#they have already committed the worst sin they possibly could: BEING ANNOYING

[scarlct-vvitch]

i think my new thing is gonna be saying shit on here that would get me death threats on tiktok. the actoar books are bad

[rayshippouuchiha]

Great! You watched it so that means I don’t have to hold back! Mwahahaha you activated my hidden trapcard 😈

Jk jk but anyway LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR RIGHT??

Like, first they HAD to reinvent the whole Bible Genesis story to make him as freaking sympathetic as possible. I mean, a little dreamer whose ideas were dismissed? Who falls in love with a woman because he admired her “fierce independence”, then freaking gifts humanity in general and Eve in particular with FREE WILL? (I have so many headcanons about them btw; Adam being the way he is I think he and Lilith wanted Eve to have the chance to make decisions regarding her own body, relationship, and future that a life under Adam’s thumb as heaven had inteded would’ve denied her. I think they were very good friends once upon a time., and it kills me that we never see Eve again. Did she blame them for being kicked out of Eden? Or was she grateful to them? I’d love to know, I hope we see her next time). That’s all so freaking good already as a backstory, but then they add this:

At this moment my mind just, imploded with the implications. He gifted humanity with free will presumably because, as a joyous dreamer, he had firmly believed that they would create wonderful things and bring about a better world if they were allowed to think for themselves, but gradually over hundreds and thousands of years seeing only the absolute worst that humanity had to offer he seems to think that it was a mistake, and that’s so sad 🥺 He never got to see the good that came from his actions and became depressed as a consequence, probably blaming himself a bit for every ill-action and sin committed.

I was already primed to love him after that backstory right? But then they imply that he’s a neglectful, distant father to Charlie and she is such a good, pure girl that I started thinking maybe I was wrong to start liking him, maybe there was something off about him that the intro had left out since it was Charlie telling her parent’s story. But then we meet him and he’s just:

A cute, awkward little man? One who clearly loves his family to death if the ring still on his finger (after SEVEN FREAKING YEARS OF ABSCENCE, dear god) and the multiple, gigantic family portraits strewn about his room say anything?

Also, he seems like 2 steps away from an anxiety attack at any given time, especially when asked to speak over the phone. He just like me fr fr

And that, along with the fact that he says “this is the first time she’s called you in YEARS”, and that he seems so freaking happy and excited at even the insinuation that she wants to spend time with him,

Leads me to believe that his absence from Charlie’s life was caused by a mutual misunderstanding born of a similar thought process (namely “what if I’m bothering them? What if they think I’m annoying by calling when I don’t need anything? I should wait until I have a good reason to call, or until they call me”) or willfully by someone (Lilith does seem to take Charlie away from her father awfully quick during that one flashback, right? It’s not just me?). I mean, ^that’s not the face of a father who wants to stay away from his daughter because she reminds him of her mom, or even the face of a father who stayed away on purpose for some time and is now willing to reconnect. That looks more to me like the face of someone who has been eagerly awaiting even a single hint that he’s wanted before daring to appear before his daughter, and has now finally been given that chance after a long time and is ECSTATIC. And even then, it seems that even through his self-deprecation and depression he does do his best to reach out, at least more frequently than Charlie does (he called her 5 months ago, she hadn’t called in years, etc etc).

And then he gets to the hotel and he’s so small and cute and awkward and good with animals and I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I already did but I COULD. HOW DID THEY MAKE A CHARACTER SO APPEALING TO ME SPECIFICALLY THIS IS UNFAIR

Which leads me to my other big headcanon: I firmly believe Lucifer tried to get to know sinners in the beginning, and that he tried some kind of “redeem sinners” effort at some point, just like Charlie’s doing - Perhaps for hundreds of years. But he failed, time and time again, until his dreams were absolutely crushed and he ended up giving up on them for good. I mean, those lines:

“You invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring violence and chaos to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well-intentioned you are. They’re always gonna disappoint you!”

“Sinners are violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There’s really no point in trying”

^They all sound not like something he’s saying to rub it in Charlie’s face that he was right (which would be cruel and out of character for someone who seems to love his daughter so much), but more like a cautionary tale coming from a deeply ingrained experience, or like things he’s repeatedly told himself before.

And then during More Than Anything he says this:

“You didn’t know that when I tried this all before *gestures around him with his arms as if gesturing towards the hotel as a whole* my dreams were too hard to defend”

That just cemented that belief for me.

On another note, MORE THAN ANYTHING IS SO FREAKING GOOD?? I CRY EVERY TIME GODDAMMIT AFTER THAT SONG I WENT FROM “AW I LOVE THIS LITTLE MAN” TO “I’D DIE FOR HIM, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM I’LL KILL EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND THEN MYSELF”. HE’S JUST So- asfgctrdhfdg

AND I HAVEN!T EVEN TALKED ABOUT HOW BADASS HE IS FIGHTING ADAM OR HOW CUTE AND SWEET HE WAS COMFORTING CHARLIE DURING THE FINALE LOOK AT HIMMM

Or about Radioapple (aka DuckieDeer lol), the ship that has had me in a fucking chokehold since I watched episode 5. There are so many things I love about it that I’d need like 3 whole pages to explain but for now have all this absolutely fantastic fanart instead ❤️

Once again thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Btw any thoughts on Radioapple?

Oh oh Lucifer is such an interesting character and he absolutely makes me eager to see and learn more about the verse and the finer points of what is/has happened in it.

Personally, RadioDust grabbed me by the heart more than anything, since Alastor is my favorite with Angel Dust as a close second, but I do hands down see the appeal of Radioapple.

[dreamkidddream]

I really enjoyed your writing on the ADA members with a younger sibling like partner <33 I was wondering if you could write the same scenario but with Chuuya and Fyodor? Except the younger partner in question has a rough past and cheery/joking personality similar to Dazai(?) I'm super excited to see more of your writing!! c:

Hi anon! Thank you for the compliment and for reading (here’s the scenario for those that want to read it)! The only difference is that instead of this reader being pure, they’re going to be like a mini Dazai (or at least similar to him). One change that I did make was that Reader isn’t as suicidal as Dazai (ie. constantly trying to find a way to end their life), but Reader is ready to go whenever and wherever, whether it’s on their terms or not. Reader is gender neutral and hope you enjoy!

Also ayyyeeee my first time writing for Fyodor! Hope I did him justice cause his part took a while lol

TW: Mentions of suicide, dark moments (Reader is a bit sadistic, but nothing graphic is mentioned) small spoilers for Dark Era arc and Season 3

Acting as a Younger Sibling with a Rough Past and Personality Similar to Dazai with: Chuuya and Fyodor

Chuuya

Well he was extremely disturbed to say the least. Okay extremely may be over exaggerating, but the way you acted got underneath his skin bad

You reminded him too much of Dazai, minus the suicide attempts and the animosity towards him. Although that didn’t stop the morbid jokes from happening

“Hey Chu-Chu, what did the librarian say to the guy that wanted to check out a book on how to commit suicide?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!-“

“Go away, you’re not going to bring it back. HA! A knee slapper, am I right?”

He wondered if Dazai got to you first like he did Akutagawa, and if he did, that was just another reason to strangle him

You were his partner, and you were young. So seeing the way you interacted with everyone and everything with such a pessimistic attitude while still being cheery was alarming

Not to mention how easy it is for you to just readily accept death at every turn. You’re the literal embodiment of “guess I’ll die” and it drives Chuuya up the wall every time

He remembers the one time an enemy held you hostage how you were so cheerful to finally be rid of this joke you called a life, and that you told the guy who was holding a gun to your head to “put it between the eyes, it looks 10x better that way.” And “don’t be afraid to blow my brains out either! But you do you, but I think it’s a rather stylistic choice if I do say so myself.”

The man thought you were trying to distract him at first, but when he figured out that you were serious he honestly got so nervous he was ready to just let you go and suggest therapy lmao

After he handled the situation, he took you directly under his wing. Sure, you were already his partner, but he was really going to look out for you including outside of work. If it meant that he had to “babysit” you, then oh well

Plus he didn’t want to face Mori if he just let you die while under his care

You realized what he was trying to do when you two would go off to “collect information” and would be doing the complete opposite. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry, let’s take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought we had to get this info back to Mori ASAP. Not that I care if he’s mad, he’s been holding out on me and this is the perfect way to take revenge.”

“Holding out how?”

“I told him that since he’s a doctor he would be the perfect teacher to show me some new techniques.”

“...on?”

“Torturing, duh! My methods are getting kinda stale, and I do want to perfect my craft after all. I want to be good at something before I kick the bucket, Chu.”

Poor man is honestly in so much distress because of you please help him

And the way you interacted with the other members was both entertaining and horrifying to watch at times. Majority of the time, you were this happy go lucky kid with a dark sense of humor (you still made people smile, although sometimes it was tense or apprehensive, but whatever a smile is still a smile). But when you were having a bad day or a mission was going wrong, everyone knew to steer clear of you.

A new recruit tried to cheer you up one day, telling you that “it could always be worse”. You then got pulled into the office with a very angry Chuuya and a mildly disappointed Mori.

Chuuya finally had enough after months of this occurred. It was like a never ending cycle: except your behavior was getting increasingly more reckless and dangerous. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out why you were this way and if it was any way to snap you out of it

He wasn’t a stranger to death, he’s seen it with his own two eyes, end even killed people with his bare hands. But the huge difference between you two is that he didn’t particularly enjoy killing, if it had to be done then he had no problems doing so; it comes with the job y’know? But with you, you took actual pleasure in killing. It filled you with a sick sense of glee, and it even made his stomach turn

The bond between you two grew from just a typical work relationship (as far as working in the mafia goes). He knew that from underneath your rather concerning persona, you were just troubled. Someone or something made you this way, and while he had his own troubles growing up, he was able to deal with it and overcome his issues. It just seemed like you just...gave in to yours. And it made him feel pity for you.

You didn’t mind Chuuya at all. You actually liked being his partner! He was pretty much the only person that you didn’t feel a need to harm or kill. And he was fun to be around, when he wasn’t being such a party pooper (I mean what’s the point of being in the mafia when you can’t purposely spill some blood every now and then for fun?). The only thing you didn’t like was how he would try and get you to talk about your past. You honestly didn’t see a point in it, it’s called the past for a reason, why didn’t he understand that?!

But no matter how many times you would shut down or try to change the subject, he would always try again, and again, and again. It was very annoying. And you didn’t like to talk about it. Why didn’t Chuuya understand that?!

Eventually, his pestering worked. One day after a rough mission when he had to patch you up, you opened up to him. You didn’t immediately tell him everything, but you gave him small insights to what happened, to what lead you to be this way

You could tell that he was grateful that he was finally getting somewhere with you. And you yourself was surprised that your dynamic didn’t change. He didn’t look at you with sympathy in his eyes, he didn’t baby you, he wasn’t disgusted by you, everything was normal. The only difference is that Chuuya told you that it was okay to talk to him, and that you shouldn’t be scared to approach him (psh you scared, yeah okay)

Chuuya felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders once you opened up. You were still a bit sadistic (but you did tone it back after the recruit incident, and after you saw how repulsed he looked, so you just did everything behind closed doors now) and had your cheery persona on, but it felt a little bit more real now. It felt genuine. It gave him a good feeling to see some spark in your eyes instead of the full he felt himself getting used to. And he would never say it to you, but it also gave him a warm feeling with him being your role model (you knew but didn’t want to burst his bubble yet)

Your change wasn’t very noticeable at first, but that’s okay. No one needed to know, it was fine with just you and Chuuya. You still felt the desire to just be done with life, but it wasn’t your focus whenever you were with him. You hadn’t made peace with your past yet, but you felt you could one day with him by your side. He was someone that you didn’t knew you needed (or wanted to admit to), but it worked out in the end. You had doubts that you could or would ever change, but if you did, growing to be someone like Chuuya would’nt be the worst possible outcome

Plus, whenever he did run into Dazai with his new sidekick, he is 10000% bragging about how much better and cooler you are, with him being the superior between them both. He can’t WAIT till you guys can whoop their ass

Fyodor

Well weren’t you such an interesting character

To see someone as young as you ready to just leave this world in an abrupt way was intriguing, and he realized that he could use this to his advantage. Maybe even give you something to gain in exchange

He found you hiding inside a disgusting abandoned building (a fitting place for a rat if he would say so himself), drenched in blood. Fyodor didn’t necessarily care why, but he was curious about one thing: why were you smiling? Your eyes were so lifeless, yet here you were smiling so bright, as if you weren’t covered in someone’s blood

Fyodor found himself smiling down at you. Did you think he was prey, that he was going to be your next target? He wanted you to try, he wanted to see what you were really capable of

“Tell me, what is going to be your next move? Do you wish to attack me?”

“If you do something that I don’t like, then yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here Mister? You wanna have some fun too?”, your smile turned into a smirk, twirling your very sharp knife in your hand. “You’re not even from here, so why are you trying to bother such an innocent kid like me?”

He matched your smirk, “You are from innocent, child, even a blind man can see that. To see just how full of sin you are. This wasn’t your first atrocity that you committed nor would it be your last. Which is a shame, it might be too late for me to cleanse you of your filth.”

Oh, he was going to be very amusing to mess with. But you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t right with this man. No one would walk up to someone with copious amounts of blood on them, holding a weapon that caused said blood, while berating them about being “full of sin”. What was his ability? Did he have people with him? Was the building surrounded or booby trapped? These questions swirled around your head, all while he just kept smirking at you. He was pissing you off, who the hell did he think he was?

But you kept your anger at bay, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “Sin? Cleanse me of my filth? I guess I do kinda stink but who exactly do you think you are, some type of God?”

“That’s exactly what I am. I’m here to free this world from this wretched curse that has been brought upon.”

...huh? Did-did he escape from the asylum or something? Did he seriously believe himself to be a God (not even a prophet but an actual God)? Seeing your confusion, he continued on, “The curse of ability users. They plague this Earth, and they need to be eliminated.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with having abilities? Hellooooo, some people’s abilities are actually pretty cool! If you just have a terrible ability, it’s your problem, not the world-“

“Why not let me show you why it’s indeed a curse?”

“And how would you do that? You must be crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I may be dangerous but I’m not dumb!”

“You poor, misguided soul.”, he tutted at you. “Look at where you have ended up at. These people with these so called “cool abilities” have failed you, have they not? Yet you still idolize them, not believing that they are the reason for your misfortunes. If they were truly your idols, they wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself, to live among the rats. They left you to rot, do you not see that?”

He was hitting too close to home, he was getting too personal, too close. He didn’t know you at all, you’re a complete stranger to him, but why did his words hold some truth to them?

“Come with me, and I will prove to you first hand why this has to be done.”, he was now physically close to you, staring you deep into your eyes. “It would be such a waste for you to die without knowing the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”

You didn’t have much, he wasn’t wrong. But if he could take you somewhere with real food and not scraps you had to fight to find, and to have real shelter, then fine. You agreed. And if you felt that something was up, you’ll just kill him, run away, or both

After he took you away, he kept to his word. It seemed like he was really was telling the truth, you getting first-hand experience like he promised. It was scary that he was right, but you were also indebted to him. He not only allowed you to live in luxury (at least it was luxury to you considering what you had before), but he opened your eyes to what the true problem is. He gave your life a new purpose. If you two were able to successfully complete his goal, then your problems would be gone forever right? You would finally be able to feel a sense of peace, and you can’t wait till that could happen

You and Fyodor, after he opened your eyes, bonded easier than in the beginning. You were smart enough to not fully trust him after leaving with him, but after just a couple of pulled strings to cause certain things to happen, you slowly melted and molded into the way that he planned. You would be an excellent pawn in his grand plan, and you would do well in keeping him entertained at the same time

You were a joyful child, even when carrying out his dirty work, you did so gleefully. After joining the Rats in the House of the Dead, you tried to spread that joy among the other members. They didn’t find it very amusing, but you didn’t care and neither did Fyodor. You were far too important to let go of now

You were always by him, it seemed. Always in the same space, whether he was planning his next move, and playing the cello, you were always there with this look of awe directed at him. Every time he would catch you staring, he would simply chuckle and softly reprimand you about, “how rude it is to stare, but you simply can’t help it.”

He even taught you how to play the cello!

You sounded terrible but practice makes perfect

As time went on and the end goal seeming to be closing in, he came to see you as more than just an expendable tool. He found out about your past, but simply proved to you once again why you two had to make sure the curse was ridden as soon as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened to you to happen to anyone else, so the mission had to be success. Failure was not an option

Fyodor didn’t see himself as a cruel man towards you. He just didn’t mince his words and he made sure that you were dealing with the truth, and not some lie that was attempted to be twisted as reality. If anything, that was the way that he showed that he held some compassion for you, he wasn’t willing to let you be lead astray from the truth again, not while he was here. You had somehow wiggled your way into his mind, where he had been accepting of your close bond, and he took that into consideration

Once his goal is achieved and he has truly made his place known as a God, he’ll make sure that you gain your rightful place among him as well. You were worthy in Fyodor’s eyes, and as long as nothing came in between your bond and the end goal, then everything will work out. He will make sure of that.

[cienie-isengardu]

Can you do headcanons on SubScorp (Kuai Liang / Hanzo Hasashi) and the evolution of their relationship, please? ♡

Sure, just please keep in mind that rock has a better romantic sense than I ever will. I’m not a shipper in general and SubScorp has a lot to overcome in my mind to even get close as friends but I will do my best! In advance, sorry for the long text and especially opening. My hand slipped but I needed to build the romantic headcanons on something.

Oh, and I kinda threw away the canon timeline here and there and went with how I would write their relationship (and story, I guess) if I was given the chance.

At the beginning, Hanzo and Kuai were bitter enemies and their hate for each other was the exact reason why Quan Chi kept them working together. The revenants were creatures of vivid emotions, twisted and corrupted by Netherrealm fire. So the stronger they hated, the mightier were their unnatural powers. But there was also a more sinister reason: Quan Chi kept them together, day after day, because it amused him to watch how Sub-Zero and Scorpion wanted to hurt each other but always were defenseless against his magic, always blindly obedient. To have two deadliest of enemies as slaves under his power was the best perk of necromancy.

When they were revenants though, Quan Chi’s cruel joke meant nothing. Kuai Liang had no free will, no remorse, only hate and pain to go on. Hanzo could - should - run away, but didn’t. He was broken in thousands of little ways and it was easier to follow orders, to not think than take responsibility for his own choices, to face the utterly devastating feeling of failure. It wasn't a good life - it wasn’t a life at all, but it was all they had.

After so many days turned into weeks turned into months, the constant presence of each other became the punishment and the salvation at once. They hated each other and this hate never truly left them for a moment, never let them feel peace of mind. They hated each other but it was an emotion that bonded them together, grounded in reality, made sense in an otherwise senseless world.

Hanzo and Kuai Liang got used to each other that the presence of mutual disdain was as normal part of their cursed life as breathing for a living person.

But then Quan Chi lost and suddenly they both were brought to life against their will. The first weeks were the worst. They were victims of dark magic, everyone was saying but none of them was a killer responsible for thousands of brutal deaths. Not like Hanzo and Kuai Liang and because of that, the burden of guilt was their alone. A burden they didn’t want to share among themselves, so they sought out different paths to find some solace.

For Hanzo, there was nothing to come back. The home of Shirai Ryu was destroyed, devastated beyond any measure. He still heard clearly Quan Chi’s voice in his head, how he failed his clan, how shamed his wife and child. Hanzo felt dirty and unworthy and utterly lost. The once mighty Scorpion was now a wreck, a directionless nomad.

