant for me” line dripped with sarcasm and the “I exist to serve” line was wonderfully but subtly aggrieved. When he threatened Scorpius with punishment, he deliberately and obviously moved his robe to reveal the pocket in which he kept his wand, making the threat very real. It was a cool detail. When Snape is taken by the Dementors, heave the most horrific scream once they had enveloped him in their cloaks. It really did sound like someone who was losing their life in a horrific manner.

Theo came out of his shell in this performance. Yesterday in Part One he showed signs of being good but he was visibly terrified (his first professional job is one of the biggest roles in a show that has won nine Oliviers - even John said that was terrifying for them) and as a result he was very stiff (I felt bad for Jamie G in the blanket scene in Part One because I felt Theo was giving him very little to work from). But the audience was great yesterday and I think that has put some of the cast (Theo was not the only one who was clearly nervous) at ease a bit more. I think Theo is going to be very good and I look forward to watching him evolve in the role. Also, for all you Scorbus shippers - if you shipped them with Anto and Sam, you’re going to go nuts for Theo and Samuel. They obviously already have a very close relationship as actors and the chemistry between them is fantastic.

Samuel, when he came out of the lake and saw his Dad, put his arms out for a moment as if he wanted to hug him but then lost his courage. It was sweet. James just pointed him in the direction he wanted him, with military-level authority. I really liked it. Alex often used to grab Scorpius by the scruff and march him off stage; I like this less aggressive approach from James because I think it contrasts the differences between Draco in the Voldemort timeline and in the present much more.

One of the Hogwarts kids slipped in some of the water left on the stage but luckily they didn’t go down and carried on.

Jamie finally started to show some Harry-temper in the scene where he visits Albus in the Slytherin dormitory although he only got half-way there. ��I reserved judgement on Jamie in Part One yesterday. I agree with @torestoreamends that it’s very important not to compare Jamie G to Jamie P because I think we always knew that Jamie P’s Harry would always be incomparable and I’m OK with that, because I always knew that watching Jamie Parker was a privilege. In fact, it’s very important not to compare any of the new cast with the old cast - it’s not fair on them. Of course we love the old cast, but the new cast have to be given a chance to be different and make the role their own (within the context of the character, of course). But Jamie G certainly lacked something yesterday, for example, he did not sound nearly as desperate as a parent should when searching for their missing child in a forest. I think Jamie G was another cast member who was very nervous but he did much better in Part Two today. I think he needs time and I hope that with time he will push the role and feel his way further into it. This scene wasn’t as heated as it should have been and as a consequence, the argument with Ginny where she asks how heated it got, didn’t work as well.

More Samuel gushing - in the dormitory scene when Albus is sleeping and he wakes him up, he did it in the most brilliant way that beats Anthony and James. He first whispered Albus’s name. He then said “Pssst!” When this didn’t work, he tiptoed over to Albus’s bed and in a really high-pitched but soft voice said “Albus?”. Finally, he shouted it right into Theo’s ear and Theo reacted brilliantly. I always felt Sam underplayed the comedy of this moment slightly but Theo didn’t disappoint. He sat bolt upright with a yell and then turned and started whacking Scorpius with his pillow. It was fantastic.

Annabel as Delphi - finally, finally, I have seen Annabel’s Delphi and she is supremely unnerving. John said he thought she was smashing it. Her Part One Delphi is quite awkward and bumbling and Tonks-like, which I liked. Her Part Two Delphi is almost unhinged once she is revealed and it’s scary. Some stand-out moments for me were what appeared to be genuine, yet mocking pity for the shock and horror on Albus’s face after she kills Craig. It was pity, yet it was patronising. “Aw. Did you not understand?” Brilliant. Then, when explaining how the kids fitted in to the prophecy she kissed Albus. It was “Albus” *kisses his cheek* “is the unseen child who will kill his father”. It was the most possessive, horrifying action; that Albus is this most invaluable object to her that will make her dreams come true. Somehow it reminds me of the way in which Umbridge loves her kittens:  a repulsive obsession.

Emma as Ginny did much better in Part Two - she was another I was reserving judgement on yesterday. Yesterday I really felt that she lacked Ginny’s ovaries - her “So was mine” just didn’t feel strong enough. She definitely improved on that today, although I don’t feel the same warmth from her that I’d like to feel. Like Jamie G, I think she needs some time, perhaps. But I’m optimistic.

