#i will never understand why people are so keen on separation (of any sort)

[ninliane]

how I think CANON kageyama really thinks about romance based on facts

This is more on just character analysis and observation but this is all speculation because if I'm being honest as a former Haikyuu x reader writer, I think he is the most mischaracterized and has potential for a different type of x reader, rather than typical romance.

Also I'm saying this as a Kageyama fan! This is just my thoughts jotted down hehe

I don't think Kageyama really had the chance to experience romance. Ever. I mean I could be wrong but based on what we we've seen there wasn't really time for it or even a single mention on it

Though given multiple chances to show it, he never showed any outright attraction to anyone outside of volleyball. Obviously this is not a shojo manga, it's a sports one but there are still multiple times where some sort of attraction has been shown towards characters.

He is unfazed by Kiyoko in a season 1 scene, he never fawns over any of the managers the way other characters do. (The only exception is when Saeko introduces herself and he and Hinata get excited) this isnt rly important tho, a lot of character dont do this

the only time he has ever been excited or passionate is when it comes to volleyball, the very reason why he stuck so close to hinata in the first place (this could argue for kagehina ((so true)) but that's a separate post lol)

HOWEVER he's also not repulsed by attraction towards him, as shown in the bonus chapter when he's aware that he and Atsumu are referred to by fans as the "Ikemen Players" and that people watch him for that; he says he's all for it because it get's people into volleyball

But the CORE REASON on why I think he never thought about romance is because he outright states in season 4 that he's not good at emotion, and his past. He likely does not know the feeling and even with friends he was still learning on friendship, but he wants to learn! (that's probably why he was so keen on asking oikawa for help in kitagawa-daichii)

Anyway so conclusion as an x reader writer, would he be datable? I mean it's not impossible. After all we hardly see his life outside of volleyball, it would just be challenging, just like getting him to play on a team. In fact it would even be cute to see him think about it.

I wrote all this bc I think it would be interesting to see this kageyama in fics, instead of the usual tsundere/constantly getting mad and embarrassed ver of him (me,,I used to write him like this,,,)

Now how would I write canon Kageyama off with staying true to his given character as much as possible?

I think he would be very calm and nonchalant about it. They've shown us that he's very aware of his emotional weaknesses in understanding but that he's ALWAYS willing to try and connect with others.

So while I think he can most definitely live his life without romance, I think that he is bound to think about it at least once and contemplate it. He might even be open to trying it for the sake of trying something that's so common with others, but in my opinion he will always love volleyball more than anything else, and that's not a terrible thing at all.

[2x4plank]

I was trapped on the Pittsburgh act. Pittsburgh is hell. Currently, I'm working through Survival Permadeath (even though I beat this game months ago) and it took me at least a month to beat this act alone. Story-wise, this is an excellent act because...

Joel can trust Ellie enough to give her a gun.

HEEEEENRY & SAAAAAAM!

If you had as much trouble as I did with that act, you're overjoyed once you get to Henry and Sam. Not only are they great characters, but you got a strangle partner!

I'm going to combine both Pittsburgh and the Suburbs into this essay.

First of all, Henry. He starts off at odds with Joel (they're literally beating on each other) but I think they gradually come to respect each other's guardianship--and finally, each other as people.

Now, I have never had to step into the role of a guardian. I am generally the younger person in most of my friendships and familial dynamics, so I speak very much from the other end of Henry. So while I will say he's annoying at times, you can clearly understand why. Henry is never trying to be mean to Sam, and he eases up once they're in a safe place. But Henry has been constantly close to death and is trying to keep them both alive. Their parents died during the apocalypse, their crew dissolved, and he had to bolster that older brother guardianship to make up for it. For the record, I would let Sam keep the lil' transformer--and Henry could've been nicer about it. But I understand Henry acting irrational when his anxiety is very high.

It takes a minute for the group to really mix, as it feels like Henry & Sam are separate from Ellie & Joel. Each guardian is preoccupied with protecting the kid they've been traveling with, even when the kids are willing to be fast friends. All that changes, though, when they swap kids. They fight infected and protect each other's children, and the whole group is better for it.

Now, Sam. He is ridiculously small. Like little guy levels off the charts. He is someone who speaks frankly and expects the same from others' (we see some of this in Ellie as well). But he's also a little guy, and he probably doesn't understand why he needs that softness from others. He is forced to grow up too fast, but he also wants to appear mature. The world around him is way too keen to grant this wish, surrounding him with death and depriving him of lil' transformers or any sort of creative outlet. He used to draw a lot; not anymore.

It kind of seems like Sam will have to wait until that "eventually". Eventually, everything will slow down and he will have the opportunity to be a child. Eventually, he and Eillie will be able to tell jokes and bicker over darts without getting sniped at. Eventually, he and Henry will be able to be brothers without running from heavy artillery.

Well, that eventually is robbed from him. Henry makes a split-second decision to save Ellie, who he also came to care for, but he had to do something no brother should have to do and Sam suffered a fate no kid should have to suffer.

This was probably the hardest, saddest part of the entire game. While I would say winter is the scariest part, the ending of this act is something I dread every time.

Once again, Joel has to see some form of himself in an ally. The idea that someone you cared for the most could be taken from you. What could happen if you feel there's nothing left for you outside of that. In Joel's case, he had Tommy and eventually Tess to fall back on. But Henry did not have that support system, and that is something awful.

[greenlodgecypher]

The Florida Question, 3/3

Part 2

Back in '39, I don't think people thought about flying saucers the same way they did after all those scifi movies in the fifties. It was before Kenneth Arnold, too. Besides, the lights weren't silver crescents, anyway-- these were just lights. It started off that a rancher or maybe someone driving home late at night would see a bright light off in the distance. Grandma wasn't sure how many; nobody thought much of it, apparently, until one of the local police saw a light fly over his car and out over the water. After that, people started paying attention, and they started to talk. It was May by then, and Grandma wasn't helping out as much in the kitchen because she was getting near to graduating high school. So when some of the guys at her school came in all excited, talking about how there were lights above the ocean the night before, she didn't connect it to their mystery guests. Maybe it was the Germans, people wondered. Maybe it was some American scientist working on some kind of plane, people thought. And then, that's when they started to think about those 'guys from the Army'. The vacationers didn't like the attention very much. You can understand why-- it's probably creepy in its own right, having everybody in a small town suddenly blaming you and your friends for something weird. Most of the guys started checking out, but the photographer said he'd be staying on a while. He volunteered a rate increase to Uncle Art, and, well, that was fine by Art. He didn't go out on a boat anymore, though. Grandma said the charters and the fishermen weren't taking any chances. Then, one night, someone broke into the bed-and-breakfast. Grandma heard all about it the next day. The photographer guy was missing one of his photo boxes, one of those accordion-paper things you used to see, and he was sore about it. The day after that, some of her classmates found it. It had just been thrown away, down by one of the drainage ditches in town. Thing was, it wasn't full of photographs. The guy developed all his negatives, right? Well, all of these were photograms. The sort of thing you made by taking photo paper and exposing it under a light and holding up objects between the two so that they cast a shadow on the paper. Stark black-and-white image sort of things. Not an ocean picture in the batch. Every single print in that box was a different rendition of the same symbol. Grandma said it looked a bit like a letter P, but with a line through the loop 'but not the way a paragraph symbol does'. Every single print was the same symbol. But they were all different, each one made separately, and that was the beginning of the end for Uncle Art. It was just too weird for him. He wasn't so keen on keeping that guest after that, and soon the photographer guy left too. Soon the war proper broke out, and nobody really paid it any mind. It's not the sort of story that has a satisfying ending. They never figured out if the guys were military, or not. No mothership showed up to say hi. There was no explanation for the drawings. Everything just seemed to stop. And maybe it really was nothing--the Army men. Maybe the photographer made them photograms, the ones what got stolen, for the other guys. Maybe all of them were just doing art practice. You know. For their health. Like a therapy. But Grandma wonders about that. They lost a bunch of fishing boats during the war. People said it might be the Germans, or just the weather. But she thought about those lights, and that photographer, and all his trips out into the water. They saw him take a lot of photos in the water. She never did see the pictures taken underwater. She only saw the landscapes he'd taken from the shore.

[greensaplinggrace]

So you mentioned in another post that you have some strong thoughts on Baghra, especially about how the story frames her as one of the good guys. I would love to hear about it.

@youremotionallystablefriend: I would love to hear you rant about Baghra if you feel like it (and haven’t already)! Personally I don’t think she gets enough constructive critique in the fandom for being the one that brought Aleks up and for the way she treated her pupils and especially Alina :/

Anon: Hello! I love your thoughts on the grisha books. I'm actually interested to hear your take on Baghra

@misku-nimfa: If you are up for it, I would love to read your thoughts on Baghra or your full critique of society in the Grishaverse. Your analysis is really well structured and interesting! ^.^

Anon: Hi! I saw your recent post and was wondering if you'd share more of your thoughts on Baghra?

---

Hello everyone! I was honestly very surprised to see so many people interested in my thoughts on Baghra? I'll share what I can, but please know that this is by no means a full breakdown of her character! It’s just some Thoughts I’ve had, and they’re mostly centered around show Baghra because that’s how I was first introduced to her character. Although IMO book Baghra might actually be even worse.

I’d like to preface this by saying that many of my issues with the treatment of Baghra as a character in fandom come from the wild double standard there seems to be regarding her and the Darkling. Darkling Antis and a vast majority of the people in this fandom who don’t like his character have a disturbing habit of absolutely ripping into the Darkling for all of his faults and then turning around and treating Baghra as some sort of pristine mother figure for the exact same shit.

They’ll talk about how badass she is, how strong she is, how they sympathize with her past (although they’ll continue to dehumanize the Darkling and refuse to sympathize with his own past) and sympathize with the fact that she has to deal with the Darkling (who’s always referred to as a monster she must corral or control, as if he is inhumane and beastly. These particular comments always take on the very distinct tone of victim blaming as well). They’ll laud her for all of these “powerful girlboss” moments as if they aren’t carbon copies of the Darkling’s own behavior - as if they aren’t things Baghra herself taught him. Which is why this is the wildest double standard of all to me, because every horrible action they praise Baghra for is something she taught the Darkling, and something they cannot stand to see in him as well.

It’s as if there’s a disconnect between their consumption of the literature when it comes to the two characters, and I’m of the opinion that it’s largely because Baghra is a woman and a mother and therefore infantilized in the fandom quite a bit. In fact, Bardugo herself often infantilizes many of her female characters in her writing. This is mostly through the process of excusing their terrible deeds, not allowing them to do anything remotely dark, or brushing any morally grey actions under the rug without ever touching upon them. Which puts me in the strange position of knowing I’m supposed to sympathize with Baghra for having to deal with the monster she’s created, and instead feeling resentful of the fact that this bitter woman is held up as this wise old strict teacher instead of the abusive mentor/mother she should have been.

Now, here’s what I said to make so many of you send me asks:

Last note, in reference to your first line, and also probably a pretty unpopular opinion. I do not like Baghra. And it legit has nothing to do with the Darkling or with Alina, I just don't like her "I'm going to hit you and berate you and emotionally abuse you and manipulate you and act like the good guy at the end of it" vibe she's got going on. At least Aleksander is acknowledged as the villain within the narrative. Idk wtf Baghra is on but it's absolutely wild to me that people aren't more critical of her actions. Which is, rather fortunately for you, another rant I will save for another post if anybody ever wants to hear it lol. (but like kudos to Baghra's actress. I loved the character as a character, I just don't like the way she's framed as a good guy. Weird. Uncomfortable. She literally set bees on the kids she was teaching).

This basically summarizes most of my thoughts on Baghra as a character and how she’s portrayed. I touched on it a bit above, but the way she’s able to get away with so much and not suffer under heavier critique is honestly baffling to me. There should be a lot more criticism of her out there in the fandom. This is the woman who abused her students and neglected her son. Although to be honest I don’t even know how to quite describe the emotionally neglectful yet unhealthily codependent bond she fostered in him from a young age. IMO, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander is creepy, and I know she has a history that makes it more understandable, but it’s still incredibly disconcerting to witness.

But let’s get back on track! First of all, her students. Whom she physically, emotionally, and mentally abuses. She’s derisive, she’s insulting, she’s belittling. She works hard to strip them of any self confidence they may have. She uses pain as a means of triggering powers. And the strict teacher excuse doesn’t fly. The “it’s only a training method!” excuse is even worse. This is literal abuse she’s heaping on her students and it’s wretched.

The first thing she does to Alina when they first meet is insult her. Then she hits her. Then she kicks her out.

Second time they interact is a montage. Baghra hits Alina multiple times. She shames her. And then when Alina actually calls a light she tells her it’s not nearly enough, effectively wiping the smile off of her face and every sign of self confidence that had been building. Then we see the door to Baghra’s hut shut in Alina’s face. So now she has been bruised, battered, berated, stripped of all self confidence, and then banished again. As training methods go, this is not only entirely ineffective, but it’s also just abusive.

Then we get this interaction between Alina and her friends:

Marie: One time, Baghra released a hive of bees on me. Nadia: Worst part is, it worked. Marie: It really did. I could summon at will after that.

Which is fucking horrifying and not talked about nearly enough. That goes beyond hitting your students. Baghra used a fear tactic on a young girl to activate her powers. She literally tortured Marie to make her powers work.

Alina throughout this conversation is looking very disheartened. She’s lacking in any self confidence and the comment about the bees has clearly affected her. For someone who’s first words to Alina were “Everyone believes that you are the one. Come back when you believe it too,”  Baghra doesn’t exactly seem keen on Alina actually believing she’s the one. If she did, she wouldn’t be stripping her of every positive emotion associated with sun summoning.

Let’s not forget that Baghra demeans Alina multiple times for her status as an orphan. How she utilizes what she knows of Alina’s emotional weaknesses to provoke her and discourage her and make her angry.

And then Baghra drugs her without consent. To take advantage of any information Alina gives her in that state. To use the way Alina reacts for her own ends.

Because why else would she say this?:

Alina: We planned to run away together. Baghra: You had plans. Perhaps he never did, because where is he now?

Which is, strangely enough, the same sense of isolation and separation from Mal and her past that Aleksander is attempting to foster. Weird how mother and son are both using the same manipulation tactics.

In fact, why does Baghra never tell Alina about the letters until she’s already engaged with Aleksander? Baghra must have known he was taking them. Alina talks about it enough. Baghra must have known he was isolating her from Mal. How could she not, when it’s revealed later that she has spies in the Little Palace collecting information on him? How could she not, when she knows he’s the villain from the beginning - when she knows he’s manipulating Alina?

Baghra knows, and yet she keeps the same lies Aleksander does and furthermore uses that information to make Alina feel even more isolated and weak. Baghra literally just piggy-backs on Aleksander’s manipulation and then exacerbates it. She wants Alina to feel no attachments to her past because she wants to use Alina as well. But for some reason, because this manipulation and treatment of Alina as some sort of tool is done by the woman who opposes the Darkling, it’s suddenly okay. As if it still isn’t the same terrible shit but with a different perpetrator. I mean damn, at least Aleksander feels something for Alina. Baghra’s just cold.

So, point by point. Baghra mentions how Mal doesn’t care for Alina, she mentions Alina’s failings constantly, she mentions Alina being an orphan, she constantly hits her, she guilts Alina about orphans dying, she works to instill a sense of isolation from her friends and her family.

And when Alina finally comes to Baghra, having decided to abandon her attachments to her past and her attachments to Mal, the words that ring in her head are Baghra's words - “needing anyone else is weak.”  Which is honestly just a horrible sentiment in general, but an even worse one when considering how hard these people are working to detach Alina from anybody who can help her or give her an outside perspective.

Strangely, it’s also similar to this line:

The problem with wanting, is that it makes us weak.

...which is spoken by Baghra’s son. You know, the Darkling? Our big bad villain? The one Baghra raised?

Which gives me the impression that Baghra’s teaching methods with her students are really not that far off from the teaching methods she used on him as he was growing up. It’s a horrifying thought, and leads into my problems with her relationship with Aleksander.

First of all, show wise. What the fuck.

Aleksander: They’re punishing us for being Grisha. Baghra: Punishing you. You made him afraid. Now he wants you to fear him. Aleksander: I won a war for him. Baghra: And in doing so, started a war on us.

I get that she’s trying to convey how the king feels here, but it still feels incredibly victim blamey from a narrative standpoint. It isn’t Aleksander’s fault the king fears him when he used his powers under the King’s banner to help him win a war. Aleksander trusted this man who betrayed him and then betrayed his people, and we get a line from his mother, entirely unsympathetic, talking about how it’s his fault all of these people are dying.

Baghra: Where’s the girl, your healer? Aleksander: Dead. She died because of me. Baghra: She died because they always do. They’re not as strong as you and me.

Baghra’s use of the term ‘girl’ and ‘healer' here instead of Luda is pretty telling. She either doesn’t like Luda or doesn’t care for her. Either way, this is the woman her son loves, and Baghra talks about her so dispassionately. Then he comments on Luda’s death and there’s no reaction except to say that they always do.

Like, her son is literally broken up over here. Grieving. Desperate. Run ragged. Caged and hunted. Feeling guilty as hell. Mind running through a million different ways he could possibly save all of these people. And Baghra offers him nothing except a paltry “people die, get over it, we’re better than that, she didn’t matter anyway.”

Honestly, how is Aleksander even still functioning at this point? He has no support system and he’s working against a king and his army to protect a group of civilians he could easily abandon to save himself. The sheer amount of responsibility and mental strain keeping track of a group alone entails is already monstrous, but adding in every other factor? The recent death of Luda, the fact that they’re cornered and they’ve been hunted down while fleeing across the land, the fact that he was just a couple hours ago forced to his knees and entirely at these men’s mercy, begging for Luda’s life. And here his mother is, if anything a negative support system. Offering no other ideas, telling him to give up hope, not even offering the barest smidgeon of emotional support as he grieves, putting everything on his shoulders.

It pisses me the fuck off.

Aleksander: You’re the one who taught me how to kill, mother. Their blood is on your hands as much as mine.  Baghra: I taught you so you could protect yourself. Not them.