For Kuai Liang, the home was Lin Kuei but it was taken by cyber monsters without souls. Once he returned to living, those monsters hunted him restlessly. For years he ran and hid and killed and killed and killed and killed until he was ready to face Sektor and reclaim what was once his. An honor and a purpose in life, so he could find Scorpion and kill him for brother’s death. But then he learned dark secrets of the clan and even darker truths that changed everything.

Because of that, Kuai Liang invited Hanzo to Lin Kuei Temple, offered peace and a new start, a way to atone for all crimes and sins they committed arm to arm during war. Above everything else, offered the truth that finally set them both free from their cruel past.

They did not keep in touch then though. They met sporadically, when Raiden asked his Champions to assist in this or that little crisis. To hunt the demons that somehow survived the war, to find oh so rare, mystic artifact or two, or do a quick job in the Outworld. They were assassins after all and Special Forces the heroes who shouldn’t dirty their hands.

During those meetings, Hanzo and Kuai Liang tried to stay as far as possible without making a fuss about it. During missions though there was no one who could safely separate them, and thus save them from painful memories of the past.

It was terrifying to Hanzo how much he missed Sub-Zero’s cold presence at his side, even if the so well known hate for Bi-Han’s death still hid beneath the cryomancer's skin like a furious, wild beast, always present, never forgiving, kept in check only by Lin Kuei’s iron will.

It was terrifying for Kuai Liang how well he still understood Scorpion’s body language even though the ninja tried so desperately to hide scars left by Quan Chi on his soul, all those unsaid horrors he experienced, all the doubts and pain and self-hatred that burned as hot as Netherrealm fire that twisted them both.

But those sporadic joint missions alone weren’t what helped them connect once and forever.

Ironically, it was the guilt that let one understand so well the other, to know when it was a good time for jab and when not to speak - not to see - raw pain that both so hard tried to bury under their respective masks, of cold politeness and hot devotion to the past. Surprisingly, it was also the arrogance of united governments that wanted to use them to expand Earthrealm’s control over wild Outworld yet did not see them as human beings. To be seen as a useful tool but never truly welcome wasn’t anything new for any of them. Kuai Liang and Hanzo were a relic of a dark past that should have died years ago yet were too stubborn to just yield and blindly follow orders even again. This burning desire for independence and search for their lost humanity built a common ground, the bridge between past hate and empathy.

This, and their shared disdain for Johnny’s never ending jokes. In the past, every time the Champions of Earthrealm met in the same place and Cage opened his mouth to talk Hollywood's weirdness, Hanzo got closer and closer to Kuai Liang. There was no word of recognition or permission - one look at each other and they understood perfectly it was either stay strong together and endure this senseless, annoying wave of words or do something regrettable.

And because they already had enough guilt to worry about, Sub-Zero and Scorpion simply stood arm to arm, like they did during war. Somehow that comforting familiarity grew up into something much stronger; not yet friendship but unity anyway. Time did not heal them but the mutual hate faded little by little, day after day until pain was nothing more than bitter ache they simply learned to live with.

Despite everything and everyone, Hanzo and Kuai Liang got to trust each other, to rely on a bond that was once a cruel Quan Chi’s joke.

Sub-Zero was the person that accompanied Hanzo to the Shirai-Ryu clan’s ruins, so he could finally bury dead ones left there forgotten by the world. Hanzo should have done that long ago, he knew, but the claw of fear clung to his heart for years and would not let it. The fear that Hanzo Hasashi never truly existed and he was a fraud, another lie begotten by Netherrealm. That there was no Harumi nor Satoshi and in the end he clinged so desperately to a nightmare that never was true to begin with. A nightmare for which he murdered the wrong person and brought someone else this maddening pain.

Seeing the ruins of home - the once so familiar bodies now just flesh spread out, glistening bones scattered everywhere, ripped and crushed, forgotten - was like dying again. Hanzo broke down and for the first time in a decade allowed himself to cry. Kuai Liang was there by his side, offering no wise words, nor comfort. He simply sat there, back to back with Hanzo, so he could know he wasn’t truly left alone this time yet quietly like a shadow to not disturb his grief. Hanzo would never forget this kindness for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t forget the sacrifice made that day by Sub-Zero to come to mortuary ruins, to bury another clan slaughtered without mercy in the name of madness and spite.

But with pain came also relief, that his memories were truly his and not another sweet lie whispered to his ear by a twisted sorcerer.

(Kuai Liang came here because it was the right thing to do. To pay respect and melt the dark past into a better future in which Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei could be an ally, maybe even brothers in arms. He came for Hanzo, because no one did that for him, when he had countless bodies of comrades to bury after Sektor’s defeat and no one should be forced to do so alone. He came there also for himself, to see and be sure Bi-Han wasn’t part of the heartless crime. The hallmarks of a frontal attack, chaotic destruction and coarse, devoid of surgical precision violence were proof it wasn’t Bi-Han’s work. His brother would never be so sloppy, so random in his attack. He even told so Hanzo, in this moment of relief and social clumsiness and Scorpion just looked at him with the reddened eyes and did not burst in flame of anger, just… accepted the truth and Kuai Liang said no more about it.)

Scorpion was the person that stayed at Kuai Liang’s side when Frost betrayed her master and disappeared without a trace. He never liked the cryomancer girl - she reminded him too much of Sub-Zero who sought him for brother’s death. Young and brash, untamed, always snarling, spitting with venom in their face. But above everything else, Frost’s anger burned too hot like his own and he hated to look at her and to see himself.

Maybe losing such a precious student - an heir - was like losing a child. Hanzo understood this crushing feeling but there were no right words to offer. Even if he knew them, Sub-Zero did not want pity, did not want to talk. All he needed was a space to unleash fury and pain, the excess of emotions too large to bury them in the tomb of a cold heart. And so day after day, night after night, the ice and fire clashed over and over again until all muscles burned and the ache brought finally some peace. Not much, but enough to let Kuai Liang not dwell on his failure and focus on Grandmaster’s duties.

(There was something off about this whole situation but Hanzo couldn’t pick on what exactly. Kuai Liang had secrets he didn’t share, not yet and Hanzo respected his wishes, trusting Lin Kuei’s word. So far, Kuai Liang never had let him down. Scorpion trusted and it was terrifying on its own).

Those were the little steps into a path that brought them closer. It wasn't love for each other then, not even romantic infatuation, but love for the lost one, for family that was once but no longer. They understood this grief too well.

The first time Hanzo felt the pang of love, he and Kuai Liang were debating about the proper course of the upcoming mission. They were sitting in Hanzo’s room, with an open door leading to the Fire Garden. Then, without warning came spring rain and both looked out on instinct. The air was filled with the freshness of trees and flowers coming back to life; a freshness they breathed in greedily to wash out the taste of Netherrealm ash forever.

On that day, everything seemed to be in the right place. Just the two of them, sitting arm to arm delighted by the simplest things in life; a warm rain, nourishing garden, a steaming mug of tea between all of this. There was a peace Hanzo did not feel for ages and the sound of the rain and steady breath of his companion lulled him into half-sleep, half-awareness.

On that day, Hanzo wished to keep this moment forever.

The second time Hanzo felt something toward Kuai Liang, it was on Lin Kuei’s training ground. They spared, like they always did in their free or stressful time, but for whatever reason, Kuai Liang smiled at him, this soft, weirdly cocky smile he rarely shows in company and Hanzo looked at it for a few seconds too long before he understood how fast his heart beat, how warmness filled him - not the Netherrealm fire that burns through his muscles and bones, but warmth that he felt only around his wife and child. He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel its coldness on his own. It was wrong on so many levels and he did what he always does in times of overwhelming emotions he didn’t like. He disappeared into flames and ran the hell away from Sub-Zero’s smile. The burned holes to this day were the proof of his shameful panic.

Where did such obscene thoughts come from, he did not have an idea. But the guilt for having them even for a moment about Kuai Liang - any man, really - was too heavy, too suffocating to face Sub-Zero. So Hanzo avoided him for weeks.

And yet, he came back to Lin Kuei Temple. And again and again and again. Despite the burning shame, he sought out Kuai Liang, because only around him, the Netherrealm’s cursed fire cooled down enough to allow him to breathe.

So he danced, between disgrace and this weird feeling of happiness, of living again. Of seeking out the cryomancer and running away from horrific emotion he didn’t know how to get rid off, how to tame.

(Hanzo loved Harumi with all his heart. How could he love - desire - anyone else? And a man whose brother he unjustly killed?)

Kuai Liang decided to not discuss Scorpion’s emotional swings until Hanzo figured it out for himself what he truly wanted. There was no point to get involved into some sentimental drama if there was no hope for sensible agreement.

The Lin Kuei always desired a new generation of warriors, so sex wasn’t any taboo. Some warriors sought comfort in the arms of strange women and men, some between each other. Sex wasn’t forbidden but the emotions were. To feel loyalty or worse, love, to a fellow warrior instead of trusting the masters was a crime.

Kuai Liang did not feel any sudden pang of love toward Hanzo, nor any desire for physical contact. Romanticism never was part of any cryomancer’s nature. He missed his brother and Smoke, but year after year the pain of loss dulled enough to leave him with nothingness. Kuai Liang knew only this: somehow Scorpion became the only source of warmth that kept his heart from freezing completely.

Kuai Liang didn’t have a proper name for what twirled in his soul - a friendship or a love, how one could tell those apart? He wished his older brother or Smoke was there to tell him it was alright to like - care for - Hanzo, but both were dead and twisted into monsters. It was just him and his fragile, scarred heart to judge what was right and what was not. And hope Bi-Han would forgive him the weakness.

They find the balance that keeps both safe, warming the frozen heart and cooling down the neverending flame of anger. For a decade or so, it worked well.

But then Hanzo killed Quan Chi and ruined the chance to free revenants from sorcerer’s curse. The Champions of Earthrealm never liked Scorpion to begin with, now he was persona non grata. Rightly so. Imprisoned, he awaited their judgment. Scorpion could easily escape but chose not to - he was ready to face the consequences yet there was no court nor punishment. The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei came for him and made it clear to all representatives of the united governments and army that he will with Hanzo at his side, over their dead bodies if need be.

Twenty years was not enough time to forget what they together were capable of in fight. How dangerous and experienced murderers they were. No one dared to stop them when they left military base together.

Kuai Liang did not rely on words to show his feelings. Deeds always spoke more than any pretty speech. He was disappointed yet he still came for Hanzo. He saw Scorpion’s arrogance, egoism, breaking point and still came and that only made Hanzo love him more. For the first time, he did not feel shame or guilt for loving - and being loved - by another man.

Hanzo Hasashi’s choice almost brought destruction to the world yet somehow, this tragedy made them inseparable for good. It wasn’t always easy - they argued, for fun and for real and there were still rare days when it was only wise to stay away from each other. Like the day of Bi-Han’s unjust death and the lost chance to bring Harumi and Satoshi to life. They were beyond the primal hate yet some instincts were too strong to risk destroying what they built for themselves over the years.

Somehow through the years they changed from Sub-Zero and Scorpion to Grandmasters of their respective clans and from those to just Kuai Liang and Hanzo.

Hanzo wasn’t used to being so casually called by name but he liked the change. It was Sub-Zero’s voice, he suspected, that made him feel so attracted. At the same time, he felt honored when Kuai Liang told his birth - forbidden - name. He knew it already, for years, but it was different to know and be told, allowed, to use it freely.

Hanzo’s turbulent relationship with other Champions got worse once his student, Takeda started dating Jaqueline Briggs. The Champions distrusted and disliked him and he didn’t feel any need to reconcile with them. Kuai Liang was disappointed in him for treating the girl coldly but everytime asked why he still bothered to deal with Shirai Ruy Grandmaster, the answer was one and the same - he is my equal. For Hanzo it was the most beautiful and terrifying declaration.

(At the same time, everytime Hanzo heard someone accusing Sub-Zero of being cold, heartless, untouched by trauma, the anger burned him wholly. Who were they to judge, to mock Kuai Liang’s pain that hid so well under polite words and calmness? He did not care what people said about him, but would not stand any mockery against those he respected - loved - so much.)

Then of course another immortal being decided to screw up everything and messed up timelines. The younger, brash and mad version of Scorpion wasn’t something that Hanzo and Kuai Liang actually wanted to see, nor the repeat of Cyber Lin Kuei. Then Hanzo died and woke up, again trapped in Netherrealm. So he ran at the first chance, thinking more about Kuai Liang than about his own fears of burning alive in hell forever. The sight of Sub-Zero in hell should have alarmed him - and it did, for a moment, scare Hanzo that the other man died too which was an unbearable thought. But Kuai Liang was alive and so, so determined to bring him back home. If that wasn’t the loudest, the most tangible declaration of love, what else could it be?

And so, like twenty years ago, they fight side to side, like one body and soul. And destroyed, killed, tore apart demons and hellspawn, everything and everyone that stood in their way to freedom, to safety of Earthrealm’s boundaries. First time in ages, they could unleash their anger at those who hurt them, enslaved, and used. It felt so good, so right to be a storm of vengeful fury that frightened even the mighty Netherrealm. They were alive and together and nothing, no gods, titans or destiny, could stop them.

Kuai Liang and Hanzo did not talk much about their last visit in Netherrealm. What happened there was their and only their moment to relish, incomprehensible for bystanders. It was weird though, to come back to live and face his younger, stubborn self. Kuai Liang did not like this Scorpion much and to be honest, Hanzo did not like this version of himself too. It was Scorpion from the darkest time in their past, when only mutual hate connected them. At the same time, there was something amusing to see himself so awkward and uneasy everytime when Kuai Liang and older Hanzo sat so closely, relaxed and calm, like it was the normalest thing to do. When they acted like halves of the same soul.

Kuai Liang never was keen to show any romantic gestures but sometimes he took Hanzo’s hand to emphasize clearly what they were. Hanzo was always surprised by Sub-Zero’s openness and filled with joy, whereas his younger self was confused as hell. Hanzo suspected he would soon need to talk and explain to his younger self what he and Kuai Liang were to each other. Why they needed each other so much and how loving someone else other than Harumi was not dishonor. After all, love wasn’t sin nor weakness.

[jisungscaramel]

voices | changbin

❀ genre; smut, college au, fwb ❀ pairing; changbin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 1.6k

[warning] explicit sexual content, dirty talk, masturabation, (slight) ownership kink, (mild) dom changbin, phone sex, (which includes imagery of) oral (fem receiving), bondage, spanking, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), overstimulation, creampie

Your eyes open to darkness, and you groan in utter annoyance - you just hate when this happens. You don’t even wanna know what time it is... but you check anyway, 2:20... am - not the worst. At least you have the opportunity to get some sleep, the slightest chance of closing your eyes to immerse in some obscure dream and certainly not the type of wet fantasy that dared to disturb your beauty rest in the first place.

The universe just loves fucking with the sleep schedule you work hard to keep regulated. But the not-so-random interruption to your slumber in it of itself is the least of your problems; the not-so-subtle throb of your clit is beyond irritating, especially since a certain someone isn’t physically there to help you with it.

Your adjusted vision wraps around the silhouette of the ceiling fan, sharpening in detail as you attempt to scrutinize it, five curved blades, metal brackets reflecting the moonlight, a simple ligh- not that a mundane distraction such as this would do anything to help, valiant effort though.

And then you turn your head to the side, fixing on the space where your phone should be laying on the bed side table.

“Should I call him...?” you ask yourself. You grab the device and go straight to the phone app, aggressively scrolling through your contacts ‘til you see his name: Changbin Seo.

Nothing fancy, nothing personal, it’s a deliberate choice to keep it that way, to stay firmly behind his boundaries, well, the boundaries you’ve assumed of him. In reality, he probably wouldn’t have an issue with you contacting him on a whim - even at this ungodly hour, but the idea still makes you nervous. That’s the prevailing predicament of a friend with benefits - sometimes there are too many boundaries and sometimes there are too few.

‘What if he gets annoyed with me? What if he stops talking to me? What if he thinks I’m crazy?’ The more time you spend in your own head, the more the shadow of your past experiences so rudely loom over you.

‘No, Changbin’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not like that. He’s not fucking like that.

‘At the worst, he won’t pick up ‘cause he’s asleep. That’s it. That’s all. Relax.’

Regardless, things would be much easier if he didn’t have to go across the state to be home for winter break.

And instead of making that single tap on the glass of your phone, you put it back down, placing it face down, reaching to open the drawer that lays beneath it. You pull out a little drawstring bag. In the darkness, you open it, unsheathing a silicone vibrator, light pink in the light, but rendered colorless in front of your eyes.

‘I should at least try by myself.’

Committing to your decision, you drown your ears in some dvsn - you gotta do what you can to self engage your senses. But you’d much rather hear his voice, much rather feel it vibrate against your skin, reverberate through your nerves. There’s just something about the way he growls when he goes deep, overwhelming the auricles of your ears in a crescendoing frenzy you can’t even fathom outside the moment, even if you try.

Your eyes close when you turn it on, trying your hardest to picture him in your mind’s eye.

The way he tilts his head back to stare at you, eyes half-lidded in the kind of carnal hunger, it makes you wonder what he’ll do next, body sizzling in desire, like it’s on fire. 

And then, there’s the way he lightly tugs at the corner of his bottom lip, tongue brushing over the reddened skin in a teasing lick, you just want them to dip into your slick, to indulge your clit with quick flicks. He loves to look up at you with a tinge of innocence that so eerily contrasts with the vulgarity of his actions, lips smirking against your heat ‘cause he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows exactly how to drive you crazy in the best possible way-

“Fuck!”

Even if your imagination is enough to get you there, it’s not enough to satisfy you; it feels like trying to fulfill a day’s worth of hunger with a measly cup of instant ramen when you know damn well you deserve a three course meal.

You haphazardly throw the toy to the side - you’ll clean it in the morning; it’s just too much effort now.

And here you are again, staring at the dark silhouette of your phone. At this point, the amount of fucks you have to give are rapidly dwindling.

And here you are again, phone shining bright in over your face, Changbin’s name and number apparent on the screen. But before you can actually contemplate the idea that you’ve begun to dub a “last resort,” your phone slips out of your hand, knocking you right on the nose, hitting - you guessed it - his number.

And… now you’re calling him. Of course the universe thinks it’s hilarious to mess with you - when does it not?

“Hello?” There’s a clear groggy sleepiness to his voice - clearly, you’ve woken him up.

Fuck. “Oh sorry, Binnie, did I wake you up?” 

“Hmm yeah,” he pauses, probably to rub his eyes, “what’s up?” As sexy as his gruff voice is, it’s the last thing you can think about, subtle embarrassment delicately wrapping your nerves.

“My bad… you know what? It’s nothing. I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, it’s okay, tell me what’s up,” he requests again.

“It’s nothing, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I miss you…”

“...Miss me where?”

“In…” you tighten your thighs together, “places where I shouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” You can hear rustling sheets, as if he’s sitting up, as if his attention’s focusing on you. “What would you want me to do if I was there?”

You bite your lip. “You already know.”

“Tell me.” His voice takes a commanding tone, attempting to bend you into submission even through the phone.

Your fingers trace the skin above your underwear. “God, Changbin, I want you to fucking cripple me.”