Jamie G in the Dumbledore scene was good. I’m so much more optimistic about him than I was yesterday. He can genuinely act and his break down in Albus’s bedroom was even better. He’s not Harry yet, but there is potential there. I’m looking forward to seeing him grow into the character. Harry and Ginny kissed twice when getting Albus's message, just like in the script. (It used to be that they only kissed even though the script called for two.

On the other hand, perhaps I’m just too hard to please, because all the main cast (Albus, Scorpius, Draco, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry) got a standing ovation at the curtain call. I was slightly gutted for the rest that they didn’t but audiences do vary and I’m sure that there are shows when they will. The past two nights had a very good audience and the stage door reception was lovely. I think the cast that came out definitely felt the love and I’m glad because I think it will give them fuel.

Speaking of stage door, April Hughes, who plays Myrtle (and is outstanding - didn’t think anyone would beat Annabel but she smashed it and even Annabel said so) was absolutely adorable. I sang her praises to her and she seemed really touched and happy and asked if she could give me a hug, so we had a hug. She’s a sweetheart! As is Sarah Miele who plays a now-Scottish Polly Chapman with purple hair (we asked her about this and she said it was just something she was told they were going to go for with the character this time). James Phoon (Craig) is adorable. I can’t remember how we got onto the subject but we were talking about the Friday Forty and I said that all my CC friends had won it at least once and I never had. He said that he played the Friday Forty every week ever since the play opened and he never won it either (he’s such a FAN!!). I told him “Now you’re in it! Even better!” and then asked if that meant that I’ll be in the play next year too. He gave a dramatic gasp and said “Oh, my God! That’s it!” and then grasped my arm and said “I’ll root for you for next year.” I told him to show me the ropes when I get cast. What an absolute doll he is. Again, the cast that came out all seemed so touched by the reception and I’m really pleased they’ve been given that confidence.

On Sunday 21st, I met Sonia Friedman. I found her at the back of the stalls and approached her, told her how much I loved and related to the play and congratulated her on all her success. I asked if I could show her something and she said “Of course” so I showed her my poster and she said she loved it because she was a dog person. I thanked her and didn’t see her after that until I passed by her yesterday when she was talking to Jack Thorne at the end of Part One about the pacing of the new cast (they had been a bit slow on a couple of bits). I don’t think she saw me as they were deep in conversation. Anyway, tonight, she came out of stage door briefly to watch the reception that the new cast received. No one realised she was there as she just lingered in the doorway and watched for a few moments - she didn’t go to greet fans. She had her hair different to usual and was wearing sunglasses so I actually didn’t recognise her even though I saw her right in front of me but she recognised me (we were standing right in front of the stage door at the barrier). She went back in to speak to someone but then came out again and came and stood next to me and said quietly “So, what did you think?” I then realised it was her and apologised, telling her I didn’t recognise her with the sunglasses and she said something along the lines of “I like to go incognito sometimes”. @torestoreamends , @mrsellacott and I had a nice chat with her and she thanked us for the support of the new cast.

I was hoping John Tiffany might come out of stage door but he didn’t (because I didn’t ask him to this time =P - I’ll tell that story in another post). My train got delayed on my way to the show this evening and I got in really late (I think @torestoreamends was panicking that I wouldn’t get in on time, she gave me big hug when she saw me and told me she’d been anxiously waiting in the aisle of the stalls to see me come in). Anyway, John was at the back of the stalls (he didn’t sit near the front like he did on May 21st - maybe he didn’t want to be inundated by fans again - more on that in another post) but anyway, I’d spoken to him on Sunday and as I walked past this evening, he looked up from his phone screen and so I gave him a big grin and he smiled back. Then in the interval, I had a brief freak-out with @torestoreamends at the Girls’ Bathroom (obviously) about how good Part Two was and then she let me go to the loo and went back to Stalls. :P On my way back, John stepped out of the Mens’ right in front of me and went back to the Stalls so I was following right behind him, seriously worrying that he was going to think I was stalking him. He noticed me and I immediately apologised and said “I’m really sorry, I swear I’m not following you, you just stepped out of the Mens’ room right in front of me.” He laughed and patted my arm and said “Don’t worry.” We got back to Stalls, right by the tech box where @torestoreamends appeared out of nowhere and we had a lovely chat with him for a few minutes. John is such a lovely, warm person, he’s so happy to talk to fans about the show. I told him that I thought it was great that the first show of the new cast had gone so smoothly and that I thought it was funny that there had been no technical hitches, given that there were so many on the 21st with a cast of fourteen months’ experience. He grinned and said “Because I kicked arse, that’s why”. So yeah. Sounds as though the tech team got a spanking for the screw-ups on the 21st.