Once more, Baghra highlights how he needs to protect himself. How he should abandon the people he’s protecting. How he shouldn't help others and only ever himself. Once more, she says it’s my way or the high way. There’s zero effort to work with him. Zero effort to sympathize or compromise. She’s constantly pushing him to take the one option she knows he won’t take. The hell did she think was going to happen?

Also, Baghra taught him how to kill. Not necessarily great parenting, but understandable given the circumstances of his upbringing. But the level to which she takes it is honestly concerning. Like, look no further than this woman to see where Aleksander got it from lol.

Baghra also forbids him from using Merzost. Which is great and all, she gets to claim the moral high ground. But she doesn’t offer a single alternative except to flee and let everybody die. There was legitimately no other option to Merzost except for torture and death. If there was, Baghra sure as hell didn’t help Aleksander come up with one. Aleksander, who - by the way - is in no fit emotional state to be making any kind of decision right now.

So anyways, that’s just my tv show grief regarding Baghra, and it’s not even really all of it. I don’t want to make this an hour long read though lmao. But I’ll go over a few other things.

First of all, Baghra’s whole “We’re the only two that matter. We have to do whatever we can to protect ourselves,” mentality is one that she actively touts to Aleksander on a regular basis when he’s incredibly young. It’s honestly a wonder he grows up to care about other people at all. But the mentality itself is something Aleksander still heavily internalized in regards to protecting himself and those he deems worthy at any cost.

There’s a moment in the books when Aleksander is attacked and nearly drowned by some kids who wanted his bones (one of which was a close friend of his). He uses the cut in self defense and then blames the nearby Otkazat’sya village. Baghra knows he’s lying, and yet she allows an entire village to get slaughtered for harming him. This is a disproportionately violent act that Baghra approves of, and Aleksander as a kid is definitely internalizing that mindset.

Also, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander has always been weirdly possessive and controlling. Especially when it comes to the people he loves. Her actions often come across as her trying to isolate him in order to keep him by her side, even when the relationships he has are clearly intimate. Which... is especially strange for a mother to be doing to her son.

She was also an extremely emotionally neglectful mother. Based on the show and what I gathered from her actions there, I’m actually half convinced she was physically abusive as well, in that “I think I’m being a stern, good parent figure when in reality I’m actually harming my child” kind of way. She fosters codependence with her son and then refuses to provide for any of his emotional needs. She drives it into his head that everybody dies, that he’ll always be alone, that love is useless and power is everything. She denies him the opportunity to be soft and works to harden him at a young age. She tells him he must never allow people to touch him, except she doesn’t work to supplement those physical needs in any way. She essentially abuses him.

Honestly, I could go on. But in reality the simple fact is that I just don’t like her. I think she’s a hypocrite. I think she’s abusive. I think she’s a terrible mentor and an even worse mother. And I think the fandom and the books are willing to brush aside so many of her faults simply because she opposes the Darkling.

I’m sorry if this isn’t what you guys were looking for! It sounds like a lot of you wanted a more of a sophisticated breakdown, but my thoughts on Baghra come with a heap of emotional baggage lol. It feels weird to say this now, but I actually do like the character as a character, I just,,, don’t like her in every other aspect. My feelings on Baghra are just a bit personal, to be honest. But hopefully this was at least comprehensible??

[ask-college-patrochilles]

Pat: It's... a long story.

The first thing Pat notices as he comes out of the shower are the voices coming from the kitchen. It isn't exactly strange considering he lived with Achilles and they'd invited Bri over for the night. He and Bri didn't hang out like they used to, with both students caught up in the senior year and post-graduation plans. It had been nice to catch up, to have Pat's two favorite people together with him at the same time.

But the second thing he realizes is how hushed they are. Achilles never mutters, always keen to shout what's on his mind, and Bri certainly doesn't whisper to Pat's boyfriend on the regular.

He knows it's wrong- they're both so important to him, he could just… walk out and ask what's up- but Pat can't help himself. Quickly, he dries off his hair and discards the towel as quietly as possible into the laundry room. There's a wall separating the hallway to his bedroom and the bathroom from the kitchen. Pat presses his back against it and strains to listen.

There's the sound of the coffee machine running, almost loud enough to drown out Bri's question. "I wanted to know how you and Pat are doing," she says, followed by the pouring of coffee into a cup.

Achilles snorts. "I would think you guys have already talked about that." Always defensive, even when he doesn't need to be. It makes Pat's chest ache.

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from you." One of the chairs scrapes against the floor, and Pat assumes Bri takes a seat. "You're your own person. You might see things differently."

Pat isn't sure why, but he holds his breath for his boyfriend's answer. Everything has been… mundane, really. Nothing special. Achilles is like an extension of Pat: they always know what the other is thinking, are always able to finish each other's sentences. More often than not they're together, Achilles leaning against him or holding his hand.

"We're good," Achilles finally replies. "Really good." Pat deflates in relief. "You'd think by now we'd be sick of each other or stepping on each other's toes, but…"

"But?" Bri prods.

"But I still always want to be by his side." Bri makes a sound, probably exasperated. "It's cheesy, yeah, but I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Pat closes his eyes with a small smile. Of course they felt the same- Achilles has his entire heart. He'd know if something was off because it would be like his own heart was breaking. There was nothing to worry about.

He's about to walk around the corner to greet them when Achilles continues. "There's just-" He pauses for a long moment. "Can you keep a secret?"

Silence.

"It's nothing bad," Achilles reassures Bri in a rush. "At least, I don't think so, but I don't really know what to think if I'm being honest. It's all so confusing and terrifying and I-"

"Slow down," Bri cuts in. "Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help."

Achilles takes a deep breath, something Pat has had to drill into his head to do when he's overwhelmed. Hopefully, he's counting to ten in his head like Pat taught him too. They were still working on it. "I love Pat," Achilles starts again. "A lot."

"Okay."

"More than anything. More than… running or school or whatever. He's the most important person to me." The floor creaks, and Pat can only assume he's pacing around the kitchen. Achilles can never sit still when he's anxious. "I'd do anything for him. I'd… I'd eat a whole raw onion for him or fight off sharks. I'd cut off my leg- although I'd probably ask if we could amputate an arm instead since I still want to be a track star-"

"Achilles."

"Right."

Pat's heart races in his chest. He can't tell where this is going, and he hates not knowing what was on Achilles' mind. They're connected at the hip, so why can't he understand what's wrong?

"I guess I'm trying to say I don't think I could ever be with anyone else- actually, scratch that. I know I couldn't."

Bri's nails drum against the tabletop. Click, click, click. "This is all really sweet, but I don't know why you're telling me."

Achilles inhales loud enough for Pat to hear. "I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

A pause. "Okay."

"I want to marry him, Bri."

Pat's eyes widen, and he's surprised his knees don't give out underneath him.

He's always assumed he and Achilles would always be together. After all, they'd been inseparable from the moment they'd met. Even before they were partners, Pat felt whole with Achilles. Their relationship was one that was bound to last.

He just… never exactly thought about proposing or weddings or any of that. They lived together, didn't they? That was practically marriage to Pat. Splitting rent and divvying up chores wasn't for the weak of heart.

Marriage was big. Marriage meant they would spend the rest of their lives together. There'd be a certificate and everything to say they belonged only to each other. There would be anniversaries and a family and growing old together. Pat can't even fathom it- he couldn't even think about what the next week would be like! He lives his life from exam to exam, shift to shift at the hospital.

Bri seems to be on the same track as Pat. "You're both only in your twenties," she points out.

"I want to propose," Achilles says as if he doesn't hear her. "I know I do."

"Now? What about-"

"I already have a ring." Now Pat definitely wants to collapse. He covers his mouth with both hands so he doesn't gasp out loud. This was all happening very fast. The room seems to spin, and he leans his weight against the wall so he doesn't fall over.

"What?" Bri's chair scrapes against the floor. "How long have you had that?"

"A little while."

"Have you talked about any of this with Pat?" Pat could easily answer that question. His racing heart and clammy palms are as good an answer as any. He's sure Achilles shakes his head since Bri sighs loudly. "Don't you think that's sort of important? You don't just pop a proposal out of nowhere."

"You don't?" Achilles sounds genuinely confused. He probably got his entire idea of marriage from movies and television. His parents certainly didn't seem to be much help.

"You have to talk about the future first. Talk about what you both want." Achilles is quiet. He must be frustrated- he hates waiting, and he hates too much serious talk. Pat knows he prefers to wing it. After all, life seemed to go pretty smoothly for him without any prior planning. "If you guys are on the same page, then- and only then- maybe it's time."

Achilles grunts.

"You guys have all the time in the world," Bri reassures him gently. "Pat's not going anywhere. Trust me on that one."

"I don't want to lose him," Achilles says. It shatters Pat's heart to little pieces. How could he ever think Pat would leave him? They were in this for the long run no matter what. They'd grown together as individuals and as a couple, and Pat knew they still had so much more to learn.

It's what finally draws him from his corner. Pat scrunches his hair with his hands like he just came out of the shower as he walks to the kitchen. Bri sits across from Achilles at the table. As soon as she sees Pat, she kicks his boyfriend in the shin to alert him. Achilles turns, and Pat catches him stuffing something small into his pocket.

"There's coffee made if you want some," Bri says. So they didn't realize he'd been listening. Pat seems to be off the hook for now.

"Maybe later." Pat's too overwhelmed at the moment to be anywhere but with Achilles. He wraps an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and slides into his lap. Achilles gives him a smile and starts to say good morning, but Pat is already kissing him sweetly.

Achilles doesn't kiss back at first. He's too surprised, probably since Pat is never really a functioning human being in the morning before his coffee. But it takes him no time to hold Pat's hips firmly in place and part his lips to welcome Pat's tongue inside. Pat licks into his mouth, tasting maple syrup and sugar and everything Achilles.

Pat loves him. He loves him with his entire being. If Achilles dropped on one knee right now, Pat knows he'd say yes despite any doubts or reservations he might have. Because they'd figure them out together no matter what.

Bri's groaning is what brings Pat back to reality. "Can I please just drink my coffee in peace?" she begs. "One morning where I'm not assaulted by you two? Please?"

Achilles scowls in response. "If you don't like it, don't come over."

"You invited me!"

"Then you should’ve turned down the invite!"

Bri and Achilles bicker about the logistics of sleepovers, but Pat couldn't be happier. He presses his forehead against Achilles' temple and smiles wide. His Achilles, forever.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villain and Supervillain are both tortured by the heroes. Supervillain is hurt even more and gets deathly sick and deliriously feverish. In the cell, Villain comforts the other even though their own injuries hurt and they can feel the heat of a mild grade fever burning at their own body. Eventually they escape, but Supervillain is so hurt and so so so sick that they can't even stay conscious. Villain ends up having to be the caretaker of both, helping the other through nightmares and all that until they too give up.

Sorry if this is too detailed... just an idea I thought of.

This is so so good!! I hope this is alright. There’s a lot of stuff I tried to fit in here in under 3k words. Thank you so much for the prompt!!

CW//Torture, drowning, waterboarding (kinda), suicidal thoughts (as a means of escape), mention of death, sickness, gross water, gross food, nightmares, broken bones

The pressure was more than enough to choke. If only Supervillain was allowed the privilege of choking. That would, of course, require oxygen. The ability to fight back. The ability to breathe.

All privileges they had lost.

From the pipe, positioned perhaps a torturous three inches before their face, their mouth, spewed forth a waterfall of agony in quite literal form. Many described pain as burning, but it was never quite that. The unbearable flow was frigid cold, spilling down the front of their chest, soaking their tattered prisoner’s uniform.

But, there was a difference between freezing and drowning. The first was survivable.

The water upon their front, spilling onto the floor, into the drain positioned between their bound hands, was bearable. Survivable. The same could not be said about the liquid pumped into their lungs.

Not into their lungs, of course. Not directly. But, with the slightest bit more force, it would be. It would fill their lungs, and they would drown. They were certain of that, and they longed for it. Longed for the peace that death would bring.

But death was a privilege, and though they did not know when it had been lost, it was most certainly now gone.

Instead, instead of the liberation of cessation, it was water that filled their mouth, spilling down their throat, running down their neck and freezing them. They heard the tick, tried to count it, one, two, three, but knew it was no use. Knew their mind could not focus when it was trying to hard not to drown.

They wouldn’t be allowed to drown. Their mind didn’t know that. It knew only of the chain upon their neck, an invisible force pulling them back, keeping their head in place. The metal, V-shaped gag within their mouth, guarding it firmly open, was another centerpiece of their agony.

Helplessness. Helpless agony. Supervillain had learned to live with it, so why couldn’t their brain? Their body? Why could they not understand that their captors were not merciful enough to allow them to die? No, they would only be teased with such a thing.

Their vision began to cloud, then, only at the edges. The edges that had not been splattered by stray water droplets. This was it, their mind spoke. This was the end, at long last. There was, at the very least, some peace to it.

From the pipe, the raging flow of water turned to a trickle, before ceasing. Liquid dribbled from their mouth, lips quivering. It was not their desire to take in air, but their lungs, their mind, gave them no choice. They may not have desired to keep going, but their brain needed air, and it was determined to take it.

A few, blissful seconds. Their lungs filled, and emptied, filled, and emptied, until they could at last think again.

That was when the waterfall began one more to stab their throat. To fill their lungs, to choke them. Their muscles twitched, desperate to struggle, but it wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth it.

At the very least, from their restrained position, they could see the clock. Watch as the seconds ticked by. Ninety seconds of water. Ten of air. Ninety. Ten. Ninety. Ten.

When the door opened, a shivering relief overcame their exhausted body, their half-awake mind.

“You think they’re done?”

“I don’t think they’ll be causing us any problems for the rest of the day.”

“You sure?”

“Eh, we can always put ‘em back.”

It was blissful.

Only three hours, today.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The sound of Supervillain’s collapse was only partially muffled by the wall that separated them from Villain.

It was a clear glass that was between them, blue in tint. Clear on all sides. Cages of vulnerability.

Perhaps Supervillain’s movement could not be described as a collapse. It was not a collapse if one had not been standing under their power in the first place. No, the barely audible sound, the vibrations that barely penetrated the barrier were produced by their body, thrown to the ground. It had used to be that two guards would drag them back in the mornings, but, now, there was only the one.

Resources better spent elsewhere.

Below, the floor shook as the blue, crystal-clear door to their cell was slammed closed. A lock clicked. 

A supervillain abandoned, left to rot.

They lay only perhaps a foot from the door, exactly where they had been dropped. Exactly where they had been placed. On occasions, the rarest of them, their body would shiver and shake, coughing up a paltry, thin stream of water, but this was all.

Villain knew well enough to know that it was all involuntary. Even if the guards were far too dim-witted to tell, their burden had already been unconscious, even as they dragged them.

They always fell asleep, as soon as their morning session was over. The guards seemed to derive some sort of sick pleasure from referring to it as their ‘breakfast.’ They, of all people, should have known that they weren’t fed. Being dragged from their cell and half drowned at the strike of dawn didn’t count.

But, that was the point of the joke, wasn’t it?

The sound of a splint dragging over tile was certainly an odd one, metal on porcelain, yet, it was a sound that Villain could say with quite definitive certainty that they had long since grown used to. It was with a limp, dead leg hauled behind them that they crawled to the edge of their cell, the wall which they shared with their friend. Their old boss.

Even the tiny amount of movement, the tiny distance covered, they were quite exhausted by the time they got there. When they had been thrown here for the first time, six feet by four had seemed so terribly small. Now, it was a monumental distance to cover.

Yet, that was an effort that was more than worth expending.

They leaned their head up against the clear glass wall. It was the best they could do, the only comfort they could offer. The quietest of vibrations were shared between the two of them, shallow, anguished breaths pushed up against the same barrier. The weakest of shared agonies and shared comforts, all alike.

Now that Supervillain was back, Villain knew full well that it would be their turn in a few meager minutes. The guards would return for them, take them to the same room. Even as their tortures were different, personally tailored to harm them, there was some odd unity in sharing a chamber of suffering.

And, for now, they were together. For the briefest of moments, they were together. Just breathing.

Villain opened their eyes, once they had the strength to.

Supervillain was getting worse. They didn’t need to be a doctor to see that, but their medical background made the sight only that much more heartwrenching. A proper examination would require physical touch, touch they could not offer, but they would have to be blind to not notice those symptoms that were visual.

The beads of liquid that sprung from their neck were certainly not residual from their torture, nor was the redness that seemed to spread through every inch of skin exposed from their soaked-through grey uniform. The slightest swelling could be seen upon their throat, beneath their jaw. Swollen lymph nodes. If the illness was respiratory, it was quite impossible to tell-- They had not the energy to cough.

They needed a doctor. They needed to get out of here, of course, but sooner than that, they needed a doctor. Had Villain had their lab, their tools, their freedom, they could have fixed the issue in an instant. It had started so quickly, come on in half an instant. Surely, it was one of the more routine of illnesses.

One that could be fought off by any adult with even the slightest modicum of strength.

But, that was not something that Supervillain had the liberty of possessing.

Villain wasn’t an idiot, not nearly as stupid as the guards as the heroes under which they worked were. Even their medical experience hardly tied into the fact that they knew, full well, that their fellow captive could not fight this illness.

Perhaps they had a week. Perhaps two. Any longer than that, and...

They didn’t want to be alone. Perhaps that was selfish. But it was true. They did not know how aware their fellow captive was, how long it had been since they had truly been aware of anything at all. But, they were there. Physically, they were there. And without that, Villain was certain that they, too, would die.

Maybe that would be okay. But Supervillain’s death certainly would not be.

Clacking in the distance. Hero-issue boots against tile. The guards were back. The room was clean, and ready for its next occupant.

That was okay. At the very least, during their daily torture, Villain would have something to think about.

How to escape.

How to save a life.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It took two weeks. Two weeks to plot the escape.

The Heroes’ Organization Special Holding Facility was certainly far more frightening than its official moniker made it seem, and that was saying quite something, as not many people would be all too keen on going to a ‘holding facility.’ Unfortunately, along with that terror came security. An almost terrifying amount of it.