It’s simply astonishing as to how clearly his sinister chuckle comes through your line, and it’s all it takes for your hand to slip under the thin cotton covering you. “Damn, chula, I didn’t know you wanted me that bad…” a moan slips from your lips both in response to your actions and his words. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” your flustered response sounds in the same pitch.

“Naughty girl. I’m gonna have to punish you next time I see you.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“First, I’m gonna tear your clothes off,” you peel the flimsy sleep shirt off your body, not being able to take the increasing heat radiating from your skin, “and then I’m gonna tie your arms up and bend you over my desk to spank you - one slap for every time you’ve touched yourself while I’ve been gone.”

“Where are you gonna spank me?” A sultry tone edges your words.

“On your ass… your thighs… your pussy, depends on how bad you’ve been.”

“What are you gonna do if I earn my reward?” By now, you’re reaching for the vibrator you so carelessly tossed aside not too long ago.

“I’m gonna throw you on my bed, then I’m gonna force your thighs apart and stretch out your soaking little cunt. I’ll fuck you so deep, you’ll feel me rearranging your insides,” he grunts, “Fuck, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“Would you let me cum?”

That evil laugh is back, prolonged in the most tantalizing of ways. “Yeah, but not just once. It’s gonna attack you back to back, until your legs go numb.”

You shudder, eyes rolling back. “What if your roommate tries to interrupt us?”

“I’m gonna fuck you harder to mark my territory.”

“Am I your territory?”

He snickers. “You know that pussy’s mine. All. Mine.”

All you can offer as a response is an array of mewls, your walls desperately tightening against the inanimate object inside you.

“God, you sound so sexy when you moan, you know that?” He grunts, and for a few seconds, no words are exchanged. The only thing you can hear is the rapid rustling of fabric, presumably around his hand movements, and the subtle hisses seeping from his lips.

“Are you naked?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“Show me.”

You lower your phone to capture the sin you’re committing between your legs with a clear view of your bare body neck down, promptly sending the image to him.

And it’s obvious when he receives it because you hear that low, guttural growl you’re oh so familiar with. “You’re so hot.” His voice is strained. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum… are you close?”

“Yeah… I wish you could cum inside me.”

“I do too. Fuck, you look so gorgeous when your pussy’s swollen, dripping with my cum.”

His voice drops an octave, catalyzing the long overdue release that has been coiling inside you. His name rolls off your tongue in an unexpected increase in volume. The hypothetical fantasy momentarily becomes reality in your mind, simulations inducing tangible pleasure inundating you in waves that you didn’t know were possible in a setting like this; why on earth did you let the frustration marinate for this long?

“Fuck,” he curses.

“What?”

“...I made a mess.”

Your phone vibrates with a message from him - it’s a video... and you have the slightest inkling of what it is.

[bagheerita]

So I just finished Empire of Gold and need to gush about The Daevabad Trilogy for a minute.

(I try to be vague, but that's exactly when I up and hit you with low-key SPOILERS, so be aware.)

My rambling is only barely organized into the format of randomly selected topics in order to provide a vague outline for my outflowing of affection for each book.

CITY OF BRASS

Favorite character: Definitely Nahri. I love a woman who isn't afraid to go after what she wants, and boy howdy do I love me a pragmatist. AND do I love me a girl who can keep her head on her shoulders even when she's in-lust with man. As much as she is truly falling in love with Dara, she never forgets the way he looked at her when he thought she was shafit and his relief when Ghassan said she wasn't. She would have married him if he had offered I think, but she was smart enough to make him take the first step to cross the gap that his prejudice had put between them.

Most impressive thing: The way the author uses her narrator to tell a story that the narrative character doesn't always fully understand. This mostly comes through Ali's chapters at this point cause he's a little naive, but it's really skillfully done.

 KINGDOM OF COPPER

Least favorite thing: There are some moments that just felt... weirdly written. There's three big ones that come to mind...

At the beginning- the way the writing describes the environment. I'm paraphrasing because it's been a week since I read it and I don’t remember details, but it's like "the only sound in the graveyard was the distant sound of cats fighting" then, five minutes later "The only sound was the sound of coins jingling in her basket."  Like, where were those coins five minutes ago?! Also, why does an experienced thief put coins in a jingly basket that is easy to steal or drop instead of hiding them on her person??? (That's super nitpicky, but it was the first chapter, so I noticed it more.)

The second big moment that annoyed me was... okay so Dara learns that Muntadhir is bisexual through mind-reading powers that he's never previously demonstrated? I mean, there are enough clues about how he does it, and it makes sense to the character's history that he can sense peoples’ desires, but it felt weird that this is the only time we really see him use this power- here, as the inciting incident to the third act, where so much of the plot revolves around it. Dara already knew that Ghassan was planning to force Nahri to marry Muntadhir, they'd already talked about this, so I'm not sure what about Muntadhir being in a relationship with a man, as opposed to the multiple women he’s slept with this week, was enough to make this prospect so immediately repugnant that Dara goes absolutely stupid about it and incites the climax of the book.

Then there's the epilogue that basically just exists to point out what we already learned about Muntadhir and Jamshid. I thought that was kind of unnecessary, as no one in this epilogue scene, including the reader, doesn't already know about this relationship. Though the epilogue does also contain what I think was supposed to be foreshadowing, but which sent me off on a weird mental tangent where I spent most of the second book thinking Jamshid was the reincarnation of Rustam...

Favorite character: Muntadhir, hands down. There is one scene in particular, where he sasses Dara while dying of poison that is just my favorite scene in the entire book. I mean, I think part of my enjoyment was that I had been worried that he was about to be a victim of the Bury Your Gays trope, so when he shows back up still not dead I was so relieved to see him I literally squeeeed, and then he's bragging to Dara about something I explicitly know didn't happen, just actively involved in assassinating his own character because he has nothing else he can give to save his brother at that point except trying to distract Dara by enraging him... omg, do I love me some brotherly feels- my second favorite scene was the three siblings in a closet plotting a coup.

Least favorite thing: Dara lying to himself and justifying Manizheh's actions for the entire book. I get that the fact that he was lied to and betrayed by the people in power that he should have been able to trust is a big part of his arc, but I was not excited to have his POV added to this book just to have him and everyone around him spout off more prejudiced victim narrative bullshit every time I flipped to his chapters, like I wasn't getting enough of that from practically every other character in the story.

Most impressive thing: The author draws some really great parallels and contrasts between the 3 main characters and their journeys that I absolutely love. In chapter 2, Nahri says something like "Where's your sense of adventure?" to her new friend and then literally in the next chapter Ali says "Have you no sense of inquisitiveness?" to his new friend. (I don't like to call ships that early in the story, but I was like- these two are fated to be best friends if not something more.)  A bit later in the story, Dara is presented with a choice: to do the easy thing or to do the Right thing, and he chooses the easy path even though he knows that it's wrong. After this, Ali is presented with a choice: to do the easy thing or the Right thing, and he does the Right thing, even though he knows that it ultimately probably won't help. I just really love that this story always feels like every narrative POV and every chapter fully develops the character and contributes to the world. 

I also really love the twists and turns that Ali and Nahri’s relationship has taken over these first two books. They really have grown as individuals, and have believed the best and worst of each other, and understand each other in a way that is a great foundation for a truly lasting friendship (which is, of course, the best bedrock for building a more intimate relationship).

 EMPIRE OF GOLD

Favorite character: Sobek. I have a soft spot for unrepentant murderers who have a soft spot for the people they find interesting.

Least favorite thing: It ended? I know this book was long enough to be an entire trilogy on its own, but I would have loved more at the end from the side characters. Like, I want 100 more pages just about Jamshid and Muntadhir. I was explicit confirmation of what Zaynab and Aquisa are up to, and a sequel trilogy about their adventures. I want more about Fiza and what her plans are for the future. I want orchard shenanigans with Mishmish. I want more about Sudha and her family. I want more about Nahri conning everyone into making a functional government, and I want more about the trials of everyone in the city learning to not hate and judge as a first reflex. Just MORE!

Most impressive thing: Overall I was just impressed with this entire book. If I had to pick one thing, I would probably say I was most impressed, and pleasantly surprised, by Dara's ending. By this point in the story, I was certain that Dara had transgressed every transgression that it was possible to transgress, and lied to himself the entire way, only deciding upon the Right course of action when it was exactly 2 minutes too late, so I was prepared for him to find Redemption in Death. But once again I was pleasantly surprised at this story's refusal to follow popular story tropes, when it instead granted him true freedom as he perhaps had never known in his life, and the ability to choose who he would live that life in service of- choosing to help those who, like him, had been victims of the ifrit. 

I want more stories like this, about characters who are unforgivable, but who are forgiven- not by people or by those they have wronged, but by the narrative itself. Who are able and allowed to rededicate their lives to something, choosing to see their own actions and commit to helping people instead of just blindly following.

 OVERALL

Favorite character: I want to say Nahri, though I also really appreciate Ali and his quiet growth from being naive and kind of annoying to a man who is finally comfortable with and understands himself. But I think I’m going to have to choose Jamshid. I really like characters who are honest with themselves about their motivations, and I really admire his willingness to be open to change, to having his entire world and beliefs be turned upside down and try to go with the new way of being instead of holding on to the past, to confess his sins and be honest with Nahri, to believe in the people he knows rather than in what others say about them when Manizheh tries to manipulate him, to have been through everything he's been through and still retain a sense of humor and a generally upbeat personality.

The author does a good job of presenting all of the characters as fully rounded people so that there isn't really a character that I find poorly written. I definitely disagree with a lot of characters, and dislike them as individual people, and Manizheh comes the closest to being someone I truly hate, but you can see the paths that brought these people to be who they are. There are some great lines- where I think it's Nahri who notes that Ghassan's father make him like he was by his abuse, as he had twisted Manizheh  up with his own abuse, and that Muntadhir could have easily become just like his father. All people have the potential inside of them to be good or to be evil, and they are formed by the circumstances of their lives, the choices they make, and the power they give to the relationships they have.  I also loved that, once she learns the truth about her parents, Nahri notes how much of herself she gets from her Egyptian mother, just as much as she got her Nahid heritage from Rustam, and that it's a part of her that she can be proud of and celebrate.

 Most impressive thing: I don't like "realistic" fantasy, where lots of people die, because that tends to be an excuse for the book to just be really depressing. This story really surprised me by being realistic but in a way that was still full of hope. Sometimes people are terrible, or they are broken by the world and can no longer see anything beyond their pain, and a lot of the time the institutions we have created are terrible and are built on terrible things. But there is still always a need for people who do the right thing, who stand up for those who are being treated unfairly, who are willing to make sacrifices to break down the "us" and "them" that divides people. Who are willing to see change not as something to be feared but as a beautiful potential.

Least MOST favorite thing:  As Chakraborty herself notes in her afterward:  "There are days when it feels silly and selfish to spend my days crafting tales of monsters and magic. But I still believe, desperately, in the power of stories. If you take any message from this trilogy, I hope it is to choose what's right even when it seems hopeless - especially when it seems hopeless. Stand for justice, be a light, and remember what it is we were promised by the One who knows better.

“With every hardship comes ease."

I also believe in the power of stories, and I’m so excited to have been able to experience this one.  <3

[dirt-cup-draco]

Fred x Reader- Foolproof (2/2)

Previously:

“You could do it, ya know,” You found your voice had become but a whisper and Fred leaned in to hear you. “You and George could open a shop, it’d be great, I’m sure of it,”

 The smile on his face was worth the comment you had thought about biting back. He looked genuinely surprised yet pleased. “I don’t tell many people about what our plans are,” Fred admitted and your chest swelled with pride. He trusted you. “Goodnight Y/N,” He said his farewells, ducking his head to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

You thought you could hear him laughing softly to himself at your boggled expression. 

Now what had you gotten yourself into? As you settled down for bed, you could feel Fred’s kiss burn against your cheek, the feeling lingering until sleep claimed you.

Two more weeks had come and gone, the trees had been bared of all of their leaves and you were now wishing for snow, yet the temperature never seemed to drop low enough to bring what you desired. You were praying that sometime soon you would wake to see the grounds blanketed and the black lake frozen over. You found yourself wishing that Fred would also be frozen over in the black lake, having grown more annoyed with the Weasley than you ever had in your whole time of knowing him

All good things, no matter if it was a lie, had to come to an end apparently. 

It seemed like every few moments he was looking between you and Angelina before adjusting something, whether that be pulling you into his lap or wrapping his arm securely around your shoulder. Then came the questions that bounced around in your mind because he repeated them so often it’d be impossible to forget.

Was Angie looking? Did she look upset? Is this working?

You supposed they were good questions to ask, she was the reason behind your fake dating after all. The reason you could even claim to your friends you had a boyfriend, even if it was all blasphemy. This was for her, not you. Fred wanted Angelina, and not you. You hadn’t meant to start thinking this way but it had become impossible.

Even when wrapped up in a lie, Fred was so genuine. His honesty was refreshing and he had brightened up your life considerably. You cared for Fred of course, you had been friends for years, but this went beyond that now and you were moving into dangerous territory. Every date left your stomach in knots and every smile had a roller coaster swerving on the tracks of said knots, with tiny screaming butterflies strapped in and unable to turn the ride off.

You felt sick.

“Fred,” You spoke his name softly as you sat among his friends and brother. He was loudly joking, his body shaking with laughter as his familiar grip around your waist tightened. “Fred, can we go talk?” You asked again a bit louder and he finally took notice, as did George and Lee.

“Ooooh, someone’s in trouble,” Lee laughed and George elbowed him square in the gut with a simple “shut it,” tacked on.

Fred seemed to search for something as his eyebrows knit to the center of his forehead. “Sure love, lead the way,” He mumbled, wondering why you looked so serious all of a sudden. Had he done something wrong?

Your heart was a lump in your throat as you led him outside of the great hall and to one of the many out of the way corridors he had been showing you over the past couple weeks. “Look Fred, this past month has been fun but-”

You were cut off as Fred started laughing. “Wait, wait, are you breaking up with me?”

“And what if I am?” You asked, suddenly upset. Why was it so bizarre for you to want this to be over? You had done all you could and if Angie wasn’t biting then maybe it wasn’t meant to be. You had already invested too much into this and into Fred. You couldn’t do it anymore without giving away more of yourself and rocking the foundation that kept you from collapsing and admitting the truth to him. You liked Fred Weasley, love him even, and you couldn’t ever let that come to light.

Fred scoffed, blowing air through his nose as he thought over it. “Because! We haven’t done what we wanted to do yet! Angie still-”

“For fuck’s sake Fred! That’s just it, isn’t it? We aren’t a we! This is you with me following along like a complete and utter fool. ” You tossed your hands in the air as he brought her up. You were friends with Angelina, you didn’t know her well but this was ridiculous and it wasn’t fair of him. “What’s so wrong with you just telling her how you feel? Why muddy other people’s lives just to get another girl you’ll be bored of in a couple of weeks?”

You couldn’t help your scathing judgement as something ugly reared up inside you. You didn’t want to hear about Angelina anymore but more importantly than that you didn’t want to hear Fred talk about Angelina. You were tired of the pretending and you were tired of pretending to be cared about. The corners of your eyes prickled with the telltale sign of tears and you wouldn’t, couldn't, cry in front of him.

You escaped before Fred could stop you, ducking around him as his arm shot out to try and catch you. You didn’t turn around when he hollered your name, even if there had been confusion in his voice and something that sounded close to hurt. If only he knew how much he was hurting you.

--

Fred was moping, he realized as you ignored him the morning after you'd gotten cross with him. It was difficult for him to roll out of bed so he decided to just stay under the covers, staring at the wall and wondering where he had gone wrong. You had seemed fine the day before, sure you hadn’t been as talkative when he asked what he could do next to catch Angie’s attention but he had assumed you were just bored.

Maybe that was it. You were bored and so you were breaking off the set up you two had spent weeks on. You looked like a convincing couple and more than that, you acted like it! Fred noticed the way you were started to reach for his hand to hold when you saw him and how when he cracked a joke you would smile, even if the joke wasnt any good. You were perfectly convincing! It was perfect, it was like you weren’t even acting at all.

Fred rolled over in his bed once. Then twice. “Fuck,”

“What was that mate?” George asked, springing up at his bedside as if summoned by his twin’s abnormal tone.

Fred sighed, running his palm over his face as he took a deep breath. He couldn’t be right, you wouldn’t ever want anything to do with him! Yet he had never seen an expression on your face like the one he had been putting there with his foolish little ‘dates’ and even more idiotic pet names. The ones you paid attention to every single day...

“I’ve messed up with Y/N,” Fred spoke honestly and George grimaced.

“Is that what she wanted to talk about yesterday? I would’ve hit Lee harder if I knew you two were actually going to get into a fight. I’m feelin’ quite lucky I”m not in a relationship,”

“We’re not,” Fred said dumbly, only now realizing that you had seemed uncomfortable all during lunch and it had only gone downhill from there, especially in the hall when he had brought up Angelina.

We aren’t a we! This is you with me following along like a complete and utter fool. He recalled what you said and it was starting to shed new light on your maybe not so sudden outburst.

“She dumped you?” George asked like it was the worst sin anyone could possible commit. “Oh, you deserve so much better though, she’s a real piece of work-”

“She didn’t dump me Georgie,” Fred said through gritted teeth, frustrated because he didn’t know what to do or think or feel. “It was all fake, I wanted to catch Angie’s eye so I pretend to shack up with Y/N... It seemed like it was going well but I think that Y/N might have feelings for me,”

George could hardly believe it and Fred felt guilty seeing the way his twin was looking at him. He just hadn’t thought to tell him and then they were in too deep to the lie. It wasn’t that he didn’t think George could have helped, it just hadn’t occurred to him to share.

“You absolute tosser!” George pointed an accusing finger at Fred’s face. Fred tried to sink back into his pillows as his brother stood above him. “Y/N is lovely and our friend and you used her to get close to another girl?”

“Bit quick changing your tune aren’t you?” Fred winced as George hit the nail on the head.

He was right though, you were lovely.ou were absolutely wonderful and he had gotten to know you differently over the past month. You didn’t like brownies much unless they were like fudge, you loved the winter and hated the summer. Chrysanthemums were your favorite flower and you liked classic rock muggle music. More than that, you had confided in him about how you felt like you weren’t as desirable as the other girls around you, you’d never been in a relationship before and that could be isolating as a teen.

You had confided in him and he had used you. Now he felt like garbage.

“I love you, I really do,” George promised before swatting Fred upside the head, “but couldn’t you have just told Angelina? With how Y/N looks at you, I thought it was all real,”

“Really just rubbing it in aren’t you?”

“Someone has to consider her feelings in all this,” George pointed out and Fred’s chest constricted painfully.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her!” Fred argued, sitting up in bed as the guilt pressed down on him. “I really didn’t mean to... a month ago she agreed to fake this relationship with me, I figured that meant she didn’t have feelings for me,”

“That doesn’t mean feelings can’t grow over time. Just try and talk to her,” George advised, patting Fred on the back before he had to be getting on to class. Maybe it was good if Fred sat alone with his thoughts for a while.

--

Being alone with his thoughts did him no good. Fred still hadn’t found the courage to talk to you but he told himself it was because you were busy, and then it was because he was respecting your privacy. Lately though, he was honest enough to understand you were avoiding him.  It had been two long weeks and he was going mad.

He hadn’t realized how close you two had become until you were staying as far away from his as possible. Your attendance had been spotty, something he noticed the day after you had ‘dumped him’. When you did come to class you took a seat in the back if he was up front or a seat up front if he was in the back, it didn’t even matter if you were sitting to someone you didn’t know you just didn’t want to be around him.