And that’s all I’ll say about the new cast! I look forward to watching them develop and I hope everyone going to see them keeps an open mind and shows them the Potterhead love. I really think in particular that Scorbus is going to be sensational - even more so than it has been and we’ve all got lots to look forward to. I thought the ultimate test would be whether they could make me cry and they did. Happy Cast Change, peeps! x

[hyperesthesias]

Loki x Sigyn

Love Never Dies | Part I

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.205

Summary: After the events of the Dark Elves, Thor resolves to bring Jane back to Asgard with him, greeted by a freed Loki -- whose crimes have since been paid for -- and a recuperated Frigga. But Loki harbours a deeper secret.

Notes: #FriggaLives tbh. okay i don’t know how long this will be, but i felt like a backstory/expositional thing was boiling inside of me as to how sigyn died, where she came from, and how loki comes to the conclusions he does, etc. plus some loki & jane bro-sis snark is what im here for soooo. anyway, it’s been a long time since i’ve written fanfics. i hope you guys like it.

He was not keen on standing there, awaiting the arrival of his brother and his brother’s consequential Midgardian play-thing, the one named Jane, but the fact that he stood beside his mother, the fact that he was allowed to roam the palace halls once more -- or at all -- was enough for him to bear it. He gritted his teeth silently, pursing his lips as he stood as tall as his frame would allow him, towering over his mother, beside him, who was ever the exuberance of patience -- a patience of which was rare for him to witness, and one he somewhat envied. Somewhat. Stripped of his title as Prince of Asgard, a condition upon his release from the dungeons far from the palace’s graces, he felt both liberated and shamed -- though he committed to never show the latter, for it would only grant The Allfather that which he wished: to see the Jotun Prince as he was meant to be, beneath him. Thus, he took advantage of the former, no longer hiding his prideful, greedy, and snarky nature, he was quelled only by his mother. His adoptive mother, the only other woman to whom he would grant his affections, and the only other person who had fought for his freedom and who knew the torments that lay within him had far exceeded that which his heart could bear. Still, for the grace of her son, whatever was left of his dignity, she said nothing to any one -- even Loki. 

“I don’t understand why he gets such a royal welcome. It’s not as if he returns from war, he merely went to retrieve his pet,” Loki growled beneath his breath, clasping his hands behind his back, never allowing the openness of his position to betray the gushing wounds inside him. 

Frigga only looked to her son with a small shake of her head. “You promised me you would behave today,” she teased quietly.

“Indeed I did, but as compared to what was left rather vague.” 

The Queen had just opened her mouth to scold him gently when there approached through two golden doors her first born son and his lady friend, Jane. The knit in her brow diminished and she replaced it with a genial smile as Thor hailed to her:

“Mother!” he grinned wide, beaming nearly as brightly as the gold of his hair, and the gold that surrounded him. 

“Welcome home, son,” she nodded to him first, reaching her cheek upwards somewhat that he might bend to give her a kiss. “And welcome back, Jane,” she greeted the Midgardian, who stood rather awkwardly to the back of Thor, as if she were hiding from the attention. 

She gave a bow meshed with a curtsy nonetheless, paying her respects to the Queen with a happy smile, unsure whether or not to approach any further.

“I am glad you have joined us -- under better circumstances,” Frigga continued. 

“As am I,” Jane quickly agreed. “I’m happy to see everything is much better here,” she looked around -- easily distracted by the strangeness and instinct to pick apart her environments and catalogue them in her mind.

“Better is a relative term,” Loki chided as he merely observed the joyful reunion from the outside looking in -- reminding himself it was never his place to fit in anyway, that his home was not on Asgard or among its people, but on some far off land of which he could not describe, but one he remembered well. 

“I see you have not changed, brother,” Thor said as he stood before him. 

“Perhaps. But neither have you,” he replied, though his sights remained fixated on Jane. “I see you still refuse to heed my words,” he said quietly, watching as Frigga ushered the young woman along, talking with her of what the brothers could not hear. 

“I will not let your pain dictate my own,” Thor defended, and he knew of what Loki spoke -- he remembered clearly his brother’s chastising on Svartalfheim, the lesson he meant to teach of how fleeting life could be for such a union. 

“Then you are a fool,” the bitter Prince bit back. 