Having telekinetic abilities was certainly a boon, but that didn’t make it any easier. It only made the escape possible.

A tripped guard. A dropped keycard. A mysterious, middle-of-the-night reset of the security system. A series of stars that a half-dead Villain had personally aligned.

None of that was the hardest part. No. The hardest part was most certainly getting Supervillain out. The concept of them moving on their own was laughable. Sometimes they managed to open their eyes, but that was more than clearly a monumental effort. It was even more difficult for them to close them.

They needed to be carried. They, a full-grown, adult human, needed to be carried all the way out of the facility. The guards never seemed to have much trouble with it, but Villain? The same Villain who spent their afternoons being tortured and their nights nursing their own wounds? The Villain who had been starved within an inch of their life?

That was a hell of a lot more difficult. They had never been particularly religious, but if they had, they would have most certainly thanked their deity of choice for the concept of an adrenaline rush.

Two weeks. Two weeks of planning, of watching their only friend, their only ally, in the whole world slowly perish, and they were free.

Free.

Scratchy carpet scraped beneath bare skin as their chest heaved, breathing in the surrounding musk between desperate gasps for air. The whole building smelled so horribly stale, so much like mold, like rust. It was wonderful. It was something other than glass, then disinfected walls and chairs and straps.

For a moment, Villain allowed themself to rest. But only for a moment.

They were free, and free people needed to keep themselves alive. There was no council, no heroes, no guards to do it for them. If they wanted to stay alive-- which they still were not certain upon-- they needed to fight for it.

If they wanted Supervillain, they needed to fight for them.

Two weeks of planning, and one week of exhaustion.

The location that had become their Eden certainly wasn’t special. Wasn’t habitable. It was the only place they could run to, that they could make it to, where they would be alone. Where they wouldn’t be found. An abandoned office building. Stories and stories of blank beige and whiteboards and their markers.

Paradise. Within the whole place, there wasn’t even a square inch of that dreaded, blue-tinted glass.

Nor were there medical supplies. Or food. Or water. Only a pair of villains, one desperate, one half dead. Leaving the building was a death sentence, or at least one of life imprisonment. A risk they simply couldn’t take.

So, they didn’t.

Water came easily enough, and by that, water came after the arduous and exhausting task of hauling their body up the building’s everlasting stairway, until they at last reached the roof. There sat their saving grace. Rainwater in puddles. Even as the liquid was green, even as it was filled with sticks and leaves, it was water.

Getting it down Supervillain’s throat was more than difficult, but they did not exactly have the energy to resist. Only to swallow, to let it happen. Once, they had opened their eyes. Looked up. Yet, there was no awareness behind them.

At least they had water. At least they were drinking.

Food was next. It was a terribly scarce resource at the Holding Facility, and too was it in the building. There was nothing fresh, nothing worth eating. That didn’t matter, not the slightest bit. In ancient, long-disabled fridges sat overripe fruits and rotted veggies. Supervillain managed to eat a baby carrot, while Villain got down half an apple.

For medical supplies, they searched desperately. Yet, unless a bandaid could cure a choking fever, there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Those three words described quite well the next week of Villain’s life: Nothing at all. For Supervillain, the description was likely even more apt.

Once or twice, rain fell. More water. Never clean, but adequate. Food grew scarce, but there was food.

Those were variable, but throughout those seven days, there were two constants:

Villain was getting worse, and Supervillain wasn’t getting better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Supervillain was screaming.

When Villain awoke on the seventh day, it was the only thing they could note. A sound they hadn’t heard in so long, not since they had been dragged through hallways, since they had heard it muffled behind closed doors.

It was a scream, yes, but it was in their voice. Supervillain’s voice. That voice that had gone silent, so long ago. It took only an instant of blearily blinking, leaden eyelids for Villain to awake, scrambling, desperate. Desperate to see, yes, but also desperate to hear. To hear the voice that they feared would never again pipe up.

They were on their back. The city’s former greatest threat, public enemy number one, lay upon their back, limbs with the thickness of sticks squirming, shifting, writhing. Had they had an ounce of strength, strength not given by muddy water or rotten carrots, they may have been flailing to the point of being a threat.

But, that was a power they did not possess.

Instead, pathetically, they squirmed and wailed. Eyes closed. Lashes quivering.

Villain’s heart skipped a beat. The friend within them was terrified, yet the doctor that they had once been was so overwhelmed with relief. They were moving. That meant they were alive.

They were alive, and they were terrified.

It was an overwhelming effort to move to their side, propelled by only their arms, dragging them with trembling force. There was nothing they could do.

They knew that.

There was nothing Villain could do. No food, no water, no medicine. No strength. They had only one thing left to give from their own fever-addled body.

Their words.

They lay their head upon their old boss’s chest, ignoring the writhing, ignoring the struggling beneath.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” They slurred. Unable to keep their eyes open any longer. “It’s okay.”

Unable to keep their eyes open, or their mind awake. No food. No water. No medicine. Only sickness, only struggling.

“It’s okay, Supervillain. It’s me. It’s Villain. You’re okay.”

They weren’t okay. Nothing about this was okay. They were starving, exhausted, dehydrated, sick. None of this was in the slightest way okay, and yet...

Yet there was one thing they could guarantee.

“I’m right here.” Their mind began once more to cloud, the world beginning to blacken at its seems.

They didn’t so much as notice that they were crying, as they spoke.

“It’s okay, Supervillain. We’re going to die together, okay? I’ll be right here, the whole time, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s...”

The word left their lips as they slipped back to unconsciousness.

A moment too soon. A half-instant too quickly.

Too soon to notice the door opening, the gasp. The entrance of a good Samaritan, a horrified civilian, who had only just found two villains, an inch from death.

[elisajdb]

The Red Thread of Fate

A story for (CC) Carol Winner of the @the-gochi-awards Favorite Comic

 Goku stretched his arms over his head as he woke from his nap. He groaned when he heard the sounds of rain tapping the window. It was the rains’ fault for his nap. It rained all day so he couldn’t go outside to train. He could but his new wife wouldn’t allow it. The first time he came home after training in the rain, he spread mud all over the floor. It enraged ChiChi so much she forbid him to train when it rained. Goku, not wanting to anger his new bride oblige. When it rained, Goku stayed home. Sometimes he spent it with ChiChi and other times like now, he took a nap.

 “Goku!” He turned to see his wife come downstairs. The way she said his name told Goku ChiChi was in a really good mood. Despite her temper, Goku learned his wife was generally a happy person so whatever she was in the mood for, Goku figured it must be good for both of them. “Show me your little finger.”

 ChiChi held her hand up with her pinky finger extended to him. Goku thought her excitement meant she cooked a meal for him or she changed her mind about him training in the rain. He figured his new wife was keen to teach him many things. Some he really liked (kissing, sexy times), some confused him (shopping) and some he didn’t like (work). He hoped whatever she will teach him will be something he will like.

 “Okay.” Goku extended his pinky to ChiChi. “Now what?”

 “Have you heard of the ‘Red Thread of Fate’?”

No. ChiChi looked so happy about it. If ChiChi was this happy, Goku tried to guess. He wondered if it was food. He hoped so. He wouldn’t mind having a meal now. “No. Is it something about food?”

 “NO!” ChiChi groaned exasperated. “Why do you always make everything about food?”

 “Sorry,” Goku apologized, “but you know I don’t know a lot of stuff, ChiChi. What is it?”

 “It’s an invisible line that links people to their true love. See?” ChiChi wrapped a red thread around her pinky finger and she wrapped another around Goku’s little finger. “Like this. It will connect us our whole life… until we die.”

 Goku pulled the string linking his finger with ChiChi’s. He was skeptical to believe this red string could connect them. He wanted to believe ChiChi but the string felt thin and weak. “Are you sure? It’s just a regular string. Won’t we need a stronger one? I can ask Kami for a stronger one.”

 “No,” ChiChi flexed her finger to show the string was strong enough for them. “This red string is a symbol to reflect our connection and dedication to each other. We don’t need anything else.”

 If ChiChi was sure this string was strong enough, Goku believed her. She knew more about love and marriage than him. “Okay. If you say so.”

 Five Years Later

 “What’s the matter with you, Goku?” King Kai noticed his pupil in a down mood. As upbeat and jovial Goku acted, there were times Goku was depressed. It was rare and something Goku tried to hide from the wise Kai of the North but he knew and gently tried to pursue Goku to share his thoughts. “Is my cooking that bad?” He thought the joke would crack a smile but the dead warrior merely sighed and

looked away. He must be in a sour mood to not comment about his food. Goku never held back how the meals King Kai cooked were bland.

 “King Kai,” Goku suddenly spoke, “are connections to people broken when they die?”

 So, that’s what going on. Goku missed his family. “Connections are never broken if you don’t forget about them, Goku. The connection is severed now because you are dead, but you’ll be back with them and your connection to them will be stronger than ever.”

 “Really?” Goku brightened hopeful the Kai of the North was correct. “I’ll be reconnected to ChiChi again?”

 “Of course, Goku.” King Kai assured him. “After this mess with the Saiyans, you’ll go home and be with your family for a very long time. I’m sure of it.”

 Four Years Later

 King Kai knew when Goku died again, he couldn’t leave Goku in the afterlife alone. For all his innocent, happiness and his ability to handle things alone, he had another side and learning of Goku’s time on Earth, King Kai knew Goku would be lonely. He didn’t want Goku, after making many friends in his life, to retract to that little boy left alone after his Grandpa Gohan died.

 King Kai expected growing pains from Goku this time because he knew he wasn’t returning to the living in a year. He will be dead forever and separated from his family for many years. So far, their time on the Grand Kai’s planet has been very enjoyable. Goku was happy and got along with all the fighters. He was eager to spar with them and study all the new fighting techniques they possessed. The newness of the situation took Goku’s mind off his decision to stay dead but King Kai knew the crash will come when it hits Goku on what he did.

 Which was now.

 Time passed differently in the afterlife and Goku spent several days from Grand Kai’s palace. Some fighters hadn’t noticed; some had and suspected but King Kai knew why. In Earth’s time, Goku was gone for a week. King Kai thought that was too long for Goku to dwell in his own thoughts.

 He found Goku sitting on one of the high peaks of a mountain staring at the sky. King Kai settled beside him. He knew now was not the time for his terrible jokes. He saw the sadness in the warrior’s eyes and knew he was thinking of his family and their severed connection. Being a God in his own right, the Kai of the North never needed strong ties like family. He had a connection to Bubbles and Gregory and his precious car but it wasn’t like the feelings Goku shared for his family. Spending time with Goku he understood the human emotions to it and why humans (some) cherish it.

 “King Kai, can connections be established again if it’s severed for a long time like years?”

 “Of course, Goku. You know no matter how many years you are apart, you will never lose that connection to your family. Just keep remembering them and know the next time you see them, you won’t be apart again.” He had a wife and son he thought about but King Kai knew his current feelings were for his wife. He said goodbye to his son but not to her. “Your wife, ChiChi, will be so happy to see you again.”

 Goku looked away to briefly rub his eyes. “Really?”

 King Kai patted Goku’s back again. Sometimes he really was an innocent child who needed reassurance. “I’m sure of it, Goku.”

 Seven Years Later

 It was raining again but Goku didn’t think the day was boring. Nope. Not anymore. After being dead for seven years, every day was fun and exciting even the dreary rainy ones. It sure was quiet. With Gohan at school and Goten in his room doing schoolwork, the day was very quiet but Goku didn’t mind. ChiChi was with him, sewing and talking of their precious, youngest son. Yesterday, during a hike with Goku, he ripped his shirt off a tree branch. That was the story Goten told her but ChiChi knew her son was sparring with his Daddy.

 ChiChi sorted her knitting basket pulling out balls of yarns and spools. “Oh, dear. I think I ran out of orange.” ChiChi pulled a red spool from her knitting basket. “But I think this red thread will match nicely with Goten’s shirt.”

 Red thread? It was as if a clap of thunder struck him. He has been home for nearly two months and he forgot again. He snatched the spool from ChiChi. Yup. Yup. This was it. Goku unfurled a short string and wrapped it around his left pinky. Hmm not enough he decided. Goku extended it to wrap around his ring finger. Nope. Still not enough. He wrapped it around his middle, forefinger and thumb. He looped a red thread around his wrist. The more the better Goku thought but to be sure, he wrapped string around the pinky of his right hand and ChiChi’s left pinky.

 “Goku,” ChiChi looked at the thread linking her and Goku’s hands, “what are you doing?” She was deeply appreciative Goku was back and loved enjoying his company again but there were times like now he truly confused her and she wasn’t in the mood for any games. “You suddenly took my thread. I’m fixing Goten’s cloth.”

 “ChiChi, you remember this?” The red spool of thread she bought at the market? Not really. “‘The Red Thread of Fate’?” Oh. That. It had been so long but ChiChi remembered sharing the story when they were newlyweds. Goku didn’t understand then and ChiChi didn’t think Goku really cared or remembered but he did.

 “You…..” ChiChi was awed and so happy to be wrong, “you remembered.”

 Goku confirmed with a nod. “You said this will connect us until we die….. but I died already before. I forgot to do this when I came back from Yardrat.” He felt a little silly now as he stared at his hands. Perhaps, he did go too far wrapping it. “So I used this thread to link us again. It’ll work, right?” He was optimistic it will work but he needed ChiChi’s assurance. “See? Not only the little finger but I tied my whole hand.” ChiChi didn’t speak but the tears in her eyes and her beautiful smile told him all he needed to know. It will work. “Yes, it sure will.”

 “Yes, it will work,” ChiChi choked overwhelmed with tears. He remembered. He understood. “Oh, Goku,” ChiChi grabbed Goku’s hands and linked them with hers. “Thank you. You don’t know how much it means you remember.”

 “Ah, ChiChi,” ChiChi being so happy always warmed his heart. “Don’t cry. You know what that does to me.”

 “I can’t help it. You’ve made me so happy. We’ll always be together,” ChiChi promised. “No matter what.” A silly tale or a story with seeds of truth, ChiChi knew she and Goku will always be together.

[theji]

Song of the Moment: 匿名的宝贝 Anonymous Darling

Today's song recommendation isn't directly related to Yizhan but rather, a BJYX fan fiction [As You Wish]. The original Chinese version is considered a classic within the fandom and there's even a book version of it now. I first read the fic about 3 months ago after seeing it in @rainbowsky's recommendations list. It's a long read, more than 90K words but I finished it in one sitting. That's how invested I was in the storyline.

(Side note: thank you Rainbowsky for the list. Your recommendations are excellent and most of them are right up my alley. If anyone's keen, here's the list. Check it out!)

I re-read it again last night and it just hit me even deeper the second time around. First time was really just to get the plot moving along but on my second read, you get to see more of the nuances, pick up clues that you missed previously. Generally just got more deeply into the main characters' headspace.

What I like about it is its simplicity and realistic portrayal of life and love - two people who understood the realities of life's circumstances and chose to put themselves first, and that any relationships take effort and courage to work. There's no fancy or dramatic plotlines, no major conflicts or antagonists or whatever, but it just draws you in.

Two ex-lovers, meeting again, walking on eggshells, awkward conversations, testing boundaries, wanting but held back by fear and uncertainties. Of personal growth and maturity. Of love lost and not found, but rather, rebuilt. It's not a fairy tale - there's light angst, some tension, sweet moments, awkwardness, etc but a worthwhile read, I assure you. I'm even planning to read the fic in Chinese next to experience it as the author intended.

Anyway, back to the song. Anonymous Darling is a 2004 song released by Singaporean singer-songwriter/rocker Huang Yida. I had known of this song back then when I was a teen cos my sis was a fan of him. We even went to his autograph session 😅. In the fic, the song is quite a central part of the plot, like a theme song of sorts, and the lyrics were used to portray some of the characters' innermost thoughts. After re-reading the fic, I put the song on replay. All the feels...hence the inspiration for this post.

Anonymous Darling is a love song, but a bittersweet one. It's about someone who once had a great love but then lost it. Instead of pining over it or being resentful or nonchalant, they chose to keep it hidden deep within their own heart, to safeguard it. The love and yearning is still there, it's still beautiful, it's precious. Even if it doesn't come to fruition, it won't ever be forgotten.

我思念在你眼中那一片海水 How I miss the view of the sea (tears?) in your eyes

有一种让我心痛的美 It's devastatingly beautiful

于是我选择自已孤单的睡 That's why I chose to sleep alone (to leave)

下半辈子让我不相信的理由 我想是你对不对 I guess you're the reason why I stopped believing for the rest of my life

妳是个匿名的宝贝 藏在我心里的眼泪 You're an anonymous darling, hidden in the tears within my heart

不管妳带走了什么 我都因为爱过妳觉得美 No matter what you take away, I'll always find it (the relationship) beautiful because I once loved you

永远不忘记妳的我 像一个孤魂和野鬼 I will never forget you, just like a lonely soul and wild ghost

在这个世界上受苦 风吹雨打 我都无所谓 Even if I have to suffer hardships or endure the wind and rain, it doesn't matter at all.

妳是个匿名的宝贝 常在我心里飞呀飞 You're an anonymous darling, fluttering around in my heart

如果还能有那一天 请妳 回头看我一眼醒了没 If that day ever comes, please turn back to look at me and see if I've woken up

不必安慰我 妳知道我不累 oh 爱妳怎么会累 Don't need to comfort me, you know I'm not tired. How can loving you be tiring

再一次站在雨中看着天黑 Standing once again in the rain looking up at the dark sky

我觉得我在人海里潜水 It feels like I'm diving in a sea of people

带妳的名字飞往东南西北 Carrying your name with me to North, South, East, West

我要让这个地球上除了我 再也没有人能知道 妳是谁 妳又是我的谁 Except me, I don't want anyone else in this world to know who you are, and who you are to me.

I hope you'll enjoy today's song recommendation. It really brought back memories of my teenage days. Haha..and also enhanced my appreciation of the fic. Sorry, this post was not meant to be a fic recommendation but I'd be happy to discuss the story separately with anyone who's keen.

Since I'm on it, might as well recommend a few other Huang Yida songs that I liked back then. I think he's now focusing more on song writing and has penned songs for several hit drama series in China. He's on Spotify too.