Fred didn’t like how it made him feel. He especially didn’t like when he looked your way and you seemed to be physically there but not mentally. Your eyes were puffy as if you had been crying and he couldn’t help but kick himself over it. You were usually so put together and that wasn’t to say you didn’t still look as precious as always but he noticed it in the way you didn’t bother to straighten your tie and your hair wasn’t as immaculate as you like it to be. He hated seeing you sad. More than that, he hated seeing you sad because of him.

Even when he had been a lot, and he knew he could be a lot, you were there to ease him down from his hyperactivity and get his mind focused whether it be on the conversation or quidditch talk or his schoolwork. You were easy to talk with and you didn’t once get upset with him even if you gave him a bad time about his stupid jokes. You were accepting and you gave him more chances than any girl ever had.

He moved on so often because he thought no one could handle him. Fred figured his mom seemed irritated with him most of the time, why would a girl want to date him and be around that all the time? It was easy to know someone on a shallow level and skip getting to the commitment part. Which was maybe why he liked Angie. She was empathetic, witty, and a good friend. They both liked quidditch and he figured why not her? But as he sat and thought about, he wouldn’t want to tell her about the shop, about his dreams and his hopes and his future.

Angelina was great but he worried she would be one of the people who would laugh at his and George’s dream, tell him that they were so funny thinking they could achieve that. But he knew they could, and you knew they could. You had been approving and supportive and he trusted you as you trusted him. You were different, you weren’t Angie, and maybe that was a good thing. Fred liked Angie, but he loved you.

--

Two weeks had been too long with no word and you were certain now that all of it had been fake. Fred’s affections and smiles and stories were just the description on the back of the book and he hadn’t actually let you read the pages inside the cover. It had been a front and he had played you and used you just so he could find another girl.

You knew you couldn’t blame him completely. You had agreed to join this messy game of his and you thought you would come out on top, or at least unscathed. You could have ended things earlier but how were you supposed to know that you had feelings for him? You hadn’t meant to, you just did. It was unavoidable when it came to Fred.

Even now you were trying to stay cross with him, and it wasn’t as hard as you thought for which you were grateful, but you didn’t want to punch him yet. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? You couldn’t really tell. You just knew that you would be able to hold it together if you didn’t have to deal with him or talk to him ever again.

You were praying that when he eventually got with Angie you would be blinded in a terribly cauldron accident so that you didn’t have to see the pair of them happy together. Selfish? Maybe. Dramatic? Overly so. Yet you were feeling like a lovesick teen and so you felt you deserved to be dramatic. The whole situation made you feel foolish. It was impossible to not fall in love with Fred Weasley.

Even when it started to snow you couldn’t find it in you to smile.

--

Dinner was getting out and Fred was watching you like a hawk as you finished up your meal, not eating as much as you usually would. Your eyelids were heavy and you looked tired. He hoped you were getting sleep... Maybe it was a coincidence and you had just been studying too late. Fred didn’t think he was any reason to lose sleep.

Yet, he found himself losing sleep as he thought about the way you made him feel and if he was in your shoes he’d be frustrated and jealous and hurt above all. You liked him, or at least he hoped, and he had been going on about Angie like she was his destiny.

Tonight was the night he fixed things so that you could both get some rest. No matter what you said, or how you felt, Fred needed to apologize. He needed to set the record straight so you knew how precious you were to him, how everyone else bored him but he could see you in the future with him and George and there joke shop that seemed less like a dream and more like a reality every day.

You rose from your bench and your eyes went straight to the ground, scared of seeing Fred among the crowd. You weren’t hungry anymore and it was probably just best if you went to bed for the night.

You got beyond the doors of great hall, eyelids heavy and shoulders sagging as you shuffled to your common room. Yawning, you were stalled in repeating the password to the person staring down at you from their portrait.

Fred sped up as you paused at the portrait, hand coming up to wave your yawn away as sleep crept up behind you. “Y/N!” He called out, stopping abruptly at your side before you even recognized that he had arrived. You jumped and took two steps back, only to be met with a wall. “I’ve been looking for you,”

Your expression soured as you took in the redheaded boy. He had been looking for you? Was he looking for an apology? Maybe he was here to tell you he had finally gotten that girlfriend he wanted... “I don’t want to talk Fred,” You shoved past him, opening your mouth to repeat the password but stopped you, determined hands grabbing your shoulders.

“Don’t talk then,” He said, holding your cheeks in his hand, crushing his lips to yours, slanting his lips and hoping you would follow suit. You didn’t however, your nose scrunched up and you..you bit him? He pulled away with a sudden jerk, only being more surprised when your palm came from nowhere to slap him across the cheek.

Fred was dumbfounded. You had tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, I-”

“No talking,” You sniffled. “You haven’t talked to me in two weeks and now you think it’s okay to kiss me?! I-I’ve never been kissed before Fred, and I certainly didn’t want it to be because of this mockery of a ‘relationship’ we had... I can do a lot for you Fred, but I can’t be happy about that and I can’t keep going on like this, just leave me alone,”

“No,” Fred said, reaching for you again but you sent him a warning glare that kept him from doing so. “Darling, please... I swear I forgot- ‘bout your first kiss I mean... Wouldn’t have done that if I’d remembered,” He said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with worry. “Just let me explain?”

You wanted to be angry, and you were, that had been the most unpleasant first kiss you could have imagined. Yet Fred was standing in front of you with those gorgeous doe eyes and you were becoming quickly powerless to them. “Fine,” You hoped your tone sounded intimidating because you didn’t want Fred thinking he’d gotten off so easy.

“Let me just start with an apology, I never wanted this to hurt you and it took you fake dumping me and George smacking some sense into me that I realized what a selfish git I’ve been and how I really messed up... It wasn’t fair wait I did, especially because at some point it became natural to be with you all the time and take you out. I started thinking about what you might like for a date instead of what Angie might like, but all the while I was trying to make her jealous and that was wrong of me. I thought this whole plan was foolproof but it just left me looking like a fool,”

Fred paused, searching your eyes and asking for permission to continue. It looked like you had been momentarily calmed down and you crossed your arms over your chest before dictating that he could, “Go on, please. I’m liking the bit about how you really messed up,” Fred smiled a bit even if it felt strained.

“I’ll say it as many times as you want, I messed up. I messed up very badly and I used one of the most lovely, giving, patient hearts I’ve ever known. You were right more than once and Angelina isn’t it for me... I just thought she’d be the only one who would be able to handle me. That’s not anyway to think though and with you I’ve realized that I can have someone who loves me like I love them and it doesn’t have to be something as pathetic as me taking the first person who is willing to deal with me...”

“You’re joking,” You said after a minute, eyes narrowed as you took a step forward, poking Fred’s chest angrily. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of me aren’t you? You have to be... You like Angelina, not me,” You added but your voice cracked, your anger dissipating with your oncoming insecurity.

“It’s not a joke,” Fred promised, grabbing your hand the next time you sent a bruising jab to his chest. “For the first time in my entire life, it is not a joke Y/N. I want you,”

“You fucking idiot,” You sniffled. “You better make up for that rubbish first kiss then, because I swear that my first kiss is not going to be from a boy I’m angry at, I’d rather it be from a boy I love,”

Fred followed you into your common room, curling up on the couch alongside you and pulling you nearer and nearer until the gap that he created between you two had been bridged. And after watching the snow fall, and being able to smile about it for the first time, Fred made up for the first kiss, and then the second, and then several more after that.

You were his darling, he was your fool. And that’s exactly how you wanted it to be.

[barkadasesh]

"SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES IN YOU"

Jack and Jill were good childhood friends. Their path crosses at the wide woody and wild forests for the very first time. They became friends since then - they treat each other as a family, not by blood but through souls. They had a lot of ups and downs and memories to cherished together yet after some few struggling years, both completed their studies and went apart and take their own paths.

Jack, once called the good boy, achieved his dream profession. It is one of the most diverse and versatile field at engineering - mechanical engineering. And hell yeah! It was really a once in a lifetime career where he designs power-producing machines as well as power using machines. He became one of the most famous mechanical engineers in New York and it provides him strong annual salaries. Despite of being at the highest peak of success, he just continuously frittered away his life and his fortunes taking up an immoral habit of practices such as alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, drugs and he is also a well-known womanizer committing sexual immorality.

At the other side of the globe, jill worked so hard to be able to put forth effort toward a certain goal. And that is to own a vast hectare good for a farm not just for herself but also for the whole community. The planet needs nutritious and affordable food and that requires thoughtful and intelligent people to grow it – and that’s her! She believes that this world needs someone like her. In the fullness of the time, she set specific goals and standards so she can work out her farm. And in just a month of dedicating lingering, it is sufficiently good, enjoyable and successful to repay her effort, trouble and expenses.

Early in the morning, Jack was awake by a loud snooze from his high-pitched alarm clock telling it is already 7 o’clock in the morning. “Argh! Yeah, I know I know!” He scornfully covered his annoyed face by his malleable squared pillow. “Aish! Could you please give me another five more minutes?” He exclaimed resentfully. He slightly crumpled his eyes while yawning stretching his arms wide open before he turned off his blatant clock. He went back lethargically like he is pulling of his king-sized bed. He lie down once again on his crib but as soon as reach the climax of his fantastic dream, a very rambunctious bang from his door makes him stood and jumped out of his cradle. “Now what?” he said ostensible. “Son! I think you should stand on end now.” It is his dad who summons him on the other side of his bedroom’s entryway. “Come on dad, can you please knock?” he responded annoyingly while scratching his head. “Come on son! It is already 7 o’clock early in the morning. Are you just going to take a load off and fucked up the rest of your day today?” “Yeah, whatever dad!” He no longer waited his dad to counter his immature reply then he shut down the door then started fixing his self for another sunrise-to-sunset working day.

Same time of that busy day, Jill woke up early before daybreak to get ready to grind for another productive day at his hustling farm. She ascertained that she will be doing good today in managing all the works in the land for its maximum fertility. So that, when the crop ripen, they can orderly harvest it by hand, combine or mechanical pickers. “Today is the day to lead and guide ‘em in caring the crops!” She exclaimed. “Good morning Miss J!” greeted by Juan, a young maintenance and repair boy who is responsible for upkeeping the farm. “I did tighten the loose fences.” he reported. He is sharp as tack in many kinds of labor that’s why Jill trusted him so much. “Wow! Job well done, Juan!” she complimented. “Day by day, you’re doing better. Keep it up, kiddo!” She smiled at him then proceed at inset.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU JACK?! YOU’RE NOT GIVIN’ A DAMN TO YOUR WORK ANYMORE!” YOU ARE NOT LIKE THAT BEFORE. YOU WERE ONCE THE MOST SENSIBLE AND WELL ARTISAN BEFORE!” shouted by Jack’s officer-in-charge directly to his frowning face with a sharp glare towards his boss. So obvious that he is suffocated by the scenario. “I apologize but I think you cannot feasible this project anymore. You are fired.” “You can’t do this to me freaking old man.” He rebuttals. “Yeah we can. Why not?” giving him a smirk before walking away from Jack. “Let us see if you will survive that fuckin’ stupid project without me and my power.” he mumbled as he left the company. After he got fired, he recured from life-threatening vices. And that’s how he spent his life. Days, weeks and months had passed and his life is becoming worst until he loathed his continual nonsense practice and decided to have an out of town to take a break to a place with a peaceful ambiance. He immediately packed his things up and started driving.

“How I wish I could be that young good child again.” he bleakly chuckled as he lay down on his bed at vacation house. “Oh well, gonna spend these weeks with a chill.” he sighed and head to nearby coffee shop. “1 Caffè Americano, please. Thank you!” then he handed they payment. “Kindly wait for a moment at this table, sir. Thank you!” and the polite barista guided him to his table. As he sat down while scrolling through his smartphone, he suddenly heard a gleeful voice from the counter. “Good morning, Miss J. I’ve been waiting for my fair-haired customer today!” “HAHAHA, still a facetious young boy. Please give me a Blonde Vanilla Latte.” she replied with an over the moon. “Aye! Aye, Miss!”. Unexpectedly, Jack was surprised to hear the voice, he known it very well. He peeked at the lady waiting at the counter and he is more wonder-stricken to saw who it was. “Jill?!” he exclaimed aloud. “Jack? Its been years! Hey how you doing pal?” giving an expressions of pleasure as she saw and walk towards the directions of Jack. “Oh well hi. You look gorgeous right now. You are no longer that crybaby girl just like the old days.” he responds with an unbelief tone. “Uhm, I am already a mechanical engineer. Didn’t you hear some news and articles about me? I am one of the most popular identity at New York.” he continued. “Ooooh! Cool! Well, here I am. I already owned and managed a farm in this town. Wanna come and take some visit? Guess you’re on a vacay?” said by Jill with a convincing tone. “Farm? What an inferior profession. But, sure! Lemme see your farm.” stating it with full of indignity.

Jack offered a ride on their way to the farm. “So, tell me, what are you doing in a place such as this, your majesty?” he asked while looking directly at the uneven surface of the road. “Oh well, I found my purpose here. I enjoyed here. That’s why I stayed here for good.” respond by Jill without even looking at Jack. “Purpose, eh. What a concept?” “Yeah! Purpose. The reason or feeling of being determined to do or achieve something. If you dig deeper, through that purpose I am capable to make others happy. Spending time as much as possible with them to make this world a better place.” Jill explained with full of hope. “Corny! What we have here in this world is nothing but an unfair system and toxic people around us. You had to trust no one. Because in the end of the day, you only have yourself.” Jack looked at Jill like he knows what’s right. “In the end of the day, it is you who will believe in yourself, in what you have, and in what you can do. Because no one was truly concern about you. It’s you, all by yourself. If I were you, you should take my advice. I’ve been there.” he continued. “Well, I cannot blame you with that. You had a good point anyway. Now tell me, what are you doing in a place like this Mr. Engineer?” A moment of silence enwrapped inside the car between the two. “I’m having a break.” he started. “A break? From what?” inquisition of Jill while sipping on her coffee. “I am on my downfall as of this moment.” obviously averting the dialogue. “Come on, spill it. I can lend an ear, just like the old days back then.” Jack too a deep breath then started to tell the whole story. “It was really a fantasy when I achieved my dream profession, which is to be a mechanical engineer. All my life, I worked hard for it. I spend my whole life for it. Yet, the worst part of here was when I started to lose from track. I used to take vices such as alcoholic beverages, multiple boxes of cigarettes and drugs. I also used to be involved in multiple times of wrong relationship full of immorality. I became a womanizer and a heartbreaker. I no longer find my purpose. It seems that I am living my own selfish ways. Little by little, my life was ruined. And now, I don’t have any idea on how will I started again from the very beginning, on how will I fix everything. And yeah, that’s how my life went.” He narrated hopelessly. “I see. I guess that was really a sad ending. But, you know what, despite of what had happened to you, there’s still hope. I guess you just need to take some time to evaluate yourself and to check something out from those painful experiences. And yeah, you’re right when you told me that at the end of the day, you only have yourself. My tip, take this opportunity to heal, my dear friend. You have to help and lift yourself up. And don’t you worry. I am still here to believe in you. I know you can do that and become the better version of yourself. You just have to be patient and work it out.” Jill recommended believing that she can convinced Jack. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll try.” “Don’t try, do it.” And again, silence engulf inside the car between them.

Days and weeks had roll down, and Jack follow all the tips and advises of Jill. He started to evaluate his self. Separating right things that gives value to his life and surrendering negative habits that deteriorating his life. He also cut off his connections to those ladies that leads him to sin. Jill helps her to brings out the best in him, finding his purpose and creates a better vision. Then, it started his life to change from nothing to something, from zero to hero, from better to best.

"You know what, dear, sometimes, we don't need to have a luxurious life and luxurious things just to make ourselves happy. I had realized that sometimes, what we really need is someone who will believes in us and respects us. And, thank you for being one, Jill. Because of you, I found my purpose and I had a changed life better than my life before. I know God allowed us to meet again intentionally so that I'll be no longer slave to sin. You are just not a friend, but a family who truly cares. I owe you so much. How can I pay you for this?" Jack asked Jill." Pay it forward, Jack. Just pay it forward. Do to others what I have done to you." and Jill gave her sweetest smile. Few months later after their encounter, Jack went home." Good morning dad! I miss you!" he hugs his dad so tight that seems to be the first time." Dad, I just want to ask for forgiveness for what I have done before. I promise to be better this time. I love you dad!" Then, Mr. Johnson hugged him back, "I am so happy you're back again, son. You're forgiven." After that day, his relationship with his dad was restored and Jack was now back right on track. He spent his life doing the right things, multiplying his self to others. And that's how he made his own legacy.

(Short Story by Claire Montero)

[altik-0]

Personal Revelation

I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to write this post, but my mind has felt like it's tumbling around a washing machine and trying to figure out how to straighten my thoughts into a coherent message has felt impossible. But I'm driving myself crazy continuing to hold off on saying something, so I'm going to just rip off the bandage now, and we can talk in more depth after the cut.

Hi! 👋 I'm Asexual and Aromantic! Let's talk about it.

Where to even start

This month has been a fucking trip.

On the one hand, this has been the fourth month of nearly continuous quarantine for the COVID-19 pandemic. On the other, the end of May was the spark that began a wildfire of protests against police brutality that have swept across the country, including the seemingly milquetoast land of Salt Lake City. I found myself simultaneously figuring out the umpteenth way to keep myself entertained while being in home nearly uninterrupted for over 90 days, while also desperately searching for the courage to exit my home and join the marches against injustice.

And in the background of all of this, it was Pride Month.

On the 12th, a Youtube creator I follow released a video about their experience discovering themselves as non-binary. You should watch it, but what is important for the sake of this post is that the bulk of the video is an asynchronous telling of various moments throughout their life that, in reflection, show them that "[they] were who [they] are now, back then". These moments form a tapestry that tell a story of self discovery, and the result is incredibly powerful.

They released a rough cut about a week earlier for Patreon supporters, and I was immediately transfixed. I watched it three times in a row on the first day it was uploaded. I watched it twice more after the release. Hell, when I pulled this video up now to get the share link I couldn't help but sit and watch through it all over again.

At first I didn't really know why I felt so attached to this piece in particular. Yet still, I spent multiple nights laying awake for hours in what felt like a dreamlike haze at the time. It took three nights like this for me to realize I had spent all this time reflecting on my own past moments, and revisiting them through the lens this video had shared with me.

How I got here

It is September 2005. I am currently at a school dance. I know I am supposed to be finding someone to dance with and enjoy that for some reason, but all I want to do is go home. I might consider mustering up some courage and just asking someone, anyone, to dance, if it weren't for the fact that I still didn't have any friends. Instead, I feel trapped, wandering up and down the side wall, waiting for it to be over so I can finally leave. I stumble across a small group also sitting on the sides; a girl reading manga, and another playing Yu-Gi-Oh! with a boy across from her. I approach: "I didn't realize anyone still played this" They invite me to join, and soon I find myself with genuine friends at school for the first time in years. I never think about asking someone to dance again.

