#perfection is impossible for both of them which makes their existence together necessary

[actual-changeling]

Since you have been the first 'Crowley deserves to have his boundaries' person I have seen in the tags on weeks. What do you think about the talk in the fandom on how Crowley should have accepted going to Heaven 'to do good and stop the Apocalypse' and that 'he also rejected Aziraphale'? It personally gives me the creeps because the narrative makes clear that Heaven is a big white nightmare but the fandom seems to be taking the 'Aziraphale might jot be perfect' thing hard and therefore Heaven is fixable now...

Glad to know I am not alone in my little boundaries corner! I'm always here for discussions about it.

And, oh boy, do I have thoughts on that, let's see if I can get them to be somewhat coherent.

I am going to start this off with a metaphor of sorts and hopefully people will be able to follow along. I'm an older sibling and have a little sister, and we grew up in an incredibly abusive and neglectful household.

When I graduated high school, I moved out for university, which was literally the best thing to ever happen to me - I got away, I was/am free! Now I have to deal with the consequences of all that shit though.

If my sister asked me to come back so I can help her fix our mother (entirely theoretical btw she'd never lol) would it be the right thing to say yes? Should I give up my personal freedom, my life, the healing process I am right in the middle of, to go back to a household that broke me? So I can be trapped with a person that will never change again?

The answer is, of course, no. I feel bad for my sister and I am praying she will be able o move out soon, but me going back would not solve a single fucking thing. See where I'm going with this yet?

Crowley left heaven and landed on earth, which was ultimately good for him, but he has a lot to process and heal from; he's right in the middle of his own recovery.

Heaven will not change, it cannot be changed. The entire institution is working as intended, and the intention is to be abusive, manipulative, and have as much power over everyone as possible. You cannot fix that, you need to get rid of it.

Aziraphale has good intentions, but he is also still trapped in that abusive household because he never moved out, he is the sibling that stayed behind, just mentally instead of physically.

Hot take, but many people in this fandom are incapable of understanding that "Aziraphale is acting based on good intentions and is still actively being abused/traumatized" and "Aziraphale did bad and unhealthy things and his relationship with Crowley was co-dependent and toxic" are co-existing. Both are true.

Both. are. true.

He did messed up shit out of a trauma response, but he is still responsible for his actions, and at the same time he deserves a chance to heal and move on from it. Please, at this point I am begging people to understand that this is not a black and white issue.

Crowley did not reject Aziraphale, if anything, Aziraphale rejected him.

Crowley said no to returning to an abusive environment for an impossible task. Crowley said no to sacrificing his mental and physical health for something that he knows will not happen. Crowley, for the first time in his life, set a clear and final boundary and put himself and his life over Aziraphale's wishes.

That is a good thing. It is necessary.

Season 3 will not be about Aziraphale fixing heaven or preventing the second coming (if anything it'll be accidental just like in season 1). It's going to be about him finding his way out of his abusive household and into a healthy environment in which they're both free and can heal.

Apart AND together.

It's not happily ever after, it's not perfect romance, it's not "soul-mates" or anything. It is messy, it is real, it is complicated, and I am so fucking tired of seeing it reduced to "love conquers all".

[gillianthecat]

I also love the other storylines happening 🌒

For Ga Eul and her ex, and his affair partner and his wife, I'm once again voting for the polyamory option. And the script probably won't let them go there, alas, but in this show only feels 95% impossible, unlike the usual 99.9% impossible of most kdramas.

But I also love all these characters, the three woman at least (dermatologist husband is a bit of a drip, but still potentially redeemable at this point), and that the tension is between the ex and the affair partner, with the wife still not really present in the story. Yet. Because even in the little screen time she's gotten she seems real, and three dimensional, and I hope we get to know her more.

This show is about so many things, money, wealth and poverty, the served and the servers, motherhood, gender, origins, youth and age... but none of it in a simple cliched way. There is the young group and the old group, and by bat if their ages they exist in contrast, but it's not an obvious lesson. Yi Hwa is served, but she is also in customer service. Motherhood is not the main theme, but related moments keep arising. It's about a woman taking control of her life, but it's not a straightforward girl power anthem. And much more but I'm done writing for now.

Still inordinately thrilled by this romance arc, the way they've already becoming obsessed with each other. The way the young man is eagerly awaiting Yi Hwa at his screening.

I am often annoyed by the "coincidences" of fate that bring the couple together, but in this case they feel perfect and absolutely necessary. Is it that this age gap makes everyone old new again for me? Is it because there's this slight... fairy tale? feel to everything? Of knowing at a little about how the one part of the story will develop? They feel fated, like gravity and the works have to rearrange themselves to bring these two together. Perhaps it's the solemnity or intensity of their encounters. It never feels lightweight, or even just about romance, but like they will shape each other's lives in myriad ways, even if they never kiss.

This feels unlike any other kdrama I've seen, which doesn't necessarily mean much, because I've seen only a small fraction of those made. But there's a filmlike quality in both the aesthetic, and the seriousness with which it's taking its characters, even with the comedic moments. What I've just realized it reminds me most of, actually, is the BLs of Hwang Da Seul (Blueming, To My Star, Where Your Eyes Linger). The same atmospheric intensity, the same quiet love and respect for the characters. (Over a year ago an anon asked me for recommendations like Blueming, so if you happen to read this, here's another one for the list!)

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: NATURE: Cause and Effect: Part 7

O one who attributes creativity to “nature��� and “natural” causes! The nature of everything, like the things themselves, is created, for it is full of art, original, and particular to itself. In addition, like everything itself, which is the result of a cause, its apparent cause is also created. In addition, the existence of everything depends on the existence of numerous “instruments.” Therefore, there must be an Absolutely Powerful One Who creates both the things and their nature and causes, and the instruments required.

*And what need does that All-Powerful One have to share impotent causes in His creativity and Lordship over existence?

God forbid such a thought! Rather, He creates things together with their causes so that He displays the manifestations of His Names and His Wisdom. By so doing, He establishes an apparent, ordered cause-and-effect relationship, and makes the apparent causes a veil in people’s sight between His Dignity and what people may see as being defective or incompatible with mercy in things and events.

*Which is easier and more reasonable for a watchmaker?

*Making the cogs of a clock and then arranging them to form the clock, or inserting a wonderful machine inside the cogs and then leaving the making of the watch to the lifeless hands of the machine?

*Is the second alternative easier and more reasonable or inconceivable and impossible?

Use your reason to be the judge!

▪Or a scribe readies a pen, a piece of paper, and ink to write a book. Is it easier and more reasonable for him to write the book by himself, or to invent the machine inside the pen, the piece of paper, and the ink, more artistic and more troublesome than the book itself, and then tell that unconscious machine to write the book, while he does not interfere? Is not the second alternative a hundred times more difficult than the first?

If you say: It is true that inventing the machine to write a book is a hundred times more difficult than writing it, but there is also ease in this because numerous copies of the same book can be produced with that machine.

THE ANSWER: By ever renewing the limitless manifestations and effects of His Names through His boundless Power in order to exhibit them in ever differing fashions, the Eternal Designer and Inscriber creates things with such particular identities and features that none of the missives of the Eternally Besought-of-All and the books of the Lord are the same as others. In order to display different meanings, each thing must have a different identity and features particular to itself.      

If you have eyes, look at the human countenance: you will see that although from the time of Adam all human faces have had the same structure and organs, each has particular features distinguishing it from all others. Therefore, each human face is a different, particular book. Creating each with its particular features requires a different writing set and a different composition. In order to collect the necessary materials for each and establish each exactly in its place, there must be a completely different workshop. Even if we, supposing what is impossible to be possible, think of nature as a printing press, in addition to making a new arrangement of the iron keys of letters for every piece of writing, all the particles required for the existence of each body must be collected from all corners of “nature” in exact amounts and specific proportions and arranged in it in perfect order; this is a hundred times more difficult than arranging the iron keys of letters for every piece of writing. In order to do all these things, there is still an absolute need for the all-encompassing Knowledge, Will, and Power of the Absolutely Powerful One. Therefore, this hypothesis of a machine is a totally meaningless fantasy.

[dothegravitybounce]

On goodreads I'm seeing some Jaenelle hate as well (not hate but like that ain't it yknow). Which reminds me of how much I love the way her character is constructed. The whole goddess walking on earth is super appealing to me, because the story always treats her as goddess whereas if it was in another book it would very much be a story about her as a woman solely and how that's ultimately better. For Jaenelle it isn't, her journey as a woman is a burdensome one actually. It's always skating on the line of overpowered Mary Sue but it's always reminding you that she actually isn't supposed to be there, alive, communicating and living amongst others. I love the parallels with Jesus (YES JAHSHAHS I KNOW but it's exactly that). Is she a savior or the fact that she's responsible for everyone and bears everyone grievances what ultimately harms and kills her freedom?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spite in Misery - ao3

(rather silly AU of Delight in Misery, only even more petty and passive aggressive, and also slightly more JC/LWJ)

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

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Sanctuary,” Lan Wangji said, prim and proper as he always was, the perfect untouchable iceberg as always, except maybe for the small child he was holding. “For me and my son.”

“Wait, you fuck?”

Wait, that wasn’t the right question.

“Why do you need sanctuary here?” Jiang Cheng asked, utterly bemused. “There isn’t a single place in the cultivation world you wouldn’t be welcomed –”

Except here.

“– and anyway, your brother, his sworn brothers, and your sect would demolish anyone who even thought about hurting you. Who in the world could you need sanctuary from?”

“My brother,” Lan Wangji said. “His sworn brothers, and my sect.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

Lan Wangji stared right back at him.

And then he collapsed.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said to the unconscious or possibly dead body currently lying across the threshold of the Lotus Pier and the small feverish-looking child in barely better state splayed out beside it. “I refuse to take responsibility for this!”

-

“You will not say anything about the room I have chosen to house you in,” Jiang Cheng said. “You will not complain about the food, the amenities, or make any requests whatsoever. Do you hear me?”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng ought to have expected as much.

“And don’t think this means I’m going to like you or anything,” Jiang Cheng added self-righteously.

“I despise you with every drop of blood in my body,” Lan Wangji said.

“…so noted,” Jiang Cheng said.

After a moment, he added, “I don’t care!” and stormed out.

After yet another moment, he came right back into the room where he’d put Lan Wangji – it was just a convenient room, not specifically Wei Wuxian’s room, and if putting Lan Wangji in there meant he could delay having to clean out all the personal possessions left in there and actually repurpose it, that was his business and no one else’s – and said, “Why do you hate me, exactly?”

“Do you care?” Lan Wangji asked. He was examining the small cot Jiang Cheng had set up to put the still-unconscious and therefore nameless child on.

“Obviously,” Jiang Cheng said. “Or I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng waited a few moments, moments that grew longer and longer, and finally he realized – “You’re not planning on telling me?”

“I despise you,” Lan Wangji reminded him.

“Oh, you – you…!” Jiang Cheng ground his teeth together. “I’m the one giving you sanctuary, remember?”

“I came to you because you were the only one powerful enough to accomplish the task and spiteful enough to do it. I did not come here to owe you any favors.”

“Well, you’re going to owe me one anyway,” Jiang Cheng said, scowling at him. “You – you – ugh. Forget it!”

He stormed back out.

And then he realized he hadn’t actually brought the medicine that he’d intended to bring to Lan Wangji, so he had to go in and drop it off, but then he was finally able to storm away properly.

-

“I was under the belief we had agreed it would be best for us to see each other as little as possible,” Lan Wangji said, his voice even icier than usual – which was saying something.

“That’s right,” Jiang Cheng agreed, eying him warily. “I’m only here personally to drop off your medicine because it means fewer people know that you’re here.”

He’d thought that he would need to bring in a doctor for Lan Wangji’s injuries, but it turned out to be whip marks from a discipline whip and Jiang Cheng – well. Jiang Cheng knew everything there was to know about injuries like that.

Sure, he’d had to take A-Yuan to a doctor, he didn’t know shit about pediatric illnesses, but that was fine, it didn’t give the whole game away. Jiang Cheng was able to pass him off as some random sad orphan he’d taken pity on, which wasn’t far from what he suspected to be the truth.

“In that case,” and Lan Wangji’s voice was even colder, which how, “why do you live next door?”

“This was the only room available,” Jiang Cheng lied.

Lan Wangji glared death at him.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m giving you sanctuary, aren’t I?” Jiang Cheng scowled. “Anyway, I told you that you weren’t allowed to complain about the room.”

Lan Wangji did not appear impressed.

“How’d you know I was next door, anyway?”

“You have nightmares.”

…right.

“I’ll invest in better soundproofing, then,” Jiang Cheng said haughtily. He wasn’t ashamed of having nightmares. After the life he’d lived, it was only to be expected.

“I don’t want to be around you at all,” Lan Wangji clarified.

“Too bad.”

“I don’t want you spending time with A-Yuan.”

Oh, so that was the real issue here. Well, in that case, the answer was still – “Too bad.”

“He’s my son.”

“He’s in my house,” Jiang Cheng said. “In my sect, in my lands, in my part of the cultivation world, which is the only reason you came here rather than literally anywhere else, remember? Because I’m a territorial bastard with a paranoid streak that won’t let anyone come look for you in here without hovering over their backs like a shadow, making it impossible for them to actually find you – sound familiar?”

Lan Wangji’s face twitched. “I did not say that.”

“You thought it,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji’s silence proved he was right. “Anyway, I don’t care if you don’t like me spending time with A-Yuan. He’s one of the only people who can make Jin Ling laugh.”

“He wants to be his big brother,” Lan Wangji said. He sounded like he had swallowed glass.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said, not understanding. “Good for him?”

Brothers didn’t have to be biological, he thought, and that old pain tore through his heart the way it always did when he thought about Wei Wuxian.

“Worthless,” Lan Wangji said, glaring at him, and Jiang Cheng almost agreed with that assessment of himself – thoughts of Wei Wuxian usually had that effect – except of course it was Lan Wangji saying it, so naturally he had to disagree.

It was oddly reaffirming, actually. He might beat himself up as being worthless, useless and pathetic, a broken shell of a man who couldn’t keep a single member of his family alive, who had nothing and lived for nothing and existed purely for the sake of his sect and Jin Ling –

But the second Lan Wangji said that he was worthless, Lan Wangji who was wrong about everything, Jiang Cheng was immediately convinced that he was the best thing that had ever been invented.

Wait, was this how Wei Wuxian used to feel all the time?

No wonder he was always tormenting Lan Wangji.

-

“I brought you some books on physical rehabilitation,” Jiang Cheng announced. “No, don’t thank me - the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can leave.”

“It will not be too soon,” Lan Wangji said.

Personally, Jiang Cheng didn’t think Lan Wangji was going to be leaving for at least another year, maybe a few more years, not with that many strikes of the discipline whip to heal and his disordered qi to straighten out, but it was nice for both of them to see a destination at the end of the road in which they didn’t have to see each other all the time. Either way, he agreed, so he wasn’t going to ruin the rare moment of complete harmony by being persnickety.

“You should knock before entering,” Lan Wangji added, prissy as always.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He probably should have, yes, but he always had the ‘it’s my house’ thing to fall back on. This was the Lotus Pier where the rules of the Lan sect didn’t apply, and as far as he was concerned, that was reason enough to ignore etiquette. Anyway, Lan Wangji was here alone and healing just the way he’d been doing the past few months, what exactly was he going to be doing that Jiang Cheng might walk in on –

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said when Lan Wangji attempted, with dignity, to extract his hands from inside his clothing, which was unfortunately not something he could do subtly. “Were you trying to jerk off?”

Lan Wangji looked mutinous.

“…were you failing to jerk off?”

Lan Wangji now looked like he wanted to rip Jiang Cheng limb from limb, even though it ought to have been clear enough that Jiang Cheng would only think to ask the question because he’d had a similar issue for a while there. The time after his family had died had been brutal, and he couldn’t even use getting off as a shortcut to fall asleep because every time he tried he couldn’t keep it up; it’d been awful. He’d been terrified that he’d broken his own dick somehow, which led to worries that he wouldn’t be able to have kids in the future and thereby fail his parents and ancestors in a brand new and yet unexplored way, which led to even more panic and even less sleeping. It hadn’t been until someone (he suspected Nie Mingjue, bizarrely enough) shoved a medical treatise about trauma reactions under his door that he’d realized it was a fairly normal aftereffect and managed to calm down a little.

Nie Mingjue had also given him so much work to do that Jiang Cheng hadn’t had time to even think about that sort of thing until nearly half a year later, at which point everything was working again and he’d completely forgotten it was even an issue until halfway into the afterglow.

Good man, that Nie Mingjue.

“If it’s a symptom, you need to tell me these things,” Jiang Cheng said, taking far too much wretched enjoyment out of the whole thing. He’d give Lan Wangji the trauma book, of course – he still had it – but he had to get his wins in where he could against the perfect iceberg, cheap shots or no. “As your current attending doctor, I’m responsible for your care –”

“It is unwanted but necessary. It is simply something that I must endure,” Lan Wangji said grimly, and Jiang Cheng raised his eyebrows.

The book had covered that, too, although that hadn’t been his problem, personally.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You keep getting hard, is that it? And then retraumatizing yourself when you try to jerk off, which means you can’t satisfy the need, which means you can’t solve the getting hard all the time problem, which in turn affects your cultivation and so your healing…yeah, I see the issue. You should probably get someone else to do it for you if you get really desperate.”

“I see no one but you,” Lan Wangji said through gritted teeth.

A problem, Jiang Cheng admitted.

Still mostly Lan Wangji’s problem, though.

“Well,” he said with the smarmiest smirk he could manage, “as your attending doctor –”

Lan Wanjgji threw a book at his head.

-

“What are you planning on doing once you’re better?” Jiang Cheng wondered.

“Why are you talking to me?” Lan Wangji replied.

“Oh come on,” Jiang Cheng said. “How can you say such a thing after taking advantage of me? I let you into my home –”

“You will not be able to rely upon that fact forever.”

“I will be able to rely on that fact for eternity,” Jiang Cheng disagreed. “I let you into my home, I hid you away from the world – which isn’t actually as easy as I make it look, just so you know! Your brother is practically scouring the earth –”

Lan Wangji looked like he’d bitten into something extremely sour.

“I’m sorry, did you think he was not going to do that? And recruit his sworn brothers to help him?” Jiang Cheng asked. “I thought the whole point of this was – well –”

“It was.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I do not enjoy hearing of it.”

“Listen, if you’re going to decide to torture someone by turning your back on them and disappearing without a word, you should at least have the guts to own it.”

“You speak from experience, I take it.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you somehow forget everything that happened back then with Wei Wuxian?”

“…you were the one who turned your back on Wei Ying.”

Jiang Cheng laughed disbelievingly. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he jeered. “Because I was so well-known for my backbone when it came to Wei Wuxian. I definitely was the one to come up with the idea to throw him out of my sect and cut ties, yeah, definitely, that’s completely what happened. I mean, obviously, I always got my way when dealing with him, every time, that’s how it always was between us. He had nothing to do with it.”

Lan Wangji was glaring at him. “Not then,” he said, each word cutting like a sword. “The Nightless City.”

“You mean the time he arrogantly and completely without warning started a fight that got my sister killed and then murdered three thousand people, including some of the very few family members and friends I had left?”

Lan Wangji was silent.