“I would rather be a fool than an angry menace,” he pushed Loki aside, meaning to catch up with the two ladies who had walked some distance now. “Jane means to stay for some while, and I mean to show her every hospitality we have, is that understood?”

Loki walked along with his brother, looking him in the eye as he spoke -- there was a wall between them: harsh and fettered with thorns and bristles, borne of bitterness and regret, of things they could not take back or undo, whether because of time or pride. Nonetheless, the younger agreed with a single nod and a smirk. “I’m sure you do, brother. Trust me when I say I don’t wish to interfere with your activities with your pet.”

And truly, he did not -- sarcasm and innuendo aside. He wished to stay as far away as possible from the lovers, for to gaze on them was torture at its highest form; he could not bear to look on Jane for a mere few seconds, despite having to dine across from her at the subsequent dinner, and being forced to entertain her company along with several other Asgardians eager for his brother’s return. The way her brown eyes flickered, the way her hair whispered in the candle-light, and the curiosity in her eye when she looked all around her, it pained him far too much. For it reminded him of a love he’d once known, a love for which he would have given everything -- life and limb -- to maintain and to have back again. She reminded him of Sigyn. 

But it was forbidden to speak her name, Sigyn. Forbidden by both his heart, and by The Allfather himself -- it was blasphemy to speak the name of a treacherous woman such as she. And every moment which Sigyn’s name was not spoken, another piece of Loki died to join her grave. 

Sigyn, however, had not been a treacherous woman, by any means -- in fact, there was a common jest among the other Asgardians that she was the only one who could tame the lord of mischief, and who could silence his silver tongue. And they were not wrong, Loki knew this, it only bothered him that they knew. She was everything good in all the realms, all the purity and gladness, the joy and the heartache, the just and right from their universe and beyond -- in every sense of the word. Fiercely he would protect her, and even more so would he love her, giving himself willingly as her servant, both in bond and in love. She held his heart in her hand, this she had known, and had always cared for it -- pieced it back together when it was broken, and quelled it to sleep when it was overcome.

But...it was because of this, that when she died -- his heart died also. 

And a monster is what he became.

Every bit of love he had he’d given to her, that he spared none for any one when it was buried and locked within the catacombs and tombs of old. 

Thus, he was obsessive of her: of his heart. He dreamt of her, and when he did not dream of her, he thought of her, and when he did not think of her, he breathed the scent of her memory -- she was all-consuming to him, and not once, not one moment did he regret. 

His heart, the keeper of his soul, had died in his arms some years prior. And he still woke from nightmares of her last breaths in his ear. 

But he awoke the next morning disdainful that the previous day had not been part of some other dream he’d had -- and he found the pet, Jane, sitting at the breakfast table alone slumped over her plate.

“What’s the matter with you?” he snipped, briefly glancing about for either his brother or his mother.

She started, having not heard his quiet footsteps, and looked up to see the terror before her. She went white and struggled to find her words -- flashing back to conflicting scenes of both the New York Incident and of him saving her life more than once the last time she was there. 

“Well? Speak,” he impatiently urged as he resorted to taking a seat far from her that he would not have to look at her any longer. 

“I...I’m having breakfast,” she finally found her voice and caught her breath.

“You very well state the obvious, though I presume it is not the reason for your melancholy -- or are you displeased with your plate?” the sarcasm dripping from his words as venom from a fang. 

She frowned at him. “No,” she regained her footing and once more decided she would not be treated as such. “Thor’s gone -- his dad, the King,” she quickly corrected herself.

“I’m aware of his father,” he raised a brow and dismissed the servant who brought him his own plate. 

She frowned even harder. “The King sent him on some...mission. He said he couldn’t tell me about it. Some peace keeping thing,” she sighed no longer feeling the sting of Loki’s words, but of Thor’s absence.

If the word pathetic crossed Loki’s mind it was only because he missed Sigyn ten times as much. But all he could do was scoff. “That sounds like Odin,” he inspected the food on his fork before he took a bite. 

“What do you mean?” she looked back at the brother.

“He does not approve you,” he allowed himself to fell his eyes on her -- what an innocent, he thought, she had no knowledge of the disgrace neither the prejudice that was to be had. “Thus, he wishes to keep you apart.”

But as she was ruminating on such things, knowing how the other Asgardians saw her -- for she was not ignorant to the glances, nor the whispered and not so whispered words of her -- a messenger came through the hall and called Loki away, leaving her to her lonely breakfast.