It is the summer of 2017. I am at a bar with some coworkers at the end of the week. I don't drink, but I've opened myself up to joining people for happy hour because it feels like a good way to socialize, and I've genuinely enjoyed getting to know folks. My team lead makes a comment that he feels it's impossible for a man and a woman to ever have a friendly relationship without having some element of sexual tension between them. I rebuff this comment -- initially I feel a sense of feminist frustration at the concept, as if it is implicitly saying that men and women should not work together. As the conversation continues, I realize the real reason I feel so sure this is wrong is because I have never felt this way toward anyone I've worked with.

It is the summer of 2008. I am in church, listening to the new instructor for my Sunday school class shift the discussion towards politics. Since he began, every lesson without fail will eventually derail into right-wing screeds. For him, any issue that is even vaguely left-leaning is a potential avenue for Satan to take hold of you: feminism, activism, even environmentalism. But lately he has had a particular fixation on the topic of gay marriage, and it is beginning to take a toll on my mental health. Being in these classes, hearing a man in a position of authority repeatedly say "it is not that we shouldn't love these people, but we need to still understand that they are committing a sin" has become physically painful to listen to. Of course, I am not queer, just an ally -- I can only imagine how painful this must be for those who are directly affected. I will nearly pass out from exhaustion and anxiety during sacrament meeting a few hours later.

It is February 2020. I am out to lunch with a friend and coworker. I have just recently changed jobs after less than a year, because I was hopelessly miserable at my last one. It should have been a dream job, marrying two of my closest passions, but instead I felt suffocated by being in a world where everyone seemed indifferent towards me at best, or actively hated me at worst. My friend invited me to join this job, and although it is a miserable job, I find solace in being able to go to lunch and have genuine conversations with someone I get along with. He mentions his wife is pregnant, and the stress of tending for his current child while she is resting. I acknowledge the frustration, though somewhat awkwardly since I am still single. "Oh, yeah, I sometimes forget you aren't married yet, haha. Well, don't worry, you'll get to join in on the fun soon enough!" I want to say "I very much doubt that"; instead I say "Well, I guess we'll see." The conversation does not feel so genuine anymore.

It is January 2009. I am watching House M.D. with my dad. We bond a lot while watching tv. We're both avid fans of MST3K, and we are invariably the obnoxious people in a movie theater a few rows down cracking jokes throughout the film. It feels fun and rebellious, even if we're doing it at home where nobody will be annoyed. This episode starts with Foreman and Thirteen waking up together in bed after clearly spending the night together. My dad cracks a joke about how "they're going to get in trouble, since they aren't married!" I quip back "nah, it's not a big deal, they just slept together, haha." My dad pauses the show and turns to me, deadly serious: "Who told you that was okay?!" I am a deer in headlights. I suddenly realize that I meant "slept together" literally, but nobody else uses it that way. I don't understand how I missed that.

It is October 2010. I am at home, speaking with my mother after coming home from school. She has always been a political firebrand, and especially after I left the church and started college the two of us have connected on this a lot. She has just read an article that mentioned the expanded acronym "LGBTQIA", and says she doesn’t know what all the "I" and "A" refer to. I don't yet know what the "I" refers to, but I suggest the "A" is probably for "asexual". She says she hadn't heard of asexuality, though that does make sense. I realize I don't recall hearing about asexuality before either. I don't actually know if anyone identifies like that. It just somehow feels like something that must exist.

It is the spring of 2007. I am at a local game store playing at a Friday Night Magic event for the first time. I suffer from very extreme social anxiety, and I spent the entire week a ball of nervous energy. Despite myself, I have managed to drive myself to the event and register. I have promised myself dozens of times over that I already knew Magic players were people similar to me, so there was no reason to worry. My first match is against someone wearing a frilly dress, cat ears, and tail. She mews at me several times while playing. On the surface I have frozen and only robotically go through motions of playing the game because my anxiety has boiled over to the point that I cannot quite function properly. Inside, I am filled with pure delight at realizing that someone could feel comfortable expressing themselves that openly in a space like this. I eventually become friends with this person who I will later learn is trans -- I had never met a trans person before. I will become close friends with three more trans people, at least two enbies, and countless other queer people over the next decade of playing this wonderful game.

It is November 2019. I am at work, sitting at my desk, feeling completely numb despite starting the day energetic to the point of mania. I've just had an argument with a close friend -- perhaps the closest friend I've ever had -- and it ended... poorly, to put it mildly. So poorly, in fact, that it is safe to say we are just not friends anymore. The reality was that there were always problems between us, and this was a culmination of conflict that never really got effectively resolved. It might not have even been possible to resolve. In the moment, though, I cannot escape the suffocating feeling that I am a failure as a human being; someone who simply does not know how to maintain a relationship. My mind goes through loops of how I could have said something differently to have it end better. The emotional pain will not fully make sense to me until several months later, when I realize this was the closest thing to a break-up that I've ever experienced.

It is January 2012. I am watching House M.D. with my dad again. Since leaving the church, watching shows like this has been a desperate lifeline for our relationship. We don't joke as much anymore. This episode features a side plot with an asexual couple, who House determines is simply impossible, and uses his power of supreme logic to prove the asexuality wasn't real all along. I have heard of asexuality, though I don't know where or when, so I am angry at this. Of course, as an ally. I want to joke with my dad to release some frustration, but he is still in the church, and I don’t think he will empathize. I stay silent, and do not enjoy this episode.

It is December 2019. I am scrolling through a Discord channel I was invited to from one of the leftist creators I follow. This community has been a breath of fresh air in many ways, and one I found surprisingly helpful was an NSFW adult content chat channel where people are open about sex, fetishes, and more. I've considered myself fairly open-minded and sex-positive, but I'm still a virgin at 28 so I've found there is a lot I just don't know about. Today, someone has started a conversation about what qualifies as "taboo" and relating it to kink-shaming. Another member replies, mentioning they are asexual and find the whole notion of taboos being kind of bizarre. My mind reels at seeing someone who identifies as asexual in this chat. Over time I find out there are several other people who identify at least gray-ace in this chat, some who even draw risque artwork for commission. I realize how little I actually understood about what asexuality really was, and begin scouring the internet for articles and wikis on asexuality.

It is April 2010. I am at an Apollo Burger across the street from the local game store where I am playing in a Magic prerelease. My friends I followed over are talking about weekend plans, and one of them makes a joke about doing some chores to butter up his partner to have sex. The joke does not go over my head -- I am straight, and understand sex, even if I am still a virgin -- but I still can't help but think out loud: "You know, I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of sex." The awkwardness and confused looks are suffocating. I drop the topic immediately.

It is June 2020. I have just watched a video from an enby Youtube creator about their experience discovering their own gender identity. Over the next three days I will see every one of these past experiences, along with hundreds of others, flash before my eyes in rapid succession, over and over, until I begin to realize that I haven't allowed myself to truly identify how I do. Every time I asked "am I asexual?" in the past, I would dismiss it because I understood sex and have a sex drive. Once I actually researched asexuality, though, I almost immediately found stories of people who identify as ace and still experience a sex drive. I also discover a lot of stories from aromantic people that sound painfully similar to feelings I hadn't even realized were not the norm. For the first time I begin to realize I may not just be an ally.

So what does this mean

I came to a sense of satisfaction with living alone and single a long time ago. At first this came with a certain level of shame, because I felt like it was only because I was too cowardly to enter the dating scene and try to find a relationship for myself. Over time the impact of the shame diminished, but it never went away; it just became a quiet background noise that I got accustomed to pushing back.

But now that I feel comfortable calling myself "Aromantic", I don't feel any shame. A romantic relationship is simply something I don't need. Instead, I can focus on fostering the kinds of deep relationships that do feed my soul. That will likely be a difficult thing to do -- awkwardly traversing intimacy was something most people worked through as a teenager or young adult, and I'm nearly 30, haha. But it at least feels possible now.

But really the biggest change for me is that I feel like I can be honest and public about who I am in a way I never was before. Simply being open about this piece of my identity somehow feels important if for no other reason than to let other people who felt like I did growing up that they aren't alone.

So... yeah. I'm aroace. And I always have been.

[somedrunkpirate]

the friend of your enemy is a weapon

(alternate title: Gabriel is more punchable than you thought!)

Gabriel has always hated Aziraphale— or, not hated; angels can't technically hate anything. So disliked, found lacking, something perpetually worth disapproval. Aziraphale with his fussy jackets and undignified bowties, his disturbing obsession with humanity. All quite clearly worth of disapproval, at the least. Not to mention his down right embarrassing gluttony, as evidenced by his gut.

Gabriel has always thought Aziraphale danced too closely with sin, besides gluttony, there is pride in the way he dresses himself, greed in the hoarding of his books. Lust, maybe, if the reports are correct about that gentlemen’s club of his. Aziraphale has lost his way on Earth long ago, but Gabriel hadn’t found it in himself to intervene— because to intervene would be to care, and Gabriel really couldn’t give a care about this less than satisfactory angel. Whenever Aziraphale came to report, his biggest priority was getting him out of his sight again. 

Because for an angel that speaks so much, he says absolutely nothing of worth. All his little hypothesis and ideas and ugh— Gabriel has never experienced a hangover, but he thinks he understands the concept. A throbbing something in his head whenever Aziraphale passes through, ever babbling, eternally annoying. 

So it really isn’t his fault for not reading between the lines. His frustration — disapproval, very objective objections — had blinded him to what Aziraphale’s omissions revealed: the demon he had been sent to Earth for, had devolved from an assignment to an ally. He had begun to work with the demon. But that hadn’t been the worst of it, Aziraphale seemed to care for him, this Crowley. Truly disgusting, that. 

But still, this could have just been another one of Aziraphale’s quirks: factory mistake that would inevitably — finally, thank the Lord — make him fall. Gabriel had already been looking forward to that day, so by the time Michael had revealed the true nature of Aziraphale’s relationship with Crowley, it merely added another corrupted feather to Aziraphale’s undeserving radiant plumes. 

But it hadn’t come. They stopped the apocalypse, made the preparations for the war all for nothing, an angel betraying Heaven in every sense of the word. 

 And yet Aziraphale refused the common courtesy to finally fucking die. 

God herself may not have made Aziraphale fall for his actions that day, but he has sinned in more ways than one. Gabriel might have realised it too late— should have stopped it before it came this far, but he saw in that moment of desperation, the darkest sin Aziraphale has committed during those unobserved milennia on Earth. 

He’s given his heart to a demon, his loyalty to the enemy, in the worst possible way.

He has fallen in love. 

Gabriel might have been angry — if he could be, he’s an angel so that actually can’t be what he’s feeling, of course. But he can push the heat in his chest away, ignore it, for Aziraphale's betrayal has given him exactly what he needs. 

Aziraphale must feel the consequences of his treachery, must be punished for being the corrupted shadow of perfection, giving angels a bad name. But in her ineffable ways, God has made it clear that Aziraphale is off limits. 

So delightfully fortunate then, that Crowley is not.

———————

Hastur has always hated Crowley. Not that he doesn't hate the other demons, that would be rude, but the way he hates Crowley is different...

Continue reading on AO3

Tags:

@proficientatfreakness  @theheirofashandfire  @regvlusblxck  @nooraamaliesaetre  

[crowdedchatroom]

the most dangerous game (for the world’s biggest virgins) | Chapter One

the first fic posted on this blog! i posted a few mysme fics on my main blog since they were for zines, but since this one is sort of its own thing, i’d figure i’d make use of this silly little sideblog.

the idea of there being a chapter 2 is a little questionable, but we’ll see how it goes.

AO3 | writing commissions | main blog.

                                                            0

They meet over coffee. Jumin sits quietly in his chair, reading a book, and Zen sits across from him, impatiently drumming his fingers on the table.

“Stop that,” says Jumin, not lifting his eyes from his book. “I find it annoying.”

Near immediately, Zen counters with, “I find you annoying.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments, and Zen begins to get a little irritated. “Why am I here?” he asks.

“I wanted to have a chat with you,” says Jumin, and he pauses, “I never thought I would say that sentence in earnest. It’s an interesting change.”

Zen would probably make a snappy comeback, if he weren’t already so done with Jumin. “Then why have we just been sitting here, not talking for—” he looks up at the clock by the front counter, and MC waves happily at him. He waves back, then turns back to Jumin, “five minutes.”

“I wasn’t in a rush,” says Jumin, “and I figured now was as good a time as any to conduct a little experiment and see how long it took for the silence to get to you. That’s the thing about children, you know?” He lifts his head to meet Zen’s eyes. “They can’t stand boredom.”

He looks back down at his book, and Zen briefly ponders if his career could survive the inevitable controversy he would face for murdering the man in front of him. And Jumin is quiet for a few moments longer, giving Zen plenty of time to think, until he opens his mouth once again.

“So,” Jumin says, “What are we?”

There are a few blissful moments where Zen is only attempting to process those stupid, terrible words coming from Jumin’s stupid, terrible mouth. Not that Zen thinks about Jumin’s mouth at all, ever—shut up.

When he does manage to process said terrible words, it’s as if Jumin has poured water directly onto Zen’s motherboard in an attempt to kill him dead. If it were possible to short-circuit in real life, Zen would surely be doing so.

“What are we?” he manages.

Jumin turns a page in his book. “I believe that’s what I said, yes.”

Zen shakes his head, “We aren’t anything. We don’t have anything to do with each other.”

“I see,” says Jumin, “I assumed that was the case. I just wanted to clarify.”

More silence. Zen continues drumming his fingers on the table, now in the midst of developing a distinct rhythm. To be in this situation, he thinks, is surely the universe’s retribution for all his sins. Which ones? That is yet to be figured out. He begins to replay the interaction in his head, and something bothers him.

Jumin assumed that was the case? What does that mean?

Of course, there’s the obvious interpretation—which is that Jumin took the events of last weekend and deduced that they were the product of a lot of drinking between both parties. Then there’s the explanation Zen falls on, which is that Jumin thinks he’s some kind of commitment-phobic playboy. An astrological leap, to be sure.

And who is Jumin to make this assumption of Zen, who is totally dedicated to anything he puts his mind to— including relationships, thank you very much. Jumin, on the other hand, has probably walked through all of his relationships with indifference, letting them pass as quickly as they arrived. Last weekend probably didn’t even mean anything to him. In fact, that’s probably Jumin’s every weekend, and Zen is one of many—

In the midst of Zen’s spiral, Jumin speaks again, “You can dismiss yourself. I’m waiting on a cup of coffee.”

“—I’m not some kind of playboy, for your information!” exclaims Zen. Jumin looks up at him.

“I see,” he says, “Now, I’m not sure what logical leap you’ve been privately making over there, but rest assured, whatever you think I think of you is absolutely true.”

He’s messing with Zen, now.

“I mean, what do you want us to be?” says Zen, and Jumin seems to think about it for a few seconds.

“I’m impartial,” he says, “I think we have very little compatibility as ‘friends,’” he lifts his hands from his book to put ‘friends’ in air quotes, “so a relationship seems a bit hasty, but I didn’t know if you were the sort of person to care about that sort of thing, so I asked.”

“And what does that mean?” says Zen, tone accusatory, though this whole interaction has been pretty accusatory in general. They’re an accusatory pair.

“Well, I had reason to consider either possibility,” says Jumin, “You seemed to be trying very hard to forget the whole ordeal, but at the same time you did agree to meet me here, which I doubt would happen if you were completely uninterested.”

“It’s not hard to be uninterested in you,” says Zen.

“And yet you’re still sitting here,” retorts Jumin.

“You’re a dick,” says Zen, “and you’re really not funny at all. Or interesting. Or nice.”

“I see,” says Jumin.

“It just makes me so, ugh, to think that I—that you—that we—” says Zen, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Jumin is sitting across for him, observing him curiously.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?” says Jumin, and if Zen didn’t know any better, he’d say that there was a smile forming on his stupid, terrible face. Just awful. The worst. “If it makes you feel better, it was ‘only a kiss.’ Of course, I suppose that comfort depends on how much you value a kiss.”

“If it was with you, not at all,” tries Zen. Jumin nods.

“Same here,” says Jumin, “It was, as Lucien or Yoosung would say, ‘wack.’”

Zen’s brain is short-circuiting again. “Did you just say ‘wack?’”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to expand my vocabulary to something more current, in order to appear less stiff,” says Jumin, a man who is sitting in a coffee shop in a full suit. Had it been any other day, Zen is certain that said suit would be covered in pale cat hair. “Why are you still sitting here?”

“Why are you?”

“I believe I mentioned that I was waiting on a coffee?”

“Maybe I’m also waiting on a coffee.”

“I think that you’d have to order one in order to wait for it.”

“Die,” says Zen, “I just—nevermind your assumptions of me, what is this whole situation supposed to say about you, Jumin Han?” He tries to say Jumin’s name as if that were an insult in itself. Jumin merely raises an eyebrow.

“That I don’t feel we’re compatible?” he says.

“No! It’s that you’re a playboy!”

“A playboy?”

“A playboy!”

Jumin seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose, from a certain perspective, it could look that way,” he says. “That said, I consider myself quite conservative with my sensuality.”

Hearing Jumin refer to his sensuality in conversation is quite possibly the worst thing Zen has ever heard. Instead of abruptly vomiting, however, he stands his ground. His very thin, shaky ground. “Well you aren’t! And it’s weird that you’re pretending to be all professional about this situation and trying to say that I don’t value a kiss or whatever. You—you’re weird!”

“Perhaps,” Jumin places his book down on the table, “we would benefit from a reevaluation of the incident. As I recall, it was you who leaned in for the kiss, Zen.”

“Oh, fuck you! That’s not what this is about and you know it—” Zen begins, fully prepared to go into a tirade about how he was drunk and how Jumin was being weirdly cool and how the moment was a particularly bizarre exception, as far as romance goes, but Jumin is just… looking at him. “What?” he says, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m thinking,” Jumin says, and there is the briefest moment of blissful silence before he says, “I don’t find you unattractive,” and Zen once again feels as though he has just been shot.

“I’m sorry, what\—”

“As insufferable as your personality is, you are fairly handsome, and I was fairly drunk at the time,” says Jumin, “and so when you leaned in for the kiss, I was receptive.”

“God. Why are you doing this? Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m merely analyzing the events of last weekend in order to paint a clearer picture of my character, since you insist I fit some kind of ‘playboy’ stereotype,” says Jumin. “Now, I will admit that my decision to introduce tongue to the kiss was very questionable, however—”

“Stop! Stop! I get it! You can stop now!”

“Zen, you are making a scene,” Jumin appears serious at first, before a slight curve appears at the corner of his lips, and he blows some air out of his nose. “Though, I suppose that’s natural for an actor.”

“You’re not funny,” Zen says. God. Thinking about that night is—

(kind of hot)

—awful. What was he thinking? He has to live with the fact that Jumin’s tongue has been in his mouth forever now. This is a travesty.

“Zen,” says Jumin. “Was it such an unpleasant experience for you? Because if so, I—” he stops for a second, as if truly hesitant to say anything further, “I… am sorry.”

He’s apologizing. Holy shit. Zen just got an apology. Out of Jumin.

“What was that?”

“I’m not going to say it again, especially since I was not initially responsible for the incident.” Holy shit. Jumin seems flustered. This is hilarious. And kind of adorable. Or, not adorable—Zen definitely did not refer to Jumin as adorable, but it’s like… well, it’s something, and Zen is all about it.

“No, no, say it! You can’t backpedal.”

“I am,” Jumin sighs, “sorry for making you uncomfortable, if that was the case.”

“Oh, that’s good. I could get used to that.”