“You do mean that time,” Jiang Cheng said, marveling. “Are you insane? Even if I wanted to, if I took his side then, I’d have had no claim later on to grab him as a prisoner before anyone else did. The Jin would have executed him for sure! And slowly!”

“The Burial Mounds –”

“He imploded in front of my face!” Jiang Cheng shouted. “I had to see – when he – he died! He was – he did – you don’t even know – no, you know what, I’m not talking about this. Not with you of all people; you hated him.”

Lan Wangji’s hands were fists. “I did not.”

“No? You did a good job of acting like you did,” Jiang Cheng sneered. “Always talking about how you wanted to drag him back to Gusu just because it would make you feel better –”

“Better than leaving him.”

“I did what he wanted! And yes, fine, maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I should’ve ignored what he wanted, maybe I should’ve dragged him back to the Lotus Pier and locked him in a little room for the rest of his life the way everyone knows your dad did to your mom – ”

Lan Wangji flinched.

In fairness, Jiang Cheng was exaggerating about everyone knowing. He only knew about it because he’d heard his mother spit it out at his father during one of their nastier fights, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to have known about it, either.

“– but stupid me, I thought he’d be happier being free and alone than stuck with someone he clearly didn’t want to be around him anymore! But what do I know? Maybe I should ask you, you selfish bastard. You’re the one in his position this time, you’re the one who’s doing the turning away – I bet you don’t even know what it’s like to be the one that’s not wanted.”

Lan Wangji stared down at his hands as Jiang Cheng jumped up to his feet, Zidian crackling to life in his hand despite himself, persisting even though he tried to suppress it.

“I’m going to go hunt down some demonic cultivators,” he said, trying in vain to keep his temper even a little bit and knowing it was a lost cause. “And then I’m going to bring them back here and make them scream somewhere you can hear it. You can chew on that with some glass for all I care!”

-

“You handled that last one well,” Lan Wangji said. It sounded like someone was pulling teeth from his head.

“You’re sick,” Jiang Cheng announced. “I will go get some fever medicine at once. Are you experiencing any other symptoms in addition to hallucinations? Or should I be checking for signs of possession instead?”

Lan Wangji was back to glaring at him.

“I don’t know what drove that sudden spurt of niceness and I don’t care to know,” Jiang Cheng informed him. “I don’t need your approval.”

Lan Wangji ignored him. That was more customary.

Also unfortunate, because Jiang Cheng managed to get less than half a shichen of work done before coming back into Lan Wangji’s room (not Wei Wuxian’s room) and saying, “Okay, what exactly did I do?”

Lan Wangji looked at him sidelong.

“Seriously,” Jiang Cheng said. “What did I do that was so impressive that even you approved of it?”

“The demonic cultivator. The last one.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, thinking about it. “The – stupid one, you mean?”

Lan Wangji stared at him, and then looked at the ceiling, long-suffering. “The one from Yunping.”

“The stupid one,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, and then he was ranting again because he couldn’t seem to stop ranting about it. “I can’t believe the idiot got into demonic cultivation as a way to make money! That’s just – it’s just – if I ever figure out who paid him, I’m going to rearrange their guts with my sword. Lousy rotten opportunistic…!” He coughed, realizing he’d gotten started again when he’d promised Jiang Meimei that he’d stop. It apparently got old after the sixth repetition. “Anyway, what’s so notable about that?”

“You accepted him as an outer disciple of your own sect.”

“Well, yeah. What else was I going to do with him? He’s clearly got some talent for cultivation if he figured out demonic cultivation without dying. It’d be a waste to send him back to be a fisherman or a dockworker or something.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

“I’m not going to kill someone who got into demonic cultivation as a way to raise funds to get medicine for his sick mother,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “The idiot’s on tomb-sweeping duty for the next year to make up for having manipulated corpses the way he did, that’s punishment enough. It’s not at all comparable to the usual sort of amateur demonic cultivator, the ones that summon corpses to torment former lovers or murder business partners or that sort of thing – those are the ones I use as an example to warn everyone else. What’s the big deal?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Fine, keep your secrets. Can you watch Jin Ling today? I have a – uh – important meeting.”

“Another woman that you have no intention of actually marrying?”

“Shut up and mind your own business.”

-

“No, but seriously,” Jiang Cheng said. “What are you going to do once you’re better?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Lan Wangji said, his voice muffled on account of his face being firmly in his hands. “Go away.”

“Listen, we’re still neighbors, we still need to talk. There’s no point in being suddenly shy about it just because you’re still in the acceptance phase of grief in connection with the whole me helping you with getting off business –”

“Never speak of it.”

Jiang Cheng sniggered. He wouldn’t have pegged the Lan sect as having uncontrolled libidos, much less Lan Wangji, but apparently the situation had gotten truly dire. Anyway, really, getting mockery rights was totally worth an arm work-out and having to put up with Lan Wangji, the latter of which he had to do anyway.

“You really are taking advantage of me now, though! My poor virtue –”

Lan Wangji looked at him through his fingers. “You don’t have any virtue.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asked, suddenly curious. “I strike you as someone with a lot of experience –”

“I meant morally.”

“Oh. Hey!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

“Not as pathetic as someone who won’t answer a straight question,” Jiang Cheng said. “What’s your plan for after you’re healed? Are you going back to the Lan sect? Or start traveling as a rogue cultivator?”

“Why do you care?” Lan Wangji asked.

“I can care!”

“But you don’t. Not about my affairs.”

Jiang Cheng had to admit this was correct. “Fine,” he said. “I need a name.”

Lan Wangji frowned at him.

“For A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s been a year. The kid’s as healthy as he’s ever going to be, and he’s old enough for me to shove him in with the rest of the younger generation now that we’re starting lessons back up – cultivation, swordsmanship, shooting, etiquette, all the usual. But I can’t register him in the class without a surname, and I need to know if that surname’s going to be Lan or if you plan on changing it to something else.”

Lan Wangji was frowning at him.

“I know, I know, you’re in hiding,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s fine, it won’t give you away even if you do pick ‘Lan’. I can register him as a Yunmeng Lan instead of a Gusu Lan, the surname’s common enough that no one will suspect anything unless you make him start wearing a forehead ribbon, which I don’t think you lot do at this age yet anyway. But if you’re planning on continuing to hide from your family after you get better, you’re going to need to do something about all of that.”

Lan Wangji looked sour.

“Anyway, long story short, that’s it. Your plans, I need to know them.”

Lan Wangji looked even more sour.

“Well? What is it?”

“We will return to the Lan sect,” Lan Wangji said.

“Not that hard, was it,” Jiang Cheng said. “I knew you were just throwing a temper tantrum.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes.

After a moment, he said, “What do we do about Jin Ling?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do we do about Jin Ling’?” Jiang Cheng asked suspiciously. “I had to fight half of Lanling Jin for the right to raise him here, we’re not doing anything about Jin Ling – anyway, who’s ‘we’? He’s my nephew!”

“A-Yuan sees him as a little brother.”

This was true.

“They will not want to part.”

…also true.

“Moreover,” and here Lan Wangji looked especially sour, “I believe A-Yuan has taken you as something of a – second parent.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Jiang Cheng said. “He’s a cute kid. Anyway, don’t take it so personally. Kids just do that, they adopt any adult in the vicinity as their own. I mean, certainly Jin Ling thinks of you as…wait. Wait. Are we co-parenting?!”

“Mm. Took you long enough to notice.”

-

It had been a bad day, a bad week, and a bad month, and Jiang Cheng’s temper, never good, was on the verge of imploding, so naturally that was when he completely lost all self-control he might have had and marched over to Lan Wangji’s room to blurt out, “Why do you hate me?”

Lan Wangji’s hands stilled over his guqin.

“I know why I hate you, even putting aside the fact that you’re a jackass with the emotional capacity of a brick,” Jiang Cheng said. “But I really have no idea what I did to you to make you hate me.”

There were so many options, after all. He was a cruel, vicious, and bitter man – he was a terrible parent, unlikable as a friend, barely sufficient as a sect leader, and such a failure at connecting socially with anyone that he’d been blacklisted as a marriage prospect despite being handsome, young, rich, and powerful. There were so many reasons to hate him.

But he didn’t know which one was the one that made Lan Wangji look at him with disdain, even if he thought that perhaps there was slightly less of that these days than there had been before.

“I hate you because you abandoned Wei Ying when he needed you,” Lan Wangji said. “He was your brother, and you left him behind – more than that, you led the charge against him, resulting in his death.”

…that was a good reason.

Jiang Cheng wouldn’t mind being hated for that reason, actually. It was a nice change from all those people who congratulated him for having done the right thing: all those smug sect leaders that comforted him for having raised a white-eyed wolf in the family, the ones that said his actions showed that he had a good backbone and a righteous bearing, the ones that had the gall to send him gifts of congratulation on the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death to thank him for his contribution to the cultivation world when all he wanted was to be left alone to mourn…

“That’s fine,” he croaked. “Okay. Yes. That’s – fine.”

“Why do you hate me?” Lan Wangji asked in turn. “You said you knew.”

“Oh, that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Same reason.”

Lan Wangji stared.

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “I mean, I know you were always harsh on him when we were together at your uncle’s lectures, which was completely fair given how much he was always bothering you. But he really did try sincerely to help you when we were all the Wen sect’s camp, and in the cave with the Xuanwu – but after, in the war, when he showed up with his demonic cultivation, you suddenly turned on him even though he was just doing it to help. You kept telling him he had to stop, even though you knew he was doing so much for the war effort, and you wanted to take him back to Gusu to do who-knows-what to him…you even snatched him away during the battle of the Nightless City! I saw you. I was so afraid you were going to kill him, I completely lost my head. I looked for you everywhere – I really don’t know how he was lucky enough to get away from you that time.”

Lan Wangji stared at him.

“And then you didn’t even bother to show up to the siege of the Burial Mounds in person,” Jiang Cheng added, feeling bitter. “After I heard from the Lan sect that he escaped from you, I briefly thought that you’d changed your mind and let him go. I was counting on you to be at the Burial Mounds to support me in claiming him as a Jiang sect prisoner – I had Chifeng-zun signed on, if reluctantly, and with you leading the Lan I could’ve made a decent argument. But then you didn’t show, either you or your brother; instead you sent your uncle, and of course there wasn’t even any point in asking him, was there?”

“…I didn’t know,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. “I wasn’t informed. It was shortly after…”

He nodded at his own shoulder, meaning the disaster on his back. Jiang Cheng hadn’t asked how it happened – he really wanted to know, as in really, really, really wanted to know, but even he was aware that actually asking would be unbearably rude. Still, he was surprised by the timing of it. How had Lan Wangji managed to end up in the hands of his enemies then? Who had even been left to do it to him?

“Yeah, well,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head to try to kick away his curiosity the way he would something clinging to his foot. “You were still a bastard to him when he needed you, so I hate you.”

He frowned.

“Also, you hate me,” he said. “So I hated you back just for that. Though I guess, since your reason for hating me is valid, maybe I should stop hating you back for that?”

He considered it.

“No,” he decided. “You’re too annoying not to hate.”

“The same for you,” Lan Wangji said after an unusual hesitation.

Jiang Cheng nodded and, feeling oddly relieved at not having found a new basis for self-hatred, departs.

-

“So once you’ve reestablished yourself at the Cloud Recesses, we’ll exchange extended visits on a regular basis so the kids can see each other,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji nodded. “A minimum of three weeks per season, whether in the Lotus Pier or Cloud Recesses, and preferably double that.”

“Agreed.”

“In the meantime, you’ll work on getting the trade agreement we hammered out through your brother and sect elders as recompense for the time you spent here.”

“Mm.”

“An agreement whose source you will be disclosing very carefully because the Venerated Triad will not hesitate to murder me if they figure out without adequate warning it was me that was housing you for all this time.”

Lan Wangji said nothing and promised nothing.

Bastard.

Still, after nearly three years, Jiang Cheng was pretty used to it.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said. “Is there anything I’ve left out?”

“Joint night-hunts.”

“Right, right, we’ll make a point of regularly going on joint night-hunts – wait, why are we doing that? You don’t need me to watch your back now that you’re fully healed.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze wandered.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said. “So we can keep having hate-sex on the regular?”

“…mm.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? It’s not like I’m doing anything else – or anyone else. Blacklisted, remember?”

“Unsurprising,” Lan Wangji said, like the bastard he was.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, whatever. The set-up works, doesn’t it? I’m blacklisted, you’re apparently eternally pining for Wei Wuxian of all people – your taste is the worst – so who’s going to call us out on it? Go on, get out of here already. I’ll see you next month.”

-

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, looking between the newly resurrected Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, abruptly made of an issue he had hitherto not considered based on Lan Wangji’s screaming body language. “This is. Uh. Awkward?”

[eliemo]

Bored of Love

Summary: Virgil knows Roman is going to leave if he doesn't change. But he still has time. He can fix this.

TWs: social anxiety, fear of a breakup, misunderstandings

Notes: Enjoy this little oneshot while I work on some of my bigger projects. Romantic Prinxiety, established relationship

Virgil didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this.

Which was stupid, he’d put himself in this position. It’d be selfish of him to back out of it now. He might ruin everything irreparably if he even tried.

Virgil could suck it up and deal with this, even if it felt like he was going to die the next time he stepped into a public place the Imagination created for him.

But that didn’t matter. Because this was for Roman- and Roman was beaming. He’d been thrilled all week, eyes lighting up in a way that made Virgil dizzy whenever he suggested another date idea or activity to the Prince, carefully hiding the exhausted waver in his voice that hadn’t gone away after three straight days of taking Roman out.

He’d thought he might have been going a little overboard, offering to go out and do things day after day. He’d been a little worried Roman would catch on to what he was doing. Maybe he’d laugh at how disgustingly desperate Virgil was.

But he didn’t. The Prince just looked more excited each time, jumping up and sweeping Virgil off his feet and into an embrace when a new idea was presented.

And that made it worth it. Roman was happy- happy with Virgil- and that was the best feeling in the world. If it meant Roman would keep loving him, that Roman would stay, a little exhaustion and extra anxiety was something he could live with.

Virgil was just...glad he’d forced himself to do this before it was too late.

He hadn’t noticed it until last week, how...annoying it must be for Roman whenever Virgil wanted to stay in and do nothing. Again.

Virgil had thought it would be ok, that Roman understood that sometimes going out and doing things, being active and social, was just a little too much. He’d warned Roman about it before they’d gotten together, that his anxiety could be an obstacle, that he’d do his best but he’d always prefer to be alone with his boyfriend, held safely against his chest.

And Roman hadn’t cared. Not even for a second. He’d waved it off with grand declarations of love that he’d quickly pushed aside in favor of more serious, quiet promises, holding Virgil close to make sure he understood.

All he wanted was Virgil to be comfortable and happy. All he wanted was for them to be together. If Virgil would let Roman love him, he would be happy no matter what they did.

And that’s what they’d done. And everything had been...perfect. It had been better than he’d ever thought it could be, everything he’d never let himself dare to hope for. Being with Roman made the world feel ok, and the bad days more than worth it.

Virgil loved him. And he was so so scared to mess this up.

Which was why last week, when Roman had actually been annoyed by his introversion for the first time, Virgil had panicked immediately and scrambled to fix everything.

Roman had suggested going out on a date night, something a bit more extravagant than their usual quiet dinner in Roman’s room or in the empty kitchen. And as nice as it sounded, Virgil knew there was absolutely no way he would have been able to handle it that night.

His anxiety had been acting up, leaving him jumpy and tired, and even just the thought of venturing out into the Imagination left him wanting to curl up in his bed and never leave.

And he’d said as much, sheepishly admitting he’d really rather just stay inside for the night. And instead of the usual gentle understanding he got in return, Roman had scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course you don't,” he’d muttered. “Come on, Virgil, you never want to do anything fun. Staying inside all day is boring. I’m just trying to do something nice for you like a boyfriend is supposed to do since apparently you can’t return the favor.”

And then he’d stormed off, probably to complain to Patton and Logan, and Virgil he’d been left on the couch feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

Roman had said when they’d started dating that it was ok, that he didn’t care. He wanted Virgil, not the dates and outings and activities. He wouldn’t care if Virgil was too anxious to go out. He’d be perfectly content curling up in bed and watching a movie they’d both seen a hundred times before.

Was that...not true? Had he changed his mind? Was Virgil getting boring? Was he annoying Roman?

Was Roman going to leave if Virgil didn’t hurry up and get it together?

Maybe it was already too late. Maybe Roman had already gotten bored and fallen out of love with him. Maybe there was nothing Virgil could do to convince him to stay with someone like Anxiety.

Beneath the panic, Virgil had recognized he was spiraling. Roman wouldn’t leave him, not out of nowhere. Not over this. Virgil still had time to fix things. He could be better.

Roman had apologized less than an hour later, complete with a bundle of purple flowers and a nervous smile. Virgil hadn’t been mad, of course, and he assumed the apology had only felt necessary because it was impossible for Virgil to hide the fact he’d been crying.

But they were fine now. That had been days ago, and Roman clearly wasn’t giving it a second thought.

But Virgil hadn’t stopped thinking about it, and the next day he’d come to Roman with a date idea, something similar to what Roman had suggested. Virgil had been tired and a little unfocused, but it had been worth it to see Roman positively beam at him.

And then Virgil hadn’t...stopped. He’d kept making plans around their pre-existing schedule for filming and time with the others, more and more piling up until Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a moment to himself.

It had almost been almost a week now, a week of taking Roman out every day and pushing down panic and exhaustion because Virgil was fine. This is what he wanted because it was what Roman wanted.

Every time a date ended the thoughts would come rushing back, panicked and insistent that Roman was still going to leave him no matter what he did. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if Roman had wanted more? What if Virgil had been too quiet- too boring?

They wouldn’t be silent until Virgil made another plan, took them out again, until Roman smiled with undeniable excitement and led them back into the bustling Imagination.

They had another dinner date tonight, in just a couple hours. Virgil found himself hunched over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, staring blankly at his half empty mug of coffee, and trying very hard not to think about how Logan was staring at him.

“Virgil,” Logan said carefully, and Virgil heard him approach from the kitchen doorway. “Are you...alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said quickly, too quickly, because he wasn’t fine, it felt like he was going to break down if he had to do one more thing today. They’d already worked on filming, and Thomas had gone out with a friend that morning, and Virgil just wanted to sleep. “Why?”

He heard Logan move even closer, tensing when the logical side put a hand on his shoulder. “Because you’ve been incredibly active this last week, and that isn’t like you.”

Virgil grimaced and shook off his hand, probably more aggressively than was necessary. “I’m fine. Maybe I like being active.”

“You don’t,” Logan said, and it wasn’t a question. “And there is nothing wrong with that, Virgil. Some people are more introverted than others, and socializing drains them more quickly. Not to mention your anxiety makes you—”

“Yeah, I know,” Virgil snapped, pushing himself off the stool to dump his coffee in the sink. “I’m shit at doing things and I’m trying to fix that.”

“There is nothing to fix, Virgil. Pushing yourself like this will only hurt you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself.”

Virgil sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing at the edge of the counter to keep himself from having a breakdown on the kitchen floor. Logan didn’t deserve to deal with that.