(Ok I realised I like a lot of them so I'll just list some. I love soft rock, which he does very well.)

That Girl Said To Me

Blue Sky

That Girl

Every Day and Every Night

Only Understand When You Love

Love Under the Microscope

Go Away

Like You (Like Me)

A Second of Comfort

Equilateral Triangle

A Song to Myself

Heart Disk

Simple (fun fact: GG's idol Stefanie Sun penned the melody to this. In fact, Yida was dubbed 'the male version of Stef Sun' when he debuted.)

[mothdalf]

@finweanladiesweek

DAY ONE: Míriel Þerindë and Indis

I’ve depicted them both in their wedding gowns here, sort of two different moments in time linked together.

Under the cut is a VERY long head-canon/meta that eventually kind of turned into a fic, hidden in case you just want to focus on the art.

Indis is a Vanyar lady from the House of Ingwë, I like to think she was close in age to Finwë and they met when the Vanyar and Noldor first arrived in Valinor. They end up dancing and socialising at pretty much every event and are pretty good friends. That friendship has the potential to change into something romantic. But what’s the rush? They’re immortal. He’s a king, finally establishing a safe place for his people. There’s no danger here. No need to produce heirs. No need to marry the first person you dance with.

Míriel didn’t enter the picture until later. I like to think of her as half-Telerin hence her silver hair. Her parents were a Noldor nis and a Telerin ner who met during the great journey, her mother choosing to remain with her husband and the Teleri who lingered East of the sea. As a result Míriel was born on Tol Eressëa, and is quite a bit younger than Finwë and Indis.

Despite her typically Telerin looks, Míriel was a Noldor at heart and immersed herself in Noldorin culture and craft, soon settling on embroidery and weaving. She even journeyed to the House of Vairë to further her textiles skills and learn from the Vala and her Maiar.

I like the idea that many elves in Valinor follow a specific Valar, learning from them and acting as emissaries and ambassadors and links between them and the elves. Any elf can choose this (e.g. Celegorm and Oromë) but it is more common among the Vanyar. It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So they meet in the House of Vairë. And they’re very different. Indis is philosophical, interested in the themes, and the music, and the history of Vairë’s tapestries; Míriel inspects the stitches with a magnifying glass, and has to be stopped more than once from teasing the fibres apart to see how they’re woven together.

Indis channels logic and a cool composure, very insightful and granted foresight in many matters. She’s mindful, and always present, finding pleasure in this very moment. Míriel buzzes with ideas, sometimes her head hurts and she can’t think straight because she HAS to work through this next project, move on to the next one, she can’t step away she can’t stop. And her composure can be obliterated by one blow to her pride.

But somehow the friendship works, opposites attract sometimes. And upon their return from the house of Vairë, Míriel invites Indis to Alqualondë. And after that they visit each other often, and share letters once Míriel has learned to write Sarati. And if those letters ever start to take on a more flirting tone- well there’s no rush for them either.

It’s on one of these visits that they run into Finwë, Indis introduces her new friend, and the rest is history. It’s only after this that Indis turns her keen insight on herself and has an “oh shhiiit” moment. And now her best friends are engaged and what is she supposed to do?

She helps Míriel dress for her wedding day, arranging jewels, combing her hair, lifting the heavy embroidered fabric of the wedding dress she worked for months on over her head, and finally placing her crown on top.

They’re happy. She’s happy for them. There’s no betrayal or tricks or seduction, just love. Besides it’s probably better Finwë marries a Noldor woman anyway.

So when Míriel announces that she’s expecting a baby, Indis is sure the dull foreboding she feels is nothing but jealousy from a deep part of herself that she tries to shut away. She watches and helps Míriel as she pours all her creative efforts into beautiful things for this baby. Toys and clothes and blankets and anything else she can think of. Indis teases that the child won’t have to repeat an outfit for at least 100years at this rate. They take a trip back to the place they met and work together at one of Vairë’s vast looms to make a tapestry mural for the nursery.

But soon the frenzied crafting starts to slow. And slow more. Until Míriel barely bothers to do anything. People who know her are worried, but she just takes her husbands hand and says that she’s tired, after all she is working on something special at the moment.

When Fëanáro is born Indis watches her friend scream and curse, and eventually weep with joy as she whispers to her husband “he’s the most perfect thing we’ve ever made”

Things do get better for a while. But Míriel’s eye starts to twitch when people congratulate Finwë on their son, until eventually she barks out “of course he’d get the credit! I only did all the hard work” in a rough, sarcastic laugh that’s so unlike her. She doesn’t go to any formal events after this.

She sobs to her husband that she’s frightened. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s happy, except that she’s not. She finds no joy and no inspiration, she’s cold and tired and feels like she’s fading away.

Finwë suggests a trip away, so they go back to Míriels house in Alqualondë, and she doesn’t feel as watched, as judged, less angry and paranoid.

But the grief doesn’t lift. She can’t settle to work, she can’t find anything she wants to work on, her head is emptied of ideas and full of fog and she just wants to sleep.

Indis comes to visit them and finds Míriel in the nursery one evening, crying quietly. At first she won’t talk, simply saying that she doesn’t want to wake him, but the tears don’t stop and eventually she whimpers that she’s scared, and she’s disgusted with herself. Because she loves her son so much, but she can’t help but resent him. In some small dark part of her mind she’s angry with him, for taking her happy life away from her, taking her strength and her drive.

Indis takes her hands and pulls her to her feet and down the stairs to Finwë. “we’re going to Lorien. Tonight. Staying here isn’t helping her and she needs more than this.” She towers over both of them and there’s no arguing with her tone.

Irmo and Estë help all they can. Nienna helps more. Eventually Míriel calms. Almost eerily.

One night she calls Indis to the garden of Lorien. Míriel embraces her and kisses her cheeks and thanks her for her help. She holds her hands and tells her she’s sorry, but she’s made her choice.

Indis tried to change her mind. So does Finwë when he runs toward the sound of a raised voice. Not Míriel this time.

She asks Indis for a moment with her husband. And Indis runs to fetch Fëanáro.

She hands the baby to Míriel and asks how she can leave him, he needs her.

Míriel’s face crumples but her resolve doesn’t. “I’ve already given him everything I have”

She presses the baby into her husbands arms and kisses him before lying down on the stone bench and closing her eyes. Míriel sighs, finally feeling peaceful, and doesn’t breath again.

After the resulting uproar has died down, Indis doesn’t see Finwë very much. She visits occasionally and reads his letters about Fëanáro’s brilliant progress eagerly, but nothing is ever as it was.

When they meet again by accident on Oiolossë, it all comes back to them both. They’ve missed each other, they miss Miriel, but they don’t have to loose each other. So they fall in love, and she comes back with him to Tirion while they make a plan. Fëanáro (the equivalent of a 10yo) is wonderfully pleasant to her, he asks about his mother a lot, and shows her all the things he’s learning about and working on. He’s so like Miriel that Indis doesn’t know how Finwë stands it.

When they first tell him that they want to get married, he doesn’t think much of it, at least until he picks up on the gossip and controversy, it’s only then that he starts to realise that something is different.

Indis gets ready for her own wedding without her best friend.

Fëanáro doesn’t take the Statute well, and the problems start. He decides to move away to continue his studies. Indis is not invited to visit him when his Father is.

Finwë is terrified when Indis gets pregnant with their first child, but she’s not. “I am not Miriel. As much as some might wish that were the case.”

The relationship between Fëanáro and his half siblings is a whole separate post. But the things he says about her and her children hurt Indis.

Sometimes she wants to scream at him “I knew your mother! I was her friend! I lost her too! She would hate to hear you talk to me this way!” but she won’t. She can see how he feels and she understands why, but this doesn’t mean she takes the way he treats her children lightly, and he wishes Finwë would back her more in this. But she bares it, and she teaches her children to be kind.

This all changes with the incident. Fëanáro can lash out, he can say cruel things, but he has never threatened one of her children before. And he never will again if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. She hears the Valar’s judgement, and knows she will comfort Finwë over his sons banishment, as much as she is grateful for it.

The rage she feels when Finwë decides to go with him is cosmic. But it’s when she sees Nolofinwë’s face that she snaps. She tells him with eyes sharper than any sword that if he chooses to go, he can never come back to her. No matter what happens between his sons, she will never forgive him for what he’s doing to her’s.

The news of his death makes her heart hurt in the strangest way. She’s closed herself off from him but the pain bleeds through. At least now he can be with Miriel, she thinks. He made it clear where his heart truly lay when he left. She laughs until she sobs, then composes herself to comfort her children.

She nearly sends Fëanáro to reunite with his father in Mandos when he insights her children and grandchildren to follow him across the sea. She nearly faints when Arafinwë comes back baring tidings of the kinslaying, the streets Míriel showed her around littered with bodies and the beach they would walk along in the evening wet with blood.

Indis stands beside her youngest son when he’s crowned and moves back into her old rooms in Tirion, abandoned when Finwë left for Formenos. After all, she’s been a ruling queen for longer than Arafinwë has lived. She’ll make a good advisor.

In Mandos Míriel is faced by the life she chose to leave behind. First her husband, and then her son. She speaks with Finwë for a long time, and many hurts are healed, but they’ve both made choices they can’t take back. Míriel stands by her decision, she chose to stay, at least in part so Finwë could move on, they make their peace with other, and she encourages him to return and make peace with his other wife. News of their son’s death stops him. He knows that he will remain, it’s with Fëanáro that his heart truly lies, not Míriel, whatever Indis may think. So he appeals for her to be allowed to leave in his place, every inch the king as he points out that the statute will remain unbroken.

She is allowed to see Fëanáro once before she leaves. There are no words for how she feels. So sad, so proud. She’s so sorry to leave him again, but she promises to watch over his sons.

Míriel returns to life, but she doesn’t return to the life she left. She stays close to the halls, and goes to a timeless place, but one she knows well.

It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So much is different, and there’s a lot to work through, and it’s hard. But being back where they began, with a new life for each of them, is made easier with this reprise of their youth.

And if, as their friendship blooms again into a new form, Míriel eventually asks about the specific wording of the statute, and what it means for them being the two living parts of this three person marriage, well- there’s no rush to figure it out.

[shenglingyuan]

title: the second chance we didn't ask for (ao3) pairing: gojo satoru/geto suguru both satoru and suguru are free from the prisons that bound them, but returning to life is another matter entirely.

The Zen’in estate boasts of its wide space and multiple residences, a feature Satoru is able to take advantage of. After being released from the Prison Realm with a death sentence hanging over his head, there really isn’t anywhere he can go. Suguru’s case is worse, of course, this death sentence is his second one. He might have been able to take back control of his body, but it doesn’t erase the crimes he and that ancient sorcerer did while residing inside him.

If it was up to Satoru, he wouldn’t drag Megumi into this any further. The boy — now the undisputed leader of the prominent Zen’in Clan — insisted, owing it to the fact that Satoru kept him and his sister under his care when they had no place to go to.

“Sorry for troubling you, Clan Leader Zen’in.”

“Please, Gojo-sensei, you should be the last person calling me that. Besides, I’m an accomplice anyway.” With the passing of the years came Megumi’s mastery of the Ten Shadows Technique, granting Satoru this freedom. “The last place they’d look for is their own backyard, won’t they?”

“That’s smart. Your teacher must be really great.”

Megumi ignores his lousy attempt at a façade and jabs directly at the issue at hand, “How is he?”

For a moment, Satoru’s shoulders seem to drop, but he immediately straightens up, as if that moment of small weakness was but an illusion.

“I don’t know, but I’m working on it. No worries, he’s no threat with me around.”

“I’m not worried about him.”

Time didn’t pass for Satoru inside the Prison Realm, but the world has moved on without waiting for him. He looks at Megumi without having to lower his gaze, smiles genuinely, and reaches out to ruffle the boy’s hair, “So responsible already. Don’t worry about me, either. I can handle this.”

-

Though the Zen’in estate is big, Satoru and Suguru had to reside in one of its smaller, unused quarters, leaving them with a small space with the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and the bedroom altogether. At least, the bathroom was a separate structure on its own, albeit it’s not big enough for comfort. Satoru thinks this is still better than none, besides, with this arrangement, he can keep an eye on Suguru all the time.

Suguru isn’t too keen on the fact that he’s being guarded, but it’s not like he can put up a fight either way. That ancient sorcerer’s plan released all the curses he had so far collected and left him with very basic ones. He did try to resist before, almost at the cost of their small quarters, but without his previous arsenal, he isn’t much of a match for Satoru.

“Keeping me here is pointless.”

It was the first conversational sentence Suguru drops several days after they have settled in the Zen’in estate, spoken over a lukewarm cup of black coffee. The television blares unintelligibly on the corner, its volume never loud enough to be heard beyond the walls of their small room.

Satoru looks up from his own cup, just having dropped the fourth cube of sugar in it.

“The world is after my head,” Suguru adds.

“They are after me, too, don’t think you’re so special.”

“You’re a vital member of the Gojo clan… No matter how the higher-ups seem to hate you, if you just bring my head to them, they’ll have to forgive your previous offenses. There’s no use in keeping me here, I’m a criminal.”

“I need no forgiveness. Not from them.”

Suguru ignores the implication. “Just kill me already.”

“Death is not the only path. You’re just being a coward, Suguru.”

“What? Do you want me to spend this second life repenting for all the lives I took? I still don’t care about them, Satoru.”

“Repentance? Both of us…we’re beyond that. You’ve killed people. I’ve brought people to their deaths. There’s already too much blood in our hands.”

“Then should we die together?” Suguru smiles — it is anything but sincere. Satoru has almost forgotten what his real smile looks like.

Satoru drops another cube of sugar. “We will, but not anytime soon.”

-

Satoru sleeps next to Suguru, not because he hopes to form some intimacy through contact, nor to make sure he will not run away in the middle of the night, but because there are times where terrors unseen haunt Suguru’s slumber, Satoru would need to hold him down lest he ends up hurting himself. He used to keep the distance as well, sleeping on the couch, but after one close call, Satoru didn’t want to take another chance.

It was also during these moments where Suguru’s walls are at their lowest, and they could have a semblance of a proper and civil conversation.

“What is it this time?” Satoru asks, almost an involuntary response at this point, his hand already smoothing Suguru’s hair, rubbing circles down his back.

“He’s trying to creep in again.” His voice is hoarse, low, almost inaudible, as if in fear that when he speaks loud enough, the nightmare will turn into reality. “He says…this brain is his…and he can return anytime he wants…”

When Suguru is like this, Satoru can hold him close without being pushed away, and so Satoru does, wrapping Suguru tightly between his arms.

“You’re stronger than him, you took over him. That bastard won’t own you again.”

“If I die, it’ll finally be over.”

“You won’t die. Not on my watch.”

-

With the small space and bare minimum mode of entertainment, Satoru resorts to watching movies with Suguru to pass the time.

Well, to call it ‘watching with’ is too much of a stretch.

“What do you want to watch today?” Satoru asks, as usual.

Suguru doesn’t respond, as usual too, remaining seated on the corner of the bed, always seemingly creating as much physical distance he could between the two of them. Whatever closeness they would have during Suguru’s nightmares dissipates as if it never existed in the first place.

Satoru eventually gives up with a sigh, picking a 2008 horror movie from the selection this time.

“I’m guessing you haven’t seen this yet.”

He loads the disc onto the player, then settles himself on the end of the small couch. It’s some sort of an unspoken invitation, one that Suguru never entertains.

The film plays, the film ends.

It’s a daily cycle.

-

Every now and then, Megumi drops by personally, providing them with their daily necessities. In this situation, his Ten Shadow Techniques are particularly useful for hiding the things he brings them, only pulling it out once he is within the four walls of the small quarters. They can’t be too careless, after all. Whenever Megumi arrives, Satoru takes it upon himself to do the cooking and even sets aside a portion for Megumi himself.

“How is it outside?”

“Curses are still running rampant,” Megumi says, his tone as if still a student reporting to his teacher. Nevertheless, his bearing has become more and more that of a clan leader, “There’s quite a lot, so it will really take some time.”

The responsible person is quietly laying down the bed — whether he is truly asleep or just pretending, Satoru just lets him be. The sizzle of the oil as he pours the ingredients onto the pan fills in the momentary silence.

“And how is being a clan leader?”

“I think I can understand why the late elder Naobito was drinking all the time.”

“Haha, now don’t go picking up his habit. You’ve got a former clan head before you here, just ask for my help if you need it.”

“I feel like Kamo-san would know more about being a clan head than you.”

“Was never one to deal with family politics anyway.”

“Don’t worry about the affairs of the Gojo family. Okkotsu-san is making sure your family won’t lose its place.”

“I knew I could always rely on the new generation.”

“But Gojo-sensei, many of us still do rely on you.”

“A habit that must be changed.” Satoru turns off the stove and transfers the food onto the prepared bowl. “It’s for this very reason the incident at Shibuya became possible.”

His eyes wander to Suguru’s figure then, and he notices how tense the other man’s shoulders are. In fact, they really haven’t talked much about that time. The ancient sorcerer knew of Satoru’s weakness; Satoru wonders if Suguru himself came to realize it.

“No, I mean...,” Megumi seems to want to say something else, but in the end, he just sighs in defeat, “Never mind.”

“Don’t be thinking too much. Here, have this,” Satoru gives him a bowl of the freshly cooked stir fry, “Added some extra ginger especially for you.”

He takes another look at Suguru —— he doesn’t seem to be planning in joining them. In the end, Satoru decides to eat dinner with Megumi. It’s only when Megumi bid his farewell and left the room did Suguru finally move, only catching a glimpse of his retreating figure.

“Your dinner’s ready,” Satoru tells him, “It’s still a bit warm.”

Suguru stays seated on the bed, his eyes still at the door. “Megumi, that kid, he looks oddly familiar.”

“Remember Zen’in Toji?” A frown forms on Suguru’s forehead, his lips pursing rather unhappily. Satoru immediately quips, “Well, Megumi’s his son. Megumi didn’t know anything about his father’s shady business, and they were left without parents, too, so I took him under my care.”

“He seems to be quite dependent on you.”