“That is an inherently weird statement to make, Zen. I believe you were arguing the point that I was ‘weird,’ earlier, and that only serves as incriminating evidence to your own ‘weirdness.” Jumin is turning a bit pink. “Where’s my coffee? Could you leave? I’d like to drink my coffee in peace.”

“It looks like it’s gonna take a while,” says Zen, “in the meantime, let’s review another point: you find me attractive?”

“Do not get me started, because I seem to remember that your hands certainly found themselves in some interesting places that evening, and—”

“Okay, okay! Point made!” Zen interjects. A few seconds pass, and he lets out a confession. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just thought your apology was really funny.”

“I am going to kill you. I have the money to do so cleanly and without any trace to myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” says Zen, dismissive. “So, we’re agreed? We’re forgetting about the whole thing?”

Jumin nods. “It would be a service to the both of us. I mean, just imagine it. If we dated.”

Zen says, “Not possible.”

Jumin adds, “Completely incomprehensible.”

“Disgusting.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

More silence. Extremely, wildly uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence that only occurs between parties with an it’s complicated status on social media.

Zen tries not to think about the kiss, but, well, it’s not like he’s kissed that many people in his life—and Jumin happened to be much more skilled than expected, and it’s hard not to think about that. Zen has barely ever kissed another person with tongue in his life, but Jumin was a total natural. A real team player.

And, well, he isn’t hideous. Kind of the opposite. There’s a reason this guy also models, Zen supposes. A cursory glance to Jumin only serves to confirm this. Sure, he’s pretentious and repulsive, but he does really pull that suit off. His hair looks soft (it is soft. Zen remembers, because one of his hands ran through it when they kissed. The other hand was kind of preoccupied with things below the waist, but whatever. Not relevant, right now) and his skin is immaculate.

“It would be kind of funny,” says Zen, talking before thinking. “If we dated, that is.”

“Oh, it would be hilarious.”

“Maybe we’d do it for, like, a trial run. You know, if I can tolerate you for a month, then you have to pay me some ridiculous amount of money.”

“That wouldn’t be much of a challenge at all. I’m very tolerable. And what would I get if you lost?”

“I have no idea. Maybe I’d have to do something stupid, like babysit Elizabeth or something—”

“Deal.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh?

“For real?” Zen says, incredulous. “You’d make this stupid bet on the off chance that I would have to watch your stupid cat?”

“Yes, absolutely. It would be hilarious.”

“Well,” says Zen, thinking about his impending sum of money and definitely not thinking about Jumin’s tongue in his mouth, “Then we have a deal.”

“Certainly. We’ll need to work out the details a bit later, perhaps in a written contract—”

“I am not doing a fifty shades style contract with you.”

Jumin shakes his head. “Nothing like that. This would merely cover the terms of the wager, in order to ensure equal chances of winning for both parties. My affinities are none of your business”

“Um, I think they’re totally my business. I’m your trial-run boyfriend.”

This banter would probably go on forever, if not for the sudden presence of Jaehee, who clears her throat. Zen instantly jumps in his seat.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, instantaneously. Jaehee looks at him with some unholy combination of grief and amusement.

“Long enough,” she says, before turning to Jumin. “You ordered coffee?”

This, Zen thinks, is going to bite him in the ass.

[smolbeandrabbles]

I'm A Girl - Martin x Reader Drabble (Untogether)

Gif credit: @benmendo as eveerr...! Author’s Note: As requested by @shantellorraine I hope you enjoy!! 😘😘😘💕💕💕 And THANK YOU for requesting! This thing has been in my drafts since the end of April---! UGH! And I knew the whole thing and then subsequently wrote it in two days. Why I don’t write things the second I have the idea I will never know... ANYWAYS! @stcphstrange @beany-ben @mfolcore @alotofrandomfangirling HEY! #MartinSquad! Surprise! 😘😊💙💜 If you guys thought I couldn’t find a song for everything... You’d be WRONG!  

Disclaimer: As usual, I don’t own any of the characters ‘cept Ms.Reader character. I have never had a Tim Tam in my life but I am assured they are great.  We have an English equivalent that I like so...? I assume they’re good. ...You just gotta trust me on Ribena, okay?!

Premise (As Requested): I was wondering if you could write a one shot of Martin taking care of the reader when she is on her period? That part in the movie was so sweet and the reader deserves it more than Tara does lol.

Words: 2568

Warnings: A teeny-tiny bit of swearing / General PMS nonsense 

I can rock a Target tank top, Gucci sunglasses, Cheap flip flops And still look like a million bucks to you You know it’s true... I'm the queen of my own planet And you wouldn't understand it... ...I’m an expert at chocolate and Chinese food And that time of the month, I feel sorry for you I’m a pain, it's a shame Ain’t a thing that you can do Cause I'm moody, attitudey And you can't say nothin' to me

Cause I’m a girl, Oh yeah I can get a free drink for flippin' my hair Or stay home, with a bottle of wine and you I’m a girl, I got skills I can dance all night in five inch heels And make you feel like the luckiest boy in the world Cause I’m a girl

---

This was probably the 15th time in five minutes you had let out a groan like that. To Martin all it said was pay ATTENTION to me!! He knew why, but he also knew that if he paid too much attention to you, you wouldn’t like that either and you’d probably end up kicking him. Not hard. Just with a sulky pout, arms folded across your lower abdomen. Because that was the real problem, let’s be honest. Still, you’d probably yell at him if he didn’t show you come kind of affection…. He swung around the bedroom door; “You okay?” “NO.” Here we go…! “Well, you didn’t sound it. But I had to ask didn’t I?!” You turned your head to glare at him. He was going to be in trouble no matter what he said, so he thought he might as well go for it. “…Are you being… Serious?!” “No…” Martin gave you a grin that again made you glare. He noticed you were wearing a pair of his track pants and a workout shirt. Yeah, today was a bad day.  “Buuuut… I figured maybe there was something I could help with.” “I dunno…” you stretched tenderly, but then hissed gently placing your hands just below your stomach. “…I mean I took an ibuprofen but… it’s not really DONE a whole lot.” “Aw… Sweetheart…” He tentatively stepped over to you, watching your reactions. But now you just looked pouty again.  Martin sat himself on the edge of the bed “You sure? I’m sure there’s gotta be something I can do.” “…No.” “No?” “Nope.” He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles gently. There was probably something he could do. Later you’d also probably get annoyed he hadn’t done it. But he was a simple guy and not a mind reader.  He’d think on it, hopefully figure it out before you did. “You can stay here all day, if you wanna…?” Notice that he had voiced it as that kinda question and not the ‘are you GOING to stay here all day’ he meant. You removed one of your hands from his and touched his face delicately; about as delicate as you felt, before pulling him towards you and laying his head on your chest, he wound his arms gently around you as you stroked your fingers through his hair. “Why is this always the worst!?” He laughed “Because you’re a woman? I guess…” You tugged his hair as a warning, but couldn’t help but smile; “Uh. Oh God. Yippee…” He couldn’t help but laugh harder as he gently rubbed your stomach “Something… there’s gotta be something…” “…No… I’m sure there’s… Not.” You sighed, sounded restless. It was weird, you wanted to do so much. But all at once you also didn’t feel like it. Yesterday had been okay, you’d gone into town with him, cuddled his arm; whined a little but after an hour you wanted to come home. Martin has obliged. Of course, he had. He always did. That man had the patience of a Saint… But maybe he was asking you if there was anything he could do, so that he could do something? But then you didn’t understand why Martin always felt the need to sacrifice his happiness to make sure you were okay? Or did he? Maybe making sure you were okay was his happiness. Maybe he was trying to make sure you weren’t about to do something really dumb; like leave him. Oh, you’d heard all about her. But you weren’t her. And you wanted to prove that. He propped himself up on his elbows, to study your face. Those blue eyes of his mischievous; “What?” the tone you took was amused so he opted to continue, pushing himself onto his hands he kissed you. This time when you groaned it was with significant improvement, as you wound you arms around him, wiggling your body up into his. Biting his lip caused him to growl and the kiss continued to deepen. “Martin…” You groaned his name, your voice just edging sinful.  This was a bad idea he knew, and you knew. But here you were anyway… “F**k! Oh god! Sh*t!!” You pushed him off you and sprinted to the bathroom suddenly, as you felt another series of cramps set it. Leaving him a little bewildered he glanced to the mirror quickly, shirt crumpled, hair a mess. He took a deep breath and slid off the bed onto his feet, smoothing his hair back he pulled his white shirt into place and walked into the corridor. To hear another frustrated yell and a box thrown out of the bathroom and against the wall. Possibly a little too hard. Right now you didn’t care. You sat on the side of the bath, head in your hands and groaned again. Martin rolled his eyes; okay now what? NOW what. He was very slow and cautious as he moved down the corridor again. He picked up the empty box. Oh. He turned to you, now sliding down the side of the bath and curling into a ball on the floor. Raising an eyebrow, he tapped on the door. “Y/N…” “Yeah-” Well it was barely a yeah, and it was muffled under your hands. “Baby, do you want me to go back into town…?” He shook the empty box at you “This seems… Important…” You looked up at him, weakly, as if you were about to burst into tears; “Would you!?” “Umm hmm…!” He looked at the box carefully, trying to commit it to memory “…Are these the ones?” “Right now I’d take ANYTHING!” Martin didn’t like that you also sounded on the edge of tears. He nodded, “Okay. I won’t be long I promise.” His walk to you was quick and he kissed your forehead. “Stay here. I know this is a dumb thing to say. But try to get comfortable. Ok? I promise I’ll be right back gorgeous.” He added a wink, and ran from the room. He took the stairs nearly three at a time, grabbing his wallet and keys, already typing in the nearest drug store into the app on his phone. He knew it wasn’t far, hell he knew the way but right now there couldn’t have been a bigger emergency! And he couldn’t have been too sure! **

He arrived back promptly. You were now downstairs curled up on the couch and still looking sorry for yourself. He set about 5 boxes down in front of you; “I wasn’t about to get the wrong type.” “... oh my god...” you murmured it “...you are a Godsend Martin. You really are!” He almost giggled and you saw red cross his cheeks, “No, it’s... Anything for you... right...?” You reached out for a box but winced, clutching your lower abdomen with your other hand “oh...!!! I feel like I’m dying..!!” You lamented, clearly having a bout of melodrama. He stifled his laugh well as you pretended to cry “This is hell.” “I’m sure.” Martin sat on the arm of the couch and his eyes flicked to the wine glasses and bottle; “Are you sure that’s gonna help?” He asked, eyebrow raised “Oh god. I don’t know. I’m at the point where I’ll try anything... besides one glass is for you...?” He sighed gently and stroked a hand through your hair, indicating to the box you were now holding “You go... do whatcha gotta do and come back here. I got a few ideas...” “Better than mine?” “Better than alcohol, yeah...!” He picked up the rest of the bottle as you rolled yourself off the couch and trudged to the bathroom again. You were slow, your body bent like you really were dying.

Martin shook his head after you, grinning and poured himself a glass, as you’d been sweet enough to get him one despite your ‘condition’. Periods were the worst. He knew that. But he also knew how to work around your mood swings and when you were coming up to one. He didn’t need that tiny star you marked out every month to tell him anything. Just the way you’d suddenly get overly affectionate. How for about a week you’d insist you had to get on the dance floor with him just to grind up against him and show him off. So you could look pretty and wait for men to offer you drinks. That was so Martin didn’t pay anything; “What?! No, you spent enough getting us IN here.” LA was ridiculous. “... All I have to do is sit up at that bar for five minutes. Free drinks!” You would always turn to him with a wink “Do you want anything?” But then it would set in like this. And that wasn’t a problem either, because then Martin would get to look after you. And he sure loved doing that. 

He stood taking the bottle and glasses back to the kitchen. He took a sip. Not the best. But not bad... passable. By the time he was back in the living room you were back on the sofa, legs dangling over the edge of the couch as you lay lengthways. The TV was now on.  “C’mere...” He was trailing a blanket with him that he threw over you, tucking you in. “I hate seeing you like this! You make me feel like I can be doing almost ANYTHING else.” You mumbled a gentle thank you as he kissed your forehead. Then you heard the microwave ping; “Popcorn?” “… Really?!” Martin shook his head, sounding a little bit exasperated. “Yeah that’s the first thing I thought of wasn’t it...” He placed a bar of your favourite chocolate on the coffee table. “That aughta cheer you up!” “OH! Chocolate AND Mike Wolfe?! How could I refuse?!” He called back “Who?!” Making you chuckled as you broke off a piece of the bar; “You’ll see...!!!”

 When he came back to you again you realised why the microwave had pinged. And you covered your face for a minute, he was just... so cute. Sooo cute. “You... I don’t think anyone has made me a hot water bottle since I was ten!!” “Well. I’m not anyone and I gotta take care of you.” “Oh... Martin... thank you...” He wasn’t sure if you were welling up because you were overcome with emotion, or you were overcome with emotion because of your current state. He’d take either. “Oh sweetheart...” his voice was so soft too... “Don’t cry...” he brushed his lips gently against yours and he could taste the sugar already, making him laugh; “You wasted no time on that then!” “Look. If you leave it anywhere near me you know it’s gonna be gone when you turn around, right?” He shook his head at you, making sure you were nice and warm before he got up AGAIN. This time you whined and reached back for him “Don’t leave meeee...!!” “Final time, baby, I promise...”

This time he did actually mean it and he settled into the couch himself, before pulling your blanket cocoon until your head was nestled in his lap. When that was done, he carefully set down the glass of steaming purple liquid. You were curious right away “What is that?!” “Ribena.” “... sorry...!? What?!” “Is that not a thing Stateside?! Geez. You need to get better taste in drinks.” “Is that for me?!” “Yeah. Hot Ribena. It helps. I’ve picked up a thing or two. And that...” He pointed at it “Swear by it. I would swear by it from what I’ve witnessed. But I’m not female, so I don’t want to tell you I know first-hand!” “... but what is it!” “It tastes like blackcurrent. You’ll like it honest!” “Direct from Australia?!” He nodded, looking proud of himself “It’s British but... yeaaaah. This particular bottle is from Australia.” You sat up just enough to take the glass. Your first sip was delicious. Even though it was hot. The warm liquid seemed to do the trick. “Oh! Okay. God bless your heritage!” That made him laugh “See! And you always laugh at me for going into the foreign aisle in the supermarket!” “Cuz it’s so freakin’ expensive!” “True. But there’s a lot of good there.” He gave a shrug, watching you sip the glass, thoughtfully, but with a smile on your face.  “Like I say though. That’s from home.” “I thought you only ever brought back confectionary.” “Yeah. Well, they all go before I even get much of a chance to eat one.” You grinned, hardly regretting it “Tim Tam's are the best.” He nodded his agreement “Tim Tam's ARE the best.” Then he realised why you had previously mentioned Mike Wolfe. He knew somewhere in the back of his head that name rang bells. On the tv was yet another episode of American Pickers. “THIS show again?!” “Hey! I don’t judge you for the Dog Whisperer do I?! Besides I think you’ll find this show is very interesting!” “Oh yeah. Cuz you’re watching for the show.” “Well...” You managed through another mouthful of chocolate, noticing a substantial shift in pain, it was dulling (you weren’t sure if that Ribena stuff was magic or not), now you were sat here like this and Martin has done all the hard work, “Mike Wolfe is pretty freakin’ hot.” “Oh. You think.” Martin crossed his arms with a slight jealous pout. You swallowed your mouthful with a smirk and took another sip “... Yeah. I do like a hot older man. That’s for sure. Very appreciative of that! I have to say.” “Uh huh.” You stretched, still smiling “I mean look how excited he gets at a good pick. And those snap glasses are just... oh.. baby...” There was a slight growl from your boyfriend but he said nothing more. Which made you giggle. “Of course, he has absolutely NOTHING on you. I mean Geez. No one does. Take about lucky.” Martin couldn’t help but laugh “Yeah, yeah, okay! You’re not so bad yourself!” He gave a cheeky wink which made you smack his arm. “Feel better?!” “Much! Thank you! Now hush! Mike is talking!”

  Though he had to admit it was a very immersive programme. And he secretly loved the way your eyes would light up at something you found interesting. Or when you would giggle at Mike being “cute”. He heard another snap from the chocolate bar and your sudden quiet “oh...” before you nudged him. ”Huh? What is it sweetheart..?” He looked down, and you were handing out a piece to him; “It’s the last piece.” “Oh-!” There was significance in that “oh no-! I-!l” but your hand was insistent, so he took it delicately from you; “Thank you...” He hesitated, “Are you sure you want to give me your last piece of chocolate?” You nodded “You’re worth it. I’d give you my last piece.” You laugh “You put up with this! You can have my last anything!” Martin smiled gratefully as he bit into it. Savouring the taste. It was good chocolate; you did sure know how to pick your favourites! He hummed, satisfied, as you took his hand and kissed the back of it;  “You sure know how to pick ‘em…” You smiled against his skin and he couldn’t help but smile too. You couldn’t help but think how right he really was, talking about himself or not. “I know…”

--- At least ONE person laughed at the Mike Wolfe thing... right?! 😏😉

Go ahead and look him up... You probably won’t be disappointed! 

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

LGBT - CALLING AN H.R.T. CLINIC

My Transgender Journey

   February was supposed to be the month I was looking forward to:

‘Call on the first, get the earliest appointment. Come prepared and prepare to live out my dream!’

   However, 26 days went by and I played a cruel game of gamble. I had time to think deep about my decisions, weigh the consequences and dwell the many possibilities. I kept telling myself:

‘H.R.T. can’t switch your gender, it is DNA! All I would be doing is putting on organic prosthetic’s.’

   I wanted this to go away, I wanted to forget that I ever looked at the possibility to transform my body into half-female half-male! The story of my life! On the 24th of February, I came close to dialing, but it was Saturday and I never call on Saturday to businesses. I did whatever I had to do to run away, I wasn’t confined to dwell in my thoughts and device...hell, it was snowing and that was the biggest distraction I could ever have! By the 26th of February, fate took a cruel turn as my cystic fibrosis landed my ass in the hospital and I thought to myself:

 ‘Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide...call the number and let’s get this over with...’

     But I made up some lame excuse and by the time I had a change of heart, it was too late! They were closed!

   The 27th dawned on a crummy day to match my crummy health...I was suffering...really sick! Virus is killing me, and I wish it was John Malkovich! By 1pm, I landed in bed, miserable and depressed. I took a shower and saw my body because my body failed me and made standing nearly impossible! I looked at my AA-cup breasts...a gift from odd biology and years on prednisone. I looked at my skin and thought:

‘If I was on H.R.T. these breasts would form correctly...they look like shield volcanoes of Hawaii! I might also have to shave only once a week instead every other day! How that would be nice!’

   I closed my hospital room door thinking:

‘I am terrified of my parents...I can never do this at home! This is the best and worst time to do this!’

   Back in bed before I kiss the floor, I take out my tablet and cellphone and find the number to Cedar River Clinics. I take a deep breath and punch in the numbers and shake my head thinking:

‘Do this and there is no turning back. Don’t do it and regret it forever! They will know my deepest secret and desires...maybe they can help me and put me on the correct path…’

   Hit send, I can’t believe I am going through with the plan. I just pray no nurse walks in on my conversation! The phone cuts immediately to a receptionist and she sounds nice and helpful.

   “Thank you for calling Cedar River Clinics, my name is Destiny, how may I assist you?”

   “Hi Destiny, my name is David and I am calling in regard to setting up an appointment for H.R.T.” I say as I am calm and collective...last time I called I was stumbling over my words and incoherent.