Loki arrived at his mother’s office at her behest, and he would not admit the twinge of fear he felt -- not for her punishment, but he feared something to be wrong. Thus, the first words out of his mouth:

“Mother, are you alright?” 

She smiled at his worry and beckoned him inside. “Yes, my son, I’m quite fine,” but the smile soon faded into apprehension as she bid him sit beside her on a couch. “It is not about me, in fact, I have a message from your father.”

A sharp breath concealed the rage he had suppressed enough within him for the man that was once his father -- but he did not chastise her, not this time. “Another bidding? He’s already sent Thor off Norns know where, does he have some ruse for me to play?” 

But the pause in her told him everything without her speaking a word.

“No. No, no,” he shook his head. “I will do nothing for him.”

“He only wishes you to keep an eye on the Midgardian,” she spoke to him with the utmost quietness, calmness, knowing it was not as simple as it sounded.

A laboured breath and Loki stood turning from her, from everything. “He knows that which he asks of me -- I may be far from his dungeons, but I have not escaped his tortures.”

Frigga fell silent for some while, before standing to come beside him. “You need not befriend her, only ensure she does not fall into any trouble whilst she is here.”

Loki scoffed. “And why should I? Why should I not let her do just that?”

Frigga pursed her lips before looking straight at her son, knowing what she was about to say would cut him bluntly. “Thor was always good to Sigyn, he always respected her, even when he believed the rumours about her realm to be true. All I ask,” she turned her son’s face to her, “is that you repay that kindness.”

Something inside Loki broke, the greenness of his eyes became a bit duller, the brightness of his skin a bit paler, and his heart sunk just a bit further. Nonetheless, he knew her words to be true. Thor had respected his wife, and cared for her as a sister, even, and had loved his son when no one else did. Thus, with a single nod, Loki sealed his own fate, and agreed. 

“Very well, mother. For you, I accept.”

[thatgirlwhoworksforwhatshew-blog]

tarak,

lets not beat around the bush, i miss you. like alot.

im not even going to get into what are the things that keep reminding me of th time we had, because thatd be me listing out my every minute of the day. yes, there are times when i remember you not for the good-reasons, but mostly i end up wanting to think of you instead of living in such a denial of ‘im over you’.

i know you must be going through alot, im not trying to compare us here, on who is feeling it more deeply, quality and quantity- how much ever of a utilitarian i claim to be, i want to be stupidly selfish enough to say i feel it hit me very hard. especially when i see people around me claim their relationships to be like the epitome of perfection and love, i just cant help but think of the beautiful masterpiece we could have made together. 

they say ‘chaos brings art’., that, time will tell. until then, ill just sit around and feel things like how its supposed to be.

i hope its not that hard on you.whom am i kidding, how much ever i convince myself that you will get over me, by pouring alot of ‘hate’ like how your friends wanted you to, im still silly enough to hope that you wouldnt be that harsh on me. gosh, this is never going to happen is it? im only going to die in dissapointment of letting things go this far, and getting nothing in return(when i now have the chance) or do i?

i know you, i know the charm, i know how you effect people, and how much ever stupid and goofy you get around me, i know what you are- or atleast i knew. why did we let things go this recklessly? i was immature, but why dint we sort things out then and there. gosh, i just cant look at the word jodhpur without a little guilt., i cannot look at any word starting with a T, and has both R and K. 

do you have any idea how many songs have the word tara, taraka, in them? its like some stupid prank someone is pulling on me. my mom also began to ask me how youre doing, she out of everyone, made an assumption that my mood is practically proportional to my time on my phone and phone calls, which basically is only with you. so she goes like “oh, tarak dint call today” after few days, she began to wonder if things were fine with you, and i burst out angrily, that ‘you should be fine because youre avoiding me’. please be true! anyway, i dont care where this questioning is coming from, but i reasoned out how this equation of my good moods being equated with our calls, was a little irring in the beginning, because i dont think i need some ONE person to keep me happy. it was a troubling thought which i used to hold a grudge on myself for depending on you for what ever greedy reasons. but i began to realise how first, that wasnt the case. i wsnt greedy on this reason, i was just looking for a support and a person to share my happiness with. i was greedy maybe when it came to things like, eventhough i knew it was hard for you, i was still there poking things and making it harder for you. TO THE EXTENT THAT YOU NOW BLOCKED ME. WOW. im not blaming you, maybe you did the right thing. maybe if you dint do that, we could have pulled each others hair out in this menace. but did we really do the right thing if i am feeling this way right now? whats the point tarak?