“Is he? That kid hates asking me for help.”

“When he said many of them still rely on you, he was probably referring to himself. I know that tone.”

“From where? The two kids you had with you?”

Suguru suddenly stops responding. It’s apparent that the topic of the two girls is something he didn’t want to talk about. Though Suguru never told him about what happened, Satoru has been able to connect the dots from the first report of Suguru’s crime to the time he showed up in Jujutsu Tech to declare war.

But still, he wished that Suguru can tell it to him in his own words. There’s so much that happened in the last decade, cleaving an immeasurable distance in the space between them — an emptiness about the people and things and circumstances that shaped them to be the people that they are now.

“It’s funny though,” Satoru tests the waters, trying to fill the gap starting from his own side, “Back then, we said we’d run away together with Amanai if she wanted to. We failed on that part, but—”

“We still ended up babysitting,” Suguru continues for him, the tension on his shoulders replaced by a sudden weight, “I guess Riko-chan got the best deal out of that incident.”

“The girls—”

“I’m not hungry.” Suguru cuts him off immediately, lays back on the bed, and turns around, covering himself with a blanket. He obviously didn’t want to talk about his own share of babysitting, so Satoru lets the conversation go.

For now, Satoru bottles his many questions —

Why did you run away?

Why didn’t you force me to come with you?

Why didn’t you tell me all the things that have bothered you?

Why did you suffer with your thoughts in silence?

If I tried a little harder, would you have come with me?

There are so many things to talk about, many things that can’t be talked about. Patience is one of Satoru’s virtues, and when it comes to Suguru, it becomes the greatest.

-

Many times, he catches Suguru staring at his own reflection in the mirror…no, not at his reflection, but the wound lining his forehead. Satoru isn’t as skilled as Shoko in terms of healing others — the skull is intact, the wound is gone, but the scar remains, a reminder to them both every single day.

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

It takes a while before Suguru replies. “A bit.”

“A full bangs will hide the scars.”

A small smile starts to form on the edges of Suguru’s lips, but it disappears in a flash, replaced by a melancholy look on his face, “Mimiko and Nanako would have loved to see that.”

“Are those…their names?”

“…Yes.”

The girls he saved and raised throughout these years, to whom he exchanged his status as a sorcerer to be a curse user, just so he can provide them a better life. After all that’s happened, their place is still big in his heart. Not a single ash could be recovered in the ruins left by Sukuna, and so Suguru mourns with only the memories the girls have left him, memories his body was able to keep despite death.

Later in bed, Suguru weeps quietly. Satoru holds him. In between them, there is silence.

-

Satoru loads a 2009 suspense thriller this time, one that he himself hasn’t had the chance to watch yet for some reason. With a bowl of popcorn in tow, he settles himself at the end of the couch.

The film starts.

Just as the title appears, he feels the couch shift.

Satoru holds his breath, turns to look —— Suguru sits next to him, his legs already crossed comfortably.

“Mind if I watch with you?” he asks.

Satoru smiles, offering him the bowl, “Not at all.”

The film plays. The film ends.

And by the time it does, Suguru’s head is already resting Satoru’s shoulder, and Satoru’s head on Suguru’s. The positions are so familiar even though it has been over ten years since they were last together like this. The credits roll and neither of them moves.

“It sucked.” Suguru is the first one to speak.

“Sure did,” Satoru lets out a laugh, “Want to watch another one?”

“Let me pick this time.”

“Your call.”

-

“Satoru.”

Suguru calls out his name in the dark, certain that he is still awake. Satoru turns. In the dim light, he finds Suguru staring up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. His nightmares have been recurring less and less, and at times they can go a whole night with a peaceful rest.

“Can’t sleep again?”

“No, I wanted to ask you something —— Why didn’t you chase after me?”

Memories of Shinjuku are still vivid in Satoru’s mind, especially the view of Suguru’s back getting further and further away from him, his own outstretched fingers curling into a fist. Looking back at all his years, it’s the only time he has ever felt so helpless. Shibuya can’t even compare.

“You didn’t seem to be the type to be swayed if I held you back.”

“And after that? You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You have the responsibility to clean up curse users like me. Why didn’t you chase after me?”

“I didn’t want to be the one who kills you.”

Suguru turns to face him then, his expression solemn, “Yet you did.”

Satoru can’t help but reach out, running a hand over Suguru’s left arm. If there’s one thing he’d give that ancient sorcerer credit for, he fixed up Suguru quite well. “It was beyond me already. You declared war. I was under orders.”

Suguru doesn’t shy away from the touch, but neither does he reciprocate. “And what about now?”

“You and I are both fugitives. No need to follow some stupid higher-ups.”

“Freedom?”

“As free as we can be in this small quarters, yes.”

Ironic as it is, what Satoru just said was true. Step out and their tails will be chased by jujutsu sorcerers, stay in and they can maintain this pretense of liberty. In any case, it can’t be worse than staying inside the Prison Realm or being controlled by some ancient being.

“Back in Shibuya, many people died.”

“Trying to make me feel guilty?”

“Not at all. I just wanted to ask what you think of it now.”

Satoru ponders for a while, then with a sigh he says, “Can’t be helped. It’s regrettable, but it’s not like I’m a god. That brain knew me too well —— Do you still hate them? Non-sorcerers?”

“I don’t know. It used to be my fuel, but I’ve spent it all. Now I’m just…drifting.”

“Drifting isn’t bad. We can drift together over this sea of blood beneath us.”

A small laugh escapes Suguru’s lips. “Satoru, you really are so foolish. Because of me, you got sealed. Because of me, there’s a death penalty over your head. Why do you even still stay with me?”

What value does one Geto Suguru hold that the great Gojo Satoru can turn his back on the world just to be by this person’s side? Shouldn’t have it been obvious by now? Satoru can’t put all his heart’s contents into words, and so he reaches for Suguru’s hand instead and places a soft kiss on his palm.

“I’ve let you go twice,” he whispers, his breath warming Suguru’s cold hands, “and they both turned out to be very bad decisions.” Satoru looks up, meeting Suguru’s astonished gaze in the dim light, “I’m not letting you go again.”

-

Despite the chaos unleashed in the world, humanity still observed festivities, especially something like Setsubun as it concerns the cleansing of evil spirits. It also happens to be Suguru’s birthday. Upon Satoru’s request, Megumi drops by their small quarters and brings them food apt for the occasion. Satoru takes it from him with much gratitude and prepares the table, inviting him to eat with them.

It is a bit awkward, after all, Suguru has never really interacted with this young Zen’in clan head. His uncanny resemblance with Fushiguro Toji also rails up his fight-or-flight tendency, as if his body remembers the person who quite turned his world upside down.

“What?” Megumi suddenly asks him, the boy’s own shoulders tense, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Suguru offers a weak smile, “I was just reminiscing — I fought your father once.”

Megumi visibly relaxes, very much unlike when he asked the same question to Satoru over a decade ago. “Apparently, I did, too.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know he was my father at that time. I just came to know recently.”

“He’s crazy strong.”

“That he was.”

“Satoru looked after you?”

“He occasionally dropped by, but he’s no more a parent than my negligent father.”

“Hey—,” Satoru tries to butt in the conversation and save his reputation—

“No wonder. I thought you’re too good of a person to have been brought up by this nuisance.”

It’s useless.

“I heard that.”

“I was only speaking the truth —— Fushiguro Megumi, isn’t it? I apologize for imposing on you,” Suguru’s tone shifts, his fingers wrung together on top of his knees, “I don’t have anything to offer in return, I even had your sister caught up in all this mess. I can only thank you for letting me stay here unnoticed.”

“I’m no saint, I also have my personal biases. And I didn’t do this for you. Since Gojo-sensei asked for it, it’s nothing I can’t do. Besides, my sister’s issue has already been resolved, no need to hold onto things that are past. Just…whatever your issue is, please deal with it yourselves.”

Just in time, Satoru finishes laying down the food on the table, a small cake with a single candle lit on top taking the center spot. His eyes meet Suguru’s, his lips curving up in a soft smile. “Don’t worry, we’re already working on it.”

-

“We can be like…I don’t know…rogue jujutsu sorcerers or something. There are too many curses running about, I’m sure they won’t notice us if we do clean up some. We'll be doing them a great favor, too, you know?”

In the end, the two of them decided they can’t stay in the Zen’in estate forever. Sprawled on the bed, they’ve been discussing how to move forward with limited resources and a death penalty over their heads.

“You’re too noticeable for us to keep lowkey.”

Satoru suddenly stops, not failing to hear Suguru’s use of the word “us”. A sudden warmth blossomed in his chest, like the first ray of sunshine after a long, arduous, winter. It’s the onset of spring within his reach.

“Maybe if we eliminate all the released curses, they’d provide us both amnesties.”

“I released them, remember? The moment anyone from the jujutsu society sees me, I’m as good as dead.”

“I won’t allow that, of course.”

“No need to be so gallant. We can just run away after.”

“Where to?”

Suguru doesn’t even miss a beat when he replies, “Anywhere.”

-

“Gojo-sensei, are you sure about this?”

Under the cover of the night, three silhouettes huddle in an obscure corner of the Zen’in estate.

“We don’t want to overstay our welcome either,” Satoru smiles.

“You won’t,” Megumi assures him, “You’ve taken care of me for nine years, after all.”

“Then I’ll come back to settle the rest of your debt when things calm down, okay?” Satoru reaches out to pat Megumi’s hair one last time, “For now, we’ll have to deal with our lives on our own.”

“Please don’t die,” Megumi says with a stern look. “And please don’t get yourself sealed again.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?”

With a final farewell, Megumi retreats back into the Zen’in estate.

It’s only until his figure disappears that Satoru finally turns around and faces Suguru. He stretches out an arm, reaching for him. The weak moonlight brings an almost glittery sheen over his hair, reflecting the galaxy on his eyes. The sight is so beautiful it’s almost breathtaking — they haven’t been out for a while, and now, in just a few steps, it will be the road to freedom.

Together.

“Let’s go?”

Suguru takes his hand.

[pineslycan]

Ford and Stan's Personality Types Headcanon:

When writing fictional characters that have complex inner lives/relationships, personality types are a nice tool to have; it helps understand where they're coming from. While we don't know of any official personality types of either of the Stan twins, I have a good inkling as to what they most likely fall under. So under this cut, I'm going to present my case and hope that it helps or inspires others in their writing of Stanford and Stanley. Below, I will give a brief summary of what I believe to be the two’s separate personality types.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stanford Pines: INTP-T (the logician) important info bolded.

The logician is a pretty rare personality type, but not one uncommon in fiction with Spock and Neo both pretty solidly theorized to possess it. In real life, historical examples include Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton. It makes up 3% of the population and usually described as the kind of people most likely to make scientific discoveries and contributions. It is hard to lie to a logician as their pattern sensing capabilities are a well honed skill - a reason why they make good numbers in the IQ department, as high intelligence is mostly noticing patterns and collecting data. This makes them keen hunters of problems and devoted to find detailed solutions, that usually are pretty unconventional - don’t expect a quick report, they will sort through notes many times before you get a peek. They pride themselves on their intellect and uniqueness, but as a downside often times getting lost in theories and debate with themselves. They have a hard time talking to others without turning them into someone to list off information to. Often they are described to be in a never-ending daydream, their minds buzzing with ideas the moment they wake. The constant thinking of the INTP can make them seem very pensive and detached, while they are having full on heated debates in their heads. They are almost exclusively relaxed with people whom they know or that share interests. They are often crippled with overwhelming shyness, and banter can turn cold if their theories or conclusions are being criticized. When excited, conversation can border on being incoherent as they tend to not lay things out in plain terms. The opposite can also be true, where others’ conversations are so plain that an INTP will lose interest completely - even more so when emotion tends to be involved. They are unlikely to understand emotional complaints, suggestions usually coming off as harsh to more sensitive people. They are restless in their pervasive fear of failure. Constantly reassessing thoughts, they worry they missed a critical piece of a puzzle and can get lost in self-doubt. The intellectual gifts they have to offer though, are truly large in scale. Their objective, open-minded approach to analytical and abstract thoughts make them one of a kind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stanley Pines: ESTP-A (the entrepreneur) important info bolded.

To the entrepreneur, life is either an adventure or nothing at all. Making up 4% of the population, fictional characters like Hank Schrader and Jaime Lannister share the spotlight along with people such as Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis. Easy going, honest, charming, and tolerant, when asked to take the stage, ESTP’s never flinch in their answer. They love to be the center of attention, entertaining with a blunt sense of humor, they are the life of the party. Things like abstract thoughts or questions do not keep them interested - they have a good dose of intelligence, but they like to talk about what is going on right now. You won’t find an entrepreneur planning out an evening, rather they’ll dive headfirst and just go out and do it. Always leaping before they look, they have to fix mistakes along the way and don’t sit very idle. This makes them pretty prone to making some risky lifestyle choices, living fully in the moment that can very well be the eye of the storm. If they aren’t careful, their own health and safety is forgotten. Things can go too far, caught up in their own energy. They immensely enjoy drama, passion, pleasure - but not for emotional thrill, but because it stimulates their logical mind. This way of life forces them to make critical decisions in reality on the basis of rapid-fire stimulus - if you asked though, they wouldn’t have it any other way. It can make school and organized environments a challenge. It isn’t due to a lack of being smart, but the formal approach is not the hands-on learning ESTP’s enjoy. They use their own moral compass rather someone else’s, and rules are meant to be broken. When this is harnessed with some maturity, it’s easily a way to create new and exciting opportunities. One of the most perceptive types of people, the entrepreneur has a unique ability to notice small changes, and can pick up on hidden thoughts and motives that others cannot. While ESTP’s are a risk-prone, intense, unstructured, and defiant group, the bold originality of their direct, practical, sociability is magnetizing. They may miss the bigger picture at times and be a little impatient, but they’re here to keep things spicy. Full of passion, although sometimes distracted, they’re natural leaders, pulling everyone on the path less traveled with them anywhere they go. And they’re always going somewhere, because they are people of action, doing what can be done rather than thinking about what could be.

☆ Let me know what you think of this or if it helps in any way!

[songtoyou]

PRomance - Part Two

Paring: Chris Evans x Famous Reader

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,662

Warnings: None

Description: Chris needs some good press. He convinces one of his closest friends to partake in a PRomance.

A/N: This idea came to me one night. This is pure fiction as I do not know what Chris believes when it comes to politics and policy issues. This is a complete work of fiction. Italic represents flashbacks for this chapter. Bold represents text messages.

I do not permit my work to be to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list:  @ccolz88-blog​ @katiew1973​ @southerngracela​ @inlovewith3​ @thevelvetseries​ 

Note: Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

Chris had been so wrapped with interviews while in D.C. for ASP. He was excited about some downtime. However, Chris knew he would not be able to enjoy himself too much. Tonight was the night of the official “outing” he would have with you. The hired paparazzi would be staked out of the selected hotel and restaurant to capture pictures of you and Chris entering and exiting both establishments. You mentioned to Chris and Megan that the first outing needed to be simple and not extreme. The outing should draw attention but not appear out of the ordinary. 

It was not like you and Chris had never been photographed together. The fans were used to seeing you both hangout from time-to-time. As Megan mentioned, the two of you always had a “will they, won’t they” vibe. Neither you nor Chris paid much attention to it as neither wanted to jeopardize the friendship. However, you could not quiet the little voice in your head that told you this whole situation might end up making things worse. 

You had a couple of days off from your talk show, so you planned to travel to D.C. for the weekend. It was not lost on you that the day you traveled was Valentine’s Day, which was such a contrast to how you spent the holiday last year. Your former boyfriend was a chef who preferred the quiet and nomadic life. As you and your friends affectionately nicknamed him, Chef was never keen on participating in the Hollywood/celebrity spectacle with you, which you understood. It was not his scene, not his type of people. 

Your friendship with Chris also did not help matters as your ex could not hide his contempt for the actor. You never could quite understand the resentment. “He is just a little too friendly for my taste. The guy doesn’t understand boundaries. Like, why would he? Chris can do whatever he wants, and no one says anything against him,” Chef ranted one night.

“You don’t know Chris as I know him. Is he perfect? No, of course not. But he isn’t some evil guy you make him out to be. You have never bothered to get to know him…” you tried to counter, but Chef cut you off.

“I don’t need to get to know him. I don’t like him. Plain and simple. Y/N, you are too naïve sometimes.”

“So, basically…what you are telling me is that you don’t trust my friendship with Chris. Is that correct? You don’t trust him around me. But overall, what this tells about you is that you don’t trust?” you replied, angry at him. He was ridiculous. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight about this anymore. Let’s, I’m sorry. I do trust you.”

Unfortunately, it turned out that Chef did not trust you. The constant arguing about Chris began taking a toll on the relationship. It was too much drama that neither wanted to deal with; you both decided to go your separate ways last November. Overall, it was for the best. You did not leave the relationship with any ill contempt for your ex but were disappointed that you could not make it work out with him in the end.

Chris made sure that a car service was scheduled to pick you up from the airport and take you to the hotel. While you took the time to put away your clothes and sort out your toiletries, there was a knock on your door. Peeking through the peephole, you saw Chris and opened the door to let him inside.

“Hi!” you squealed and wrapped your arms around Chris for a hug.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Chris responded and returned the hug. “Thanks for coming out tonight and staying for the rest of the weekend. I appreciate it greatly. I know you are busy with your things, and now I got you entangled in my mess…”

“Chris, will you shut it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to. I know your intentions with this whole situation are good. I’m not going to deny that I’m happy you decided to come to me with this and not some up-and-coming starlet for this venture,” you admitted candidly.

“Well, you are one of the few people that I can truly trust. So…” Chris began as he sat down on the bed, “Everything is set for eight o’clock tonight. We have reservations at Karma Modern Indian because I know how much you love Indian food. I forgot today was Valentine’s Day, so we were lucky to get a table.”

“You forgot it was Valentine’s Day! What a disappointing fake boyfriend you are,” you teased him.

“Haha… I’ll buy you a cookie later if it makes you feel better.”