   “The hormone replacement therapy?” Destiny asks as she wonders if I am calling for an honest procedure or inquiry. Her voice still friendly.

   “That is correct, H.R.T...” I say as Destiny goes through her files, hearing them crackle over the phone.

   “Looks like the next opening is in April...” she says as she collects her thoughts. “It will be at the Tacoma office.”

   My stomach does a flip flop and the words can’t come out. I am terrified! I force myself to reply. “Which day in April?” I ask as every last word is projected on breathless lips, sounding like: Which day in Apri....?

   “The 12th.” she says to my joy. I have nothing on the 12th and my mom will be at work! Secrecy upheld!

   “That will work!” I say, the last word barely squeaking out.

   “It is at 8:30am in Tacoma...after the first appointment, you can choose your own clinic...”

   “Tacoma works well!” I reply quickly, I had hoped to go to Tacoma as it was close to home and I will get to know the doctor taking care of me.

   “So you want to schedule for that appointment?” she asks softly and cheerfully. I know that the next words will place me on the path.

   “Yes please!” I say, matching her attitude. I swear my voice changed and my demeanor altered to something that is not me…it was a flutter!

   “Okay David...” there is a pause as if she made a cardinal sin. “I am sorry, I should have asked, do you have a female name you go by?”

   I choke up...I did not think this out all the way! I was not expecting this type of personal questions. What do I say? Think quickly! I am in anguish, one does not pick their name in a flash!

   A name spoke to me in my female voice saying: Tell her Mira! Tell her that your name is Mira!

   I love the name Mira; the word almost slipped out. It means so much to my character...it was my secret name…

(Mira is a feminine given name with varying meanings. In the Romance languages, it is related to the Latin words for ‘wonder’ and 'wonderful.’ In South Slavic languages, it means ‘peace’ and is often used as part of a longer name, such as Miroslava (masculine form: Miroslav). In Albanian language, it means ‘goodness’ or ‘kindness’. In Sanskrit, it means ‘ocean’, ‘sea’, ‘limit’ or ‘boundary’. In Hebrew, it is a derivative of Miriam or the female equivalent of Meir, meaning ‘light’.)

   Mira was all of me, a daughter of wonder and peace as my soul is at peace in her form. Also meaning goodness and kindness which is a testimony to my charity and civil service. And lastly, the one from the sea...another one of my deep ocean secrets.

   I hesitate as I stop myself and I am sure now that Destiny thinks I am a fraud! “Just David at this time, I am still deciding on the name aspect.” my brutal honesty coming out. “Any other name would be dangerous in this hostile society...” as my brain says:

‘Shut up, you already made yourself sound like a fool!’

   “It is totally understandable David, do you prefer going by sir?” she asks.

   I can hear Admiral Gial Ackbar yelling ‘It’s a Trap!’ in my head. That is exactly what it was, a trap to assess my commitment to the therapy. “Just sir please.” my animus chimes in and I hate myself. I am neither, but I’ve never vocally told anyone that before. “For the time being…”

   “Okay David,” her tone changed, not angry, just unsure of my call. Most who call either are in transition or know what they want to become, “Typically transgender individuals change their name for legal reasons like new licenses and bank records...” she rambles on as it goes over my head.

   ‘Oh! You screwed up big time!’ my brain mocks me. It takes in delight knowing it was right. I can’t believe Destiny is still on the line with me. I must sound really new at this and she probably wonders why now? “Okay David, I just need an address...” and I chime off my home code.

   When it comes to saying my town, she laughs as the name is rather musical, like a gay French ‘la-la’. I sigh a breath of relief as I feel I am recovering from probably the easiest question to answer...your female name! “And a phone number.” she asks and I give my cell...best to have no one calling home, that would be suicide!

   Coming to the end, my nerves are a wreck! “For your patient records, please provide us a pin...”

   “How long?” I ask.

   “As long as you want it...” she says kindly.

   “Letters or numbers?” I ask.

   “Anything you want...” she say, annoyed, but being polite!

   “Okay, my pin is four numbers, 1…9…8…0” I say, easy to remember.

   “Wonderful, now onto the appointment. We ask that you fast for 10 hours prior to your appointment” being 11:30pm on the 11th...perfect time! “And drink plenty of water! But no coffee.”

   “Copy that!” I confirm.

   “That will give your body time to regulate your hormone levels for the appointment...” I gulp, that means that needles will be involved! “It is important that you don’t eat for ten hours!” she emphasizes again, meaning that this rule has been broken hundreds of times before! Luckily for me, EPI would make eating before travel...messy! “I am going to transfer you over to billing, thank you for calling David and we look forward to seeing you on the 12th.”

   “Thank you Destiny.” I reply as the line clicks and a minute passes and the line is answered. I gulp, this is what I truly fear...the price!

   “Is this David I am talking to?” the woman asks. Her vocal tones annoy me...she paints a vivid image of Roz from Monsters Inc.!

   “This is David.” I confirm, praying it isn’t over 500.00 dollars...I can’t afford that. I also don’t want my insurance in deep with them. It is odd how diagnosis’s end up in the strangest places. For example, I went to the Kitsap Mental Health clinic trying to find a way to cut my student debt by declaring myself autistic, which I am, and somehow that ended up at St. Anthony Hospital on my records!

   “Hello...David.” she says, failing to give me her name. I pictures her saying: ‘Hello...boys’, so Roz It is! “The quoted cost for the appointment is 270.00 dollars, unless you have insurance.”

   “I have Medicare-Medicaid...” I say as I give my Provider One number.

   “How odd...” she growls in her slug tongue. “I don’t see Medicaid only Medicare and we don’t take that here!”

   I won’t be deterrent, “I’ll pay the fee.” I say. My thoughts are:

270.00 for clinic and labs. A follow up appointment to read results will be an additional 170.00 and hopefully they can run my scripts through Medicare at a pharmacy of my choosing. Hell, if I can pick them up there, better! Cut out the middle man!

     But if I pick up my meds at clinic, first, all TG patients can only go on Thursdays for privacy and second, I will be held accountable...no turning back...they expect me to go through a full transformation!

[berjhawn]

WINTERNIGHT - Chapter 1 - Night

(A/N) Hello lovies, I really hope you enjoy this little series. I took alot of liberties as a writer while writing this. I added all my favorite vampires from both tv and film so i hope you like and enjoy it. Anywho here’s the first chapter. please by all means tell me what you think. 

Warnings: loss of limbs, falling, blood, vampires, death. 

Pairings: Bucky X Vampire!Reader

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

I’ve been alone for a while now. Centuries have passed in the blink of an eye, along with anyone and everything I held dear. Being born a vampire has its disadvantages. My father, well I’m not sure who he really is. My mother never told me. She herself was a vampire of the highest caliber. Born a pure-blood in a time when the world was just starting out. She was beautiful, her long silver hair longer than most as it hung down to her knees. Apparently, it had been her hair that attracted my father too her. Knowing that she never cut it.

I was born in the middle ages, in surprisingly one of Europe’s worst times, The plague. The healers told my mother I would not make it seeing as I was born early and with silver eyes. In my culture those born with such eyes are considered hybrids, or as my clan like to call them, abominations. Unlike normal vampires whose eyes remain a normal color until they use their vampire abilities, mine are always silver. This made going anywhere when I was a child a hassle.

As you probably are aware humans and vampires don’t exactly have the best track records with each other. Mostly because vampires need to feed off humans to survive, and back when I was born, vampires had no qualm with draining an entire village to keep themselves fed. Of course, if you ask people about vampires now they would just laugh at you. It was after the death of one of our Elders, my grandfather, that the law was made that we vampires distance ourselves from humans.

Those who disobeyed this law where made examples of and died by sun exposure. All vampires, save for two that I am aware of, can die if the sunlight touches their skin. I however am not one of them. No one knew, not even my own mother, that was until one day I risked my life to save a human. When my skin did not burn my mother and I were sent away. Our clan said she had committed the gravest sin of all, although at that time I had no idea what they meant.

Other than vampires, there is another race of beings called Lycans; or werewolves depending on where you are from. They are a wild breed. Their hatred for us vampires runs deep as my kind once used them as slaves. Of course, this was back before my time. When I was born the Lycan uprising had already happened and they were running free around the world.  It was my mother’s job to keep them in check as a Death Dealer. She was a rarity in her job; whereas most Death Dealers killed all Lycans, my mother only killed those who could no longer control the beast within them. She once told me that Lycans are not all bad. There are a select few who are good and deserve a second chance.

When my mother died, I left the coven and everyone there behind to move on and try to heal the hurt in my heart her death caused me. Centuries had passed since that day and I became a traveler of sorts. I never stayed in the same place too long. It was in the mid-forties in the snowy alps of Austria when I first met a person who would change my life forever.

The cold wind blew against my face bringing with it a thick smell of freshly spilt blood. I pull the hood of my jacket back as the smell pulls me in. It wasn’t the blood of some random animal; but that of a human. I found my mouth starting to water at the scent. Unable to control my thirst I find myself rushing off after the injured being. When I found, him he was being dragged away by some soldiers. My eyes followed them for a moment before a simple word left the injured man’s mouth, “Steve?”

‘Steve? Who was Steve?’ I thought to myself as I stealthily followed them. What were they doing with him? He sounded American. Was he some lost soldier? His blood smelled different than that of a normal human. It smelled sweeter. Was he a POW? I narrow my eyes before my body moves on its own causing me to come out of hiding and cut off their path.

“Кто ты??” One of them asks and I narrow my eyes. Russian.

“Оставьте человека, и никто не должен умереть.” (Leave the man and no one should die.) I reply to them my eyes shielded from their sight.

“Единственный, кто умрет здесь, будет вам женщиной..” (The only one who will die here will be you woman.) One of them replies making my anger grow.

“Я больше не скажу тебе, дай мне его.” (I will not tell you again, give him to me.) I retort angrily as I pull my hood from my head letting my eyes and fangs become visible causing them to pull their weapons up and aim them at me.

“Что ты такое?” (What are you?) Another man asks as I let out a low growl my fangs growing.

“Я вампир, и я голоден.” (I’m a Vampire, and I’m hungry.) I reply as I lunge through the air at them and using my vampire strength quickly incapacitate them all. I leave them there, their blood still in their bodies before I make my way over to the man lying unconscious on the ground his left arm nowhere in sight. He looked rough and the sweetness of his blood started to make it hard for me to fight the urge to drink from him. Taking a deep breath, I bite the inside of my mouth as I reach down and lifting his head up off the ground say, “Hello, I need you to open your eyes.” I say as softly as I can.

He groans in pain as his eyes open just slightly. As I consider them I know he’s not okay. He’s lost too much blood. I groan inwardly as I look over at his missing limb before my eyes return to his. “I can save you, but I cannot replace your arm.”

“What?” He asks his heart starting to slow. If I didn’t give him some of my blood now, he would die. I wouldn’t give him enough to completely turn him. I wouldn’t turn anyone; but I could give him just enough to save his life. Taking a deep breath, I roll up my sleeve and pulling my wrist up to my mouth and using my fangs pierce my skin letting the warm liquid flow from my body. I turn back to him and bringing my wrist to his mouth say, “Drink.” His eyes meet mine and he looks away. “Do you want to live or not?” I ask annoyance filling my voice.

“Steve?” He asks and I let out an annoyed sigh.

“If you want to see your friend again you have to drink.” He slowly turns back to me and then with reluctance in his eyes opens his mouth. I quickly bring my wrist to his lips and feel my heart start to race as he starts to drink from my wrist. Drinking a vampire’s blood, for a human, not only healed them but also was mildly like an aphrodisiac. Both the human and the vampire experienced a feeling of pleasure from it; but that is only when the vampires blood is given freely. If it is taken from them it becomes a poison to whomever drinks it.

I start to feel my body become hot and I instantly pull away from him. My face flushes pink as I instantly roll my sleeve back down. Later, after I made sure he was safe and okay, I would worry about the wound on my wrist. I quickly turn back to him to see him passed out and I let out a heavy sigh. At least he wasn’t dead, yet. I look around trying to gather my bearings before I grab his uninjured arm and sliding him on my back stand up. It would be too far to take him to the nearest Coven, they would most likely drain him anyway, and it was too dangerous for the nearest town; I silently resign myself to taking him with me to my cabin. Hopefully I have what I need to treat his arm. Taking a deep breath, I grip tightly to him and without leaving a trail carry him away.

Walking into my cabin I close the door behind me and swiftly make my way over to my bed, which I don’t really use nor need, and set him down. He releases a wince of pain as I try as gently as possible to remove his tattered jacket. There was no telling how he would react when he finally opened his eyes; but until then he would be comfortable. I look over at the unused fireplace and groan inwardly as I realize I’d have to light it. Turning away from the unconscious man I walk over to the cupboard and grabbing some old blankets from when there used to be humans using this cabin and walk back over to pile them on top of him.

I still needed to clean his wounds; but I couldn’t do that if I had to worry about hypothermia. “Let’s see, I can do this.” I say aloud to myself as I walk over to the fireplace and pulling a level instantly feel a draft come down from it. I glance around the room for something that I could use to start a fire. I would have to go out and push a tree over for wood; but if I didn’t have and Flint or dry twigs, there would be no fire. I walk over to the table that the preoccupants had used and pulling a chair out from under it bring my free hand up and swing it down with enough force that it splinters around the room.

I quickly gather them up and place them next to the fireplace. Turning from it I make my over to the door and glancing back at him for a moment walk outside to the nearest tree. I crack my knuckles before I pull my fist back and swinging it forward split the tree in two. I shake my hand for a moment as I wait for the pain to numb out. Once it subsides I walk in intervals splitting the log into smaller pieces that would fit in the fireplace. Then loading as many as possible into my arms I carry them back into the little cabin.

Standing in front of the unlit fire place I set to work creating a fire. Thankfully the wood wasn’t too green so it went up in blazes relatively fast. Now that the fire was started it wouldn’t take long for this little cabin to warm up. I walk over to the kitchen area and grabbing an old pot I walk outside to collect snow. Filling the pot up until it is overflowing I head back inside and place it beside the fireplace to melt. I let out a sigh of relief as I pull my coat off and walking back to the door hang it on one of the vacant hooks attached to the wall.

“Now to find something to use for bandages.” I say as I walk over to the old dresser and sliding out one of the drawers smile as I see some unused cloth siting before me. Pulling them out I close the drawer and walk over to check on the pot of melting snow. Kneeling, I place my hand over the top of the water to feel that it had become rather warm. I pull the clothe out in front of me and start to tear strips out of it.

I hear a groan and I follow the noise to see the pile of blankets start to move. I quickly jump to my feet and setting the ripped cloths aside I move over to him. I watch as he throws the blankets off himself and then lets out a howl of pain. His eyes meet mine and he freezes. “Who are you?”

“I would not move so much.” I reply motioning to his arm. “If you will let me, I can clean it and wrap it up for you.”

“So you’re just not gonna answer my question?” He asks narrowing his steel eyes at me as he reaches up and grips his shoulder.

“The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.” I answer honestly as I turn away from him and walk back over to the fireplace.

“So I don’t even get to know your name?” He asks as he forces himself to stand. He pauses for a moment clearly surprised that he could move freely.

“I don’t have one.” I reply grabbing the now boiling pot of water and turning back to him.

“Come on, everyone has a name.”

“Not everyone,” I reply with a hint of pain in my voice before I motion for him to sit at the little old table. He stares at me for a moment his eyes flitting back and forth from my own to the pot in my hands. “This is water, boiled enough to purify any bacteria that might have been in the snow; if you’ll allow me, I need to wash your wound.”

“Why should I trust you? You won’t even tell me your name.” He asks and I groan inwardly.

“You shouldn’t trust me. If you must call me something, call me Night.” I answer placing the pot on the table and walking back to the fireplace to grab the ripped cloths.

“Okay Night, how are you gonna help my arm?” He asks as he moves to sit at the table.

“I’m going to clean it as best as I can. Like I said before, I cannot replace your arm.” I answer as I close the distance between us.

“I’m not gonna say it’s fine cause it’s not; I’m really gonna miss my arm, but I’ll learn to live without it.” He says and I can tell from his tone that he’s trying to hide his upset.

“I have no doubt that this is true.” I reply as place one of the cloths into the still steaming water. “Now I need to remove your shirt. That is if you’ll allow me.”

“Have at it Night, but thanks for asking first.” He says as he holds his arm out.

“This may hurt a bit.” I say as I reach forward and grabbing the hem of his shirt pull it up over his shoulders giving me a full view of his injuries. He had some bruises that were starting to heal, thanks to my blood, but the most visible injury was his arm. Not going to lie it looked pretty bad.

“You’re thinking it looks bad, well darlin it hurts just as much.” He says a smirk filling his face.

“I’ll need to clean the dried blood off as well.” I say as I toss his shirt into the floor. I reach back for the hot water drenched cloth only to have his hand shoot out to catch mine before it hits the water. “What are you doing?”

“That water is still steaming, you’ll burn your hand if you stick it in there.” He replies his eyes finding mine suddenly making me uncomfortable.

“I’ll be fine,” I start pulling my hand form his, “I don’t get injured like your kind does.” I reply dipping my hand into the water to grab the cloth.

“My kind,” He says his eyes narrowing in confusion. “Are you not my kind? You look human.”

“Well I’m not, not exactly.” I reply wringing the water out of the cloth before I start to work on cleaning his wound along with the dried-up blood. Which turned out to be harder than I thought. I hadn’t fed in what seemed like forever and now here I was cleaning blood off a human’s body, blood that smelled way too sweet for my own good. I could feel my mouth start to water with every wipe of blood.

“Then what may I ask are you?” He asks pulling me from my silent hunger.

“Like I said, the less you know the better.” I reply my eyes meeting his.

“You have very strange eyes.” He says causing me to wince as a painful memory filled my mind. I quickly look away as I dip the cloth back into the water. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I think they’re pretty, I’ve definitely never seen anything like them before.”

“And hopefully you never will again.” I reply wringing the water out of the cloth.

“And why is that?” He asks wincing as the cloth cleans the last of the blood off.

“I’m starting to feel like a broken record.” I say as I toss the cloth into the pot and walk back over to the fireplace to grab the excess cloths to wrap up his arm.

“You don’t talk much about yourself, do you?” He asks as I wrap the cloths around his wound.

“I don’t talk at all usually.” I say as I wrap the last cloth around his arm and tie it off. “I’m not a doctor, and I don’t know how well this will keep you from getting infected, but it’s the best I can do with the given circumstances.”

“I’ll take your word for it, just wish I had some pain killers.”

“That I can’t help you with.” I reply a soft smirk filling my lips.

“James,” He says holding his hand out to me causing me to cock an eyebrow at him. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky. Which means you can call me Bucky as well.”

“We’re not friends.” I state obviously, “We don’t even know each other.”

“Then let’s start to get to know each other.” He says motioning to the chair opposite him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” I say as I walk over to the door and grab my coat.

“Where are you going?” He asks a tinge of worry in his voice.

“You should rest. Your body will start to tire soon. I’ll find you something to eat and return soon. You don’t have to worry about anyone showing up here for you.” I say pulling my hood up over my head and opening the door I head out into the cold. I needed to distance myself from him. He was strange for a human. He wasn’t scared of my appearance or my eyes. I hadn’t seen anyone react like that in centuries. Although, I had never smelled anything like him before. He was special I could tell but I couldn’t stay around him. Not with how hungry I was.