its 10:10 right now. wow. 

honestly, there are times when i thank myself for this space, because i really enjoy doing things for myself, but by the end of the day, i really hoped that youd call or email, so that i could tell you about all the amazing things i read, watched, discovered and i desperately want to share them with you, but i cant!

i got back to my bubble, my day basically revolves around reading and arranging my library. i still hold heidi close to myself when i sleep every night. i really regret not finishing it for you. but i dont know how much meaning she hold to you anyway. shes my world, she is the first thing i was obsessed with, and i thought she’d bring you similar joy, but now we never know i guess.

ive been doing philosophy for NET, although i havent started in serious mode, illl get there soon. i applied for an internship navdhanya, and have made plans of what to do with life., quite roughly. i even made a bucket list, of things i should try, filled with things that fascinate me. sample, fireflies. i never saw them in real life. and now i feel bad just by that thought. but yeah, i was pretty serious wheni made that list, and i keep adding things into it every now and then. i dont know why i mentioned this now, but i felt like it. ohh, since im updating about life, i should mention how i spoke to dad(basically, a mail) about most of the things i could never say to him, mostly stressing on how now i should be left unbothered. 

since i couldnt give rockstar another chance, sorry boss, the thought of having to go through that actress’ bad acting for three hours was itself torturous., i found the screenplay/script of the movie., and let me tell you how good i felt after reading it. i had better actors in my mind, and i dreamt about it for a couple of nights. it was a rollercoaster. i think screenplays do that to you. its like reading the book instead of watching the movie, but rockstar has to do with the songs, and since i had a clue about them, i can justify now. and i think i understand you better now, but i dont know, my timing of watching the movie is like another satire. not just this one, many more. gosh, i have like an entire saga of things i could use to cry over to. the other day, i cried while reading tagore poetry, although that was a worthy reason, its crazy how i dont know what little thing could be a trigger.

but how much ever i might try to romanticize all of this, tarak, i really think apart from the happy and goofy times we spent, which dont actually matter as much if we look back(except for nostagia purposes) id say we both needed a better versions, and both of us seperately too needed to be honest with what we are.. not just in showing the other person. im talking about myself mostly. and, for what ever we had, id hate to call it, but because of the lack of a better word, lets admit, we were toxic. and i have to say, how much ever you tried to get over your ego and wanted to be a feminist, looking back at minute details of the interactions we had, plus from the ones you talk about to others, i realised how often there were times when you basically preached something and failed to follow. im slightly ashamed to admit this, but i have gone through a phase of man-hating when i realised the things i have seen around,  thats basically when i realised how these could be the things you failed to see, (and prolly reasoned out for good enough reasons) but somewhere deep inside, i know its not so.like i read it in some book, (which bt the way, i should say felt like i was reading line by line about you) because it talks about how men who seem woke, but still choose to do the same thing, although for different reasons(or so they claim) is another result of the system. and i just cringed at this thought. because im sorry, but i felt it multiple times in our stay together. 

tarak, honestly how much ever im loving reading and researching, im afraid im getting very theoretical. now i cannot stop myself from pin pointing mistakes in everything, and am clearly missing out the beauty in things. if i learned one thing, love is for people who want to give up reason. if you are too calculated and stubborn, you can never love. im not saying im getting calculated and all brains-no-heart, but im slanting that way, and im just afraid i might never find redemption because i like this more. id choose this over love. for now. im sure time will prove me different, but let me tell you how much i value reading and art.

i guess we never spoke about this, why did we not? 

you know the whole ‘books are my bestfriends’? this is literally my life summarized. in my entire time at indus, i basically spent most of the time in the library, or in the washroom- where i used to sneak in, to bunk science classes. i had a reading tree also. under which i used to read in the sports period. prajeeth was a science guy, and the labs were right opposite to the library, so he used to keep a check on me, i often got late to catch my evening bus, so he’d make sure i dint. not to forget the music room. that was another room i spent some quality time in. while the library was in the first floor of the new building, the music room was in a circular room, on the terranc. the whole terrace was for music and art. we had a lot of empty open area where we were given assignments in. i love that place. id want to take you there one day, if, you know... 

so as i was saying, i just prefer reading and listening over anything. at this point, it feels like i know nothing apart from these both. i know you wouldnt agree with me being a good listener, but i know me, and i know im good.