You merely rolled your eyes and lay down on the bed. You were tired. It had a long week, and the one thing you wanted to do was take a nap. Thankfully, you had a couple of hours to spare before dinner tonight. Chris could see that you were exhausted and that your eyes were now closed.

“Hey, I’ll come back later, okay. You want me to call you to let you know that you need to wake up and get ready?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as sleep overtook you, and Chris quietly got up to step out of your hotel room. 

By 6:45 p.m., the sound of your iPhone began ringing, which woke you from your slumber. “I’m up. I’m up,” you said when answering, knowing it was Chris on the other end.

“You sleep well?”

Yeah. It was a much-needed nap. I’m going to start getting ready. I’ll meet you down in the lobby at 7:50, okay?” you told Chris.

“Sounds good. See you in a bit,” Chris replied, and you both ended the call.

Once showered, you applied your makeup and styled your hair. There was the added pressure knowing that you would be photographed, so you went for a more sophisticated look. Your outfit was a white off-shoulder long sleeve sweater dress, which you accompanied with knee-high length gray boots and a burgundy leather jacket.

After giving yourself a final look over in the mirror, you grabbed your clutch and headed out to the lobby. It did not surprise you that you arrived at the lobby first as you knew Chris tended to take longer to get ready than he liked to admit. You also figured that Chris was probably dealing with anxiety, not only about ASP but the outcome of tonight as well. You decided to shoot Chris a quick text message.

You: I’m dressed and waiting in the lobby.

Chris: Okay. I’m coming down.

As you continued to wait for Chris, you looked outside the hotel and could vaguely make out the photographer standing across the street waiting for you and Chris to exit.

“Oh my God. This is going to be such a shit show,” you said quietly to yourself. Now your anxiety about the whole thing was about to resurface. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go,” said Chris as he walked towards you. “Wow! You look nice,” he commented. 

“Just nice?” you teased as you gave him a spin.

“You look gorgeous,” Chris replied.

“That’s better. There’s a photographer outside waiting. Thankfully, our driver is already waiting for us,” you told him and added, “So, remember what we went over? No looking in the direction of the photographer. We walk side-by-side. If we hold each other’s hands, we interlace them waffle style. None of that palms flat pancake style you tend to do. Okay?”

“I got it. This isn’t my first rodeo, Y/N,” Chris pointed out.

“Alright. You ready?”

“No,” he said bluntly with a grin.

“Me either. Deep breaths. We got this,” you replied with a light laugh and interlaced your right hand with Chris’s left hand. 

As you exited the hotel with Chris, you wondered again the ramifications this outing would stir amongst fans and the media. Would this be accepted or challenged? Would reputations be ruined? These are the concerns you shared with both Chris and Megan. Your manager and publicist were not keen on the PRomance situation with Chris. 

“You used to say that you would rather stick a needle in your eye than partake in desperate PR setups,” your publicist reminded you.

“And I still maintain that sentiment, but Chris is my friend, and he needs help. I would rather him come to me than scrounge around for some no-talent starlet to agree to this PR stunt. It would just end up blowing up in his face,” you said.

“Y/N, need I remind you of Hiddleswift and how that was such a disaster. Tom has never fully recovered from that fiasco,” your manager shared. “My worry is that you could end up being Tom Hiddleston in this scenario.”

“What! That is absurd! Why would I be Tom in this situation?” you asked, confused.

“You have more to lose. Listen to me; you are in the first season of your talk show. It is getting great ratings. Great reviews. NBC just signed the show on for a second season. The chances of you and the show getting nominated for the Daytime Emmy Awards are high. This thing with Chris could cause all of that to come crashing down. We don’t want you to be the butt of anyone’s jokes, sweetheart. It would be completely unwarranted,” you publicist explained and asked, “Are you sure that you want to do this?” 

“Yes, I do. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. This is Chris we are talking about; he is a good guy. He’s not going to throw me under the bus if this all turns to shit. The two of us are in this together. I trust him.”

‘God, please don’t let this blow up in our faces,’ you said to yourself once entering into the restaurant with Chris by your side.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

Downton’s Easy Company - Chapter 16

A Band of Brothers x Downton Abbey Crossover

Summary: The new generation of Downton is taking over, but just as the second world war is raging across Europe. On a cool London night, the children of the Crawleys meet the boys of the American 101st Airborne. Worlds collide and hearts are on the line.

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @purplelavalamp​​​, @johnny-martin-is-mypeanut​​​, @the-disassembled-boy​​​, @tvserie-s-world​​​, @50svibes​​​, @cherriesx​​​, @incognito-princess​​​, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​​​, @claire-bear-1218, @goingmyway​​​​, @marv-llous​​​, @foalystechcrew​​​, @mother-dearest-loves-me​​, @dench1992​​​, @neverendingstories00​​​, @greenmonkeyfish, @grumpablebutloveable​​​, @lilaxdream​​​ @iilovemusic12us​​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I hope you enjoy this update! There’s a lot of letters, but I figured they were the best way to show the time passing while they’re separated, so I hope that comes across to everyone :)

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15

OR

READ THIS FIC ON AO3

Chapter 16 here we go!!!

Dear George,

I’m so relieved you’re back in England. Let us know when you have some leave so we can prepare for you here at home. We miss you a great deal.

Katrine seems sweet enough, though she is rather private. Her boy has made himself quite comfortable, especially with Mama and Papa. We offered to hire a nanny, but Katrine wouldn’t hear of it. It seems an odd way to raise a child to me, but I suppose it comes from her own upbringing. 

You’re right about the boy being bright. Papa and I have taken initiative and are looking into some schools close by. He’s too young to enroll just yet, but we had a tutor evaluate him, and the report was quite promising. 

I do wish you’d tell me how you came by these two. I know you said they helped you when you were trapped in Holland, but I’d like the full story. Perhaps when you come home next, you and I can have a long discussion about it, and the possibilities for the Mondeels here in Yorkshire.

On an unrelated note, have you heard anything from Caroline? We haven’t seen her since before Christmas, and she has not been answering my letters. Have we done something to upset her? If you have any information, do share.

I hope you’re well, my darling.

Love,

Mother. 

***

Dear Ron,

I can’t tell you how good it was to hear from you after all those weeks of silence. I’m also glad you’re out of danger (mostly) and can correspond again. I’ve missed you, as weak as it sounds to admit it. 

Baby and I are doing just fine. I am starting to show more now. So much so that I’m finally making use of the maternity clothes Victoria brought me. I’ve had them tailored so that they’re more modern - not that fashion matters much in times like this - but it does make me feel better. 

I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t been in touch with my family. Just Marigold, Sybbie, Victoria, and George. There isn’t much to tell them except the one thing I know I can’t tell them. As I told you, it doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you put in a letter. Do you think I should grit my teeth and bear it? Or can I put it off a little longer? I’m really beginning to miss my mother, whose presence would be much appreciated by her frightened daughter. 

I must make another admission. I am scared of this. Of the birth, yes, but mostly what comes after. We are going to be responsible for a life. It’s completely overwhelming. Not that I want to bog you down, you’ve got plenty to worry about where you are, but do you ever think of such things? How do you feel about a nanny? I had one growing up, but I understand you likely did not. Was it helpful to you? There’s so much to consider.

I’m also trying to come up with names. I like plenty of boy’s names, but I am starting to wonder if we should have a girl name picked out as well, just in case. I really do think it’s a boy, but one can never be too prepared. 

Here are the names I like so far:

Robert (after my grandfather)

Phillip

Theodore (Ted for short)

Wesley

Charles

Let me know your opinion on these. Keep in mind, his middle name should be Ronald, after you, as is tradition. Do you do that in America? 

If you’ve got any girl names, send them along. I really do think we should decide on one of each.

Be careful, love.

Your Caroline

***

Caroline,

Glad everything’s alright. I’m doing fine. I’d tell you more details, but they’d be redacted anyway, so what’s the point?

You tell your family only when you’re ready. Don’t worry about them. Focus on staying healthy. That’s the only priority right now. If you really need your mom, reach out. She might not like it, but she is still your mother. 

Nobody’s ever really ready for parenthood. Just remember that we are adults and it’s a baby. It doesn’t know how to do anything. We can handle this. 

I did not have a nanny, but depending on how the war goes, you might need the help. Let’s play that one by ear. Don’t overthink it. 

Girls' names are irrelevant, we’re not having a girl. 

As for the names you’ve chosen, here are my thoughts.

Robert is a no go. That’s Colonel Sink’s name and I don’t want to give him a big head.

Phillip is a possibility. 

No to Theodore/Ted. Much too old sounding. 

Wesley can stay in the running. 

I don’t like Charles. 

Now, for your consideration, here are names that I like: 

James

Thomas 

Leo

Haven’t been able to think of much more. But let me know what you think. 

Ron

***

Ron,

You are truly a stubborn arse. All the more shame on me for falling for you, I suppose. 

In spite of all that, I thank you for your reassurance. I will wait some more before telling my family. Marigold and Victoria are doing a very good job of caring for me. 

If you refuse to acknowledge the possibility of a girl, I will simply choose a name myself and you will just have to live with it. I like Violet, after my great-grandmother.

As for the boy names you picked out, I have to say no to Thomas. My uncle is Tom Branson, and then we have our butler Thomas Barrow, and I should hate for our child’s name to be confused with those two. I don’t mean that in a bad way, they’re two of my favorite people, but to have three Tom/Thomas’s in my heart would only get confusing. 

The other two names I very much like. So our list is now down to: 

Phillip

Wesley

James

Leo

(and Violet)

We can narrow it down further at a later date. I’m afraid I have to cut this letter short as I have a doctor’s appointment. 

Stay safe, love.

Your Caroline

Speirs wrinkled his nose at the latest letter. It may have also been because of the dank smell of Haguenau, but he preferred to blame Caroline. Truly, he was fond of the final list of names. He stared at the last one that she scratched out and turned it over in his mind. 

“Violet?” he murmured. 

“Sir?” questioned Lipton from his spot on the couch.

Speirs looked at the sergeant. “What do you think of the name Violet?”

Lipton’s brow furrowed. Before he could answer, he coughed, a small rattle still in his chest, though he was doing much better than before. 

“Violet?” he asked. “For what, like a cat?”

“No, like a baby,” Speirs said. 

He still had not told any of his men about Caroline’s pregnancy. He considered telling Lipton now, just to have someone around he could consult on these matters, but thought better of it. Enough people knew as it was and Caroline was not around to give her permission. 

“Ah, I see,” Lip replied. “I think it’s sweet. Traditional, but not overdone.”

Speirs was surprised that Lip did not challenge a baby name inquiry at a time like this. That was Lip, though. All support, no questions asked. Speirs took a deep breath.

“What do you think of Phillip?”

***

Dear Joe,

I hope I haven’t offended you somehow. It’s been weeks with no word from you. And the girls have received letters from others in your company, so I can’t help feeling like it’s personal. If something has changed between us, I hope you will share that with me. Just give me some clarity, please.

Love,

Victoria

Joe sighed, struggling to put the letter into his pocket with the truck rocking through the countryside. Eventually, he tucked it away and buttoned his pocket over it. Webster watched Joe with keen interest. Especially since Joe’s face looked so pained as he read. 

“Everything alright?” Webster asked. 

“What’s it to you?” Joe returned. 

Webster shrugged. “Alright, I’ll mind my business.”

He returned to his journal. Joe chewed his cheek and glowered out at the scenery. 

“It’s Victoria,” he admitted.

He needed to talk to someone about it. Why not Web? 

Webster looked up curiously. “What about her?”

“I think I gotta break up with her,” Joe said. “We’re just...too different.”

“Is that so bad?” Webster wondered. “Maybe you can balance each other out.”

“Nah, I think we want different things,” Joe insisted. “I love the girl, but I can’t ask her to give up everything for me, y’know?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the situation,” Webster said. “But I understand what you’re saying. Either way you go, one of you will be making a huge sacrifice. What you have to decide is if it’s worth it.”

Joe heaved another sigh. “I don’t know…”

“I think you have your answer then,” Webster said. 

With that, he started writing again and left Joe to his thoughts. Joe considered that. He wasn’t totally sure about Victoria. If he was, shouldn’t he be willing to sacrifice? But he thought of her sweet smile and the tenderness of her heart, and he felt weak. He was lucky Victoria wanted to be with him, wanted to compromise with him. He had to think about it some more. He needed to decide what he really wanted out of life. But what were the possibilities? They were heading into Germany, but the war was not over yet. 

***

Dear Dick,

Paris is settling down and beginning to feel like the place I left years ago. It’s been fun to take Victoria and Caroline around. Caroline is getting bigger every day it seems, but she’s very healthy. Incredibly, I felt the child kick, and I daresay it made me rather emotional. I feel my cousin is hardly out of her own childhood, and now she is bringing new life into the world. 

It reminds me of my own mother. I wish I could confide this in Caroline, but I feel it isn’t really my story to tell. I’m a key player in it, of course, but obviously my mother’s privacy comes first. Thank you again for your own discretion. 

Seeing Caroline become a mother has also put thoughts of my own future into perspective. After everything I’ve been through, I want very much to live simply. Because of my parentage, I can never really belong in the world my family exists in. I don’t think it’s what I want anyway. I just want a peaceful, quiet place to raise a family and perhaps write a novel. How do you picture your life after the war? I don’t believe we’ve discussed it before. I do hope I am somewhere in your imaginings. You are certainly in mine. 

You are also in my thoughts and prayers. Do take care of yourself. 

Love, 

Marigold

Dick read over Marigold’s words, touched. She said exactly the things he was hoping she would. They were heading in the same direction, with the same goals. It was a relief to him. It was easy to picture Marigold as his wife, at his side. He admired her, respected her, and loved her. 

“What are you smiling about over there?” Nixon teased. 

Dick shook his head. “Nothing. Just something nice Marigold wrote.”

“Oh?” Nix returned, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Dick said. “I think it’s time to talk about something more serious between us.”

Nix smirked. “Should I say congratulations now or wait until after the ceremony?”

Dick rolled his eyes. 

***

Dear Marigold,

It might sound silly, but I made a promise to myself after D-Day that should I survive the war, I’d find myself somewhere quiet to live out my life in peace. And you are absolutely a part of that picture. You have belonged there since that fateful day in the elevator. 

I’m glad to hear Caroline is doing alright with the baby. I would like to check on Speirs, but it feels like an awkward thing to ask about. So I’m afraid I don’t have any updates on him, though I’m sure he’s in contact with Caroline. 

Germany is surprisingly nice. Maybe it’s the warm weather or the lack of artillery, but we’re enjoying it here. The war should be over soon. So I’m happy to begin planning that future with you if that’s what you want. That obviously includes an offer I’d rather make in person, and we can have that conversation the next time I see you. Hopefully, that won’t be too long. 

I love you and miss you.

Yours, 

Dick

***

Dear Gene,

Bill and Joe are doing alright. They’ll be heading home soon, and selfish as it is, I will miss them terribly. They’re truly the most entertaining patients I’ve ever had, especially Bill. But of course you’re familiar with his personality. 

I hope I’m able to get to Paris soon to be with Caroline. She has asked me to be there to be an advocate for her for something big coming up. Really big. I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly what it is, as it’s just a bit scandalous. But she’s made some wishes known to me. That sounds ominous, but everything is going well so far.

I hope you’re doing well. With spring’s arrival, there must be a bit of a reprieve if you’re outdoors. Do you have a comfortable place to sleep at least? Lord knows you and your men have earned it. 

As for myself, I’ve applied to a university in Dublin, to attend in the fall (if the war is over, and it looks like it may be soon). I think it’s high time I experienced my Irish heritage and I want more for myself. I love being a nurse, but I want to explore all my options. I haven’t told anyone in the family yet. I’m going to Downton soon and will talk it over with George (he’s home on leave), but I wanted to tell you first. I could use additional hopes for my acceptance. 

Look after yourself. Get some rest. Don’t forget to eat. 

All my love,

Sybbie

Eugene tried not to be dismayed at the news. He wanted Sybbie to do what was best for her, but it dashed his hopes of asking her to come back to Louisiana with him. Not permanently - at least not right away - but to see a bit of his world. The way he had seen hers at Downton Abbey. He supposed it was still possible, but there was no guarantee of when the war would be over and their timeframe depended entirely on that. 

Even if she was able to visit, how could they progress together - if that was even what they were - with her in Dublin and him at home? He tried to picture himself staying in Europe, but he hated the idea. He missed home too much. He did not feel he belonged in Europe, nor did he particularly want to. For the first time, they weren’t on the same page.

***

Dear Sybbie, 

Thanks for all the updates on Guarnere and Toye. We’re all worried about them, and your letters put our minds at ease. I know those two appreciated your help too, and they’ll miss you back in the states. 

It sounds awfully suspicious about Caroline. I trust you though. And she must too if she’s asking you to join her in Paris. 

Good news, I am sleeping in a bed most nights. You’re so sweet to worry about things like that for me. 

I’m proud of you for taking a chance and applying to school. Not a lot of girls have the courage to do that, even if they want to. But you’re spirited enough. I have no doubt you’ll get in. You’re a brilliant nurse, and even if you aren’t accepted, you’ll have a great career ahead of you. 

You should tell your father you applied. I think it’ll make him really happy that you’re interested in Ireland. And you’ll have his hopes in your corner as well. 

I know it’s unlikely, but I hope I’ll get to see you before you go. 

Take care of yourself,

Eugene

***

Dear Caroline,

I’m home again on leave, and I still haven’t confessed my feelings to Kat or to Mother. Do you think me a dreadful coward? I’m beginning to think it of myself. In fairness, Mother hardly lets me alone when I’m at home, so Kat and I barely get time together for me to be able to have any sort of real discussion with her. I have bought a ring, though, and enclosed the catalog I purchased it from for your approval. You have very fine taste, and I trust you. 

How are you doing? The arrival should be soon, right? Spring is fully upon us now - truly a good time for welcoming something new. I hope it all goes smoothly and you come out of it feeling as strong as I know you to be. I’m looking forward to your return to Downton. 

Stay safe.

Your brother, 

George

Caroline rubbed her swollen belly as she read George’s letter, her back aching. Her cousins were around her, Sybbie finally having arrived at last. The baby was due soon. May snuck up on her so quickly, she wondered where the time went. Nerves began to eat at her the closer she got, especially since she still had not told the rest of the family. She took Ron’s words to heart. She would only tell them when she was good and ready. 

She decided also to get the birth over with before telling them. Perhaps they would be charmed by how cute it would be - which she was certain of - and would be more forgiving. It was always harder to be honest to someone’s face, especially a baby’s, and Caroline was banking on that. Plus, she wanted to arrange for George to be with her when she told them. She hoped he would wait on proposing to Kat. The ring he chose was stunning, and she made a mental note to tell him so.

On the morning of May 8, Caroline enjoyed breakfast with Sybbie and Victoria while Marigold went down to get a newspaper. Caroline sipped her tea and hoped there would be some good news at last. 

“Why don’t you just turn on the radio?” Victoria wondered.

“Because it’s ghastly noise,” Caroline said. “Mornings are meant for quietly reading the newspaper like sensible people.”

Victoria laughed and rolled her eyes. Suddenly, Marigold burst into the room, looking winded and completely shell shocked. She’d clearly run all the way up from the lobby. 

“Goodness, Marigold, what is it?” Sybbie asked. 

“The war is over,” Marigold blurted out, holding out the day’s newspaper. 

They all saw the VE-Day headline, though they couldn’t quite believe it. After all these years at war, it had become the new normal. The send offs, the letters, the telegrams, the sleepless nights. It was all over. No more fighting. No more death. No more. 

“Good God in heaven,” Caroline breathed out. “Can it really be true?”

“It’s right there in black and white,” Marigold said, staring at the paper as if it were a bomb that might take her hand off any second. 

They all feared this was a dream they might wake up from. Slowly, Sybbie rose from her chair, tears filling her eyes. She gazed at each of her cousins, who she truly regarded more as sisters now, and she reached for their hands. She took hold of Caroline’s, Caroline took hold of Victoria’s, Victoria took Marigold’s, and then Marigold and Sybbie completed the circle. 

“We made it, girls,” Sybbie said. “And so did our men.”

Caroline blinked and a tear rolled down her cheek. She took a deep breath and blinked the rest away. 

“What are we blubbering about?” she joked. “This calls for a celebration! We should be ordering champagne not crying like babies!”

They all laughed and agreed, fighting the lumps in their throats and the mist in their eyes. And they did order champagne. Together, they shared a toast to the end of the war, and the start of their new lives. 

***

Dear Marigold,

I’ve talked things over with Colonel Sink, and he’s agreed to have you all join us in Zell am Zee, Austria. Our lodgings will suit you well, I think. Plus, I know Ron is anxious to be present when Caroline gives birth. Hopefully, it hasn’t already happened. If you can clear it with her doctor to travel, let me know when we can expect you. 

Looking forward to your answer. 

Yours,

Dick

[lesbian-percy-weasley]

Where I Don’t Belong by Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World on Ao3 (aka someone who is totally mentally healthy)

Ship: Perciver

Content warning: mild swearing, fear of swimming

Summary: Oliver was throwing a party to celebrate becoming senior captain of the soccer team and Percy wanted to celebrate with him. But after a semi-embarrassing incident, he had to say something he wanted to keep to himself

Percy had been with his boyfriend for a fairly long time. It was almost ten months now and they were still happy with each other. But a problem had been plaguing Percy for a while now. It was the fact that he didn’t fit in with Oliver's friends at all.

It wasn’t any fault of Olivers. He would never make him feel left out on purpose. No, it was Percy’s problem. He was the one that wasn’t good at sports, the one that didn’t know any of the video games that they played, the one that didn’t like the restaurants they did. Every time Oliver brought him somewhere with his friends he felt awkward and like his presence was unwanted. If he had to describe how he felt concisely he would say he felt like a burden.

He would never tell Oliver this. Again, it was his problem to deal with. The last thing he wanted was for Oliver to feel guilty for his own insecurities. He didn’t want to cause a useless argument about it. So he sat there, pretending to be dealing with it when in fact he wasn’t.

His family got over the issue of Oliver’s family owning the only other Christmas tree farm in town a while ago, to both of their delights. His siblings still made fun of him for it but what else was new. He tried to ignore them most of the time.

Overall, things were better for them now if we weren’t counting the thing I spent 3 paragraphs discussing in detail. After all, Percy didn’t.

Oliver recently got the role of senior captain of the soccer team. To celebrate this momentous occasion he was throwing a party at his parents' house. He was only inviting his friends to keep it somewhat contained. But it will still be a relatively big party, so he was stressed about it.

Percy offered his assistance to help set up for the party. He hated seeing Oliver stressed about anything and he loved spending time with him. Oliver gladly accepted, which is how Percy found himself at his house at 11 am on the Saturday of the party.

He was staying the night too since he couldn’t drive and didn’t want to bother Oliver nor his parents with driving him home late at night. His parents were hesitant at first. It wasn’t a surprise that they weren’t keen on letting him stay at his boyfriend's house overnight but they soon caved, not wanting to pick him up at an ungodly hour.

His siblings however were much less discreet about the obvious insinuation staying at his boyfriend's house for the night brought. Giving each other suggestive glances and snickering amongst themselves. Percy quickly left the room before he had to hear another one of Fred and George’s god awful innuendos. They had already made ones about Charles Dickens and Emily Dickenson this week and he didn’t want to hear the ones that took more effort.

But now he was at Oliver’s house trying to move furniture with him so stuff wouldn’t get destroyed. Besides that, it also opened up the room a lot more. This task took a lot more effort than either boy had anticipated. They sat down for a while after everything that needed to be moved was moved.

“I have no idea why I’m even throwing a party,” Oliver sighed. “I mean I’m happy about being captain and all but this is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve had plenty of worse ideas and will continue to have worse ideas in the future.” Percy joked. “Oh shut up, you’re not helping,” Oliver said, trying not to laugh.

“But, in all seriousness. You don’t have to worry about it. It’s only people you know, after all.” Percy tried to be genuinely comforting. “I guess, but it’s just all so much I didn’t need to put on myself,” Oliver explained

“Everything will be fine, Ollie. The party will go on without any major incident, we’ll clean what we can when it's over, and then we won’t have to worry about it anymore.” Percy leaned into his boyfriend while he was speaking. Oliver nodded in response.

It seemed like Oliver was never 100% sure of himself. Sometimes he would take 5 minutes to make a simple, inconsequential decision. He hated it so much. He was a goalie, for God's sake! He should be able to make split-second decisions and be sure of himself. But he wasn’t.

He was glad Percy was here to help him with it, at least. He always knew what to do when Oliver didn’t. He could logically sort things out when Oliver was too panicked to do it himself.

It was just around 7 pm when people started showing up. They got a chance to chill for a few hours after they set up at least. Oliver played a video game while Percy started reading Emma for what seems like the 100th time. They enjoyed being close to each other even if they were doing drastically different things.

But now there were other people there. Other people that wanted to have a fun party. The two got separated rather quickly as Oliver went to talk to his friends. Percy was honestly at a loss for what to do.

Parties weren’t really his scene. They were usually cramped and dark and loud and smelled bad to his experience. Plus, as was mentioned earlier in the story, he didn’t really mesh well with Oliver's friends. He tried to find a semi-quiet place to continue reading because it wasn’t realistic that he could stay with Oliver throughout the whole party.

Percy knew damn well he looked like the quirky self insert character in a one direction fanfic on Wattpad but he couldn’t honestly care less. He did get a fair share of weird looks from people but again, he couldn’t care less.

Oliver went to check up on him a few times throughout the night. Percy insisted he was fine but was still glad he could see Oliver even for a few minutes.

Besides Oliver, only a few other people talked to him. They either asked if he knew where the bathroom was or tried to make awkward conversation. There were two boys, who Percy thinks were named Theo and Christian, who asked about his book. It was obvious that they didn’t actually care so Percy only responded with the bare minimum.

About 30 minutes later Percy felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but it felt like the walls were closing in on him. He had to get outside that instant. He closed his book and started to walk outside before he got too disoriented to do anything.

Luckily there were fewer people outside. The air instantly made him feel better. It was obvious that he wasn’t having the best time at the party. He wanted to have fun, he really did, but it was hard. He was around people he wasn’t necessarily comfortable within a situation he wasn’t necessarily comfortable in.

The pool was uncovered. No one was in it because it was dark and cold. He didn’t understand why they would put the effort to uncover and clean everything when they knew no one was going to want to swim. But they couldn’t just undo the effort they put in so it was there.

Percy hated pools more than anything. He never learned to swim, he was too scared to even go near it when he was a child. His siblings teased him about it, but there was no way he would go into a pool unless he were forced in. Standing next to the pool was doing nothing to help his sudden anxiety. I mean someone could accidentally bump into him or push him in purposefully. He had to get away from the-

In a matter of milliseconds, he found himself submerged in the water. The anxiety turned into full-blown panic. He knew that if he could just stand up he could get his head at least above the water but how could he? His glasses had flown off with the fall and he was hoping with everything he had that they weren’t broken. He didn’t bring his back up pair, God, why didn’t he bring his back up pair?

That wasn’t important now, what was important is that he couldn’t see anything and the chlorine-filled water was burning his eyes. He didn’t dare to take a breath in, he didn’t want a similar sensation on the inside of his body. How long had he been underwater? Did anyone even notice what happened?

He was too caught up in his own mind to notice someone had jumped in until they grabbed him. They started pulling him up. Once they broke the surface Percy took a few panicked breaths. He still couldn’t see but he knew the person who got him was Oliver. He was trying to calm him down but it was obviously not working. Percy couldn’t possibly relax until he was out of the pool.

Slowly, Oliver led Percy to the edge and helped him out. The coldness of the air hit him hard but at least it was better than being in the pool. Oliver got out after him and ran to the patio table to get a towel that he set out. He draped it over Percy before jumping back into the pool to retrieve his glasses.

Soon enough, Oliver swam back over to Percy with his glasses and got out right next to him. By some miracle, the glasses weren’t broken just wet. He quickly wiped them off with a semi-dry part of his towel. At least he could see now.

He turned to see Oliver looking at him with an expression of utmost concern. It was just now sinking in that this incident caused a scene and that almost everyone who was outside was looking directly at him. He needed to get away at all costs. Luckily, Oliver caught on to the panic that was starting to set in again.

“Do you want to go somewhere else, Perce?” Oliver whispered. Percy quickly nodded. Oliver nodded back and led him to his room.

People that were inside had no idea what was going on, so they were quite confused to see Oliver and Percy rushing past everyone to go up the stairs while both of them were soaking wet. But looking strange was last on both of their minds.

When they reached Oliver’s room, Percy finally started to relax a little bit. He did have dry clothes he could change into. They were his pajamas but it wasn’t like he was gonna show his face for the rest of the night. Not after he ruined the party for practically everyone.

He quickly got changed trying not to think of anything else. Maybe once nothing on him was wet he’d feel better. The awful sensation of wet clothes clinging to his body was not helping his current mental state in the slightest.

He didn’t have the presence of mind to realize that Oliver was also in the room until he was just about to put his shirt on. When Oliver kissed his cheek after he changed from his wet clothes.

“Don’t worry, Perce. I’ll handle everything.” Oliver whispered to him even though no one else was in the room. He couldn’t help but notice slight anger in his voice. That’s what finally sent him over.

Once Oliver closed the door Percy felt tears running down his face. He knew he ruined the party for him and probably for everyone by extension. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. He felt extremely pathetic and useless. Standing alone in his boyfriend's room, still without his shirt on, crying to himself.

All the thoughts that he had about their relationship when it first started were coming back into his mind like an avalanche. Most were about how Oliver deserves someone who was so much more than him. It would honestly be a miracle if Oliver stayed with him after tonight.

He tried to calm down. He didn’t want Oliver to see him like this when he came back to his room. If he came back to his room. But nothing he tried was helping. He felt completely and utterly worthless.

Okay, deep breath in, deep breath out. If he can’t stop himself from crying, he can at least put his shirt on. After all, it was his favorite shirt ever since he got it. Once it was too worn to wear in public he retired it to his pajama drawer. There wasn’t anything particularly special about it, but it brought him comfort. Which was exactly what he needed right now.

It seemed like he had been alone for a long time. Percy had finally managed to stop crying, thank god, but it was still super obvious he was. He was starting to actually wonder if Oliver was gonna come back or just leave him. He couldn’t really blame him if he did.

It was only about two minutes later when Oliver came back again. Percy was a bit startled by the sound of the door opening. It startled him a little bit but he was glad to see Oliver hadn’t forgotten about him. He was just hoping he didn’t look like the mess he felt like.

He walked over to his bed, which Percy was sitting on, and sat right next to him. He had brought him some food they had put out and a bottle of water.

“Sorry, it took so long. Marcus was already dealing with Theo and Christian but everyone was stopping me to ask what was wrong.” He explained while he was scooting closer to Percy.

“It’s fine really.” His voice was hoarse and that’s when Oliver realized he was more shaken up than he thought he was.

“Perce, you don’t have to be fine. If something’s wrong, please tell me.” Oliver put his hand on Percy’s arm. Percy was trying to think about what to say. Oliver wasn’t gonna let him say he was just fine but he didn’t feel like getting into everything he was feeling. But he needed to say something.

“I’m sorry,” Percy exclaimed. Oliver looked confused for a second.

“Why are you sorry? What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“I ruined everything.” He sighed, “You would still be having fun at your party if I didn’t fall into the stupid pool.” He could feel the tears coming back. “You should be hanging out with your friends.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I guarantee people are still having fun downstairs. They won’t miss me, Perce.” Oliver tried to explain.

“It’s just not fair that you can’t even enjoy your own party because of me.” Percy shrugged, trying to calm himself down again. He hated feeling like a burden which is exactly how he felt right now.

“Perce, look at me,” Percy hesitantly turned towards him. “I am sincere when I say I don’t mind hanging out up here with you. I wasn’t even having that much fun. You don’t need to worry about it, okay?” Percy nodded in response

They spent a couple of moments in silence. Neither of them really knew what to say. Oliver was sure that Percy wasn’t telling him something. He was never really open about his emotions no matter how much he wanted to be.

Percy had moved closer to Oliver, allowing himself to calm down a little bit. He’d stop crying but now was just a bit tired. He still felt a bit guilty about everything. It had been about 30 minutes since it happened.

The party was still going on downstairs without either of them. Percy tried to find any hint that Oliver was regretting staying up here with him but he couldn’t find any. It didn’t make much sense to him. While he was trying to figure it out Oliver started to say something.

“Remember the Halloween party last year?” He asked to break up the silence. Percy laughed a little a nodded.

“Yeah. I was Mr. Bingley and you were Mr. Darcy,” He sighed, “I also remember I thought it would be one of the worst ideas ever.”

“But everything turned out fine in the end.” Oliver rebutted while turning to look at Percy. He nodded in response. “I still don’t understand what you were so worried about.”

“I guess I was just scared that your friends wouldn’t like me.” Percy looked down at his fingers.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, “I’m nothing like them at all.”

“Just because you aren’t the same as them doesn’t mean they don’t like you.” Oliver tried to laugh it off. But Percy wasn’t really accepting the answer. “And even if they didn’t like you, it wouldn’t matter because I like you.”

“You don’t understand.” Percy scoffed. Oliver looked confused.

“Then help me understand, Perce,” He cried out. “I wouldn’t make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

Percy was hesitant. He knew he backed himself into a corner and into a conversation he didn’t want to have. But he didn’t want to lie to Oliver either. He had to come clean about his true feelings.

“You know I’ve never been very confident with myself especially when it came to our relationship,” he explained, “I have to admit that sometimes I still wonder why you’re with me.” Oliver tried to say something but Percy continued talking.

“When I started hanging out with you and your friends, the feelings did intensify. It became more obvious how different we are. I just have a hard time believing that they could ever enjoy my company and it just makes me feel awkward and unwanted.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry it’s just…”

“Please don’t apologize, Perce, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Oliver said, holding Percy close to him. “I knew that you were insecure about yourself and I’ve done everything I could to show you I genuinely like you for who you are.”

Percy nodded in response. “You don’t have to worry about my friends. I guarantee they don’t hate you. Remember that one time we were going to go to the arcade but you got the flu so you had to bail?”

“Yeah,” Percy responded

“When I showed up without you, everyone was asking where you were. I’m pretty sure Marcus even said I was boring without you.” Oliver started to laugh which caused Percy to laugh too.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Ollie. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Percy confessed after the laughter died down.

“Percy Weasley I will never stop loving you.” He peppered Percy’s face with kisses. Percy started to blush intensely at the action. No matter how many times his boyfriend did it, his body always had the same reaction.

They stayed up in his room for the rest of the night. A few of his friends texted him and said they were cleaning stuff up for them (and that Emma was still on the stairs where Percy left it). There was nothing left to worry about but themselves. It was early in the morning when Percy had drifted off the sleep. And who can blame him? It was an overall exhausting day.

Oliver was still semi-awake and fully enjoying the feeling of Percy sleeping right next to him. It was something they never got the chance to do but something he hoped they would get to do again.

It seemed impossible but Percy looked even more beautiful. Perhaps it was the moon illuminating his face ever so softly, or the peacefulness which had fallen over him, but Oliver wanted to savor the sight for as long as he could.

But the siren of sleep was singing to him and he soon fell victim to the song. Not that he was complaining. He slept better than he had in years with his boyfriend in his arms. No matter how much went wrong during the day, right now was just perfect. There was nothing else either of them could ask for.

[escher-room-with-a-view]

williams family headcanons

this will focus largely on my HCs regarding the dynamics between different members of sarah’s family. jeremy is also there.

looooong post under the cut!

for much of her life, especially after her mother left, sarah has felt like she hasn’t had anyone to talk to or anyone who cares about her. because of this, she would often keep her feelings to herself because she didn’t think anyone would understand, and she didn’t want to bother anyone who wouldn’t care anyway. it’s this restraint that used to make her feel like lashing out and hurting people whom she knew didn’t deserve it, particularly members of her family. linda was usually exempt from this anger; sarah feels tremendously guilty for her occasional violent desires and is trying to work on them, but she appears to be clinging to the vain hope that linda might someday change her ways and the two can be at peace. even after her journey, she seems to have difficulty accepting that that “someday” might never come.

whether sarah inherited or learned her temper from linda is up for debate; what is known, though, is that it runs in her mother’s side of the family. when the two argued, it was often because sarah felt that linda was putting too much pressure on her or not understanding her. in the heat of the moment, linda has said things once or twice that one can’t exactly take back. sarah once justified this to herself by thinking that she provoked her mother, but she’s coming to realize that it isn’t what she thinks so much as it is what she believes she’s expected to think. either way, it hurts her deeply. in fact, sarah is so close to linda that the idea that her mother can do (and has done) anything wrong still comes as a shock to her. she’s especially inclined to forgive her mother for having been petty and nasty in the past because of linda’s affectionate (and admittedly sincere) way of trying to make up for it. sarah’s RSD is the type that makes her feel enormous relief whenever she has some sort of closure. she can spend days agonizing over the idea that someone might hate her, but the minute she’s told she’s been forgiven or even that the other person was never angry at all, she can let it go in an instant. (in fact, this is partly why she’s so kind to her friends, especially hoggle. she knows how it feels to think you’ve done something horrible and unforgivable, even if that isn’t the case—and she doesn’t want anyone to feel the same way.)

sarah likes jeremy, who is exceptionally nice to her and genuinely wants her to feel included. he does his best to be a “fun” sort of father figure, but also acknowledges that he can’t replace her own father and doesn’t try to pressure her into accepting him the way irene somewhat did when she moved in. in fact, jeremy treats sarah almost like a friend and is more lenient with her even than her own mother. he’s always standing up for her and buying things for her that he thinks she’ll like. the two also have several inside jokes that they find hilarious. in general, whenever jeremy cares about someone, he’s very keen on making it known so that they never doubt his authenticity; this is partly why linda gravitated toward him, as she felt like he was more compassionate and cooperative toward her than robert was, and they had more in common.

sarah wasn’t pressured into sharing her mother’s interest in theatre; it came naturally. though linda had some influence, most of sarah’s special interests developed largely on their own. however, sarah tends to be saddened by the fact that linda doesn’t seem to care about her interests unrelated to theatre and never really has. when it comes to anything she has no personal connection with, linda seems indifferent and unaffected no matter how excited sarah is. linda wishes she could bring herself to care more, but she simply doesn’t know how and in some cases isn’t even willing to put in the work. there are few subjects on which linda and sarah are able to have in-depth conversations; one of these is the performing arts, so whenever sarah is around linda it makes up the bulk of what she talks about. sarah desperately craves her mother’s approval, still blaming herself for linda’s departure, and often catches herself acting in ways she thinks will earn that approval even when linda isn’t around.

this is compounded by the fact that sarah has no way of knowing whether or not robert and irene are interested in her thoughts at all. if they are, they certainly don’t show it. on most occasions that they do show intrigue, sarah has some difficulty not interpreting it as them judging or interrogating her. in other instances, she’s simply gotten frustrated and given up trying to communicate with them because she doesn’t feel like they understand or listen. irene in particular wishes she was closer with sarah; however, the two have very little in common. irene has difficulty expressing warmth toward others’ children and doesn’t exactly know how to foster a good bond with them, aside from disciplining them and following the rules she’s read about in her parenting/self-help books. her collection of these books is enormous; many are under the impression that, because of it, she fancies herself an expert. irene tends to be a bit literal and persnickety with rules. she would like to foster emotional and mental health in both her son and her stepdaughter, in addition to raising them to be upstanding citizens; however, she doesn’t quite know how to do the former and is kind of learning as she goes along. though she has difficulty expressing it, she’s fiercely protective of sarah and would like to shield her from anything that might hurt her.

linda and robert separated partly because they had very different ideas on how to raise sarah. while they both had relatively equal expectations for her, they wanted her to pursue different fields; robert sought to push her in the direction of something more conventional while linda wanted sarah to pursue her dreams in the arts—so long as they aligned with linda’s dreams, as well. however, this was just the tip of the iceberg. in reality, the arguments that eventually led to their divorce (sarah was 10 at the time) began when each parent felt that the other’s career wasn’t supporting them as much as they would have liked. linda and robert had lost the spark in their relationship over time; they simply didn’t connect with one another. the phrase “you’re not the person i married,” or a variation of it, was said often on both sides. when the environment in the williams household became too stressful to her, and robert grew too obstinate, linda decided that she was leaving; this happened after she met jeremy, who understood her in a way that she felt robert never had. the realization that linda was forming a relationship behind his back was, for robert, the straw that broke the camel’s back. i think that when it comes to the relationship between sarah’s parents, the song “moral of the story” by ashe applies pretty well. like, really well.

linda’s love language is giving and receiving gifts. she sometimes sends presents and letters to keep in touch with sarah; over the years, though, the influx of gifts has declined for reasons sarah doesn’t understand. linda is usually just too busy or too forgetful to bother; it’s often jeremy who sends gifts in her stead and apologizes on her behalf. furthermore, it’s made sarah uncomfortable how linda always seemed to expect something back whenever she gave a gift or did a favor for as long as she can remember. sarah considers herself lucky that linda sometimes finds the time to send her mail without having to be reminded. because linda can’t be there to physically provide sarah with affection, she instead appears to use gifts as substitutes. in fact, she’s almost always used material objects to convey the things she couldn’t figure out how to communicate otherwise.

part of what makes sarah feel so angry is, ironically enough, the feeling that she isn’t allowed to be angry. when she gets upset, she wants to mouth off or yell, throw things or hit someone; because all of those things will get her into trouble, and she has some difficulty handling her emotions, she has no idea what she’s supposed to do to not be upset anymore. all she feels like she can do is wait for it to go away—which is not only something that she rarely manages to do, but also something that makes things far worse in the long run.

overall, sarah has a complicated relationship with her mother. on the one hand, the two are very close with one another. linda loves sarah dearly and is immensely proud of her; in spite of all her flaws, she seems to be coming to the realization that she should try and be a better mother even if it’s from a distance, and that just because sarah isn’t physically with her anymore doesn’t make the two any less related. on the other hand, though, linda has quite a few selfish tendencies she hasn’t matured past; her love for sarah doesn’t stop her from using her as a pawn to stroke her own ego. she also isn’t afraid to lash out at her own daughter for bruising said ego, intentionally or otherwise. the only reason she initially considered doing better was because she didn’t want sarah to stop talking to her entirely, though she’s begun considering the principle of it all. it would be interesting to juxtapose linda’s selfishness with sarah’s at the beginning of the film, with the implication that linda is the way she is today because she never got what she needed in the past and/or made the conscious choice to put herself before other people—but sarah doesn’t have to be the same. in fact, throughout her arc it’s proven that she won’t be the same—not only because her journey provides her with courage and her friends provide her with support she may not have and otherwise, but because she chose actively to be a kinder person out of compassion and not because she feared repercussions.

sarah’s insistence that linda has never done anything wrong ever is almost certainly denial. logically, sarah knows that some of linda’s actions have been wrong; that doesn’t stop her, however, from scrambling for a million different ways to justify it. part of this can also be attributed to what sarah feels is an unspoken rule that forbids her from being angry, especially toward the people whom she loves and who love her most; she wants to say that linda has hurt her on several occasions, but doesn’t know how to communicate it and is afraid of setting off some sort of nightmarish consequence. as such, she settles for trying to rationalize it when no amount of explanation can make it okay.

linda is also fiercely protective of sarah and doesn’t want her falling in with the wrong crowd by any means. it does sadden her that sarah doesn’t have many friends (at least to her knowledge), and she’s always encouraging sarah to put herself out there; however, a small, wicked part of linda has wondered if it would be better if she just had sarah all to herself.

sarah has felt ever since the divorce that, to her father, she’s more of an inconvenience he has to “deal with” than his actual daughter. of course, robert doesn’t see her that way; but he doesn’t know how to communicate with her or connect with her, as much as he’d like to, which results in a wall between them. despite this, she does know that he loves her and is doing her best. as bad as it makes her feel, she explains it to herself by saying that she sometimes wishes his best was better.

i personally interpret sarah putting away linda’s pictures at the end of the film as her realizing that there’s someone else who has no power over her: her mother. granted, sarah doesn’t destroy the pictures because she still loves linda and hopes she gets better as a person. but the fact that she puts them somewhere safe can be thought of as symbolizing how she isn’t going to let linda manipulate her anymore and it isn’t her responsibility to help her get better—let alone be her personal echo chamber. sarah has decided, in my opinion, to keep a reasonable distance from linda (to the extent where “i can talk to you, but you can’t hurt me”) until she can be certain that linda has changed. in particular, sarah feels safest interacting with her mother when jeremy is present, as jeremy isn’t afraid to come to her defense and has made linda reconsider her behavior on several occasions. i also think it could be interesting to contrast maria’s fierce and unconditional love and linda’s genuine, but often self-serving and distanced love toward her own child.

sarah remembers her family being happy before things went downhill and still finds it difficult to grasp the fact that it wasn’t her fault in some way. when her family tells her that, she doesn’t think they’re telling the truth. when her classmates tell her it wasn’t her fault, she feels like they just don’t understand.

robert feels like he didn’t pay enough attention to linda’s needs back when the two were married, and he thinks that’s most likely the reason she left. to make up for what he perceives as his neglect of his ex-wife, he does his best to make irene feel like a queen.

i think of sarah and toby when i listen to “evelyn evelyn.” i’m not sure exactly why, but it would make a good comic or animation someday.

i also made picrews!

post-canon!sarah - in this one, she’s about 16. i always loved the idea of her just deciding to cut her own hair one day and her parents being shocked about it. shorter hair is also especially conducive to speedrunning the labyrinth every other week

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1272810

adult!sarah - my headcanon is that she was a stage actress for a while and later went on to have a film role, but eventually decided that the life of an actress wasn’t for her and settled down to become a college drama professor. once she cut her hair as a teenager, she never went back. her family was frustrated by it until she got older and they mellowed out about it because they realized there was really nothing they could do

links (in order): https://picrew.me/image_maker/457566 and https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

adult!toby - i don’t know why, but i feel like he’d be really into alt fashion. like i think sarah would introduce him to her punk and hair metal vinyls one day and he’d just latch onto those and never let go. i also think that he didn’t leave the labyrinth unchanged, and sarah does her best to help him readjust and cope with it all; i’m tempted to also headcanon him as ND, so it’s possible that she’d be able to relate to him a lot in the future and that would make things easier for him

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

sarah and toby! i think they’d get along really well as toby was growing up, with sarah telling him these wonderful stories and playing fantastical games with him and whatnot. she’d have some of influence on his taste in music and books, too, i think, as explained above. but because of the whole “evelyn evelyn” thing i’m considering incorporating some degree of angst into their relationship when they’re adults. i do have an idea, but i’m not quite ready to spoil it yet! i’ll wait until i manage to draw At Least One Thing for it!

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/399481

[lilana163]

Prologue: Reunited// James Potter

Aurora Black loved her cousins she would kill, hurt, or die for them you name it. Sirius and Aurora Black were the same through and through both blood traitors, a disgrace to the family name, both abused until they could no longer see the light, and both faced the most troubles that came with being a Black, both were disowned when they decided to run away from their family at the age of fifteen. The difference between the two was that Aurora can't just be selfish and leave her loved ones behind, so when she heard of Sirius leaving behind Regulus she couldn't go without taking her baby cousin. Aurora wouldn't leave Regulus for the life of her, she packed the youngest Blacks bag and dragged the boy out of 12 Grimmauld place, ending with three Blacks being disowned.

Aurora and Narcissa Black, you will never see one without the other those two girls lived and breathed for each other nothing could separate them, not even their prejudiced family, their different beliefs in blood purity, not the Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry, nothing because in the end, they will always pick each other no matter what. So when Aurora Potter née Black died the Halloween of 1981 Narcissa felt broken, to say she was sad would be an understatement she lost herself, she lost her other half, she lost the person she could count on for anything.

The Marauders, Messrs Moony, Rory, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs a group of five who started their unbreakable friendship during their first year on the Hogwarts express in the compartment that will forever be theirs. Why is it when something happens it's always those fives? all were keen on embarrassing each other any moment they got, or cause havoc around Hogwarts earning themselves detentions every other day. But their friendship ran deep more than anyone could imagine, they were their own little family, four brothers and a sister who would go to the ends of the earth for the other, if one killed you could count on the others to help hide the body, so when the betrayal of their own led to the death of the others it was a shock to the wizarding world.

James Potter and Aurora Black might have been best friends but that didn't mean they weren't on each other nerves twenty-four-seven, actually Aurora Black never really did anything to annoy the Potter boy, except for the multiple rejections she sent to her best friend who constantly asked her out. That day in their first year when Sirius Black introduced Aurora Black to James Potter he fell for the raven-haired girl, he feel hard, the Gryffindor boy didn't glance at any girl unless it was Aurora Black. He knew, he knew that one day she'll be his and he hers, well he was already hers and James Potter made that quite clear to the Hogwarts staff and students. Aurora Black was the one for him, the only girl that he'll ever drop down on one knee for. Aurora Black was a stubborn girl she wouldn't admit to loving Potter for the life of her, she only realised her feelings towards her best friend in the fifth year because of Harry Potter, the boy who lived, her son. The emerald-eyed girl never knew the difference between platonic love and the romantic one so she was utterly confused for four years when she got jealous seeing many girls drooling over James Potter, she wouldn't admit her jealousy though the raven-haired girl was too prideful, even when she learned that it was not just platonic love and that she would marry James Potter, even have a kid with the guy.

Abuse, abuse was something Aurora Black thought was normal until she meet a family like the Potters,  Mr and Mrs Potter never screamed crucio at the top of their lungs because their son broke a vase, they never screamed crucio if James looked at a muggle-born or was seen talking with one. Aurora Black wished she could say the same, but no, she couldn't say the same because if she even dared do any of those things she would earn herself a slap across the cheek from Druella and be at the other end of Cygnus wand when he screamed crucio, Aurora took every hit and spell her father and mother could throw at her, she wasn't strong at first but after a while she got used to the pain, numb, numb was what  she felt when the cruciatus curse hit her for the hundredth time, maybe even more than a hundred, the girl had a tendency to take her sister's punishments as well. Most of the time the foolish girl volunteered for a punishment if it meant that Bella, Andy, and Cissy wouldn't have to.

Bellatrix Black was thirteen years old when she almost felt the pain from the cruciatus curse, Aurora Black was four years old when she felt the pain casted upon a witch who was hit with the word crucio. Even at the age of four she didn't regret the agonising pain if it meant that her sister didn't have to feel it, at four years old was when she decided that she would take any punishment her sisters were given, and that was a promise.

Her sisters couldn't say the same though, Bellatrix and Andromeda weren't brave enough to step up and take a punishment for their little sister, Narcissa had though, Narcissa jumped in front of the cruciatus curse after it had been pointed towards her sister for two minutes, Narcissa jumped in many times for her sister but was usually thrown out of the way by Aurora who hated hearing the blood wrenching screams of her other half. Narcissa soon stopped after a while when Aurora would yell at her afterwards, what Aurora didn't understand was that Narcissa couldn't handle her sisters screams of pain just how she couldn't handle the screams that came from Narcissa's mouth when she took the curses for her.

When Aurora was sorted into Gryffindor it tore the four sisters relationship apart, Bella no longer spoke a word to her sister, Andy would pull her aside to talk secretly, and Narcissa stayed by her sister's side showcasing the love she had for her sister each time she got too. The broken sisterhood still didn't stop the love that ran through the Black sister's blood whether any would admit it or not, still, they all loved each other, all still wished that everything was how it once was when they ran through the meadows chasing after butterflies. When Aurora Potter was found dead alongside her husband, all sisters grieved, Bella hated her younger sisters way of life but she still couldn't prevent herself from letting out loud cries when she sat alone in a room, Cissy became depressed and couldn't tend to her own son's needs for a long period of time, it was so bad that the twin broke down each time seeing Harry Potter, recognising the same emerald eyes her dear sister once had, Andy faked a smile, she had no tears to cry, she cried that Halloween night till the next morning and that was it, she didn't let herself cry but instead put up a fake smile for her niece who she now needed to care for.

Harry Potter the boy who lived, the boy who only had pictures and the voice of his mother telling him that his parents loved him, the boy who only had his aunt Cissy, auntie Andy, uncle Ted, and cousin Dora. Only four people who cared for him, and he was grateful that he was left with some kind of family.

Pictures, pictures were all Harry had, he had pictures of his mother and father in their years at Hogwarts, he loved re-watching the pictures play on and on, saying goodnight to each photo once the moon shined bright. Harry Potter hated Peter Pettigrew, he was the reason he no longer had parents, so he made sure that his hate for Peter Pettigrew was visible and shined bright just like Sirius who light up when Harry looked up at the night sky.

The whole great hall sat peacefully until loud laughs and shouts could be heard from down the corridor, everyone seemed to hear the loud noises and turned to the door where the loud yells got nearer, only when her old nickname was yelled had Minerva dropped her spoon and ran to the door to see if the yells did belong to the voices she heard so long ago.

" Oi, you lot get back here, detention all of you," Filch yelled looking down at his know purple cat.

" I didn't even do anything," yelled the calm voice of Alice as she was dragged down the corridors by Frank who ran behind Sirius Black who held his cousin Aurora on his back.

" We better hide, Minnie is probably stomping her way towards us," James laughed turning back at his friends who all glared at the boy.

" I am not getting detention because Potter and the Black duo decided to change the stupid fur of a stupid cat!" Lily yelled at Sirius, James, and Aurora who burst out in laughter at the redhead whose face now matched her hair.

" Lily is scary when she mad," Regulus mumbled to Remus backing away from the redhead.

" Sorry Lils, I love you!" Aurora pouted towards her best friend who glared at her.

" Wormy, watch out for that Rave-" but before Aurora could finish Petter had already bumped into a blonde Ravenclaw, Aurora and James were the first to laugh following along with Remus and Sirius who laughed at how ugly their sisters laugh sounded.