First things first, I needed to feed; then I needed to feed the human. I could slink into the nearest village and swipe something from the market, that would be easy. What would be hard would be keeping him a secret from other Vampires and Lycans. The wolves would stay away for as long as my scent was there; however, my scent would also attract vampires. I would have to figure something out later. For now, I needed to feed.

Will Continue in - Learning to Trust

[9r7g5h]

Remember All - P12

Fandom: Xena: Warrior Princess

Overall Rating: T+ (Rating subject to change)

Genre: General

Summary: Given another chance, left with her memories of their first time through, Gabrielle knows there’s only one option for her- let Xena live. Whatever she had to do, whatever she had to change to make sure that would happen, Gabrielle was willing to do it.

Words: 4,237

AN: Updates might be a little bit slow for the forseeable future. I'm trying to figure out where the plot goes from here, and while I have some major things planned, I need to figure out how to jump to them, you know? But I am actively working on it, and will hopefully figure things out soon. Until then, please bear with me and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Xena.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, ???

They stayed for another week. A week of celebration and excitement, of feasts and drinking and merriment- though nowhere near to the levels the Romans had been, everyone still on tense guard for any who might wish to do them harm. But still they celebrated, just glad for the first official win they could call their own.

With Londinium theirs, fully stocked and easy to defend, Boadicea had already begun planning. It wouldn't take long to move her entire army into the safety of the city, finally forsaking the caverns for now. From the city, they would easily be able to begin sending out raiding parties, coordinating and organizing strikes that would slowly, over the course of many months, begin to drive out the Romans. There was still a long road ahead of them, but with the largest, best fortified fort now theirs, it would be possible.

She tried to convince them to stay, offering Xena command of half the army- she had earned it, earned it and Boadicea's trust back, after so long of it missing. She had offered them a home, someplace not safe, no, nor an easy life to live, but one that would allow them to fight the Roman bastards, perhaps even with a greater chance at Caesar. While there was no guarantee, Boadicea was sure he would return, especially once he heard about the death of his friend.

Xena disagreed.

"He'll be angry," she pointed out that first night, after Boadicea had had the bodies removed from the commander's lodging and the blood as well washed from the wooden floors as was possible. Which it wasn't- still a large stain coated the floors from where the wood had absorbed his blood. A stain they all did their best to ignore, but still, Gabrielle could feel everyone's eyes flicker to her whenever they were first drawn to the stain. Even after she had cleaned up, changed into a spare set of clothing one of the women had been able to offer her while her own clothes were cleaned- a soft shirt, a long skirt, so close to what her mother used to wear, Gabrielle had almost felt young again- she knew what they were all imagining.

Already the kinder soldiers were beginning to hail her as Andarta, Andraste, different names for their goddesses of war and victory falling from their lips whenever they saw her. Because none of the others knew it wasn't her blood that had covered her, believing the illusion of her slit throat, but still she lived, and they had won without a single casualty of their own.

The more fearful named her Ankou, claiming their god of death had taken female form to walk among them, just bidding her time before she dragged them all into their graves. Because who else could walk away from death so easily?

For those who did know, still they stared. Stared and wondered at the girl standing before them, wearing borrowed clothes as she stayed close to Xena's side, trying to figure out how she had managed to defeat Brutus, supposedly one of the Roman's greatest swordsmen, with only a nick.

Even Xena seemed unable to focus entirely, her gaze constantly finding Gabrielle, constantly drifting to the bandages that had been wrapped around her throat, everything about her tensing with rage whenever she did. It was clear she wanted to fight something, do something to fix the fact that Gabrielle had gotten hurt, but there was no one to fight. The Romans had been locked away, awaiting interrogation, and the person Xena truly wanted to get her hands one was already dead, his body already moved to the giant pyre the soldiers had built for the dead Romans outside the city.

But as if feeling Gabrielle's discomfort with the stares, Xena tried.

"He'll be angry to have lost Londinium," Xena said again, drawing everyone's attention back toward her, "but Caesar will believe this to be Brutus' loss, not his own. As far as he'll see it, his destiny is to continue on to the rest of the world, and come back to Britannia when he has the council's favor again. Until then, it's safe to say he won't be back; there might be someone else, but not Caesar. As for Brutus..." She gave a little shrug. "To Caesar, alive he was a piece to be ransomed. Dead, at least we don't have a prisoner to bargain with."  

"It's too bad we don't," Boadicea said with a sigh, shaking her head. "I know you did what you had to do, girly," she continued, addressing Gabrielle, "but someone like him would have been worth his weight in dinars, or at the very least information. It's good the rat bastard's dead, but it's too bad his worth goes with him."

All Gabrielle could do was shrug. She wasn't going to apologize, wasn't going to look ashamed of what she had done- she had done it to keep Xena safe, and her mission had been a success so far, even with its setbacks. Brutus' blood was on her hands, but she could live with that.

"Oh well," Boadicea finally sighed, giving a small shrug of her own. "At least we have the city. And you two are sure you don't want to stay? It might not be Caesar, like you said, but there's sure to be a long line of Roman bastards that would look pretty wearing a souvenir from your chakram there, Xena." She nodded at the weapon hanging from Xena's belt, as if mentioning it would be enough to convince Xena to stay.

Instead, Xena just glanced over at Gabrielle once again and shook her head, an understanding light on Boadicea's face, even if it was clear she disapproved of her response.

"It's been a long time since Gabrielle and I were home," Xena replied verbally, making it clear to everyone else listening what her decision was. "It's time we paid some friends a visit."

"Fine," Boadicea said, giving her head a little shake, though the small smile she gave Xena was real. She was annoyed at losing their help, but clearly she understood. "I would suggest you stay at least a few more days, until we can clear a path to the nearest port town. There'll be Romans crawling all over the countryside, and while I'm sure the two of you can handle yourselves, a few more days wouldn't hurt."

Xena agreed, if slightly reluctantly, and so they stayed. Stayed for another week, taking part in the celebration that marked the beginning of the Roman's fall, at least in the minds of the soldiers. There was still much to do, much more to come, but the first battle they actually stood a chance at winning had been won. For most, that was enough.

For them, it was a chance to rest, for Gabrielle's wound to heal, and for them to avoid talking about everything going on their lives.

Xena tried. By the gods, did she try, and try persistently. Despite these kinds of conversations- ones that were deep, that actually discussed their thoughts and feelings and fears- not being her forte, she tried. Tried to talk to Gabrielle about the fact that she had just killed someone, tried to offer comfort and support and love. Tried to bridge the gap currently between them, that Xena could feel, even if that wasn't Gabrielle's intention.

Because she wasn't pulling away, not intentionally. No, Gabrielle was well aware of what Xena was trying to do, well aware of what her intentions were, and Gabrielle appreciated them, as much as she didn't need it. Xena thought her bothered by the blood that covered her hands, by the first life she had had to take; believed that was why Gabrielle often separated herself from everyone else, wasn't sleeping as much, was spending more and more of her time quiet. While part of that was true- she had a new name on her list, a new face that haunted her nightmares, as rare as said nightmares were, and while she didn't regret killing Brutus, she did regret that he had had to die in this life- for the most part it wasn't.

She was already used to the kill, already knew what it felt like to have someones’ life end because of your own actions. In this life, she had just been waiting. Waiting for it to crumble, for the illusion of innocence she had been able to build for this life to shatter. Now that it had, she found herself unbothered by it, even if Xena believed otherwise.

No, the explanation for her withdrawal, for her silence, was so much simpler: much like Boadicea, she was planning.

Callisto, the northern Amazons, the Vikings, and Japa. Lao Ma had laid out right before her exactly what needed to be changed, what needed to be fixed, before Xena began to forgive herself of the worst of her sins. Everything else could come with time- those had been on a larger, less personal scale, fighting and killing and hurting people Xena never knew the names of. Those would have to be fixed with kindness and love, helping and protecting those who remained from those who wished to follow in Xena's former footsteps. Those would be sins that would hover for as long as they lived, unable to be fixed with a single action that would right the former wrong committed.

But those four, those four Gabrielle could plan. She could manipulate, reorganize, use her knowledge of the future to ensure the best possible outcome came about. So, for that week, Gabrielle planned.

They would go to Greece- she did miss home. She had tried to be better in this life, sending more letters and copies of her scrolls to Lila and her parents, keeping them in the loop of what was going on with her life better than she had last time. But even still, she had barely been able to receive a letter in return, her and Xena's movements never steady for long enough for one to reach them, and she was curious as to what was going on. A few days of rest with them would be nice. And she knew Xena missed Cyrene just as much as she missed her own family, so a few days in Amphipolis as well.  

A visit to the Amazons was also in order- while Ephiny was more than capable of ruling in her stead, Gabrielle couldn't help but worry. Ephiny had died at Brutus' hand, and while Brutus was dead, dead and turned to ash, she still couldn't help but worry. Would Brutus' death here be enough to push an early invasion into Greece, thus putting her friend and people in danger? Or would it delay it, Caesar unwilling to push forward without his biggest supporter? She wasn't sure, so she wanted to find out. A rest among the Amazons would be nice, and would be a great help to calming her fears.

And Solan. She knew he was alright, knew, now, he would live happily among the centaurs, but still she wanted to see him. Wanted to confirm with her own eyes that he was alright, that he was safe and sound and no harm had come to him. She wanted her own sins to lift, and seeing him would do wonders to help with that.

They would have to stay for a bit, at least until after the Persian invasion had been turned away, until after Tara had been set straight. They would end up in Rome, would face Caesar (though whether or not it was safe, Gabrielle had to wonder. Caesar knew, he would remember the last time they had been in Rome and its consequences, so Gabrielle wasn't sure. Perhaps some form of preventative measure, keeping them all safe? Something she would need to spend more time thinking about), and they would save the peace statue before it could be melted down and sold. Adventures that had gone well in their last lives, friends she was excited to remeet- it would be simple and easy, at least for a little while.    

But after Greece, they would go north. The Vikings would be the easiest of Xena's sins to confront and fix: Grindl would still be young, Grinhilda not yet so far gone as to try and use the ring again, both of them still contained within the caves and just waiting for something to change; it would, theoretically, be easy. Not simple, no- they would still have to convince Grinhilda to believe in herself, to refind the humanity she thought she had lost, to win back her previous form from the ring. They would have to root out the evil that had grown among the Valkyries, and they would have to return the ring to the Rhein Maidens.

It would be hard, but she already knew. She already knew what they would have to do, what they would have to go through. And, perhaps, it could be done without losing more time. Without lost memories and sleeping spells and years spent waiting for a return unknown if it was going to come.

It was, perhaps, the sin with the least number of variables. Not much would need it change; it would all just take place a couple decades earlier. It would be the easiest of the sins still to come.

But after Greece. They were both tired, both ready for a short visit home, both ready for a chance to rest.

By the time the week was up, Gabrielle was settled. With a plan in mind that at least addressed the near future, she was ready. Ready to leave Londinium, ready to face the future that stood before them, a future she had the knowledge and will to bend into a shape she saw fit. She was ready for what might come.

And it showed. Her mind set, the future a plan laid out before her, it was easier to focus on the now. To slide her hand into Xena's and lean into her side, a movement that took Xena by surprise- after the first few days of Gabrielle shutting down any conversation she tried to start, Xena had let her be, just checking to make sure she ate and at least got a few hours of sleep. Unwilling to force Gabrielle to talk, she had thrown herself into helping Boadicea plan her takeover, her reacquisition of her home. But now she just smiled and tugged Gabrielle close, releasing Gabrielle's hand to wrap her own around her waist instead to hold her near.

Held her near as they stood with Boadicea in the commander's room, a large fur rug covering the floor a few feet away, as they examined the map that would show the cleared route to the sea.

"This is one of our biggest port cities," Boadicea explained, tracing the line with her finger. "If we can get and keep this route, we'll be able to bring food, weapons, men, everything we need to make sure we can survive and get back our home. We've cleared it out as much as we can, but I can't say how much longer it'll stay clear. It would do you good to leave soon."

Xena said something- Gabrielle wasn't sure what, her gaze instead focused on the trail Boadicea had drawn for them to follow. A familiar trail that Gabrielle recognized, a trail that went by a crudely drawn square in a forest surrounded by hills. A square that she knew would be ruins, information she had gotten from Boadicea herself.

Ruins that, now that they were going to be close, she had to see for herself.

It didn't take long for them to set off; they were already packed. Gabrielle had been ready to go for a while, ready to go back home and rest. Their bags filled with some of the supplies the Romans had had, her clothes returned to her cleaned, knives- not her sais, for neither Boadicea’s army nor the Romans had anything like that, but still knives that, for now, worked well enough- tucked into her boots, she was ready.

All they needed was to ready Argo, and they left with Boadicea's thanks, left heroes to her men.

They both road; Xena wanted to cover as much ground as she could, always on high alert for any Romans that might show up. The faster they could get to the port city, the faster they could be free of this island, the better. But...

"Xena?"

For a moment Gabrielle thought Xena hadn't heard her, not over the sound of Argo's hooves keeping up a steady canter, eating away at the miles. But, after a few moments, Xena pulled on the reigns, bringing her down to a trot- slow enough for them to hear each other, to have an actual conversation. Glancing over her shoulder, Xena raised her eyebrow in question, an answer to her call.

"That temple, the one Boadicea said was destroyed? I want to go there."

"Why," Xena asked, turning back to stare into the forest before them. It was getting towards noon- they had been traveling for a while, having left at early dawn. They would need to stop soon, give Argo a break; she wasn't used to traveling with two, and while she had yet to falter, her breathing had become hard. Her head turned slightly to stare into each new part of forest, searching for a good place to stop. "I thought you were glad it had been destroyed?"

"I need to see for myself. Xena, I... I just need to see it."

"A vision," Xena asked, once again falling into their normal dance and game, Xena trying to figure out what Gabrielle knew without having to press too hard for the future.

"A dream." And perhaps it was the sheer relief in her voice, but Xena, soon after, pulled Argo to a stop. Without a word she slid off the horse and held out her arms, a gesture Gabrielle accepted- she slid off the saddle into Xena's arms, resting her head on Xena's chest as Xena's arms folded around her, held her close.

"Gabrielle..." Xena said slowly, her one hand coming up to run her fingers through Gabrielle's hair. She stayed quiet for a long moment- and Gabrielle knew exactly what she wanted to say. Knew she wanted to broach the perceived gap between them, wanted to mend the supposed wound she felt had formed.

Gabrielle instead lifted her head and kissed her, a long, slow kiss that left them both breathless.

"I'm alright, Xena," Gabrielle said, laying her head back on Xena's chest, Xena's fingers once again running through her hair. "Killing Brutus shook me, but..." She let the words trail off, taking a deep, almost shuttering breath before continuing. "My visions told me I would do so. I've always know that's where our paths would meet, and I accepted the consequences of our lives together a long time ago."

She didn't tell Xena that yes, in her “vision” she had killed Brutus, but she had killed him what would have technically been years from now. That she had killed him not here, in a room in Britannia, but instead far from here, on a ship in Egypt. That she had killed him after he had killed Ephiny, after he had helped to destroy Caesar, after he had decided to continue to expand Rome beyond Rome's borders, making him a threat.

That world was over, so what was the point?

Instead she just held Xena closer, because right now Xena was alive, and that was good enough.

"I've been thinking about the future," Gabrielle eventually said into the silence around them. "About where we should go next. We should go home for a while. To see our families, the Amazons. Then maybe we can go north. I've heard about lights, rainbows that dance in the sky. Could we go see them, after we go home?"

For a moment Xena stiffened- and for a moment Gabrielle felt guilty about her trickery, knowing exactly what was running through Xena's mind. But a moment later she relaxed, the hand that had been running through Gabrielle's hair stilling, instead just pressing Gabrielle closer.

"Of course," Xena said, bending down to place a kiss on the top of Gabrielle's head. "Of course. Anything."

They continued to stand there for a long moment, holding and being held, until Argo reminded them of her existence, nickering and nudging them. She wanted to move on, move on or officially rest, neither of which could be done just standing there.

Xena kissed her one last time before they climbed back into the saddle, once again setting off at a steady canter.

For two days they traveled, constantly on watch for any who posed them harm, sleeping in shifts for nowhere near long enough, traveling as fast as they could push Argo without harming her. They didn't talk much- there weren't many words they needed to say. Little conversations that filled those few empty hours- about the north, about what of Gabrielle's visions she wanted to share, about how glad they both would be to be home. But nothing too deep- they were saving those for when they were safe, when they were home.

For two days. And at the end of the second day, they camped just a half mile away from the temple.

"We'll go in the morning," Xena promised as they settled in. It had already been dark by the time they found the clearing, and while it was close, Xena didn't want to take any chances. There could be any number of dangers waiting, and she waited to approach it in the light. "Are you sure you want first watch?"

Gabrielle just nodded. She nodded, didn't say a word, and the moment Xena slipped into sleep, slipped away.

It was just like Boadicea said- rubble scattered the ground, only the slightest impressions of a foundation left. Everywhere she stepped, stone and mortar shifted under her feet, crunching slightly as she tried to avoid the worst of it, avoid cutting her skin or tearing her clothes on the sharp edges that jutted from the ground. There was just enough light- the destruction of the temple had cleared the surrounding area as well, trees torn out and bushes removed, leaving the arena open, nothing to block the quarter moon above her.

The stairs were still there, cracked but stable as she climbed them. Climbed them into the open area that had once been walled, into the arena that had once been the temple of Dahok. Pillars had been toppled, creating new corridors for her wander, but it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to change the place that had haunted her nightmares for so long, that had tortured her for so many years. That had spilled into her waking moments back in that other life, that had turned her life into hell.

It only took a few moments longer to reach what had once been the center. To reach that larger inner room, where, in her last life, everything had fallen apart.

It was gone. A mallet had been taken to the alter, scattering shards across the floor, leaving nothing but powder, few pieces large enough to truly understand what it had once been. The alter she had found herself sacrificed upon was gone.

She wasn't sure when she fell, nor was she sure how long she just knelt there, staring at the destruction that had been wrought around her. Stared in the silvery light, her fingers almost mechanically playing with the dust, just watching. She didn't think- she couldn't find the words, even within her own mind. She just sat there and stared, absorbing the absence of evil that had once permeated this place.  

It was almost beautiful.

Gabrielle started as something skittered behind her- some creature that had come to call the destruction home. She wasn't sure what it was; even though she had turned at the first hint of noise, it had quickly hidden behind one of the pillars, leaving only an impression of something unfamiliar in the almost impossibly quick glimpse she had caught. Wiping her cheeks- when had they become wet? When she had started to cry?- Gabrielle pushed herself to her feet, shaking away whatever spell the loss of this place had cast over her. The moon was high- Xena would be awake soon, expecting to take over for her watch. She would have to get back before she did.

Gabrielle stood- and paused as something caught her eye. Even though the alter itself was gone, still the raised platform it had once stood upon was there, ever so slightly obscuring the other side. Where something was.

Gabrielle stepped forward, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she peered around the dais-

And froze as the skittering sounded behind her, close this time. Froze as she stared at the skeletal hand that laid on the ground before her, a skeletal corpse wearing an outfit- blue, even in the moonlight, even partly decayed and dyed with blood, still parts of it were blue, held together on the corpse with the golden rope wrapped around her- an outfit she remembered so so well.

Froze as a soft, rasping voice whispered "Hello, Mother."