well, now about us, i dont know. i really dont. i may say id be happy if you move on, and find yourself a woman, but i dont know if i can say it at this point, when im clearly meaning it. so, i can only hope for you to become a stronger person, collecting yourself from all of the past. and if you’re moving on, good for you., but id like to take my own sweet time with my memories of you,us, and laugh cry cringe all at once slowly. im not sating im attempting to get over you, because somehow that is making me think about you even more, and its actually making me want you for a whole different list of reasons. ill stick to this natural flow, and ill see you when i see you, years from now, or maybe more. somehow in the midst of some really stupid portions, there are some things you set a high limit in, for men to fill in- who might enter my life. so its going to be a big deal if i commit to someone tarak, and id still want to share about it with you, i dont know if that comes out from mere friendship or more, but i dont mind either ways.

i want to say this one last thing, because ive been wanting to say it for a long time, after the phone call.

it might be years later that we meet,and finally talk, when ever it is, how ever long it has been, if you turned out a good man, not just rational and responsible but realist and a romantic., id love for me to fall for you all over again, or maybe fall correctly* this time, until then ill wait.

 i want to wait. 

that’s me. there are surely many more things i want to say, but i will wait, like i said, and its not like youre going to read this, so its fine. ill look forward for what is coming, i hope you are healthy and are fine (at the least). i miss akbar, i hope aunty is not having a hard time seeing you break down anymore, i hope thats not the case, dont cry tarak! did you stop smoking? i was thinking about it on the 26th, i hope youre sticking to your resolution. i miss the smell of it, i sometimes open my specs-case to smell it, and it reminds me alot of you and red rum. its amazing. i miss it all, i miss you guys alot, i miss you babu. take care. 

xo

raaga.

[elyridis]

aurora was a dainty, curious being.  capricious,  eleanor had often thought when she had felt just a tiny bit mean. there would have been other, equally accurate words — some kinder, some not — but eleanor liked this one best. she did not know the blonde well as their paths had not crossed often  ( at least not on this side of the mask ),  but everyone knew about aurora's mother.

aurora did not belong into this city, into this place  ( cathedral under the stars, heartbreak summit ) ... but she was  there  and no one else could claim the same right now. no one else had been supposed to be here, high up above the city, somewhere where only the stars were witness to the pain eleanor felt, but aurora was not just present. she understood. like ms mirage, aurora had seen a relationship end. perhaps not today, but --- heartbreak lasted, as eleanor’s mother would say, until the heart was whole again. 

" we pay high prices for this, " the blonde said quietly, offering her words like an olive branch. and eleanor added another word to the list of words she associated with the ice heroine:  young.  she did not know how old the other was, exactly, and she did not have to know either. " and it all too often costs us those we love most. "

eleanor sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. " any relationship can be poisoned by feeding it secrecy, " she allowed, her voice barely more than a whisper. had she not kept her own secrets, she might have demanded honesty from seth, but there had been no room for that. she would have been a hypocrite, had she demanded something from him that she had not been willed to offer in return.

bony shoulders rose, then they fell as aurora sighed. " no one ever says how much sacrifice is required to be good, " she mumbled, dark eyes never leaving the city below. and she was  still  young, but at the same time, she seemed ancient. " i experience enough judgement on this side of the mask ... i don't want to be judged for my mother's actions in my other life as well. "

eleanor had been too young to remember what it had been like when aurora's mother had been a menace, but she had seen the scars the woman had left on both her city and on eleanor's father. and she knew that there were still people who did not think that aurora was truly a heroine, who instead thought that she was a cunning villain, biding her time.

below them, the city was slowly darkening as one by one, more and more windows went dark. it was still beautiful, eleanor decided. it was the kind of beauty only few ever got to see from her perch, but it always filled her with a strange sense of wistfulness. it was a sight she wanted to share with someone else, someone who was not her current partner in misery.

" i understand, " the redhead said quietly as she looked from the still glittering city and to the young woman in front of her. " you live with a burden most would crumble under. "

she knew she would. what aurora's mother had done had set the standard for how powered individuals were discussed. every time someone who had been fighting villains left their track  ( typically because there had been no appreciation and too much misled anger with them ),  their powers and potential damage output were judged by falling back to the standard aurora's mother had set because her actions had been beyond comprehension for so many. and to this day — many fell short of the mark, could not compete with the terror the ice user had wrought all those years ago.