“I’m taking my boyfriend out to dinner,” he said, hating how his voice shook. “And I took him out a few times this week because he deserves it. That’s all. I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan was silent a moment, Virgil still refusing to turn around. “If you told Roman this was hurting you, I’m sure he would—”

“Don’t tell Roman.” Virgil finally spun around, eyes wide and panicked, meeting Logan’s raised eyebrow.“Please, don’t tell Roman, Lo you can't.”

Logan shook his head, watching Virgil with a mix of something between sympathy and concern. “It is not my place to talk to Roman about this. But I do not recommend letting this continue.”

“I’m doing this to make him happy,” Virgil said, and it sounded small and pathetic to his own ears. “I’m...I have to, Lo. He deserves so much better.”

Logan sighed, short and quiet, and for a second Virgil thought he was going to be told off. Virgil was being ridiculous, and no amount of faking excitement and energy could get Roman to stay with someone like him.

But Logan just reached over to squeeze his hand, smiling gently. “Roman is happier than he has been in years since entering a relationship with you. Please try to remember that.”

And then he was gone, leaving Virgil to try and catch his breath in the middle of an empty kitchen until he found the strength to hurry upstairs to get ready for dinner.

--

Dinner was great, obviously. It was great because Roman was there, smiling, eyes twinkling as he talked about...something. For the life of him, Virgil couldn’t focus on the conversation anymore.

He was exhausted and the background chatter of the other people in the restaurant (because of course when Roman created something he had to make it as realistic as possible- what was the fun in a date at a fancy restaurant if it was completely empty and quiet?) was grating against his skull. It was too much and as wonderful as it was to see Roman so happy, Virgil just wanted it to be over.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to Roman’s room and climb into bed and sleep against the Prince’s chest and forget about the world.

But he couldn’t, because this wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough, he had to do more because the second Virgil showed just how much he hated this Roman would stop smiling, and he’d realize just how awful Virgil was to be with. Roman was a Prince, he deserved so much better than Anxiety, and if Virgil didn’t change—

“Virgil?” Roman had stopped talking, and Virgil quickly snapped to attention when he realized Prince was staring at him, brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

It took Virgil a moment to notice he’d started shaking, uncontrollable trembling that was impossible to hide when he took a sip of his water.

But he was fine. He was fine and he needed to get over himself before Roman picked up on anything.

“I’m good, Princey,” he said, cursing how weak his voice sounded. “Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow? I had some ideas.”

Roman stared for a second, and Virgil’s heart sank when his smile started to drop. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Virgil. Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Virgil squeezed his hands into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. “I’m fine, I’m...I’m just cold. It’s cold in here. Do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

It was clearly a lie, Roman always kept the temperature perfect in his realm, and Virgil felt more like he was overheating than anything.

“Virge...” he reached forward, freezing when Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself. “Honey, you...do not look fine.”

“I am,” Virgil argued, even as tears began to gather in his eyes. “I’m fine, I swear. We’re having a fun time, I’m ok. You’re...you’re having fun, right? You like these dates?”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, cautiously looking Virgil over before speaking carefully. “I...I do, but—”

“That’s good!” It came out a bit too desperate, and Virgil internally cringed. “That’s...that’s good. They’re for you.”

“But I’m an extrovert,” Roman said. “We know I enjoy being out and about like this. You’re...Virgil, it’s ok if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I do want to, I promise. We’re..we’re having fun. You’ve been having fun.”

“I have,” Roman said slowly. “But if it’s at the cost of your mental health we can have fun doing other things. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“Yes I do,” Virgil said before he could stop himself, wincing when his voice broke. “And I’m fine. Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow?”

Roman was silent for a long moment, too long, watching Virgil like he was worried the anxious side might break. Virgil thought he might, too.

“Actually,” the Prince started, voice soft. “I was thinking we could stay in tomorrow.”

Virgil hated how quickly his head shot up, hope clawing at his chest when he saw the sincerity in Roman’s eyes. “You were?”

“I was,” Roman said. “I may not be as good as Patton, but I could figure out how to cook us something edible. We could eat it in bed and watch movies, if you’d like.”

It was like a weight had just been lifted off of Virgil’s shoulders, letting him breathe for the first time all week as he wiped away tears still pooling in his eyes. “That...would be really nice. If- if that’s what you want to do. If you’re sure.”

Roman nodded, back to smiling gently, and Virgil couldn’t even try to hold back the pathetic sobs that broke free, leaving him hunched over and trembling in the middle of the restaurant.

He heard Roman’s chair scoot back and for a terrifying second he thought the Prince was leaving, finally giving up on the pathetic mess sitting across from him.

But then there was another chair being pulled up beside him, and Roman had gathered Virgil into his arms and against his chest, letting Virgil cry into his shirt as he held him close.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, and Virgil didn’t understand why he was the one apologizing. “Gosh, I’m sorry Virgil. I’ve...I’ve been so selfish, haven’t I?”

“What?” Virgil pulled back, still clutching at Roman’s shirt. “You’re not being selfish, Ro. I’m...I’ve been trying to make you happy.”

“I was perfectly happy how we were,” Roman said softly. “I thought you were being more social and I didn't want to discourage you, but I completely missed the signs that you weren’t enjoying it.”

“I was enjoying it,” Virgil said, and it was only half a lie. “You were so happy. You were happy. It was worth it.”

“You’re breaking down,” Roman said, and Virgil flinched. “Nothing is worth this.”

“But—”

“I’m gonna talk to Logan about a day off,” Roman continued before Virgil could argue. “You’re going to sleep in, and I’m going to make you breakfast, and we’ll spend the day unwinding. Alright?”

It sounded amazing, like everything Virgil had been desperately wanting all week long, but...but it was the opposite of what he’d been trying to do. He’d ruined the night, and Roman...Roman didn’t look upset, but...

“Are...are you mad? It’s ok if you are, but I—”

“No baby,” Roman said, soft and gentle in a way that only shattered Virgil’s resolve further. “I’m not mad at all.”

Virgil wasn’t sure he entirely believed that, not when he’d so royally fucked everything up. “I’m...sorry. I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be better.”

He felt Roman freeze, tightening his hold for just a second before loosening again to look Virgil in the eyes. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, not sure why it was a question. “I’m...look, Princey I know I’m a shitty boyfriend and I- I don’t know how long you’re going to put up with it so I’m...trying to change. I can do better. I promise I can do better next time.”

Roman was silent for a long moment, and Virgil expected him to sigh, begrudgingly admit that Virgil was right, he’d just been hoping his frustration wasn’t so obvious, and agree to try another date tomorrow when Virgil got over himself.

Instead Roman tightened his hold, eyes wide and...horrified? “What on earth are you talking about?”

Virgil frowned back at him, panic and uncertainty coiling in his gut because he hadn’t actually thought any of this needed to be explained.

“I know I hold you back,” Virgil said, continuing before Roman could protest. “You love going out and doing things and I know it’s...frustrating that I don’t. You don’t go on quests as much anymore and you're less active because I like to stay in, and I don’t take you out like I should, and I—”

“I don’t go out as much because I’m happy spending time with you,” Roman cut in. “I’d go out if I wanted to, darling. I like staying in with you. Yes, these dates have been wonderful, and I appreciate them. But I’d prefer to do something where both of us are comfortable.”

“But—” Virgil’s breath caught on another sob, and he tightened his hold on the Prince. “But you said I never...I- I thought you were getting bored with me.”

Roman looked confused, but it only lasted a second before realization took over. “Is this...is this because of the fight we had?”

Virgil shrugged, eyes on his lap. “It...wasn’t a fight. You were honest with me and I tried to fix what I was doing wrong.”

“Oh, baby.” Roman’s hands were suddenly cupping his face, tilting his chin up to meet Virgil’s gaze. “That wasn’t me being honest, Virgil. That was me being an asshole because I had a long day and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Virgil couldn’t see with the way the tears were blurring his vision, but the anxiety that had been relentlessly wrapped around his heart since Roman had lashed out was beginning to unravel.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathless. “I thought...I just wanted this to be perfect for you. I wanted to be good.”

“Neither one of us will ever be perfect.” Roman smiled, wiping away Virgil’s tears with his thumb. “But I love you. I love you so much, Virgil. You’re perfect to me.”

Virgil struggled to breathe around hiccuping sobs still coming from his chest, completely lost because this wasn’t...this was all wrong. “But you...you deserve the best.”

“And I have that. You being comfortable and safe is all I could ever want, Virgil. You’re my world.”

And well...great. Now Virgil was crying in earnest all over again, collapsing into Roman’s chest and letting it all out, melting into his embrace as he once again held him tight.

Roman shushed him gently, rocking them both where they sat, running gentle fingers through Virgil’s hair. “You deserve the best too, Virgil. Please don’t ever put yourself below me.”

“I do have the best,” Virgil said, muffled from where he’d buried his face in Roman’s chest. “If...if you stay.” He quickly pulled back, panic clawing at his throat. “Not- not that you have to stay. You don’t. I’m not...you’re not trapped or anything, I just—”

“I know, Virgil,” Roman said gently, and he relaxed again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ok,” Virgil sighed, breaths still shaky, head rested on Roman’s shoulder. “Sorry for ruining dinner.”

“You didn’t,” Roman assured, rubbing gentle circles along the anxious side’s back. “Would you like to go home?”

Virgil probably nodded a bit too fast, but Roman didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. He just scooped Virgil up bridal style and carried him through the now silent restaurant. Virgil belatedly realized Roman had gotten rid of the rest of the customers.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered, wrapping his arms tight around Roman’s shoulder when the Prince kissed the top of his head. “I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Roman said, stern but gentle in a way that didn’t send Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Virgil nodded, too tired to form another response, closing his eyes and letting Roman take them back to his room. For the first time all week, Virgil found himself looking forward to what tomorrow held.

[arvinsescape]

Last orders.

A/N: This idea came to me so randomly! I hope you all enjoy!!

Summary: Y/N and Tom have a lot of sexual tension that finally snaps.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (Fingering, unprotected sex(wrap it up, practice safe sex), slight dom! Tom). Minors do not engage.

W/C: 3.1K

It was 9 o clock on Thursday night and like every Thursday night at 9 o clock Tom walked through the entrance to the pub, brother’s in tow. You bit your lip as you watched him approach his usual table, right next to the bar, you in his eyesight. You were the have they haven’t they of the pub, people assumed you’d slept together, assumed you were friends with benefits. You flirted constantly, you were incredibly touchy feely with each other but you’d never slept together, the sexual tension was there but neither of you had ever acted on it.

You liked him, you really did and you weren’t sure whether he was just a flirt or whether he liked you back. Your friend insisted he liked you back because he didn’t flirt with anyone else who worked there, nor did he flirt with any of the women that came in. You just weren’t sure and didn’t want to assume and make a fool of yourself so you never acted upon it, waiting for him to make a move in that direction.

“Lover boy’s here as usual.” Annie whispered to you as she continued to pull the pint for her customer and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“So he is.” You muttered.

“Seriously, when are you guys gonna fuck?” She laughed, talking a little louder than you’d have liked.

“Annie.” You hissed and she only laughed louder.

“You know, it’s hard to watch you guys. You pine after each other so much, just make a move.” She said again and you were about to respond until Harry approached the bar.

“Usual?” You asked and he nodded.

“Please.” He said as he smiled at you and you started filling their pint glasses. “You working late tonight?” He asked and you nodded.

“As I always do on a Thursday. Locking up is my job tonight.” You laughed and he nodded with a smirk.

“What?” You asked carefully. You knew that look, he was planning something.

“Nothing, nothing.” He waved off. “Annie what time are you working till tonight?” He suddenly turned his attention to your best friend.

“10 why?” She said, she liked Harry, that much was obvious.

“Just curious.” He said again with a smirk as he payed for the drinks and headed back to their table.

“What was that all about?” You asked Annie bewildered.

“No idea.” She said and you smirked.

“Maybe, he’s gonna ask you out.” You said and she scoffed.

“I don’t think so. Why would he want to know when you finish?” She said and you shrugged.

“No idea.” You said and you felt Tom’s eyes on you as you tried to hold back your smile.

**

It was a slow night, Annie had finished early because it didn’t need two of you, the only people left being three regulars, two women and Tom’s table. You were currently sat chatting with Tom’s brother’s, eye on the bar as you sat close to Tom, thighs touching and it made your heart hammer in your chest as you tried to stay invested in Harry’s story.

You were listening as intently as you could with Tom so close until you felt his hand brush yours under the table a few times, you were about to move your hand when you felt him slowly lace his fingers with yours, testing the waters and your heart hammered harder in your chest at the contact. No matter how many times Tom touched you it still had the same effect. He held your hand for ten minutes before you had to move to clear the table the women were sat on after they’d left.

“Cute.” John said as you served him again, he was your standard barfly, always sat at the end of the bar, observing everything, he was a lovely man but he didn’t miss a thing. “You guys finally together?” He whispered and you shook your head.

“No, just friends.” You smiled as he handed over his money.

“He needs to grow a pair and ask you out.” John whispered as he laughed lightly and sipped his pint as you sat back down, Tom’s hand instantly finding yours under the table again.

An hour later and it was just Tom and his brother’s left.

“I’m gonna do last orders, you want anything?” You asked and Harry and Sam shook their heads which was odd, they always stayed for a last pint. You looked at Tom and he nodded as you stood up to make his drink.

“Only if you’re gonna join me.” You heard him say and you turned to look at him.

“Only if you’re buying.” You teased and he smirked.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t?”

“On that note, I’m heading home.” Harry said as he finished his pint.

“Yeah, see you at home Tom. Maybe.” Sam smirked as they both said their goodbyes and left.

“How come they didn’t stay?” You asked as you started cleaning the bar down.

“No idea.” Tom said as he sipped his pint. “Can’t say I’m complaining though.” He said and you tried to fight the blush making its way onto your face. You locked the pub doors as you sat back down next to Tom, every intention of finishing your drink before you finished cleaning up.

“Then there were two.” You said and he hummed.

“Then there were two.” He agreed.

Your flirting became more bold then usual, on both sides as you finished your drinks and you moved to take the nozzles of the taps so you could clean them. You were stood when you saw Tom move in your peripheral, you wondered where he was going until you felt him snake his arms around your waist.

“You arse looks amazing in those jeans.” He said as he placed a kiss to your cheek and you smiled, you’d worn them on purpose, Annie said he stared more than usual when you wore them.

“You’re very bold tonight, Tom. Had too much to drink?” You teased and he placed a kiss to your neck, you shivered at the contact.

“No, I’m not drunk princess.” He said, you knew he wasn’t, you knew his limitations considering you served him on his most drunken nights in the pub, he was nowhere near. “Do you want me to stop.” He whispered as he placed a kiss onto the skin below your ear and you shivered again.

“Tom, I need to finish up here.” You said in a shaky breath, he well and truly had your full attention. Your tone entirely unconvincing. He hummed as he placed a string of kisses down your neck and then moved away from you.

“Okay darling, you finish up and I’ll walk you home.” He said. You finished up as quick as you possibly could, the only job left being cleaning down the table Tom had been sat on. You were leant over the table, wiping it down when you heard Tom mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath. You smirked to yourself as you took longer to clean the table than necessary.

“You doing that on purpose darling?” He asked as his hands found your waist and you bit your lip as you stood and turned in his arms to face him. “Because it’s working.” He said and you looked up at him innocently.

“I don’t know what you mean Tom.” You said and he groaned slightly as he pulled you impossibly closer to him, head dipping so his lips where ghosting yours, hands on your hips. You were breathing harder as you felt him grow hard, the arousal between your legs growing. You placed your hands on his chest as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.” He whispered and you swallowed hard in response, mouth dry. “Can I kiss you princess?” He whispered, voice full of lust and you felt weak to the knees, thankful for his firm grip on your hips. This was it, the months of flirting and sexual tension had reached its breaking point and you were growing wetter with the anticipation of him finally taking you.

“Please.” You whispered and the small gap between your lips was non existent as he connected your lips, you almost moaned as your eyes fluttered shut. You grasped his shirt between your fingers in an effort to pull him even closer to you, you felt the table against your backside as one of his hands made its way into your hair, removing the bobble that had been keeping it up. He licked your bottom lip asking for entrance and you granted it, tongues fighting for dominance which Tom ultimately won.

The hand that was in your hair moved to grab your arse as he squeezed slightly making you gasp, your hands moved to his hair as you deepened the kiss. You pulled slightly at his hair and he groaned in response. You both pulled back for air, breathing hard as he stared into your eyes, the lust in them both evident.

“You’re fucking perfect.” He said as he reconnected your lips, hands moving to your thighs as he hoisted you onto the table, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He moved his hands to the hem of your shirt as he removed it, breaking the kiss again. You were thankful the pub didn’t have any cameras. He placed kisses onto your chest as your hand slid into his hair. He unclipped your bra and discarded it somewhere.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He muttered as he took a nipple into his mouth and you moaned as he flicked his tongue over it, hand tightening in his hair and he groaned. He moved his hand to roll your free nipple between his fingers and your arousal grew further, the need for him growing with every flick of his tongue and roll of his fingers.

“Tom.” You moaned as he moved your back further onto the table. His hands moved to unbutton your jeans, moving them down your legs slightly, hand dipping into your underwear to run a finger up your slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet princess. All for me?” He groaned and you moaned as he slid a finger into your heat. “Sound so fucking pretty.” He said as he moved to kiss you again, finger curling towards your g spot and you moaned into his mouth. “Wanted to fuck you for so long baby.” He whispered against your lips.

“Please Tom.” You almost begged and he hummed in response.

“Please what? What do you want?” He said, kisses moving to your neck and collarbones. “Want me to fuck this pretty pussy with my fingers, tongue? Tell me what you want princess.”

“I want, fuck, Tom, I want your fingers.” You moaned out and he hummed in response as he removed his finger from your heat.

“Open.” He said as you opened your mouth and he placed two fingers into it, you instantly wrapped your lips around them, sucking and licking at his fingers, tasting yourself. “You’re so fucking hot. Get my fingers nice and wet darling. Gonna fuck you with them so get them wet for me.” He said and you moaned as your eyes rolled back into your head at his words. He removed his fingers and placed them back into your underwear, rubbing your clit as you moaned out.

“Fuck Tom.” You moaned and he moved his fingers into your core, fingers curling up towards your g spot. “Feels so good.” You panted out as his thumb found your clit. You clenched around his fingers as he bit your neck.

“So responsive baby. So good for me. No idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” You felt your high approaching as he kissed, licked, and bit at your neck between his words. “Can’t wait to get my cock inside this tight, warm pussy. You want that princess? You want my cock?” He said and you nodded in response, words escaping you as you felt the pleasure consume you, all that was on your mind was him.

His fingers worked you further towards your high as you became a moaning mess for him, his name leaving your lips as if it was the only word you knew. He knew he’d found your sweet spot when you moaned louder and clenched tighter around his fingers.

“Found it.” He whispered as he sucked a mark onto your skin, your walls clenching further around his fingers. “Come on baby, come for me. Come all over my fingers.” He whispered and you did, you came hard as pleasure consumed you and he fucked you through your high. “So perfect.” He mumbled against your skin as you came down from your high.

He removed his fingers and looked you straight in the eye as he licked them clean, humming as he did so. “You taste amazing.” He moaned and you felt your arousal grow again. “I don’t have a condom.” He said as he placed a kiss against your lips.

“I’m on contraception. You clean?” You said and he nodded.

“Haven’t slept with anyone since I met you and I did a test just before that, I’m clean.” He said and you smiled, you hadn’t either.

“Me too.” You said and he nodded again before making quick work of discarding all your clothes. He looked down at your naked body and the look in his eyes had you feeling anything other than self-conscious.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he pulled you to sit up on the table, legs wrapping back around your waist as he slid into you. You both moaned in pleasure, almost as if to say finally. “You feel so much better than I imagined. Fuck.” Tom said as he gave you a minute to adjust to him. “So fucking tight.” He said and the need for him to move reached its breaking point as you spoke.

“Tom, move please.” You moaned as you gripped his back, he groaned as he buried his face into your neck. Hips moving against yours as you both moaned, his thrusts were hard, fast, and deep. You cried out as he sucked your neck and fucked you like your lives both depended on it. You clenched around him due to the pleasure and he moaned your name.

“Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna come.” He said and your nails dug into his back as the pleasure took over again, never in your life had you been fucked like this, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk when he was done. “So fucking snug around my cock princess.” He said as he thrusted harder into you and you moaned louder with the pleasure. His name was back on your lips.

“Sound so hot baby. Fucking sound so perfect. So fucking amazing.” He moaned out and you felt the coil in your stomach wind itself up for the second time that night. “Close princess? Gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?”

“Feel so good Tom. Gonna come on your cock, you fill me up so good.” You moaned out as he placed his fingers back on your sensitive clit making you cry out. You were close to the edge as Tom continued to thrust into you, fingers rubbing your clit, both of you moaning. Tom connected your lips as his thrusts grew sloppy, both of you falling over the edge, one after the other. He fucked you through your highs, it took you a few minutes to compose yourselves as he placed lazy kisses to your shoulder, stroking your sides as he calmed you through your aftershocks.

“Wow.” Was all you said when you’d composed yourself and he laughed lightly into the skin of your shoulder.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He said as he continued to pepper your shoulder with kisses. You stayed like that for a few minutes before he pulled out and cleaned you both up, you got redressed, making small talk. You finished up your jobs and set the alarm to the pub, locking up as you both stood outside.

It sunk in as you walked towards your home that the sexual tension had now been broken and you didn’t know where that left you both. You stopped in your tracks.

“Tom?” You asked and he spun around to look at you, confusion evident on his features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly panicked at your change in mood, he stood in front of you as he studied your face.

“Is that it?” You asked vaguely and he furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you sighed as you ran a hand through your hair. “What are we?” You went with instead. “What happened back there, is that all it was? Just a hook up?”

“Darling,” he sighed as he took your face in his hands, making you look into his eyes. “I have liked you for so fucking long. No, that wasn’t just a hook up for me, I want it to be more, if that’s what you want?” He asked and the look in his eyes was so genuine that you smiled, he really wanted you the way you wanted him.

“Yeah, I’d really like that.” You said and he grinned as he connected your lips in a swift kiss.

“Thank fuck for that. Come on, let me get you home, it’s freezing.” He said as he held a hand out to you which you happily took as he laced your fingers together. “I really meant it Y/N, I really really like you.” He said as you walked and you smiled.

“I really like you too Tom.” You confirmed and it felt good to have it in the open.

“Want to go out tomorrow night? There’s this really nice Italian I want to try.” He asked and you laughed.

“I think we’ve done this the wrong way around. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner before we sleep together?” You teased and he laughed as you approached your door, he turned you to look at him, back lightly pressed against the door.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6?” He asked as his lips ghosted yours, you nodded as he connected your lips in a sweet kiss. It was much more innocent than the last one, his arms around your waist as yours were around his shoulders. He disconnected your lips as he placed his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow princess.” He said as he kissed your cheek, stepping back from you and you instantly missed him.

You grasped his shirt in your hands again as you pulled him back to you, lips finding each other’s again. The kiss grew deeper and you found your back pressed into the door as he placed kisses down your neck.

“We are definitely doing things the wrong way around.” He mumbled into your neck as you felt your arousal grow again, a light laugh leaving your lips.

“Stay?” You asked and he pulled back to smile at you.

“If that’s what you want princess.” He said as he placed a quick kiss to your lips. “I like you, I really fucking do.” He said as he placed kisses down your neck as you spun around to unlock your door, giggling as you practically fell through your front door.

“Hold on.” Tom suddenly said and you whipped around to look at him, eyebrows furrowed, waiting for him to carry on. “Will you be my girlfriend? I realise I didn’t actually ask.” He said and you laughed as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

“I’d love to be.” You said and he grinned as he kissed you again.

[therealvinelle]

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible. 

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested. 

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning. 

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all. 

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No. 

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden. 

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

[sidespromptblog]

The Goodbye Letter

Warnings: Crying (Logan), Hurt/Comfort, goodbye letter, talk of fading (past tense- Logan), and general angst. 

Summary: After months of planning and thinking, Logan decides to finally leave the light sides for good. Through a letter.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2188

The desk lamp next to Logan clicked on, illuminating a corner of the logical side’s room on pale yellow light as the figure of the logical side sat hunched over his desk a pen clasped tight between cramping fingers. 

It was late, so late that even Virgil would have been asleep by now. 

Which meant that it was the perfect time to do this.  

“I can do it...” Logan softly chanted to himself, as he rubbed his temples only giving the clock on his desk a wayward glance. It was late, way too late for the emotions he was trying to wrangle right now. But it had to be done now, or else he wasn’t going to get it done at all. “We talked about this ahead of time, and we know that I can do this…” 

All things considered, Logan started his letter off pretty eloquently given the state of his emotions. 

“I hope, that when you finally notice that I am no longer around. That the silence where I once stood is deafening.” He began, finding that once he started it was almost impossible to stop. “I hope that you try to fill it in whatever ways you can possibly think of, be it your singing, dancing, or probably more accurately… the arguing that never seems to go away whether I’m there or not. Whatever way you try, I hope that they all fail and I hope that you remember the time where the silence wasn’t there. I hope that you remember that it was once me, and I hope that you remember how I once was.” 

Logan didn’t feel at all angry, despite how his letter may make him seem towards those it was directed towards… he wasn’t angry about any of it. He hadn’t been angry about it in such a long time, he was more…

Comfortably numb at this point, despite what the words scrawled on the page spelled out. It was easy to default to this past anger he’d felt, rather than attempted to write out how they’d made him this way and how’d they’d made him so empty, to begin with.  

He’d need longer than a few hours to explain that, it would take days… days that he didn’t have right now. 

He had long since passed the stage of being angry or even being sad, he’d shed so many tears that it had hurt to cry and it had hurt even more to just be sad without being able to cry. He had tried trashing things, burning all of his notecards, and just ripping everything that he had once worked on to shreds. Now there was just… nothing. He was just tired at this point, and that was left was that tiredness that made him feel as if that was all that there was at this point. He couldn’t recall a single morning where he woke up not feeling this constant tiredness. And not feeling like it would be better off to not leave his bed, let alone his bedroom. 

It was just easier to write this letter, rather than having to go through the struggle of having to explain himself without being interrupted or argued with. 

“I hope it hurts,” He added without much malice left inside of him. “I hope it hurts to realize how far you’ve pushed me. I could have gone an eternity existing beside all of you, had it not been for the belittling. I’m sad to say that I probably would have stayed a little longer even if that was the case, I loved all of you so much. But after recent events… something inside of me is broken now, and I don’t think that it will ever be fixed properly.” 

Much to Logan’s surprise, he felt a stripe of wetness streak down his face at his next words dotting the page that he was writing on. 

At the admission of weakness that he now felt.

But even so, that didn’t stop him.  

If anything it only spurred him on now, even as it became hard to see throughout all of the tears.

“I am far too damaged now to come back to you all. I don’t remember when I wasn’t.” 

Taking in a shaky breath, a whimper crawled up the logical side’s throat at the finalization that settled in his chest. He loved them… truly he did. He loved Roman’s energy, and how he put everything he had into every project he took. He had always given his whole heart to them regardless of how he felt. He loved Virgil’s mellowness and the way that he thought about things as realistically as he could despite how the world scared him. He loved Patton and his cheeriness, and his drive to keep going and to see the best in things… even if it wasn’t for the best in himself. 

“When did you first break me? And when could I no longer put myself back together?” 

But right now… it was so hard to love them. So hard that it felt almost impossible at this point. It was possible he knew… but not necessarily healthy. 

It was so hard to love them when they saw him as something optional, as something that was so boring that they couldn’t be bothered to even try to listen to him. Every single time they made a comment, every time they rolled their eyes, and every time attempted to ignore him once again…

It hurt. 

Every time it hurt more and more. 

“Logan?” 

The said logical side felt his shoulders stiffen at the hand that rested on his shoulder, gently cradling him as he went through wave after wave of tears that threatened to choke him if he didn’t let them out all at once.

It most certainly didn’t stop the shaking of his shoulders as he felt the tears that he had thought were once gone and dried up, rise up again with a vengeance. They ran down like a rainstorm, dripping onto the page and smudging the ink that hadn’t even begun to dry yet. Not that it mattered to him much anyways, it wasn’t the neatness he cared about now, but rather what the words had meant to him. What the emotions that had been locked away inside of him had tried to say after all of these years, and… what he had convinced himself that he had been alright with for years upon years. 

He wasn’t okay. 

Burying his face in his hands Logan tried to choke out an apology. “S..Sorry.. Sorry.” He mumbled out behind his mess of tears, “I thought that I was okay enough to write this. I thought.. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt as much… I’m sorry.” The apology was constant, despite the hand that released his shoulder instead curled around him, pulling him into a warm hug. 

A part of him wanted to pull against it, to finish his letter and everything that it entailed. Part of him wanted to rebel against the warmth from the other side, and from the hand gingerly petting his hair as his breathing hitched and a near-silent sob bubbled out of him. But…

He didn’t, as much as that part of him wanted to… he sank back into the comfort that was so freely given to him.

Why did kindness hurt just as much as cruelness? 

“It’s okay,” That gentle voice murmured again, “We both knew that this wouldn’t be easy, writing a goodbye letter is… very hard to do. It involves a lot of digging up old emotions and putting them on display for others to see, and that’s scary and hurtful for you. You’ve been hurt, and you have a lot to say.” A soft kiss pressed against the top of his head. “It’s okay Logan, you’re doing good.” 

Taking in a deep breath he nodded before leaning his head back enough to look back at the side that had come at the sign of his smallest discomfort. Janus’ mismatched eyes stared down at him with a sad kind of understanding, it was the kind of look that anytime before he understood would have made Logan very confused. But now… now he reached up, gingerly taking the hand that had resumed the petting of his hair and placed a tiny kiss on the palm. The tears on his cheeks hadn’t even dried as Janus swiped them away, the softness was unbelievably evident in just about everything that he did for Logan. 

“Thank you,” Logan whispered, his voice cracking with each word. “I’m okay, it’ll be tough to finally finish this… but I’ll be okay.” 

Janus’ eyes searched his for a long terse moment, before finally nodding.

Leaning down the dishonest side placed a simple kiss on the logical side’s forehead, the smell of his cologne lingering. “Okay,” He slowly began. “Be sure to take a break if you need to. Call me or Remus if necessary. He’s almost done completing your space in the imagination, just a few more hours and it’ll be fully complete.” A tiny smile lit up the serpentine side’s face, “He’s very excited to show it to you…” 

Oh, Logan was sure about that. Remus had spent the past few months creating blueprints for Logan’s new home ever since the logical side had brought up his idea of just leaving. At first… Logan had brought up the idea of leaving as a last resort, as in leaving the other sides as well as Thomas. Of just leaving the mindspace and never looking back, of finding his place in the real world even if he technically wouldn’t be able to survive as anything more than a phantom of a man. He had been prepared to make that sacrifice, even if it had meant that he could begin to feel better about where he was. 

It had really scared Remus and Janus when he had talked about it…

Apparently, he had been almost manic about the idea of it.

He wasn’t exactly in the best place back then, so their fear wasn’t exactly unwarranted.   

He’d even contemplated fading into the subconscious, and just becoming one of Thomas’ baser instincts. Still acting as logic, without being present and visible for him to be summoned at will. It had been a very tempting idea back then, but now… he had better plans, with a future that wouldn’t be nearly so painful as the past. 

“Yeah,” Logan smiled, his hand reaching up to card through Janus’ loose hair. “I can’t wait.” 

“This is goodbye, I am certain that I will miss all of you. It would be impossible for me not to miss any of you, I’ve grown up with you all and seen how you’ve all changed throughout the years. I will always hold a bit of fondness for you all. Patton, Virgil, and Roman. I love you all dearly so, but… I cannot continue. I cannot last how I have been, so this will likely be the last you ever hear of me. I will not show myself to Thomas, in fact, I will not be capable of being summoned. So for all intents and purposes… this is a final goodbye. So finally… Goodbye. Sincerely and with love, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders. For the last time.” 

With a sigh of relief, Logan neatly folded the letter that he had spent the better part of the week writing. Sealing it with a glob of hot wax, that Roman would most certainly find ironic, Logan sealed the letter before finally rising to take it to its final resting place where it would be found by the others in the morning. Rising up in the living room, he moved silently and quickly, he placed it on the kitchen counter that connected to the dining room. 

Most certain Patton would come in the morning and find it, he’d be the first to read it and thus the information would spread to the others as well. They would all know well before the morning had even begun.  

“Janus?” Logan softly called out as he rose back up into his bedroom, “Do you think it’s ready yet?” 

The excitement on the other side’s face told him everything that he needed to know as he extended his hand to the logical side. “Yeah,” Janus murmured softly, the warm smile on his face growing. “Are you ready to see your new home?” 

With a nod, Logan sank down with Janus.

Just to rise up to feel the warm sunshine on his face, and the sight of a homely cottage that had been made just for him well within in his sight. Remus had really outdone himself this time. The long grass tickled his feet, and the smell of wildflowers graced his nose, letting him know right away that place was safe for him and not a single thing would hurt him here. The babbling of the stream in the distance, and the swaying of the windchimes in the distance almost made Logan want to weep from the pure joy of it all.  

He was home. 

He was safe. 

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

A chaotic story that just as chaotically appeared in my head. It's much longer than I normally write, but I hope that doesn't bother you.

Fake It Till You Make It

Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: None, except for the possibility of errors.

Walking through the grounds of Belvoir Bea witnessed a rather comical looking scene: Poppy was gesticulating very animatedly towards two adults, presumably her parents. It was the first time Bea had seen such rage in the blonde's movements. Curious and attracted by the possibility of Poppy's humiliation, Bea decided to get closer and see what was going on.

When she was close enough, she hugged Poppy tightly around the waist and clung to her with her whole body, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs. "Good morning, Kitten." she purred into her ear, loud enough to be sure the other two heard her as well.

Poppy's face went pale as a hospital wall, and her hands fell involuntarily along her body at the sound of the nickname Bea said in her peculiarly sexy, low accent.

The man and woman standing in front of them looked at each other and then swept their eyes over Bea. The woman nodded her head approvingly, and her eyes lit up. The man spoke first: "You're that famous Poppy's fiancée?" his voice was husky and expressed all manner of disapproval, but before Bea had time to bite her tongue, she nodded. "Where's the ring then?"

"Come on Piers, who cares about some shiny things." the woman's voice was much more pleasant.

Bea knew that what they were thinking was wrong and she should set the situation straight. "I don't..." she began embarrassed, but was silenced by a firm pinch on her bottom that was the equivalent of a snake bite. She looked accusingly at Poppy, but the blonde was only smiling falsely.

"Yes, this is Bea my fiancée. Bea, these are my parents, Ana and Piers Sinclair." the blonde pushed the girl slightly towards them.

The brunette shook hands with Piers and he nearly crushed her hand. She wasn't sure if he had intended it, but he made his warning very clear to her. Ana, on the other hand, hugged her tightly with a grace worthy of a queen herself. Poppy was the perfect blend of their characters.

"It's nice to finally meet you." chirped Ana pulling away from Bea. "We were slowly getting worried that Princess made it all up to make it easier to get our wealth."

"Princess?" Bea sneered under her breath, resulting in an immediate meeting of her ribs with Poppy's elbow. She grunted hastily putting a fake smile on her face. "No, no. What we have with Princess is the real thing." the brunette hugged Poppy around the waist again, feeling her small figure bubbling with inner rage.

"Then let us invite you to dinner!" Ana communicated contentedly, clapping her well-groomed hands. "We would love to get to know more about the person who tamed this untouchable girl."

"Mother." Poppy cut short Ana,  measuring her with the kind of glare that could kill people. To her displeasure her mother didn't seem to mind, on the contrary, she looked like she enjoyed teasing her daughter. It could be a family thing. "That won't be necessary, I'm sure you're tired after your trip."

"Nonsense my dear." Ana waved her hand dismissively. "I insist." although her voice was gentle, there was a hint of force hidden in it. Her mother did not seem like someone who took well to words of objections.

Ana slipped her hand under Piers' arm and together they started walking towards the car. Before they drove away, however, the woman smiled broadly "Tonight at 7 p.m. at our favorite restaurant. Dress appropriately... As long as you wear clothes when you're next to each other ." her laughter Poppy and Bea could hear long after the car drove away, leaving the confused girls alone with their thoughts.

"What was that?" first spoke Bea, looking at Poppy with obvious amusement. She really enjoyed seeing the state of embarrassment Poppy was in.

The blonde let the air out of her lungs and shook her head. "I panicked."

"That much is obvious," sneered the brunette. "We've slept together a few times, but marriage right away? There are easier ways to get a woman, princess."

"Just... Shut up. Let me think." Poppy nervously paced around breaking her mean girl exterior. Her mind raced and no logical answer wanted to emerge. The only rational solution is to continue this charade to the delight of her parents. "Do you have any clothes worth more than a pack of chips?"

Bea choked on air hearing the blonde's words. "Yes, I have clothes that are worth more than you."

The blonde just rolled her eyes and ignored the brunette's insult. "Come by the sorority house an hour before dinner. I expect you to dress decently." With those words, she left Bea with no way to refuse.

A punctual hour before dinner, Bea stopped her beloved Pick-up in the driveway of the Zeta sorority house. Even though it didn't show on her, she was nervous. Her palms were sweating and she nervously tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

The door of the sorority house opened and there stood Poppy, dressed as elegantly as ever, but something about her appearance knocked all the air out of Bea's lungs. The brunette jumped out of the car and was at the passenger door in a flash.

Poppy unhurriedly walked up to the girl and spun around letting the material of her dress float freely with her movement. The sight was mesmerizing to Bea and she became very aware of how much she wanted to kiss her fake fiancée now.

The blonde ignored the butterflies in her stomach, which began to cheerfully flutter their wings under the influence of the brunette's adoring gaze. Even if her reaction was sincere, she couldn't forget that this was all one big farce for her parents.

Their journey passed in absolute silence, each was absorbed in her own thoughts. When they arrived at their destination five minutes before the appointed time, they noticed that Poppy's parents were already waiting for them.

Poppy jumped out of the car first before they could figure out any tactics. If Bea had been nervous before, the sight of her parents compounded that feeling, making her feet grow into the ground.

After a mental pat on the back, Bea stepped out of the car and stood next to Poppy. Her hand casually went to the blonde's waist and pulled her tighter against her. Poppy stiffened for a second before melting into the comfort the brunette's closeness gave her.

"Look Piers, how well they fit together. Almost like us." Ana said excitedly, kissing her husband. "Show your fiancée some love Poppy."

Bea chuckled and looked at Poppy's reddened face, the look expressing every level of embarrassment. She pulled the blonde closer to her and asked with genuine concern: "You okay there?"

Poppy shook her head, muttering under her breath. When she noticed the girl moving closer to her, she placed her hand carefully on the brunette's chest, alarmed that her parents were watching. "You don't have to..."

"I didn't have to pretend to be your fiancée either, and look: here I am." she whispered holding the blonde's gaze. An unspoken emotion passed between them, and the next thing they knew, Bea's lips were pressed against Poppy's in a rather unsure kiss.

The dinner went off without a hitch, and Poppy's parents didn't seem to suspect anything. The fact that the girls lived on the same campus made it very easy for them to create a colorized story of their first meeting and their entire relationship.

Poppy was strangely calm and they never once jumped down each other's throats during the entire evening. Bea got the impression that the blonde was even enjoying herself. She caught herself thinking that this was even what her life could be like. With her by her side.

Somehow Ana had talked them into slow dancing. She and her husband on one side of the dance floor, while Poppy and Bea preferred to be in a less visible place. Their bodies swayed in unison, no words needed to be spoken for them to understand each other in that moment. It was a magical moment shared between them, a peace that was not meant to exist.

"Have you thought about children yet?" asked Piers bluntly when they decided to sit at the table for a while longer after the dance.

Both girls almost died of embarrassment. Bea slowly began to panic that their lie had taken hold all too well. Under the table away from prying eyes Poppy grabbed the brunette's hand and squeezed it tightly. It was so unnatural for her that Bea's face flooded with a blood-red blush.

"Of course there is adoption or other unconventional methods in your case, but..."

"Excuse me for a moment." Bea said feeling an invisible force squeeze her. She escaped from there at an alarming rate, stopping no sooner than she reached the front of the restaurant and took a gulp of the cold night air.

It was too much even for her. The honesty and openness with which Poppy's parents welcomed her made her feel like a monster.

"Here is a runaway bride" laughed Ana stopping next to Bea. "I was convinced you'd drop out earlier, but I have to admit I admire the stubbornness."

Bea's face went pale, and her heart pounded like a hammer. It's impossible for Poppy's mother to know. Or...

"Don't look at me like that child, I'm her mother after all." she smiled sympathetically, then her expression changed to a slightly more serious one. "Aside from your charade, I can safely say that there is something between you two."

Bea sighed quietly and looked at the woman beside her. "How did you know you loved Piers?" she asked boldly, even though the next second she was biting her tongue for her lack of tact. The silence she was met with was so awkward, that she was ready to apologize for her insensitivity, but Ana just smiled and shook her head.

"Piers is a wonderful husband and father..." she began with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. Her gaze flickered ahead and she probably didn't even realize that she was involuntarily playing with her wedding ring. "I love him, as much as I can, but he is not the love of my life."

Ana fell silent to let Bea digest the information she had received. Various emotions were painted on the girl's face, but curiosity took over: "I don't understand?" she said, hoping the woman would continue the topic.

"When I was your age, I met a man." Ana involuntarily smiled radiantly at the memory of her beloved. "He was a wonderful man. If he could, he would have saved the whole world with me by his side."

Bea began to notice a slow change in the woman's tone that foreshadowed a sad end to this story. She moved closer to Ana, offering her mental comfort.

"After several years of relationship, Poppy, my greatest treasure, was born. I don't often remind her of it, but she's the apple of my eye. Her father also loved her more than life and would do anything for her." the woman's eyes began to well up with tears, though she meticulously tried to hide it. "But his calling conflicted with raising a child in one place. One day, he simply disappeared leaving a letter. A letter... As if it would change anything."

"I'm sorry..." Bea whispered, moved by Ana's story.

The woman straightened up and blinked a few times, chasing away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Piers was lovely enough to accept me and Poppy. Not to mention his fortune." she giggled and in a split second, her face no longer expressed her earlier sadness. The smile however she put on did not reach her eyes, which was very noticeable. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I decided to leave with him and Poppy. Would our lives be different then?"

"I'm... I'm not really in a position to answer that." Bea replied slightly embarrassed, scratching  back of her neck nervously. She wasn't ready to emotionally support an adult because she herself didn't understand what was going on in her life and heart.

"Of course." Ana smiled cheerfully, this time the smile was genuine. "Thank you for letting the old woman talk about the old days."

This time, they both laughed, making the earlier discomfort evaporate. Bea couldn't tell how much she and Poppy's mom had stood outside the restaurant like that, but the street lamps had managed to light up, immersing the city in a soft bright glow.

She wasn't sure what Ana was trying to convey to her with her story. After all, she and Poppy don't love each other. And if they don't, why did the thought of it sting her heart so much?

"There you are." Piers' voice snapped the women out of their reverie and the man wrapped his cloak around his wife hugging her close. Even if he wasn't the true love of Ana's life, they were both happy having each other and it was admirable.

Poppy stood next to Bea, not quite sure how she should act. To her surprise, the brunette preceded her and covered her shoulders with her jacket. In a second, a delicate scent entered her nostrils and she realized that it didn't bother her at all. On the contrary, she could get used to it.

The blonde turned her head gently to look imperceptibly at Bea's face, but Bea already had her gaze fixed straight into her. Her eyes glistened in the lantern light, making Poppy's legs try to refuse to obey her. Reflexively, her face began to move closer to Bea's, only to have a grunt snap them out of their trance shortly before their lips touched.

"Thank you for this, oh so lovely dinner." Piers' voice was soft, although slightly suspicious and both girls blushed awkwardly, avoiding each other's gaze.

"Come on honey." interjected Ana correcting her husband's already impeccably placed bow tie. There was pure joy in her voice compared to his. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

Poppy's face darkened and she said an express goodbye to her parents, almost forcibly shoving them into a cab. In all the confusion, Bea caught Ana's gaze, which sent shivers down her spine. It was like a silent consent, but also a warning.

As the cab pulled away, Poppy slumped against the restaurant wall with a dramatic sigh, burying her face in one of her hands. Bea looked at her with newly aroused curiosity. "It wasn't... Bad." she concluded, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her pants.

As if smacked with a whip Poppy rose to her feet, reminding herself of the brunette's existence. She poked an accusing finger into her breast. "What were you thinking, leaving halfway through!"

Bea carefully caught the girl's perfectly manicured finger and lowered it, smoothly sliding her hand into Poppy's. They fit together perfectly. "I wasn't thinking."

Slightly taken aback, Poppy lifted her gaze from their entwined hands. "Of course you weren't thinking! You never do. Even if your life depended on it."

"That's true." the brunette admitted calmly, slowly drawing circles on the blonde's cool skin with her thumb. It was like a trance she wasn't even trying to snap out of.

Poppy's face twisted in fury. "Why are you so damn calm!" her voice reached higher octaves every now and then, slowly drawing the attention of nearby passing onlookers.

"I'm tired." Bea sighed and without breaking eye contact, she cupped Poppy's face in her hands. Her cool skin, was like salvation to the blonde cheeks hot with rage. "I'm tired of not understanding what's going on between us. I'm tired of not being able to tell you how I feel about you." with each sentence she spoke, her voice faded in her throat and Poppy's face changed expression from angry, through surprised to confused. The blonde finally gave up and relaxed her posture, allowing Bea to move closer to her. Their foreheads touched and their hearts pounded in unison. "I don't know if it's love..." the brunette continued once she was sure Poppy wasn't ready to scratch her eyes out. "But I'd like to explore it. With you."

A treacherous grin crept across Poppy's face, making the knots in Bea's stomach loosen and in an instant she felt several times more light than she had a second ago. She was ready to take a chance and by the blonde's reaction, she got the impression that she would share her opinion.

Without waiting any longer Bea shortened the distance between them and kissed her. It was not one of the kisses they had shared so far. This one was slower, calmer, yet more sensual and emotional.

Poppy pulled away first and sighed contentedly. "We've done this so many times before, but this one seemed like a first." she remarked, with a newfound hunger in her eyes as her gaze wandered across Bea's figure.

"Think of it as a promise of what's to come." the brunette laughed, embracing Poppy around the waist and pulling her close. "Then what will it be, Princess? Will you marry me?"

[cosmic-day]

So, the Expanse finale made me very happy. It wasn’t perfect – there are a few shows of recent years which to me have had god-tier finales (Black Sails, The Leftovers, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, The Good Place) and if it wasn’t quite in that league, it’s partly because it felt like more of a pause than a true finale, with one problem resolved but the larger threat still very much out there. All the same, if we never get any more Expanse, I will be satisfied with this ending. More, spoilery thoughts below the cut:

Firstly, as everyone and their (strange) dog has said: there didn’t seem much point in the sub plot on Laconia unless they hope to get to tell this story later (or unless they just want everyone to read the books, which fair enough). I enjoyed the Laconia story, it was suitably creepy and reinforced the irony of the solar system tearing itself apart while a much greater threat awaits. But it was a bit of a weird choice to set up something that goes nowhere in the end.

As far as the main action is concerned, I loved how they resolved Marco’s storyline – disintegrated, defeated, wiped from existence. And I loved that it was Naomi who came up with the solution to defeat him, and I loved that – once again – it was an engineering solution, because the show doesn’t just see Naomi’s job as a line in a character bio, it’s integral to the way she thinks. Allowing Filip to escape, and Naomi never discovering that, the final speech where Naomi unknowingly explains why that doesn’t matter, was stunning and a perfect resolution. (And Dominique Tipper played all of that brilliantly, especially that harrowing and apparently improvised scream).

Also, how rare is it to see a fictional mother prioritise her own health and well being, and the welfare of others, over her child’s? Naomi loved Filip, did everything she could to save him, but when that became impossible, she not only walked away but chose her new family, and the greater good, over him. I’m struggling to think of another fictional example.

I was torn, in the lead up to the finale, between whether Naomi or Drummer should be the ultimate cause of Marco’s downfall. They both deserved it. In the end it was the right choice for it to be Naomi. I do wish Drummer had played a more integral role though – the Avasarala/Drummer scene in “Why We Fight” was iconic and will be one of those images which define the show for years, but ultimately her contribution to the fight didn’t make much difference. But she does end the show in a position of power. I do wish she had just taken it, rather than it being gifted to her by Holden. On the other hand, I did enjoy that one final moment of James “I just want a nap” Holden being horrified as he realises he's about to be landed with yet more unwanted power.

In the end, though, this is about the Rocinante and her crew, and the show left them all alive and in a good place (thankfully – I was sure Bobbie and Clarissa were goners there for a minute). The tensions between the crew in the early episodes were necessary, considering everything, but it was a joy to see the new, extended Roci crew come together as a family in the end.

I really liked how they handled Clarissa this season. I was not a fan of hers before, I admit, but this was a redemption arc done right for me – no big sacrifice, no demands for forgiveness, just Clarissa keeping her head down and doing the necessary, dirty work. And of course Naomi would respond to that. Not only is it, as she admits, what she wanted for Filip, but it’s also what she did herself after escaping from Marco the first time. So their reconciliation felt both real and earned.

For the record, though, Naomi had every right to be angry with Amos for bringing Clarissa on board without even consulting her, and I continue to be frustrated with those corners of fandom who seem to think Naomi isn’t allowed to have feelings.

Speaking of Naomi and Amos, I have always loved their relationship, and my first reaction to their  moment of reconciliation was to wish for a little more. On reflection, I think what that scene was trying to say was that they no longer need each other as much, because of the growth on both sides, and that’s a beautiful place to leave them. And Amos being to Clarissa what Naomi was to him was a really powerful end for Amos.

If I had one other minor complaint, it is that I really wanted one final scene between Amos, Holden and Naomi – the surviving, original crew. But the show ended with the Roci still flying, heading out into the black, with her family together and happy. I can’t ask more than that. Good hunting, Rocinante. I’m going to miss you.

[sashas4t]

Flutzes: How Big an Issue are They?

There is a common belief within skating fans that flutzes (or lutz jumps taken off from a flat or inside edge) are most common among Russian ladies. I have always believed the opposite, but as I am currently taking a statistics course, I thought it would be fun to see how my beliefs, and the common belief, hold up against percentages and proportions. Because I don’t have unlimited time on my hands, I will only be looking into every ladies skater at Russian, Japanese and US Nationals and analyzing their lutz edges (I wanted to do the Korean ladies and I might mention a few just for fun but as Korean Nationals was postponed until next week I’ve decided to leave them out of this for now). Next time I might return with a junior edition (since flutzes seem to be rather common amongst the Russian juniors).

To Begin: What is a Lutz?

The lutz jump is one of the six types of figure skating jumps. The ISU defines the lutz as “a toe-pick assisted jump with an entrance from a back outside edge and landing on the back outside edge of the opposite foot”. Here are two textbook examples of what a lutz should look like:

(The landing here isn’t great - see the ice flying, but the takeoff is just perfection)

Both of these jumps, and any good lutz jump, have deep outside edges. Another qualification one may bring up is prerotation, but this post is mostly just analyzing whether or not certain skaters flutz - not whether or not their lutz is textbook overall. So there are a lot of skaters to be mentioned that have good outside edges on their lutzes, but their lutzes can’t be considered “textbook” because they prerotate far more than the acceptable amount. But that is a whole other controversial topic that really deserves a post of its own.

So what is a bad lutz then? 

In this jump, the skater takes off from an inside edge, instead of the outside edge that the other two skaters use. There are some other issues with this particular jump, but the inside edge is the issue which is most glaring. 

The Russian Ladies

Here are my conclusions drawn from Russian Nationals. Interestingly enough, besides Konstantinova, every other skater with an outside edge had a very clear outside edge. Out of the ladies with flat edges, some looked more inside (Samodurova’s namely but also Liza Nugumanova’s), while others looked more outside (Kostina’s), but because they all looked flat more than inside/outside, I grouped them together. 

The Japanese Ladies

I only looked at the 24 ladies who qualified for the free skate, and for many of them I ended up having to use videos from the National Winter Sports because JSF doesn’t post full videos of their skates at Japanese Nationals to YouTube. I also couldn’t find any videos of Natsu Suzuki, so I could not include her in this analysis. 

The American Ladies

Sadly there were a lot of American ladies that I couldn’t find videos of - so this is a rather short list (and probably not very representative).

Analysis:

In the Russian ladies - 47.1% have true lutzes.

In the Japanese ladies - 52.2% have true lutzes.

In the American ladies - 71.4% have true lutzes.

It’s really interesting that so many American ladies have good lutz edges. This is either because I could not find videos of many competitors, or because some competitors who have problematic edges did not jump the lutz (Starr is a good example). However, out of the American ladies, few have “deep” outside edges. Many of them do have “good” outside edges, as in it is very clear that they do, indeed, have outside edges, however few seem to warp the laws of physics like the most textbook examples do. Interestingly, the panel at US Nationals did call out many of the problematic lutzes with lower level skaters, while blatantly ignoring Bradie and Mariah’s clear flat edges. 

Out of the Japanese ladies with outside edges, not that many have “deep” outside edges either. I would say Rika, Tomoe and Honoka have really great deep edges. A few of the ladies I wrote as outside really have iffy edges (Wakaba’s probably the best example - sometimes its outside, sometimes it looks more flat). 

Out of the Russian ladies with outside edges, many have good outside edges. Except for Stanislava, all the ladies with outside edges have very clear outside edges (unlike in the other two countries oddly). I used to assume that coaches played a big part in whether or not a skater had an outside edge, but it appears this data says otherwise. The most interesting thing is that the slow motion replays almost always caught the lutzes in the best angle (the same angle as Boyang’s 4Lz in the first gif), and yet, very few lutzes were called. 

For example, for the Tutberidze Girls, three have unclear edges and 1 has a good outside edge, however, Sasha Trusova used to be an Eteri girl as well, and also has an outside edge. Same goes for Mishin, who was often mistakingly thought to teach good technique based off of Liza Tuktamysheva’s textbook lutz. But as Samodurova and Guliakova are also Mishin’s student, it appears that this technique does not come from his camp. These conclusions make rational sense as Mishin and Eteri usually do not coach skaters since youth, but rather often take in already established skaters. Eteri has been known to only accept students with their triples. If we were to look into some younger juniors, or some retired (switched disciplines) skaters I think I could present one coach who has consistently presented ladies with correct edges - Panova. Besides Frolova who has a problematic lutz edges, many of her other skaters - Tsibinova, Tarakanova, Sotskova, Sinitsyna, Kanysheva, Kostyuk etc - have had correct flip and lutz edges. This would require some more analysis though. 

While it looks like the US ladies clearly have a lead in this category, due to certain circumstances, it is unreasonable to say that overall, American ladies are less prone to flutzing just based off this data. I would do a 1-Prop Z Test but these statistics really do not check any of the assumptions or conditions necessary for such a computation.

Overall, it is really interesting that around 50% of the skaters at Russian Nationals and Japanese Nationals have problematic lutzes. It’s that widespread an issue. No, it’s not just Evgenia Medvedeva or Mao Asada or Anna Shcherbakova that suffer from it. Yes, they aren’t (well, Zhenya and Anya aren’t at least) being punished for it, but neither are a good percentage of the others who have problematic lutzes. 

For reference, at Japanese Nationals, only two lutz calls were given in the SP (! for Yoshida and Uramatsu). The tech panel was much harsher in the FS with flip and lutz calls galore (Kaori got “e”, Rika Hongo got “e” and Uramtaus got “e”). 

At Russian Nationals, in the SP only three edge calls were given - Trusova’s 3F, Guliakova’s 3Lz and Onishchenko’s 3Lz (which got “e”). In the FS, six edge calls were given (two on flips, two !’s for Guliakova’s 3Lz and one ! and one “e” for Onishchenko’s 3Lz). It is true that out of the lutzes at the competition, Onishchenko’s were the most problematic. However, Daria Usacheva’s were also taken off from an inside edge, and she not only was not called for the three lutzes attempted, but was given high positive GOE for many. 

At US Nationals, Ikenishi and Murdock both received “e” calls on their lutzes. Ikenishi receiving one the free skate and Mudock receiving two - one in the SP and one FS. There were no other lutz calls for the event. 

Of course, after watching so many events, assuming that flat edges will get ! calls and inside edges will get “e” calls is dreaming of the impossible. At best, really severe flutzes done by lower level skaters may be called, inside edges will be called “!” and flat edges will often be let go with no call nor deduction whatsoever. And while I looked at National protocols, it is true that these results are paralleled in international protocols as well. 

So, in conclusion - Russian ladies do not flutz any more than Japanese ladies do. And flutzes are becoming quite a severe problem. Several of the skaters at the top have problematic lutz edges, and it seems like this issue will persist given how the rising generation seems to be struggling with lutz edges as well. 

Many use these uncalled Russian flutzes as evidence of Russian overscoring, but in response to those comments I guide you to the PCS section of scoring. That is where the atrocities happen. Most of the top skaters won’t be punished for flutzing, however Russians are gifted extra PCS for existing, while the Japanese, with their excellent skating skills and attention to detail, seem to be getting punished with lower PCS (especially those prone to inconsistency). 

[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 10 - The Good News

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff

Summary: The reader and Joel, well, seal the deal.

Word Count: 4.405

Author's Note: Okay so my dumbass mixed the dates in the previous chapter and although I fixed it on the other post, I just wanna clarify that this is December 2035! I almost screwed up the story line a lil bit but, no worries, it should be fine now 😅 Apologies again for late updates, I promised you all I'd see to the end of this series and I will, trust me!

Enjoy!

You weren't expecting him to propose.

Oh no ma'am that was the last thing you were expecting.

But that didn't stop you from whispering a soft 'yes', of course. It took you a moment to process because you were caught off guard, but without hesitation, you placed a tender kiss to his lips after your answer.

He knew the idea of getting married in the middle of an apocalypse was a silly idea and the whole labeling yourselves thing even more so, but he was more than relieved when you said yes. The circumstances you were living in (being lucky enought to live an almost normal life in Jackson) made it a bit more available for a an in-front-of-god's-eyes kinda ceremony; you were even fine with calling him husband and him calling you wife - you didn't even have to get married for that if you were honest. Your feelings towards each other were deep and true, you just had to label it without official papers.

You could tell Joel was scared, though. He confessed that he'd been only thinking about proposing to you, but after everything that happened, he knew he might not get another chance at doing so. You understood better just how scared to death he was all that time you were captured by Axel, then in the infirmary where he thought you may not survive it.

There was also the tiny, insignificant issue of his ex-wife, of course. It had been more than 25 years since her and you weren't worried about it at all, obviously. Tommy let you have an insight to their relationship from time to time (brief but still eye opening) and you knew everything you had to know - it wasn't pretty, and you couldn't help but think Joel's mind often wandered to his old memories, which perhaps made him feel insecure. You didn't say a thing about it, of course. If he wanted to talk to you, you'd be more than willing to listen.

In the end, he chose not to, even until the wedding day, so all you could do was assure him over and over again just what a perfect husband he was going to be, without touching the other subject. He was the ultimate family man, according to the younger Miller and you could see that too. You loved him for who he was, dearly, and that's really all that mattered.

Breaking the news to the close circle- to Tommy, Maria and Ellie, was delightful. Ellie was a little bewildered, but still happy. Tommy was surprisingly too enthusiastic, insisted you made a ceremony, despite your and Joel's protests.

"We don't want no fuss, Tommy, we already talked about it and decided not to," Joel gently traced your fingers with his thumb as he held your hand in his.

"Aw c'mon, this is big- for the both of you!" Tommy chuckled. "You're the town's sweethearts, not many people have beef wih either of you and, plus, it'll give folk some break and a reason to celebrate."

You reasoned with it and decided to do it, but without the usual formalities. Naturally, it was impossible to get all dolled up for a wedding with the traditional dress and suit in the post-outbreak world. Plus, the weather was going to be very cold by the time you had healed completely, or enough to stand on your feet without any help.

...The remaining 2% who helped you around was either Ellie, or Jesse, who was absolutely thrilled to see you out of the infirmary and when he heard about the big news. As soon as Ellie brought him over to visit you at Joel and your (now officially) shared house, he bombarded you with questions like when you were going to heal completely and join patrols again, or when the wedding was, which made you really happy and appreciate him. Dina was, well, very happy too but kept telling Jesse to Shut up! Let her rest, she just got out! Sweethearts they both were, probably your favourite kids in Jackson after Ellie.

Speaking of Ellie...

You got to spend more time with her again once you moved back in. You sometimes had your meals together while Joel was away on patrol, but whenever the three of you were together, Ellie got quiet. She sometimes wouldn't say a single word from the beginning to the end unless you made her talk, but you stopped pushing it after a while, as you realised how tense she'd get and how she'd start to play with her fingers. You wanted to ask her about it, but you also didn't want to push her; she always came to you when something bothered her, so you decided to be quiet about it and let her come to you.

By December, you were capable of standing on your own feet for the most part. Although not mentally, you had healed a lot and what was left of the attack were a couple of bruises. Your nightmares, well, they were reoccurring and continuing, but with Joel by your side, it was easier to handle than it was when you were in the infirmary and alone. It took you a long, long time, but you felt like you were finally ready to move on.

What was done, was done. Axel had killed your family, you thought he died and focused on your grieving; he turned out to be alive years later, almost killed you and your husband, so you dealt with the only option you had left: Killing him. Was it... necessary precautions? Or was it just revenge? He was clearly looking for you, he somehow managed to track you to the outskirts of Jackson, so really it was either him or you - a group of murderers or a town filled with innocent people.

You came to the conclusion that, by torturing him to death, you were taking advantage of 'getting rid of him for the sake of the town'. Everywhere he went, he brought destruction, he surely would've attacked the town if you hadn't killed him. While sparing Jackson from a dangerous threat, you also put an end to a vendetta you didn't know existed until then.

You didn't feel good, much as you were relieved that he wasn't going to be a trouble for the town and you anymore, it didn't feel good at all. Like you'd said before, he had ruined you.

Even though you were going to get married, the weight of that day still pulled you down from time to time. Days grew shorter and nights turned longer, but without being able to help around town to busy yourself, you thought too much about it. Joel noticed this of course and did everything you asked of him: From asking him to stay in occasionally, to giving you some space.

You knew Joel was scared when you pushed him away, which was on very rare occasions. He was scared that you wouldn't want to marry him, or worse, do something stupid. But, you needed him more than ever. It never crossed your mind once, to cancel the wedding and move back to your house. You loved him and nothing changed that: That's what you had told him too, with a genuine smile.

"I hate it when I don't have you around," You'd admitted two weeks before the wedding day, cupping his cheek. "I hate it so much when I push you away and- and seeing you upset because of it- but I wouldn't do it if I didn't need it."

"I know Dolly," He kissed the inside of your hand which was cupping his cheek.

"I love you, Joel," You grinned as he peppered kisses across your knuckles. "And I'm not planning on not marrying you. It's gonna take something real awful for me to not marry you."

You hadn't seen him smile this big ever since you replied yes to his proposal, he then chuckled: "Lord, you even started to talk like me."

Nothing that scared Joel happened. On the same day you shared your first kiss, you got married; Tommy was right too, the winter was taking it's toll on the townsfolk and they needed something that would take their minds off of things. Despite a few figures you weren't exactly fond of but had no actual beef with, it all went accordingly.

They got the both of you as pretty as you could get in the middle of an apocalypse. In Jackson, there were a variety of resources of pretty much everything - wedding dresses weren't one of them. You were dressed more like you were going to a cocktail and you felt a little embarrassed, Joel's situation was no different.

"This is ridiculous," He complained. "Last I checked, I didn't gotta shave for a wedding- it's not a rule or anythin'."

"Well..." Maria insisted as she fixed up your hair.

"Darlin', you want me to shave?" Joel abruptly turned to you, a brilliant smirk creeping up his face.

"No honey," You smiled sweetly, a little exaggerated to tease Maria. You agreed that this whole dress up was ridiculous as well. "I love your beard- don't ever shave it in fact."

"Ugh, you two are infuriating," Maria sighed, defeated.

"Perfect match," Tommy agreed as he snickered from the doorway.

"It's December, snowing outside- cold as fuck and you want me to wear a dress." You groaned.

"Don't you make the sweetest bride, Dolly..."

"Shut up Tommy."

Most of the town was there, except for the people in the infirmary and the people who were assigned for patrols. You and Joel were placed on a table away from most people, creating enough distance to make space for a not-as-big-as-Maria-liked kind of dance floor. The speakers were set, lights were up and the cozy atmosphere mostly eased your stress. You kept getting the feeling that something bad was going to happen, because surely this was too good to be true: You couldn't afford to have good things for too long, something terrible ought to happen-

"Hey," You suddenly felt Joel's hand envelop yours in his. "Will you relax?" Your forced smile, which was mostly you pursing your lips, didn't convince him; he leaned in a little and whispered softly: "If this gets too boring and you promise to at least act like you're having a good time, maybe I'll help you relax..."

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. You loved it when he suggested a quickie or talked dirty to you in public, soft promises of how he wanted to bite the insides of your thighs before diving his tongue into your depths - a teaser of what you were going to get as soon as you were alone.

Just before you could say anything, a familiar redhead with a brunette by his side appeared by your table, making the both of you tense up: "Hey, you two..."

"Hey Bruce," You forced an awkward smile. "Walt..."

Bruce was a small figure, comparing to the other patrol leaders- especially next to Walt. He had jet black hair, big eyes matching the colour of his hair and an oval face. He was always clean-shaven, which made him look a whole lot younger than he was. Him and Walt were really good friends, that's why you assumed he didn't like you too much, given your history of ups and downs with the redhead... Too loyal of a friend, if you said so yourself, but you didn't care.

"Don't you look handsome," You heard Bruce comment, looking at Joel, making you look between him, your husband and Walt. For a moment you thought he was joking, but the suggestive tone in his voice made you raise a brow.

"Uhm... thanks?" Joel replied awkwardly, a little confused because he looked exactly the same, the only difference was he was wearing something that resembled a suit. "It's nothing new though..."

Walt was giving Bruce a look too, which the man in question noticed and immediately spoke: "I mean, it's hard to see you two in anything other than pants and a t-shirt... You both look different, I mean-"

"Yeah, it's nice for a change," Walt immediately interrupted. "We just wanted to say congratulations."

"Thanks," You offered a soft smile and a long blink in acknowledgement. Just then, someone called for Robert and he left with a sincere smile. "Is he okay? He looked nervous."

"Yeah, he's a lil' on edge, dunno why," Walt scratched the back of his neck, although his face indicated that he knew exactly why. "Anyways," He cleared his throat and turned to your husband. "I wanted to say that, I know we got off on the wrong foot Joel and, I also know that we haven't been on very good terms," He looked between the both of you. "But I just want to you both to know that I'm very happy for y'all... I- I hope-"

"Joel!" Ellie suddenly appeared, to the left where he sat. "You need to come with me, don't ask why."

"Uh-?" Before he could even process, Ellie was tugging him by the arm and off the chair. He gave a look to Walt: "'scuse me."

You both gave Joel a quizzical look as Ellie dragged him away. Walt chuckled lightly, scratched the back of his neck once more and politely asked: "You mind if I sit here?" There was a chair by your side where Maria was supposed to sit when she announced you as married. You nodded and turned to the right as he sat towards the edge: "Look, (Y/N), I know we couldn't talk properly after what happened to you... I came to visit but, well, Joel has a way of putting me on spot."

You chuckled and nodded: "Yeah, I heard. It's okay though, I appreciate it."

"He said you would..." He grinned shyly. "You really love him, huh? 'Cause you sure as hell have him wrapped around your finger."

Your smile grew wider and you nodded: "Yeah, I do. I- I'd tell you more but I don't really wanna cry on my wedding day," Your voice cracked a little. "As best as I can, anyway. I'm too overwhelmed with- everything, y'know?"

"I can guess," He laughed, a bit more comfortable now that he was sure you weren't hostile towards him. "You know I'm... I'm really glad you're- I- ah, I'm very happy for you. Sincerely. You two are just... perfect for each other."

"Oh shush," You looked up and blinked several times. "I'm glad makeup doesn't exist anymore!" He laughed a little more, his dimples showing themselves under his red beard. "Hey... thank you, though. Let's uh- let the past stay in the past, yeah?"

Walt looked at you in surprise for a moment, then finally processed what you said: "Oh, s-sure, definitely. Those awkward chats were killing me..."

"Yeah," You smiled apologetically. You had to talk sooner or later, you sometimes got paired up for patrol and you had to interact to make everything work. Slowly, it turned into casual 'how are you's, but stayed that way until the wedding day.

You smiled at each other for a moment, then he finally nodded and got up: "Congrats, again. You two make a good couple. A power couple, in fact."

"Okay okay," You giggled and shooed him away with your hand. You watched him walk back to his table: The fact that he seemed to have gotten over you was a delight. Just then, Joel appeared and sat by your side, taking a seat beside you.

"You two good, then?" He asked with a netural expression.

"Yeah, you two, too," You smiled at him. He looked unimpressed, so you gently placed a hand on his thigh: "He was genuinely happy for us, Joel, relax..." Then, at your own words, you smirked devilishly, giving his thigh a squeeze. "If you act like you're happy about it, maybe I'll help you relax~"

He gasped when your fingertips brushed against his crotch lightly, the both of you gazing at each other's lips then simultaneously making eye contact: "I need to relax," Joel growls. "Now."

Your eyes widened at his tone of his voice, giving him a big, excited smile; only to be interrupted by none other than Tommy, who probably knew what you two were planning. He was holding a microphone in his hand, he walked up and into the space between where you and your husband sat: "Right... Today's a good day, folks." Almost everyone directed their attention to where the three of you were: "It's been around two and a half years since my big brother showed up at our door with Ellie and a lovely lady- none other than our (Y/N)... I say it was about goddamn time they got married." Tommy snickered and made the people laugh. "No really, I remember the day I met her," He turned to you: "She had a knife against Eugene's throat and we were only a second away from killing each other-"

"I forgive you!" Eugene suddenly called out to you across the room and you hid your face with both of your hands as the people continued laughing.

"Something fierce, she was- still is!" Tommy continued. "Don't make no mistake about that... She'll tear the whole country down to do what's right." He smiled at you sincerely: "I've spent most of my life with Joel and I've only known her for around two years but, I can confidently say that these two were made for each other."

You and Joel shared a look: No one in town had seen you smile this big- ever, you thought. Even Joel, who had seen your smiles countless times, was looking at you as if he'd seen you smile for the first time and he was falling in love with you again. Tommy's words meant the world to you: You had no family left and Joel only had his younger brother, and you had his only family's blessing. He'd seen the best and worst in both of you, knew what Joel had gone through all those years ago and he still claimed you as the perfect match for Joel. The realisation hit like a tidal wave and your eyes filled with tears. Chuckling, you spoke: "Okay, enough."

That earned another round of aww's and laughter. You looked at Ellie for a moment and saw the content spread across her face - despite the growing awkwardness between her and Joel, she still cared about him deeply. The look on her face even gave you some sort of hope that, whatever was going on between them was going to get solved soon. Everything felt so perfect and normal for a moment.

"Yup, now, y'all gotta dance," Tommy smirked.

Joel didn't look too pleased, being the centre of attention while doing such a simple yet special thing with you. You Have Been Loved started playing suddenly and your eyes shone brightly, then he led you to the makeshift dance floor. You pressed your chest against his lightly and your hands met behind his neck, while he repeated the motion around your waist. You slowly started to sway to the rhythm and he watched you fondly.

"I love this song," You muttered and looked into his eyes, beaming up at him.

"I know," He grinned.

A minute or two passed, then Tommy appeared with a video camera in his hands: "Here are the lovebirds..." You both smiled at the camera with such genuineness that even Tommy felt your shared happiness, even more so when he captured the moment with a camera. "Don't tire her out too much, big brother. It's my turn after you."

You giggled at his comment and Joel raised a brow at him: "Why is everyone so appreciative of my wife all of a sudden? At our wedding?"

"It's the dress," You bit your lip and smirked.

"Tsk," Joel looked elsewhere with a chuckle and it gave you an opportunity to kiss his cheek, then place your chin on his shoulder. He welcomed your body gently into his embrace and wrapped his arms even more around your waist, while you connected yours around his shoulders.

"Shoo, Tommy, let us dance in peace," You waved your hand in a go away motion and he did as you asked.

Now it was just you and Joel.

If I was weak, forgive me

But I was terrified

You brushed my eyes with angels wings, full of love

The kind that makes devils cry

So these days

My life has changed

And I'll be fine

But she just sits and counts the hours

Searching for her crime

Many songs played and other couples took you and your husband's place on the dance floor not so long after. Tommy kept his word and danced with you to a short song, where he expressed how grateful he was for you. He deeply cared for Joel, definitely more than he led on and that's when he told you once more that you were good for the older Miller- that you completed him. A picture of you two was taken right after he had said: "Welcome to the family- officially."

A few more songs later, it was Jesse who asked for a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

"If you're trying to make me go easier on you on training days, it's not gonna work Jesse," You smiled at him.

"No ma'am," He spoke seriously, then gave you a silly grin. "Not even a little?"

"Don't push your luck, rookie."

"Are you trying to make a move on my wife, son?" Joel growled, messing with him. Jesse however didn't understand that Joel was just joking, so you both laughed at the poor boy's tense expression.

"C'mon then," You got up from your seat, actually feeling a little tired already, then patted a red-faced Jesse on the shoulder. He'd grown quite tall over the years: He reached and maybe became a little taller than Joel.

You were Jesse's mentor ever since you started taking up patrol duty and training. He had moved to Jackson with his parents only a few months before you had. Being trained in the army and serving for almost 20 years, you were in charge of training new comers and teens who wanted to sign up - Jesse and Dina were assigned to you at first, until Dina switched to Eugene some months ago.

Jesse was enthusiastic about training and he was still very young, which helped him progress better. On a side note, his parents were lovely. Dina would occasionally tease that he had a crush on you, like a silly little teacher crush, then she'd joke about how she was jealous of you because he never admired her like he did you. You'd just smile, feeling like your age and tell Joel about it later.

You loved both of them as if they were your own, while being reminded of the kids in the prepatory school back in the Boston QZ. Guilt occasionally gnawed at your insides whenever the thought lingered too long on your mind. You really wished you could break them out and bring them here, give them the life and childhood they deserved. You kept telling yourself, like Joel, that there was nothing you could do about them, but still...

That was how fate worked, you supposed. If you hadn't been ambushed and Alpha One had survived, you may have never met Joel and Ellie, arrive in Jackson and, most importantly, you wouldn't be sitting across Joel when he took you as his wife.

Perhaps, there was no way- no alternative scenario about bringing your family to this safe haven. To have them sit there amongst the crowd and cheer you as you kissed your husband after his sister-in-law announced you married. Oh, how badly you wanted them by your side that day: Kurt sending death threats to Joel if he ever broke your heart (jokingly, of course), Maxim and Amanda encouraging you, Robin and Cole trying to tell embarrassing stories of your younger years...

Felicity and you having a talk.

Felicity.

She'd be the one to style your hair (maybe Robin too), fit you in your dress and of course, the first person to hear about the good news. She'd take your hands in hers, smile at you, then hug you.

You'd give anything to hear her voice again, to have her talk to you- even just for five minutes.

Nevertheless, you were still grateful for the new life that was given to you by the man who held your hand and smiled as you spoke to the microphone: Alright folks, thank you for coming... Training starts early tomorrow, so get some sleep! A new chance, given to you by the man made love to you in the following hours and who now slept next to you peacefully. The man, who introduced you to a new family and gave you hope that, in these times you lived in, there was still love and humanity left.

You studied Joel's relaxed features as the sun slowly crawled up the horizon. He was sleeping facedown, muscular arms partly under his pillow and face turned to you as he breathed through his nose slowly; his naked body disappeared under the thick blanket, meeting yours.

The alarm on your side of the bed went off minutes later, waking him as it did. He met your half lidded gaze with his own and mumbled something that resembled a good morning. You smiled and whispered it back, then watched his eyes close again. Your smile grew wider instinctively, then you tapped his right arm (the arm on your side) gently. He immediately turned his body towards you in the bed and opened his arms for you: "Ten minutes at most."

He nodded sleepily as you pushed yourself into his warm, naked embrace, placing yourself against his body, head right below his chin. Your arms found themselves on his waist and you sighed contentedly, placing a kiss on his collarbone.

Perfect. That's how everything was when he was involved.

As you stayed in his embrace, your eyelids automatically pushed themselves down. Inhaling his scent and listening to his heartbeat, you thought to yourself before dozing off:

Huh. Maybe it really was meant to be.

[bluegarners]

“Damian takes a pic with a mall santa, chaos ensues”~ anon

For 12 Days of Batfam prompts

“I do not see why traveling here was necessary.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dami! We’re going gift shopping!”

“Clearly. However, actually going to this cesspool of idiots is ridiculous. The internet exists for a reason, Richard. It is about time you learned how to use it.”

“That takes all the fun out of it though,” Dick pouts, landing a hand in Damian’s perfectly combed hair. “It’s practically like a tradition at this point. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to actually look at what you’re buying and not just try and guess what it’s like through a screen. What if it wasn’t like you wanted? What then?”

“Returns exist as well,” Damian grumbles, swatting at the hand still latched firmly to his scalp. “If the purchase is void, then a simple return is all that is necessary to begin again.”

“For once,” Tim sighs, cringing a bit at the obnoxious mall-music and over enthusiastic sales people trying to approach him, “I agree with the brat. This is uncomfortable and just… over the top. I know what I’m looking for, and reviews on products help determine if the thing is actually good. There isn’t any reason to be here, Dick.”

“On the contrary, my beloved brothers,” Dick grins, mouth stretching impossibly wide as his eyes land on something in the distance, “There is actually a fantastic reason for us to be here.”

As if deciding on something, Dick nods to himself before quickly turning around and clapping his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re already here and it would be a waste to drive back after it took us an hour to get here, so we are staying.”

Cue the simultaneous groans.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dick reprimands. “Let me finish. You guys can do anything you want. It’s the freakin mall, so it’s got other stuff than just stores. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s legal. You could even just hang out in the food court, as long as you’re doing something. I need to do a couple things, but I will call you when I’m done and we’ll rendezvous somewhere.”

“You are leaving me here?” Damian asks, surprised. “With Drake of all people?”

Dick leans down to ruffle his hair again, but Damian moves away, a dark scowl edging its way onto his brow. “No, I refuse to be left alone with this imbecile.”

“As if I’d want to babysit you in the first place,” Tim mutters, glaring at the youngest.

Dick smiles pleasantly, a contrast to the way he squeezes both of their shoulders tightly, pulling them closer to him. 

“We’re not going to have any problems, right boys?” he asks sweetly, eyes crinkling. ��Because it would be a shame if I had to make use of that lovely return policy on all the gifts I had planned this year.”

“Do you take me for a child-”

“Seeing as this is the last week I have left in Gotham, it would be quite the disappointment if I didn’t get to train surf with either of you before I leave again too.”

Damian shuts his mouth quickly, the idea of banning dual patrol before the eldest’s departure more threatening than lost gifts. 

“I don’t like train surfing,” Tim says smugly, crossing his arms in victory, “and I don’t like playing babysitter.”

Dick slowly tilts his head towards him, and the strain in his smile is enough to make Tim wither a bit. 

“All I’m asking for is maybe an hour of alone time while I get some stuff done. You don’t have to do anything together, you don’t have to go shopping if you’re so adamant on doing it online, and you don’t have to eat. Just please stick together. That’s all. Please, Tim.”

His resolve lasts all of four seconds before it crumples, and Tim looks to the side as he groans out a forlorn, “Fine.”

“Great!” Dick exclaims, an easy smile blooming back onto his face. “I’ll see you guys in an hour.”

And just like that, Dick disappears into the crowd, leaving behind two very disgruntled boys in his steed.

They stand there, refusing to acknowledge one another’s presence, before Tim sighs again and thinks, Well, might as well be a big brother. Holiday spirit and all that jazz.

“Okay,” he starts, half-way turning to face the youngest again, “Is there anything you want to do?”

Damian doesn’t say a word.

“Any stores?”

Silence.

“They, uh, have a movie theater in here. Any movies?”

Damian still refuses to open his mouth.

Well, fuck me, I guess, Tim bemoans, having the inability to think of anything worse to do than spend his Saturday afternoon looking after the gremlin in his charge.

Suddenly, Damian turns on his heel and begins walking away. Tim frowns, chancing a quick glance behind him to see if Dick was secretly watching them and if he could make a break for it, but decides against it at the last second. A happy Dick Grayson was infinitely easier to deal with rather than a disappointed one.

Everyone knew disappointment was worse than anger. 

He follows Damian quietly, keeping his distance and sidestepping the insane amount of people and sellers, all looking to get something. Tim doesn’t hate people, per-say. He finds them fascinating at times, but when he’s not looking to be fascinated, he just finds them uncomfortable to be around. Noisy, touchy, and all around obnoxious. There were precious few people Tim could say he liked to be around, and these strangers in the enormous mall were not them.

Damian walked with purpose, easily evading others and taking turns as if he knew where he was going. Perhaps he did, but Tim can’t recall a time where any of them actually frequented the mall often enough to know where things were. At least without looking at a map or asking an employee.

A minute later and Damian vanishes from sight. In a blink, he’s gone from the endless swirl of people and Tim panics slightly. How does someone lose a child so quickly? How is that possible? He was literally right in front of him, Tim had his gaze locked on the green hoodie, but it’s as if the brat was made of air. Poof, gone.

He pauses, turning this way and that in search of the elusive Wayne. It was unfortunate that the brat was shorter than the average 13 year old, if only by half an inch, but now was not the time to goad over heights. Tim is tempted to just text Dick and say he lost Damian, but hearing that in his head, after literally five minutes of being alone, does not sound like a fantastic idea. He can practically predict the lecture that would follow, words of, “Come on, I know you guys don’t get along super well, but he’s your brother,” and “I was gone for all of two seconds- how did he escape so easily?”

Tim groans, a common thing he’s been doing ever since they stepped into the epitome of capitalism, and resigns himself to continuing the search. Oh, he was so going to beat the brat during their next spar. This entire thing was not worth the discounts.

.

.

.

Damian smirks as he watches Drake fiddle around like a fool, searching blindly for him. If Drake had actually been paying attention, he would have seen Damian step into the small candle store to the right, hiding behind an outrageous depiction of Saint Nick practically shoving some holiday scent down his throat. 

As it were, though, Drake was a twit with half the brains of a goldfish, and Damian feels a sense of satisfaction wash over him as the older teen walks away in the opposite direction. 

He was free and alone. Perfect.

Well, not really.

Damian had agreed to go to the mall in the first place on the condition that it would just be he and Richard. It had sounded somewhat enjoyable, Richard hinting at some sort of surprise, but he was greatly displeased at the sight of another figure waiting for them in the car. Of all the people in the world to choose from. Of all the available and useless ignoramuses out there, Richard just had to ask Drake to come along.

Of course, he immediately protested because he had been promised that it would just be the two of them, but Richard insisted and used that horribly childish face with wide eyes and saddened sulk and giving in, at that point, was the only wise decision Damian could make from then on. In no way did he plan on spending this hour with Drake, awkwardly attempting conversation and suggestions that sounded boring enough to sleep to.

So, his plan of action was simple and executed flawlessly. All he had to do for the next 50 minutes was stay out of sight of both Drake and Richard, and the rest of that time was his to do with as he pleased.

He had already chosen gifts to present later on in the week, there was no need to do extra shopping, so all there really was to do was explore. 

Which is exactly what he did for the next forty minutes before he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out, squinting at the caller ID of Grayson.

He lets it ring for a few seconds, some part of him thinking the wait as some sort of pay-back for betraying his promise, and answers on the last ring.

“Damian?” Richard says, urgency coloring his voice.

Instantly, Damian is paying more attention. “Yes? What is it?”

“I need you to meet me at the center, it’s important.”

“The center?” Damian mutters, scanning the crowded walkways for a map. “Why? What is happening?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here, okay? Just get here as fast as possible.”

“Affirmative.”

Richard hangs up first and Damian begins searching for the nearest wall-map. He finds one and tsks when he sees he’s in the far west region of the mall, the center, if he walked like a normal person, taking upwards of about five minutes to reach.

He’d been given no details, nothing except the urgent lilt in Richard’s voice, a dead give away to how nervous he was. Nervous about what though? What could possibly make Nightwing frantic in an area like this? It must be something mildly bad, or at least dangerous for civilians, for Richard to call him. Crowd control possibly.

He hadn’t heard anything other than the usual noise of the populace, so Damian rules out a fire or some maniac shooting. There doesn’t seem to be an urgency in the way the crowd shifts, no clear tell for panic. 

His phone vibrates again and Damian immediately answers.

“Where are you?” Richard asks, that same nervousness pitching his voice.

“I am near a clothing store: Urban Outfitters,” he responds, picking up his pace slightly.

“Hurry,” Richard pleads. “You need to be here in two minutes or less or else I might- just hurry, please. When you reach the center, there will be a large Christmas tree off to the right. I’m over there. Find me when you get here.”

“Wait, Richard-” but Damian can’t get anything else in before the older man hangs up again.

The vagueness of the situation begins to worry Damian as well, doing as asked and trying his best to weave in between people and their annoying need to create a stiff, horizontal line wherever they walked. He curses when a little girl holding an absurdly shaped stuffed animal darts out in front of him, oblivious to the obstruction she’s caused.

She trips and falls, slapping into the smooth tile. Damian is tempted to walk around her, unmoved by her pitiable cries for her clumsiness, but when he glances back and sees no one else, no parent or sibling or literally any other bystander willing to help her, he rolls his eyes and turns back around. He holds out a hand and pulls the little girl to her feet, her tears silenced by the strange act of kindness.

“Where are your parents?” he asks gruffly, anxious as the precious seconds tick by.

“Uhhhh….I don’t know.”

I should’ve kept walking, Damian thinks to himself.

.

.

.

Tim is practically giddy with excitement. Dick stands behind him, arms crossed and peering over the heads of countless other parents and children, in search of Damian.

After having wandered around in a vain search for the brat, Tim had finally given in and texted Dick, apology in tow, when Dick had told him to meet him in the center of the mall. There, Tim had spotted the eldest standing in a long line filled with kids no older than eight and tired parents, disheveled and attempting to keep their children’s hair neat.

As soon as he’d tapped on his shoulder, Dick had reared around, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he said, “It’s tradition to get a picture with Santa.”

Tim less than fondly recalls his own picture with the infamous mall Santa, the old man smelling of cigarettes and too spicy cologne to mask it. All the bat-kids had taken a photo with the cheap Santa at some point or the other, Tim having been the oldest to do so at fifteen. Dick had taken his when he was ten, and Jason at eleven. 

However, once he registers the actual words that had come out of Dick’s mouth, Tim feels something close to euphoria rise in his chest as he now understands it was the brat’s turn to sit on off-brand Santa’s lap and have his picture taken. Oh, would that be a sight to behold. Chaos to be sure. Most likely some screaming as well. A lot of protest and cursing. Maybe even some tears.

A sight to behold.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t stick together,” Dick explains, “So I figured I’d call you over here earlier. Then, I’ll call Damian once we’re close to the front and act like it’s an emergency so he’ll have no choice but to come quickly.”

Tim was impressed. “You know,” he says, eyeing Dick, “You’re a lot more evil than everyone thinks.”

“The term you’re looking for is evil mastermind, Timmy.”

“Uh huh,” Tim jokes, excitement building in his bones as he notices they’re only two spots away from what is destined to be the greatest moment of his life. 

“Look! I see him!” Dick exclaims, pointing in the far distance.

Indeed, there was Damian in his green hoodie, half-jogging, half-walking as he headed towards the Christmas tree Dick had directed him to.

“We’re next,” Tim says anxiously, glancing at the teenager dressed as an elf, who was probably wondering why the two of them were standing in a line meant for children.

“It’s fine,” Dick reassures, his own thrill building. “He’ll be here.”

And, as if one cue, because malls are where miracles happen, Damian calls out, “Richard!”

Dick waves him over, compulsion in every movement of his arm. “Hurry, Dami!”

The teenager elf is now guiding them into the “Miracle Circle” and Dick yanks at the sleeve of Damian’s hoodie before he can even register what’s happening. Tim has to keep a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from snickering at the bewildered look on the youngest’s face, eyes blown wide as he takes in the bright lights and tinsel.

“Richard,” he growl-whispers, “What is this?”

“Tradition,” Dick answers, tugging him closer to the overweight man sitting on the massive throne. “And it’s time you partake in it. I let you get away from it last year because I lost track of time, but not this year. This year, Dami, is where you finally experience,” he leans in closer, nearly whispering, “the joys of a mall Santa.”

“No,” Damian says, aghast as Dick pulls him closer and closer to the center. “No, I refuse. Unhand me this instant.”

He is powerless though against Dick’s firm grasp and excellent navigation skills. Everyone is watching. Everyone is staring.

“Hello there, little one,” mall Santa booms, arms out stretching as he reaches for Damian. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“Richard,” Damian pleads, struggling as he eyes the suspicious fake beard, “If you do this, I will never forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, Dami,” Dick amends solemnly, a lie written all over his face. “I have to. It’s tradition.”

Faster than even Damian can react, Dick is sweeping him off his feet and plopping him onto the lap of a complete stranger.

“What’s your name?” mall Santa asks, Damian recoiling at the rank breath.

“Let me go,” he demands.

“Oh ho ho,” mall Santa chuckles, stomach jostling like a gross bowl of jelly. “We haven’t taken our picture yet!”

Mall Santa points a little off to the right, and it is with horror does Damian spot not only Richard, but Drake, Father, and Pennyworth aiming cameras at him.

Drake waves at him, shit-eating grin plastered shamelessly on his face. Richard is cooing through his phone, oo-ing and awe-ing at the scene. Father looks at least a little bit sympathetic, pity spelled out over his face as he watches his youngest son try to free himself from the mall Santa’s surprisingly strong grip. Pennyworth takes one picture, quickly putting away his phone. 

Damian is sure that the one picture is enough to spell doom for the rest of his life.

“You know,” mall Santa whispers, nearly suffocating Damian in the vice-like hug he’s trapped in, “Most kids smile when they take pictures with Santa.”

“I am not inclined to smile for a pedophile,” Damian snarls back.

“Well,” mall Santa sighs, voice suddenly less cheery, “I guess that means you’re on the naughty list then, you little shit.”

Damian stills in his struggle, eyes widening as he turns to meet the green eyes of the man who holds him.

“Todd?” he hisses, humiliation rising as the man just chuckles, winking.

“Happy holidays, little boy,” Jason cheers, playing up the act. “If you’re good, Santa might-”

The next morning, the top headline from the Gotham Gazette reads, 

Christmas Chaos: Youngest Wayne Punches Santa!

The article gets framed above the tree in their living room, and Damian waits for the day to exact his revenge. Soon. Soon.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.35}

*Severus Snape x OC*

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

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3k

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

______________________________

"I'm going to die, am I not?" Robin sighed in a shallow voice before she could help it, while fear wrapped around her heart like a vine of devil's snare. "You wouldn't be sitting there like that if it was anything else."

Snape didn't reply, but his eyes found and followed Robin's as she toed off her shoes and then carefully maneuvered through the papers on the ground, hopefully without stepping onto any of them until she stood right before him. With a heavy weight in her chest that made it harder to breathe by the second, she looked down at him for a moment in silence, but it was only when she took his hand ever so gently that every bit of defeat and doubt faded from his features to leave only calm determination behind.

"I will not let you die, Robin. You know that." He finally spoke up in an overwhelming certainty that his eyes conveyed now as well. "No matter what these papers say, we will be fine."

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, Robin gave him a nod and a half smile on instinct. If he seriously thought they were going to be alright, then they would be. Perhaps that had to be enough reassurance for now, enough for her to cling onto, enough to keep calm and deal with whatever was coming. With a sigh she finally sat down next to Snape in their small circle between the papers and took in all the different stacks of parchments spread around them. They were of various ages, in various stages of decay and with a multitude of different handwritings on them. Gods, where to start… perhaps, with the most obvious thing to do.

"Tell me about it." Robin merely said, calmly almost as if they were merely talking about a new kind of potion they were experimenting on, then looked up at Snape by her side. "What are we dealing with here?"

"A prophecy." He sighed in return. "An old prophecy that is, and I daresay those tend to be the very worst."

"Great."

"Perhaps you should read for yourself what it is about and how it came to be." Snape said, then frowned to himself for a moment while his eyes scanned the papers, before finally his features relaxed once more into calm factuality. "At least the most important parts of it all. The history around it up to the present day I might as well summarize for you afterwards."

"Have you actually read over all of these parchments already?! There are literally hundreds of them!"

"I read fast." He flatly defended himself against Robin's incredulous expression, but once she gave him a no-kidding look, he went on to elaborate. "But I also skimmed through a lot of it merely to be able to group it into categories. About half of these papers are mere copies of older texts that were only made to preserve the content and document the process thereof. The other half consists of about eighty percent personal accounts of those affected by the prophecy, and merely the remaining twenty percent are information abundantly necessary to understand the prophecy itself as well as its history. Those I have read entirely, yes."

"Wow…" Robin breathed, while her eyes drifted over the sea of paper in front of her. "It all sounds terribly complicated, if I'm honest."

"It will make more sense once you read for yourself." He replied almost reassuringly and handed her one of the smaller stacks of parchment, a mere ten pages, perhaps. "This is a late 19th century transcription of the first original text that was written in the early 14th century by the wizard who cursed your bloodline."

"What?!"

"Just read, will you?"

With a sound that started as a scoff but ended as a sigh, Robin let herself lean further into Snape's side before finally allowing her eyes to trail over the delicate handwriting as carefully as possible in the golden light of the fire. And boy, what she got to read right there she hadn't been expecting, not even anything close to it at all. It was a bloody mess, and not the least bit less messed up. But reading she did, and she started at the beginning.

It had all begun in the early fourteenth century, when an unfortunate man had fallen in love with an even more unfortunate woman. The man, a wizard born into one of the most reputational bloodlines at the time, namely into the family line of the Morgans. The woman, a witch herself, descendant of a rivaling family with no less power or influence than the former. The bloodline of the Bennetts. And as fate so often, so cruelly demands, the unfortunate man in line of the Morgans fell so deeply in love with the Bennett girl that before long, his love turned poisonous and into obsession. The young woman in return felt nothing but fear for the Morgan man, fear and even disgust perhaps, and she continued to condemn his countless advances, to flee from him whenever she could. Driven to madness by the girl's insistent rejection, the man set out to force her into marriage, to force her into loving him, but the Bennett girl would not be so easily subdued. Defying his will, she saw her last resort in fighting him as an equal, and he saw his last chance with her in fighting back. And fighting they did, to the bitter bloody end, to the very last draw. But as Morgan looked down at her on their moss covered battlefield, broken and shaking on the ground in her unwilling surrender, he saw that she would never relent. And if she would never come to love him, if she could never be his, then she ought to be no one else's either. He killed her in a frenzy of blind rage, a step further down on his descent into madness, and he only realized what he had done when it was by far too late.

Eaten up by grief and guilt, in unconsolable agony over what he had lost, he painted a portrait of his love, his eternal flame, to preserve her spirit for all the time to come. And yet he could never forgive himself for what he had done, could not live without the only thing that made his life worth living, could not live with the suffocating guilt.

Thus he took the painting, and the jewelry of his love; a locket which he had always adored, for it was a piece she had always worn with such intent adoration. He then had placed an intricate curse on the two objects, and on the two bloodlines of the Morgan and Bennett family in return. A curse that would make history repeat itself, generation for generation, until one day, the Bennett line would triumph over the Morgan one, and thereby give the original ancestors both their punishment and their redemption. The tragedy was to repeat until a Bennett girl would finally kill a Morgan man, or the two lines would be tied together for all the time to come. Having placed that curse, and having secured that the tokens of this prophecy would be found, the original Morgan had written down his sins and soughts, before finding his bloody end at his very own hands at long last. Cursed to suffer in death, until one day his distant heir would be defeated by the heir of his love.

Robin looked up from the papers with a deep frown, with lips parted in confusion and incredulity. "Is this some kind of joke I just don't understand?"

"I am afraid it is not."

"Well, either way, this can't have anything to do with me. I don't even know anyone by the name of Bennett! I mean sure, I have the locket, one locket, to be precise, and we don't even know if it's the one! This… All of this is just mental!"

"And yet in the light of the present ongoings, it would make perfect sense, wouldn't you say?" Snape's voice was surprisingly calm for the absurdity of the topic, and deep down Robin knew that this indeed was no joke, nor some goofy tragedy. This was perfectly real, and somehow, she was caught up right in the middle of it.

"I still don't understand why… or how… or… anything about this at all." She scoffed to herself, while her frown deepened to suppress the angry tears of helplessness. Fine, so someone in the fourteenth century had possibly cursed a locket she had in her possession, and a portrait Morgan had in his. So what?! She wasn't a Bennett, nor a Morgan for that matter. What on earth did she have to do with any of this?! Angrily, she ripped the locket off her neck in one abrupt yet considered movement, and the chain once again bit into her skin like a violent whip. But she didn't care, rather on the contrary, the pain posed an almost pleasant distraction from her mental state of utter torment. Without any remaining care, she tossed the necklace onto one of the paper stacks by the fireplace, then glared at it as if that would melt the piece of jewelry out of existence by the sheer furnace of her fury alone. But all it did was to make her eyes hurt, and to make them tear up even more as Robin failed to come to any other conclusion than the one laid out before her. She would have to accept the facts, if she liked them or not… but that didn't mean she had to understand them any more than this crooked tumble of words in her head allowed her to.

After a few long seconds at last, seconds she used to unsuccessfully sort through her own frenzied thoughts, she first felt the cool brush of Snape's fingertips on the soreness of her neck, then the soothing tingle of his magic on her skin as well as in her mind, and finally the welcoming softness of his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of her neck. Obviously he understood that no words in existence could better the chaos that had become of her mind right now, and in return those feathery kisses were all it took to break through the clouds of anger that surrounded her, like a beaconing ray of sunshine. Robin found herself sighing before she knew, and for a few silent minutes upon that, she merely enjoyed the comfort of his lingering embrace. She wasn't alone in this, and she didn't have to deal with it alone. Thus, the only question of relevance was how they usually dealt with these kinds of problems, and the only answer was the same as always: together. By taking on one piece of the puzzle at a time.

"So…" She finally started again, and turned her head just enough to look at Snape more comfortably now. If they would talk about this now, there was no place for stray emotions. If he could stay calm and rational, so could Robin. "Basically this means that ever since the fourteenth century, whenever a male descendant of the Morgan family lived at the same time as a female descendant of the Bennett family, the man slowly turned insane with love for the woman until matters ended in one final fight over life and death? And as of yet, the Morgan man has killed the Bennett girl every single time?"

"Yes, and no. It isn't as easy as that, unfortunately." Snape replied, but thankfully went right on to explain. "The cycle of repetition begins only and foremostly when the first of the two descendants comes into contact with the cursed item connected to their family line."

"You mean when the woman finds the locket, or the man finds the portrait?"

"Precisely. The curses placed on the objects ensure that both the witch and wizard will inevitably find their respective objects. Thus, when Morgan came across the portrait, you also had to find the locket not long after. Or the other way around."

"But I came across the locket all the way back in first year, entirely by chance! Does that mean I was the first to find my object? Assuming that I even am the person this prophecy speaks of, that is."

"Not necessarily. Curses as well as prophecies have a tendency to make everything seem like it happened by chance. In hindsight, you might as well have taken the first chance you got to acquire the locket. It was your first holiday outside of school, after all. The first opportunity to seek out your object by yourself after becoming aware of magic in the first place."

"That's just overly confusing, if you ask me."

"It is indeed confusing, and since there is no way to nor point in determining who came to their object first, it is luckily not entirely relevant for the matters at hand." He went on, to Robin's luck, with the more pressing matters. "Once both parties have found their items, the repetition of history as is dictated by the curse is inevitable. Which is what makes it inevitable for them to meet, and to hate each other from there on even without knowing of the whole history behind any of what is going on."

"But when the two people are doomed to hate each other until things escalate, where does the whole 'obsessive love' thing come into play?"

"From the accounts I yet went through, there seems to be an equal amount of love and hatred in both parties."

"I see. So basically, this whole thing can't be talking about me then." Robin concluded with a huff, and a shrug in useless defiance. "I just hate Morgan, and that only ever since he started being an arse. For the majority of my time at Hogwarts, I was almost indifferent to him, and even now I only hate and fear him because of what he's doing to me."

"That is indeed quite a peculiar fact we still need to consider." Snape mused, and yet again Robin found herself glad that he had already seen her every thought and emotion. He knew that what she said was true… she didn't harbour an ounce of affection for Morgan, and never had. They both knew that.

"As is the fact that I am not a Bennett. My parents are muggles, and I can almost guarantee you that I wasn't adopted." Robin added in to the argument, then found herself sighing once more. "Can we even be sure that I'm the woman in question? It seems so unlikely, especially since I could just have the locket in my possession by coincidence."

"You forget the perhaps most important piece of undeniable proof there is…" Snape gave her a meaningful look, as if he had only just now thought of it himself. "The portrait. It depicts the original Bennett ancestor, and-..."

"It depicts me." Robin finished the sentence in a quiet voice, and her shoulders slumped upon the final realization of what that truly meant. "So I really am the pendant to our very own lunatic Morgan ancestor, huh?"

"It seems so." Snape's voice was no louder than hers now, and he, too, looked quite as discontent with the facts as Robin felt on the inside. "I have no idea how or why that is possible in the first place, but seeing as it is the way it is, perhaps it would be wise to postpone this question in favour of more urgent ones."

"Right, yeah, you're right… We have the present and future to deal with, the past can wait. I just… have a difficult time thinking about the end of the story. If the curse and repetition, the whole bloody prophecy, is still in place today, does that mean that-..."

"Yes. Over the last five hundred years, the cursed descendants of the Morgan family have killed the cursed descendants of the Bennett family."

"Every single time… Don't forget to mention that." Robin breathed to herself, and yet the words sounded as strange and foreign as the idea was in itself. Twenty generations, and not once had her side won the fight. Not that she even felt like she had a side, no, it was rather the fact that this entire prophecy seemed like an ill-fitting garment that didn't belong to her that concerned Robin the most. It still felt like none of this had anything to do with her, even though it most obviously did.

"That is mere coincidence." Snape countered in a huff of defiance, much like the one Robin had displayed herself mere minutes ago, but it was his words indeed that made her snort now.

"Didn't you just say that there is no such thing as coincidence in prophecies?" She quirked an eyebrow up at him, and yet again couldn't help smiling at least a little. No matter how dim the situation, there was always a tease on either of their lips to make it better.

"I meant to say that there is absolutely no factor that predetermines the winning of the Morgan descendant over the Bennett one." He replied with a roll of his eyes upon her tease, but Robin could tell that he appreciated it as a shift of tone nonetheless. "If there was, the entire prophecy would be rather pointless."

"True."

"Thus, there is absolutely no reason to assume that you will suffer the same fate as did the others before you. In fact, you do have one advantage over Morgan that everyone who came before you did not."

"And that is?" Robin raised her eyebrows at him in question and curiosity alike, immediately catching onto the spark of hope that came with the prospect of an advantage indeed. Perhaps, not all was lost.

"Me."

______________________________

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[bullshittierlists]

Spoilers for DR1, obviously. I decided to remake this list because my opinions on all of the characters have changed significantly since the last time. I’m honestly not even super happy about this one.

I see no god up here other than me:

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Oh my lord, he’s perfect in every way (except for the thing, which I’ll get to). He’s funny, he doesn’t feel entirely insignificant, and he’s got a cool, sad backstory to dive into if you like him enough, but it isn’t required to do so throughout the main game. Everything about his genius/hard-working motif is brilliant. I think it’s incredible how he’s actually the opposing force to Komaeda rather than Junko, even though no one talks about it and the game doesn’t really use it that much. His whole backstory with his grandfather and father is so sad and I’m so proud of him for getting to be where he is today, even if it didn’t quite happen how he wanted it to. The one exception to this practically perfect prefect is, of course, the elephant in the room, Kiyondo Ishida. Here’s the thing: I think Kiyondo could’ve worked really well. However, as far as I know, Taka was swapped out last minute with Hiro and had to die in chapter 3. I honestly think this was the worst decision the franchise made after making Mikan... the way that she was. The only reason people hate Hiro is that he survived the first game. I’ll get to this more later, but I honestly really enjoyed his character for the first three chapters. After that, though, he got a little stale and even a bit annoying, especially the Kyoko being a ghost bit. I feel like Hiro really overstayed his welcome and his presence could’ve been more than made up for by the comedic duo of Hina and Taka. I understand that choosing the survivors of each game is difficult and a very meticulous process, but let’s just consider the interactions with other characters for now. To start with, Hiro hardly had any positive interactions with any of the other characters in the back half of the game outside of Hina calling him out for being an idiot. If we put Taka in his place, he could’ve had serious moments with Kyoko and Makoto, helping them to solve some of the mysteries. He also could’ve played off of Byakuya and Toko’s relationship in telling them that PDA is “not welcome in a school environment.” And the crowning jewel of missed opportunities, his interactions with Hina. They’ve both lost their best friends in the whole world and have no one to rely on. In canon, Hina had to do a character 180 just to keep up with Hiro’s idiocy and not break down about losing Sakura. However, if we had Taka, he could’ve helped her to get through it because he would’ve already gotten over Mondo with the help of Ishida. See? I brought it back around. If Taka had been able to resolve his issues with Ishida in chapter 3, he would’ve been able to help Hina to develop her character through the loss of Sakura in chapter 4. I think this would’ve been so much better for both of their characters and I weep for what could’ve been. But for some reason, Hiro just had to stick around.

Mondo Owada - I’m honestly surprised I talked about Taka for that long without mentioning Mondo. I don’t actually have a lot to say about Mondo that I won’t get to with Chihiro, but this is basically your warning to be ready for another rant and it also serves as a break from the last one. Mondo and Taka are perfect for each other, Mondo is the most sympathetic killer, bar none, and even though I’m not a huge fan of dogs, Chuck is so precious.

You’re the best:

Celestia Ludenberg - Pretty goth lady. That’s about it. She could’ve been better in chapter 3, but I honestly still really liked her plan and her breakdown was phenomenal. My favorite thing about her though is her execution. Her execution fits into the thin category of executions that include the element of specific despair, basically meaning that Monokuma made it specifically to make her sad apart from the fact that she was dying. She was ready and honestly excited to be burned at the stake because it would guarantee her an interesting death and therefore an interesting life. But then, she ends up just dying in another boring old car accident, many of which happen every day. It’s fun to watch her expression and demeanor change throughout her execution, it’s one of my favorites.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Oh boy, it’s the one I expect to get hate for. Buckle up, lovely people, it’s time to get personal. I personally headcanon Chihiro to be a cisgender male; however, I also believe that you can headcanon anyone to be anything you want. There is an exception and it’s when that headcanon specifically derails something the character was trying to present. In this case, it’s toxic masculinity and the importance of appearances in society. I’ll preface this whole section with a statement: I’m not trying to be transphobic. I could see Chihiro being a trans male, but cis or trans female just feels counterproductive to me. Let me explain. Chihiro’s entire existence is used to parallel Mondo’s. Chihiro has a strong will with a weak body, while Mondo has a strong body with a weak will. Mondo is seen, in canon, as a super manly character who is strong in both heart and body, but he doesn’t believe himself to be this way. The only strength he’s ever seen is through aggressive violence, and that’s how he shows his strength. This is proven in the fact that when he felt weak against Chihiro’s strong will, he killed him out of fear, which he had grown to believe was strength. However, since Chihiro had a weak body, people treated him as unmanly, even though he was strong-willed, so he believed that everything about him was weak and learned to be submissive to everyone else’s desires. This is proven in the fact that he dressed and acted the way he did specifically to please others, not himself. It’s shown in multiple free time events that he hates the way that he looks and that he hates dressing to appease other people. It’s not even necessary to turn to the FTEs to gain this information, it’s obvious from the fact that he goes to Mondo specifically to get stronger in what he thinks is both mind and body, as he’s been known to think that the two are connected. It can also be understood from his dialogue that he wasn’t trying to get physically stronger for himself, he was perfectly comfortable with his body, he wanted to get physically stronger so that other people would leave him alone. These are the effects that bullying had on him. Maybe I’m misunderstanding, but whenever I see Chihiro as female, trans or otherwise, it feels as though those people want Chihiro to subject to the bullying because it more closely fits their ideal. It just feels like evidence of toxic masculinity because since Chihiro is feminine, he must be female, even if he says otherwise. The difference to me between this and say, trans Gundham headcanons is that with Gundham, there’s nothing in his character that goes either way, so it’s fine to headcanon him however you want. But when Chihiro explicitly states that he wants to be seen as male, he’s ignored and pushed aside as “another missed opportunity for trans representation.” But he’s not a missed opportunity for representation, he’s just representing something else, toxic masculinity. It’s obvious that it goes over people’s heads because they don’t seem to understand this at all. I’m not trying to be rude, I just want people to understand that just because the representation isn’t specifically for the group you want, doesn’t mean that it isn’t good representation. I can talk about this more if anyone wants me to, but it’s almost 1 AM and I’m not sure how much longer and I can form cohesive sentences and I’m not sure this is the best argument to test that on.

Genocide Jack - Idk, she’s funny. I’ve already gotten past most of the characters I have strong opinions on. Whereas in the second game, I have strong feelings about my favorites *and* my least favorites, I really only have favorites in this game and everyone else is pretty neutral.

Byakuya Togami - He was actually originally my second favorite character, but I realized a good way into the series that I didn’t actually like him that much. He’s not as smart as he claims to be and he isn’t as well written as Komaeda or Kokichi. However, he does have one truly fantastic moment in the first game and that is during chapter 4. When it’s revealed that Sakura killed herself, he shuts down. It’s impossible for something to have happened that he didn’t predict and he truly believes that. It’s incredible to see his complete shift in character (at least for this trial) and I absolutely adore that moment. Everything else with him is still kinda meh.

Hey, I think you’re really cool, I like you a lot:

Sakura Ogami - There’s literally nothing about her that I can say that hasn’t been said already. She’s perfect and I love her for it.

Aoi Asahina - Like I said during my Taka rant, I think she would’ve been much better if she didn’t have to accommodate Hiro. The first game had a much darker tone than the second and Toko/Genocide Jack already had the comedic relief role covered. She and Taka could’ve still had their fair share of funny moments together, but I feel like she could’ve gone through Akane’s arc during the second game, but better because she would’ve been able to build off of Taka, who already went through the same thing. Either way, she’s cute and I adore her and Sakura’s friendship.

Sayaka Maizono - So I actually made this list back in January (it’s currently the middle of April) and just never got around to making it and since then, I’ve fallen in love with Sayaka. It may or may not have to do with me being cast as her in a secret project that I’ll announce later, but she has my heart regardless. Now, I’d probably put her behind Chihiro and ahead of Genocide Jack. She’s just such an interesting character and while it’s a shame that she died so early, I still think she wouldn’t have been as good if she didn’t die so soon. For the record, I think both Sayaka and Leon were morally in the wrong. However, Sayaka was doing it for her friends, while Leon could’ve stopped at any time and really only went back for himself. Sayaka is not a snake. Thank you, goodnight.

Mukuro Ikusaba - She’s definitely my neutral point. I have one of these in every DR game, even if I don’t realize it. I just don’t really have any opinions on her and it’s not even because she wasn’t in the game for very long. I just don’t know how to feel about her. I just finished Danganronpa: Zero and that boosted Junko way up in my book, but it didn’t really change my opinion on Mukuro at all.

Kyoko Kirigiri - I get the hype, I really do, but I just can’t get into her. For starters, I don’t like Naegi all that much, so of course I’m not going to like the people that hang around him all the time. The most I’ve ever liked her is while watching videos of her along with “Not So Bad A Dad” from Phineas and Ferb. Other than that, she’s extremely neutral for me.

Toko Fukawa - I’m including her appearance in Ultra Despair Girls, but it didn’t really help her much. I liked her in the first game, but it was only because I was going through a weird phase of obsessing over people and now I just think it’s weird because it is. I went into Ultra Despair Girls knowing that she got character development and then completely forgot to pay attention to it because I was so enraptured by the Warriors of Hope. So, I don’t know, she’s just kinda creepy and I didn’t really notice her (or Komaru, for that matter) in UDG.

I remember you:

Junko Enoshima - Like I mentioned during Mukuro’s segment, I just finished Danganronpa: Zero and it was a wild ride. I made this list before I had even started the book and I was mostly just confused by Junko. I didn’t understand her motivations or any of her plans, much less how she was able to achieve anything she was. But once I finished DR0, it all made sense. I won’t spoil it here, but she was incredible in that book and I wish I had caught on to everything earlier.

Makoto Naegi - I feel bad, but I have to compare him to the other protagonists. He’s just so boring, and I know that that’s the point of a protagonist, but Hajime proves that it doesn’t have to be that way. Makoto’s just kinda there all of the time. For example, in DR0, he shows up for one scene, but he literally doesn’t even do anything. He stands there, talks to Ryoko, is scared during a fight scene, and is never seen again. It’s really frustrating to know that he’s only there because he was the protagonist of the first game and it’s like “Wow, you know this character!”

Yasuhiro Hagakure - My only opinion on him is that he should’ve died in chapter 3. My only explanation for why he was so high on the original list is because I watched this one hysterical panel for DR1 and Hiro was by far the best character there. In the game itself, I liked him until he overstayed his welcome and cost Taka his shot to be memorable.

Leon Kuwata - I honestly can’t explain why I dislike him so much, I just really, genuinely do. He’s just kind of annoying, but that’s about it. Like I said before, I don’t really hate many of the characters from this game, they’re mostly all loved or neutral and he’s just the most negative neutral.

You are literally the worst. Actual scum. Leave this planet and never return:

Monokuma - You know the drill by now if you’ve seen my other DR tier lists, it’s kind of an obligation at this point.

Hifumi Yamada - Why. Why is he like this? Why is he this way? Honestly, he’s not nearly as bad as Teruteru or Kazuichi in the perv department, but I just hate him so much. I don’t understand why he is the way that he is, but I do understand that I’m happy he died in chapter 3. Honestly, I could’ve done with him dying earlier, but it is what it is.

It’s 1:15 AM and I am done writing. I’ve been putting this off for months and I figured it was finally time to get it over with and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I can’t sleep. I hope you enjoy all of this and if you would like me to elaborate on anything, just drop me an ask and let me know. I’m always happy to explain any of my opinions and want to make sure I’m as clear as possible. Please do not spread hate about me until you’ve made sure you understand my point. Then go to town.