" it helps not to care about what others think, " aurora said softly as she shrugged. and although eleanor did not know her well, she knew that this was not entirely true. there were opinions the blonde cared about, but there were not many and eleanor knew better than to bring up the  girl's  old partner, the one who had snapped at reporters whenever they had been unfair and cruel to the blonde. no one knew what had happened, exactly, but everyone knew that orage was gone.

( eleanor's younger sister might know, having equipped orage, too, but — there were things theresia did not like to be asked about and there were few things she guarded as fiercely as the privacy of her clients. )

( and ms mirage was tired, too tired to pick a fight with her sister to appease her own accursed curiosity. )

" there are many ways to skin a cat, " eleanor replied, feeling uncertainty dwell up inside of her. she was not sure if she could agree with aurora on this. she knew she should — a desperate need to please others had never gotten her anywhere, but ... she could not leave her own skin, could she? she could not pretend to be someone else. she had set out on this path because it was what people had needed her to do — her mother had needed retirement and eleanor, eleanor had been the best possible successor.

aurora laughed — a gentle, pretty chime. innocent, eleanor thought, she sounded innocent. it was a word that had seldom been linked to the blonde; cold and distanced were far more likely to pop up, but in one of her last enraged speeches, orage had called her friend a pure, an innocent soul. then, it had sounded like something one of karla's internet friends would say  ( eleanor had not yet come to understand where their obsession with beans originated from ),  but ... it seemed to have been an accurate assessment, after all.

" ah, i am sorry, " she said, gloved fingers tapping against the wall next to her. " i should not whine this much. "

eleanor scoffed as she shook her head. she had been throwing a pity party for herself, had mourned lost opportunities. of course --- she should have seen it coming. it always ended like this; she kept too many secrets, told too many lies to keep a partner in her life. they always assumed the worst, sooner or later, that she was cheating on them, that she was playing games ... and she could never bring herself to correct them. because frankly, it was easier this way. it was easier to whine for a little time because someone walked away from her, resenting her, thinking her deceitful, than it was to --- tell someone the truth.

she did regret this end, in particular. she liked seth, a lot, but after years of leading two lives, secrecy was too deeply ingrained into her personality. and he had kept secrets, too. that had unsettled her, had kept her on her toes. it was strange --- it was easier to connect to people who wore literal masks, sometimes, but seth's mask had been one of occasionally evasive answers and odd behaviour.

running a hand through her hair, ms mirage sighed. " have you been ... how long were you two together? " she asked quietly, carefully. the ... thing with seth had ended before it had really started, much to her dismay, but the way the other had talked earlier made her wonder.

chapped lips curled into a weak imitation of a smile, trembling ever so slightly. " two years. " aurora's voice, typically frosty and just a little sharp, was flat, nearly defeated. and for once, eleanor could understand. two years were a long time, all things considered. not many relationships could take two years of secrecy, of little white lies and thousand excuses. " i tried. i love him so ... i really, really tried. "

eleanor was merciful enough not to point out the slip of tongue and merely nodded. she had not tried as hard, she knew that too well. as of late, she had been confused, torn between two lives. and maybe, the confusion --- unfamiliar and terrifying --- had made things even more complicated. her heart was meant to be a compass, a guide. it was not supposed to waver the way it had as of late. 

so perhaps, it was better like this. maybe it was better for her to be on her own again; she could not afford for her heart and her head to be at war when all of her was supposed to work on taking down her nemesis. which meant that she should work on her own again. that she liked her current --- partner a little too much was one of the things that had gotten her into such a messy situation to begin with.

" i dont know what to say, " she admitted, finally. " i don't know you well, but i know that you're too stubborn for your attempts to have been ... weak. "

aurora stood, balancing on the edge of the building. " perhaps  that  was a problem, " she said, her voice too casual all of a sudden, " that i was holding on so tightly that i broke it with my own hands. "

it was a thought that had not yet come to eleanor, but she had to admit that it did have some merit. in trying their best to prevent a certain outcome, humans could easily get carried away. and beneath the ice, the clones or any other power, even the greatest of heroes were human. fallible. and moreso than many others, they were aware of it. the consequences of their failings were too great to ignore the mere notion of making a mistake. the result were --- unhealthy habits that were only meant to reduce the odds of messing up. but ... that was no way to live. it was no way to love someone, either.

eleanor shook her head, trying to get rid of the other woman's words as they echoed through her head although aurora had disappeared into the night sky. she could not think like this, could not decide that her recent failure had been the result of something too akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy.