#this happens when he’s already feeling like an incompetent idiot responsible for someone’s death

[gumdefense]

What is it with the mangas and torturing Gumshoe

I do like him being treated as a proper character instead of just being depicted as Edgeworth’s pet and a salary cut joke punching bag

But my god

[feykaplan]

TASK002 / police interview

Fey was struggling not to throw hands at the police officers who told her to come by her nightclub when she had just rushed to the hospital after receiving the call. By the time she got there, the doctors told her that her best friend wouldn’t be awake for a while, and it was only when she asked her fourth doctor and had the confirmation that that was true that she decided to follow the police officers to Medusa, snapping at them to make it quick because she wanted to be back at the hospital, in case Azra woke up. 

I don’t want to be here, she thought, her hands shaking, mostly from rage, as she entered her nightclub. It was eerie being here in the middle of the night, the usual time depicting what would usually be a packed dance floor, strobe lights hurting people’s eyes and the DJ making sure the music was loud enough that if you wanted to have a conversation with someone, you’d have to lean in really close. It would’ve been close to closing time, but right now, it was a ghost town, the only people milling around wearing uniforms that confirmed they were law enforcement. 

There was fondness in her heart for this nightclub, because while it wasn’t her first business, it was the one she spent the most of her time in. It was the one out of the two that was more stressful to run, but she loved it all the same. She had made changes to it to make it more like her own, and she felt like she knew this place like the back of her hand, so she was violently unprepared to walk deeper into the nightclub to find the stairs leading the way upstairs covered in blood.

Most of it had dried, but hadn’t been cleaned off, still being used as evidence even though Fey wanted to scream that they should be doing their jobs better. They should’ve done better to make sure this didn’t happen. Why haven’t they found the person or people responsible for this yet? How many more people must be hurt before they get off their ass to do what they’re being paid to do? 

Fey already had a lot of anger piled up due to the helplessness she felt from all of the deaths so far, and it was rare that she had reached the point that her anger had rendered her quiet. Too angry to say anything and as she tightened her sweater around her, her gaze rested on the police officers in front of her with nothing but hatred.

This is your fault. My best friend’s blood is all over this floor, these stairs of my club because of you, she thought. Incompetent, lazy, useless motherfucke--

“Miss Kaplan?” One of them asked, dragging her out of her thoughts and she forced herself to take deep breaths, feeling almost relieved when they started moving away from the stairs. She couldn’t bear to see the blood any longer and if she stayed standing in one place for too long, her anger would get the better of her and she knew that. As the questions started, all Fey could do was clench her hands into fists, the anger churning more and more inside of her. 

Where were you last night, June 27th? Can anyone confirm this?

“I was with my boyfriend, Greyson Kidd. I’ve been staying over at his place since the death of his cousin,” Fey pointed out, glaring at them as a reminder that that was something they still didn’t have the answers to either. “He can confirm that himself,” she snapped.

How do you know Azra Nadir?

Are you a fucking idiot?! Feyza wanted to yell and she could feel her hands start to shake. “I’ve known her since before I could talk. Everyone knows that she’s been my best friend since the time you still had hair. We grew up together, we did everything together, she’s basically part of my family and I’d really fucking like to get back to the hospital to be with her,” she said, inhaling sharply though her nose. The audacity of these people, asking her stupid questions when she shouldn’t even fucking be here. Medusa was hers, and the absolutely awful thing that happened to Azra happened here, but Fey didn’t understand why she needed to be interrogated. She didn’t understand why they were wasting everybody’s time like this, especially when she knew it would lead to absolutely nothing. It wasn’t like whoever did this would suddenly grow a conscience and admit it was them, and Fey couldn’t stop herself from wishing they’d find the answers. Soon. Before more people got hurt, and so she can go back to the hospital where she fucking needed to be right now. 

When and where did you last see her, or speak to her?

“We talk almost everyday. Mostly texting. She’s always here at the club, or I sometimes pop by her place during the afternoons.” Fey didn’t mention the fact that she didn’t know Azra would be at the club a few hours ago. She would’ve come here in a heartbeat had she known, just to make sure her best friend was doing okay, but she kept that to herself, almost feeling like that was a dirty thing to share. A crack in their friendship that Fey didn’t want to admit she could see. It wasn’t like Azra had to tell her her every move, she knew that, but they usually let each other know if they were here. They’d hang out in her office, a reprieve from the sweaty bodies and the stench of alcohol, but that didn’t happen last night, and Fey bit down on her lower lip, unable to stop herself from wondering why. 

Do you know anyone at all that she did not get along with?

“Please,” Fey snorted out a laugh. Whoever Azra didn’t get along with, most of the time, Fey didn’t either. It was one of the reasons why they worked so well together, how their friendship withstood the test of time. They understood each other so well that sometimes, they just needed to share a look to have a full conversation with each other. They used to do that all the time back in high school, when they had to deal with people they didn’t like on a daily basis, and her heart ached in her chest at the reminder of how long they’ve been friends. How well she knows Azra. How she literally couldn’t live in a world without her, and how she almost lost her tonight. “Hana Rhee. She wouldn’t shut up in the group chat about her fucking restaurant and Azra called her out on it once. That’s one person you should look into. Also, Anya Ngam.” The lie moved past her lips easily. She would’ve told Azra about what had happened in this very same club with Dilara, but with Dante’s death, it felt like she hadn’t had the time to just sit down and catch up with her properly. She knew, though, that if she told her Anya slapped Dee, then Azra wouldn’t like her either. "Zekai Arslan too. He lied at one point about Azra blackmailing him for money, as if she needs money in the first place,” Fey said with a roll of her eyes. If he wanted to lie about her best friend, the least he could’ve done was make it believable. “Also, Verity Calma,” she said, her voice flat as she remembered what Jieun had told her in the waiting room as soon as she got to the hospital. 

Do you believe they'd be capable of hurting her like this?

“Please,” Fey said, snorting out another laugh. “By the way Hana went silent in that group chat like a scared, little bitch? Probably not, but you never know, right? Maybe she has it in her. Kept it all in all this time,” Fey said, bitterness coating her words at the thought of anyone hurting her best friend like this. Believing they had any right whatsoever to hurt her. “Zekai’s too busy playing stepdaddy now, and Vera got into a fight with Azra last night so that tells you everything you need to know,” she added. “Now, Anya? That’s another one who’s a stickler for physical violence, you should probably look into that,” she said with a smirk, but the brief happiness she got from throwing Anya under the bus for something completely unrelated went away as she watched the man write things down in his little notebook. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Kaplan. We’d like to keep the club closed for now. Safety precautions and all that.” 

Suddenly, all Fey could see was red. All she could feel was rage. Rage at these people for letting this happen. Rage at hearing them talking about safety, like they’ve done such a good job of it so far. Serve and protect my ass, she thought, eyes flashing as they stood up. She followed suit, and yet when one reached his hand out, presumably for a handshake, Fey felt her own hand clenching into a fist, before she let it fly, hitting the man square on his jaw. “Talking about safety like my best friend isn’t on a fucking hospital bed right now because you can’t find a single fucking brain cell to figure out who the stab happy son of a bitch in town is. Do your goddamn job,” she spat out, breathing heavily as the man’s partner started pulling her arms behind her back, the cool metal of the handcuffs digging into her wrists, distracting her from the pain in her right hand. 

Fuck. 

[minalous]

nothing like us (m)

pairing: jungkook x reader

warnings: siren!jungkook, soulmate au, mentions of death, a little bit of smut, a lot of angst, jungkook is smitten

genre: angst | fluff | smut

words: 3k

This is one of the seven fics for the project “Greek mythological creatures” that I have been working on for my mutuals 💖 This is for my baby @joonsrack​ !!

♡

“I lied to you. You shall never live”

The bridge was empty, not a soul to be seen for miles but there he was. Power dripped from the tip of his tongue, words waiting to be spilled and control the woman walking on the bridge’s rails. 

“You are safe, beautiful.” he said “Dance for me, dance once more”

The woman would obey his every command with no hesitation, his power was growing stronger by the years and now was his chance to test it. When he saw her walking down the street, he immediately sensed her vulnerability, a weakness that came to become his strength, to be able to control her as his puppet. The wind kept howling as if it knew there was a life getting taken, piece by piece he was consuming her, devouring her soul. The trees were dancing along with her, following her every step, their leaves crying for her as the wind was taking them away from the tree’s embrace. 

Fingertips light as the morning breeze playfully wandered on her feverish skin, his voice was becoming the devil's whisper, the voice that will dethrone her from her crown of beauty. 

“Do you trust me, beautiful?”

“Yes” she foolishly said

“So naive, trusting so easily” 

His chuckle was dark as the night, dark as his heart and soul. Nobody would be able to resist his power, the way he could make his way inside one's mind, the way he could twist someone's thoughts and make them his own. 

Once he saw how the girl was so willing to do as he said, he wondered how far she would go, how much he could break her will. 

"Ready to jump?" he asked

He asked her to jump to her death the same way he would ask someone to sing. It was so easy for him to toy with people. And he had someone to thank for, someone who made him who he is.

"Before you jump, I want you to wake up, to wake up and see how it feels to get your life taken" his voice was cold as ice "but you cannot scream or run for your life" 

The woman came to realise how her life was about to end, the first thing she did was to beg for her life. Pointless, all of her screams for help, all of her begging to spare her life were nothing more than mere noise to his ears.

"Please, Jungkook. I don't want to die" 

A tear dripping down her face, acknowledging her fate is sealed.

"Jump" 

Jungkook did not watch her die, he did not stay to see her take her own life. He had already started walking away. Jungkook was only interested to see the agony inside the eyes of his victims. Oh how he loved to know he had the power to end lives, the thrill he would feel rushing through his veins as he feasted upon the horror of his actions. 

Because once again he had someone else to blame for everything. If he had no reason to live, nobody else should be given a reason to live.

"One by one, those who wronged her shall all die. One by one, you shall all meet her fate" 

Another century has passed, another lifetime without you. Jungkook could never forget you, could never resist the urge to hunt people down like him, people that took you away from him. Because you were too kind for this world, too innocent.

In a moment of desperation, he decided he needed to take his mind off of you and put some of his anger into good use. Some of the people that are responsible for your death are hunting around his territory, a grave mistake but to them was a game of power. Jungkook did not wish to waste any more time, he had his servants arrange a ball where the most powerful and important people would love to attend. 

"Sir, here is the list of the people who accepted the invitation for tomorrow night's ball."

He sat down in his office to read the list, to see if everything was going according to the plan. The list in Jungkook's hands proved how foolish some people are. Of course those idiot rivals of his fell right on his trap, rivals he was trying desperately to get rid of, men he despised. 

The people he came to despise were followers of his father's circle; his own kind was hunting him down only because he made the mistake of being weak to his father's eyes, because he fell in love with you. 

You were nothing more than a servant in everyone's eyes but not to him. In his eyes you were strong, smart, independent. The times he had caught you rebelling against his father's incompetent men were more than enough to make you one of his favourite people. 

Sooner or later, Jungkook trusted you enough to approach you and you felt you could trust him as much as he did. Small chats led to conversations, faint smiles led to stolen kisses and love led to lust. 

"Sir, we need to discuss about tomorrow night's wine menu"

But Jungkook could not focus in the present, his mind was focused on how your lips felt so soft, how good your warm body felt against his, glimpses of the nights you were moaning his name. He loved the way you moaned his name, you were so eager to please him that you were not afraid to let him be your first. 

"Jungkook.. please"

He almost lost his mind the moment he pushed his length inside you but nothing could compare to the next thing that happened.

"I love you"

Jungkook loved you so much, for so long. His heart could burst from happiness in that moment. That night he said he loved you too, that night you became his. 

"I will always find my way back to you. I promise" you whispered as he fell asleep in your arms 

Only if your secret was to stay hidden, only if you were lucky to run away together.

"Sir, dinner is ready."

Daydreaming about you was one of the few things keeping him sane. The ball tomorrow night could be a success and the burden in his heart could become a little easier to carry. Only if it were that easy to handle the pain inside his mind and soul.

The night of his revenge was here, the darkness covered the town with its thick veil and the monsters were out to play. Nobody was more prepared than Jungkook in this game of hunt. The men attending his ball were under the belief they were the hunters. Little did they know that their fate would be worse than his lover's. 

Jungkook is orchestrating his plan inside his mind. He is standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes stuck on his prey. The men have come here to remind him of his place and where he belongs; his place is right next to his father but it is not as easy as it seems. His father was the one who took his lover away, a crime he cannot forgive nor forget. Never. 

Thoughts travel once more in the past, his mind clouded with anger. They were planning on leaving that day, they wanted to have a new beginning together, to start a family. But his father had far too many eyes surrounding his son. He knew his every movement, his every thought, his every wish. 

"Father, please. I will not leave. Please do not hurt her."

His father was not pleased to see his only son falling under that woman's spell. He was convinced that the woman was a witch and she came to kill his son. 

"She cannot stay here, she cannot be around you"

Jungkook did not plan to lose her. He tried to run towards her but his father was too strong to fight him, he tossed Jungkook across the room like he was made out of feathers. The men holding her handed her a dagger, she willingly took it in her hands. Her eyes were dark, she was now lost under his father's spell. 

"Pierce your heart with that dagger. Do me this favour, will you?"

Jungkook's heart was beating so fast inside his chest, he could not believe his father could be so cruel towards the only person that made him happy for the first time in his life. He screamed your name louder than a thunder, so loud that he could feel he had you back for a second. 

"I love you" you whispered before piercing the dagger through your heart 

Jungkook could only remember crying for a few seconds before his whole world went black. He woke up with you in his arms, covered in blood and his father nowhere to be found. Losing you felt the same as losing his last piece of sanity. He never meant to become who he is today but not caring at all was the only way he could make it until today. 

He was missing you every day of his immortal life. He was missing your touch, your affection, your kindness, your eyes, your scent. You smelled of lilies and vanilla. Your scent felt like home. Your scent.. 

Jungkook could smell your scent. For a second he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, the daydream being too real.

Jungkook runs down the stairs, his senses directing him towards that familiar scent, the scent of you. His steps lead him into his kitchen where he sees a young woman.

"My love" he whispers 

He can see a woman standing right in front of the sink, filling a glass of water before turning around. Jungkook's sudden presence scares her, the glass meeting the cold floor.

"I am so sorry, sir" 

It was you. When your eyes met his, he could tell. It was you.. After all this time he has found you again.

"Those eyes.. I could never forget those eyes." 

"Pardon me, sir, I cannot hear you" you say confused 

"You have her eyes" Jungkook says once more 

"I am sorry, sir, I cannot understand what you are saying" you add 

You cannot hear what Jungkook is talking about, you are embarrassed enough you have entered inside his kitchen like you own it. You are trying to carefully pick up the broken pieces when Jungkook touches your hand. 

Nothing can explain, nothing can put in words how you felt when his hand touched yours. A wave of euphoria and unbearable love filled up your heart. For a moment you forgot how to breathe, the time stopped and it was only Jungkook and you. Your eyes met and locked, the room was spinning but at the same time it stood still, it was you and him against the world. No sound could be heard except for his heartbeat. His eyes could see through your core but it did not scare you, his image was new to you and yet so familiar. How could one person make you feel so safe and happy when you do not even know them? 

You turn your eyes into another direction and try to make your way out of the kitchen. Something doesn't feel right, your heart aches to leave him behind. 

Jungkook is standing still at the same spot he was a second ago. 

"Do not tell me you do not feel what I feel right now" he tells you, his voice trembling with pain

"It is not my place to feel, I am promised to another man"

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes filled with grey skies, a wounded man walking towards you. And before he can protest against whatever it is to happen, you touch his face with both of your hands, eyes gazing into the depths of his soul.

"It is so strange.. It feels like I know you." 

You truthfully feel it, deep down you sense an emotion so strange, a newborn feeling.

 "I was waiting for you, for so long"

The new feelings are starting to become so unbearable, so hard for you to hold them inside your heart and in a desperate move you let them explode. More than anything you desire to kiss him and Jungkook senses it, he closes the space between your lips. He takes his time to taste you, a chaste, deep kiss is the beginning of your downfall inside his arms. He tastes so sweet that you ask for more, his tongue slowly swirling around yours. Jungkook is now under your skin, he has you where he wants you. 

"Do you love me?" he asks you but with no words 

Mind and soul scream yes.. Yes, you love him

"Do you need me?" 

Yes, you need him. 

That night Jungkook felt blessed to have found you, that night he spared his enemies' lives so you won't see him as a monster. He would rather wait, wait until he knows you could understand his reasoning behind being a killer. He needed you to understand how your beautiful siren ended up luring his victims into their death instead of luring them into paradise.

Days go by so slowly since you came to know the feeling of true love. Being around your fiance is nothing more than a routine to you. He is a lovely man who wants nothing more than to make you happy and it hurts you so much to betray him. Jimin has been a gentleman from the first day he was introduced to you, a truly beautiful man.

Every day you spend with Jimin, you feel falling out of love with him. The more you stay with him, the less happy you feel. You need Jungkook. The days you accidentally see him are the days you feel the happiest. The air around you seems lighter, your heart gets filled with strange emotions.  

You saw Jungkook yesterday at the library where he was reading a book. He was so far away from you, yet you had never felt closer to someone. With only one look, a sweet memory played like a song inside your mind. A melancholic song that only you and Jungkook could hear, one last chance to have you hear what his words may never be able to explain. 

The same dreams, the same memories, the same soul. Inside his thoughts, he let you walk among broken pieces of his mind, memories from when he was with someone he truly loved. It was like looking into a mirror once you saw her. The woman was crying and begging, nobody able to hear her. But she was not crying because of her fate; she was crying and begging for her lover's fate. Her heart was broken to see the man she fell in love with hurt. 

Jungkook was bleeding on the floor, so far away from her. Her mind was fighting her body but in vain. She wished she could go there, hold him inside her arms, tell him everything would be alright. She knew he was strong enough to overcome his physical pain, she was aware that her life was already over. What she wanted was to have a last chance to tell him how much she loved him, to touch him so he could feel everything was real and she never meant to harm him. 

It was true. She was a witch and she was there to kill Jungkook. Her mother demanded she ended his life with the dagger Jungkook's father made her end hers. She could not bear to tell the truth, she could not bear to see what would happen if his father's anger was to get directed towards Jungkook. 

She let go. She took her own life, willingly, no spells, no mind control. She smiled at Jungkook with her sweetest smile and told him she loved him. You could feel both of their hearts getting broken, a sharp pain into your heart breaking it in half. 

A deathless death. The immense pain Jungkook felt at that moment was enough to break the veil between the underworld and the earth. The woman was blessed with the chance to write her love into the stars, she was blessed to avenge her death and her lover's pain. Within seconds all of his father's men were lying on the floor, gasping for air but his father was lucky enough to slip from within her grasp. 

When the memories started fading away, you could feel your body giving up on you. It took all of your strength not to faint, Jungkook already by your side to hold you as if he knew you were exhausted from this experience. 

"I am sorry" is all you say before drifting off 

Sea of people, inside your dream there are so many people. No familiar faces to be seen, strangers among strangers, people passing you by and it starts being so difficult to breathe. The people around you start becoming shadows, fear consumes you bit by bit, no hope of getting out of here alive.

You close your eyes in hope of waking up from this nightmare when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"You need to wake up" 

It's a familiar voice. You slowly open your eyes to see a woman standing right in front of you, her whole body radiating light, so bright that the shadows can barely be seen.

"He needs us. He needs you"  

The more you look at her, the more you can tell it is her. It must be her. 

She softly puts her hand in yours and you just knew, you knew what you had to do, you knew who you were, you knew what Jungkook meant to you. Her feelings are yours, you share the same soul. You had a second chance in love. All you needed to do was to open your eyes.

And once you do, you see him; Jungkook looking at you with the same look in his eyes when he first saw you. His voice calling your name, awakening your heart's desire to fall in love with him all over again. You have found your way back to him as you promised you always will.. 

Jungkook gives you his hand, offering you everything your heart has always wanted.

"Take my hand now" 

[emf005]

Head in the Clouds

Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, like one swear word. Fluff at the end

Y/H=Your House

Y/N stared up at the clouds as she laid on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was perfect out. The majority of the students were outside studying, having quidditch practice, or just messing around with their friends.

She smiled particularly cloud shaped as a strange creature, that resembled a lion, passed by. It truly was the perfect day. Nothing to stress over. No worries. No responsibilities. And no stuck up bleach blond boy picking on-

“Oy! Y/L/N!” Speak of the devil. She knew the voice all too well. Draco Malfoy. Hogwarts' number one bully. And for some reason she was his favorite victim. Right next to the golden trio of course.

She ignored him, opting to continue to stare at the clouds passing by. White and fluffy. Reminding her of a marshmallow whip her mother put on her hot chocolate when she home for winter break. She smiled at the memory.

“Y/N/L! You ignoring me?” The voice was closer this time and she had to grit her teeth to hold back a reply. Out of the days to bug her? He chose the most perfect day out of the year? He just had to? She hadn’t the brain capacity at the moment to deal with his taunting, wanting to get a rise out of her.

She continued her cloud staring, he was silent and she was thankful for that. Her mind drifted up and up and up again. All the way up so that she was floating with the lion and dragon shaped clouds above her. Then the light was blocked by a particularly annoying shadow. She opened her eyes to see a white-blond boy staring down at her.

“Do you mind moving? I’m busy,” she said through gritted teeth. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. She could tell.

“And what, might I ask, are you busy doing?” He had that sly grin on his face, acting as if he was going to get away with being a prick. If he wanted to get away with it, he should’ve gone to a first year.

“None of your damn concern,” she answered shortly, closing her eyes again and trying to go back into the clouds, but now that she knew he was standing above her, it was impossible.

He tutted at her. “That's not very nice, now is it? Can't I have a nice conversation?”

“No.”

“That's a shame, it seems like we’ll have to go back to the way it is every other day.” She scoffed and moved her arms so they were crossed over her chest. She hoped it looked like an act of defiance and not one of self-consciousness. He knew how to hit all the right buttons with her to make her want to punch something and curl up and cry at the same time. It had to be a talent. And the sad part? It was mightily impressive. “So what is this?” he questioned picking up a piece of her hair. She opened one eye at him.

“What do you mean? It's my hair. Are you daft?”

“Oh! You call this hair?” The shots were fired and she felt the bullet. But she would never let him know that.

“Really? And what do you call that mop on your head?”

“Perfection.” She laughed.

“Break all your mirrors, did you , Malfoy?” He sneered at her and dropped her hair. She rolled her eyes before shutting them again.

“And what are you wearing?” She sighed and sat up on her elbows, seeing her had moved to stand at her feet.

“Cloths you, idiot! It's a Saturday!”

“Do you have a shortage of suitable clothing then?” She looked down at her outfit, honestly having forgotten what she was wearing. It was one of her longer crop top-shirts with a hood on the back with a pair of jeans. She actually liked this outfit. It was comfortable and, what she considered, to be stylish. She scoffed at him.

“Not all of us can have daddy paying for suits the color of our soul,” she shot back, looking at his black suit, the one he constantly wore. She saw his jaw tick, making her smirk. Just for that one twitch it was worth all the verbal abuse.

“And what's wrong with looking presentable?” She shrugged, hearing the irritation in his voice.

“Nothing. If you constantly want to look like you're on your way to a funeral.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “At least I’m not laying on the dirt staring at the clouds.” Her jaw clenched and she stood up, brushing herself off to seem taller. But she was shorter than him.

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Y/N shouted outraged, taking a step closer to him. Cloud watching was something very important to her. And if he dared to insult it she actually might have thrown him into the lake and had the giant squid in there deal with him.

“It means, you daft girl, that at least I have two feet planted firmly on the ground and my head on my shoulder and not floating in the clouds where you get shot down with ease," with each one of his words her heart broke a little more. Especially at his word shot. She swallowed. Determining not to let him see that he had won this round. He smirked. “I suppose you have already been, though. More than once for your incompetence.” She sneered at him and stomped off towards the castle, tears forming in her eyes.

“Well at least I have a heart and aren't some cruel monster!” she shot back over her shoulder, walking as fast she dared back to the castle, so she could hide in her secret compartment that only her and the Weasley twins knew about.

He watched her stomp away, knowing he had gone too far. Y/N Y/L/N. The girl he had been in love with since first year when he saw her hand shoot up in potions class and actually get an approving head nod from the head of Slytherin. He had no idea how to talk to girls.

Obviously.

To be honest he didn't know how to talk to any one without seeming like a prick, especially lately. He stared at the sky and watched a few clouds roll by. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his suit.

Color of your soul? That one stung. But he couldn't deny that she might be right. He shuffled his way back up to the castle to meet a few other Slytherins that he had been supposed to hang around, but on his way there stopped and noticed her.

He hadn’t meant to be rude, or at least as rude as he was. It just slipped out when she started bickering. He kicked a stone and it flew over to the Whoomphing Willow, which smacked it back at him, hitting him right in the center of his forehead. He cursed loudly and put a hand on his forehead, glaring daggers at the tree as he made his way up the path.

Y/N sat in the small alcove behind one of the paintings, sobbing. She hated when the things he said got to her. Like straight up despised it. That last comment though…

Her mind flashed back to the summer after her first year at Hogwarts. Her and her brother were just laying under the sky watching the clouds like they always did, talking casually to one another. It had been the perfect day. Perfect weather, perfect sky, perfect company… But then it just stopped. The day just was done being perfect. It was tired of it apparently because as they were walking home from the park, two wizards came running down the street, shooting spells at one another. They lived in a secluded place that only housed witches and wizards. A nice area. A perfect area.

One of the spells missed the person it was being aimed at and hit her brother. The two wizards continued running down the path as he fell to his knees and crumbled to the ground. She stared, shocked. Frozen and heart broken. She didn't know what to do. So she screamed for help.

Another sob racked through her body and she pulled her knees tighter to her, burning her face deeper into her arms and legs. The painting opened and she didn’t look over to see who was there, assuming it was either both or one of the twins.

She must have taken whoever it was by surprise because when she latched onto them, sobbing, they froze. Stiff and lifeless. After a second they relaxed slightly and, awkwardly put an arm around her and a hand on her head.

Once her sobs had stopped she inhaled through her nose catching a strange scent. She had cried into the twin’s arms enough to know it wasn’t there's. This was different… Not bad different, but enough to tell her that she hadn’t been sobbing, not only in front of, but on some poor soul that had happened to find her.

She moved away quickly and wiped her eyes with so much force that they were becoming red all over again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I-I thought you were someone else,” she still hadn’t looked up to see whose shirt she had ruined. She glanced over quickly, but just enough to see the waist of a black suit. One that was far too familiar for comfort. She took a breath in and gritted her teeth, readying herself for whoever she saw, and praying that someone wasn't who she thought it was.

She looked up at, the one and only, Draco Malfoy. The exact reason why she was a crying, blubbering, red faced, embarrassed mess.

But something in his face was different. Instead of his eyes holding a teasing look they normally held, had something softer to them. Something… kinder? But she was far too mad and sad and angry and miserable to really care what he was worried about.

“What do you want?” she snapped at him, looking away and rubbing her face again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not knowing how to react. Not knowing how to feel. Was this because of him? Because of his comment? Did this happen often?

He almost came back with a snappy remark to shut her up, had she not just cried into his suit. A thank you would've been nice, but he bit his tongue at that remark. Knowing it was not the time nor the place.

“Are you alright?” She barked out a harsh, sarcastic, laugh.

“I’m crying in a hole in the wall,” she sniffled, a hiccup leaving her mouth as more softer harsh laughter rang through the, thankfully empty, hallway. “I’m just peachy.” He bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed out. The words foreign to say to a classmate, but not foreign to his tongue. She looked up at him in shock.

Had the Draco Malfoy, just apologized to a half blood Y/H? No. That was impossible. Right?

But when he looked up at her, she could tell it wasn't just her imagination. She poked his arm to make sure he wasn't a hallucination, which made him give her a questioning look.

Now, it was her turn to be speechless.

“I-” but she couldn’t get any other words out. He stood awkwardly and watched her carefully, waiting for a snarky comment or her yelling something, But instead more salty water just sprung to her eyes. His own eyes widened at the sight, not knowing what exactly to do. It wasn’t like he had any siblings, or hung out with girls that often who cried. What do you do in that situation?

“Oh merlin,” he mumbled to himself. “Don’t. Don’t start that again. I was already awkward the first time, I don't think I can do that again,” she laughed at his worry and brushed the tears away.

“So, he does have a weakness,” she said, but not in her normal harsh tone. This was just simple teasing. Like a friend to another friend. He watched her for a second as she laughed lightly and shook her head, wiping her face again for good measure.

“I am sorry, though,” she looked up at him, confused. “I’m the reason you…” he waved to her situation, causing her to almost smile at how awkward he actually was being.

Don't be daft Y/N! He’s a jerk! Don't smile at the jerk!

Although her brain screamed at her to not take notice, a crush she had on him from their second year started to bubble again, although this was actually his fault.

“Yeah. You could say that,” she sighed and hugged her knees. “Why’d you always target me? I mean, you always pick on everyone, but I always felt like you made it a point to bully me more than everyone else. Other than Potter,” she added quickly. She understood that rivalry, although he was a good friend of hers, she had witnessed Harry’s rejection of him before the sorting and the slight hurt on Draco’s face when he shut him down.

He laughed awkwardly, messing with a ring that was around his finger, definitely rubbing the skin raw underneath.

“I suppose so you would… pay attention to me?” He really didn't have the right words to say. He didn’t know any of the right words to defend his actions if he was being honest.

“Pay attention to you?” she questioned.

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, a blush appearing on his cheeks. Her eyes widened at the sight and she moved slightly, making room so they could sit at the end of the hole together. He gladly took the seat and tried again.

“First off, you are not allowed to laugh,” he glanced over at her with a smirk, but her face remained serious as she nodded. “I… have liked you since first year,” her mouth fell open, and he continued before she could say anything. “Your beautiful and bloody brilliant. But, I didn't know how to get you to look my way. So, I did the only thing I knew how. And every time I went to say something nice, it just never came out the way I wanted it. My mouth twisting the words my brain wanted to say,” he spoke slowly, never looking at her. Not once. To scared of the horror he would see.

But there was no horror on her face. Only a sad smile. If only he had said something sooner.

Y/N wasn’t one to rush into a relationship, but she was one for second chances. And, she supposed, that would apply to everyone. Even the Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy.

She nudged him with her shoulder, getting his attention. He looked up at her, only to notice that she had a small smile on her face.

“How about we start over?” she suggested, sticking her hand out to him. He looked at it before looking back up at her. “Y/N Y/L/N. And you are?” He smiled slightly and shook her hand.

“Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you.”

“You as well…”

And who knew a desperate tease about clouds for attention could turn into a friendship that would bloom into something more?

[irkenstatic]

ALMiGHTY SMALLEST

CH.1 - THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS

Why are you so negative?

Somehow, a stray thought pierced through the wretched panic coursing through the Almighty Tallest Purple’s mind, and he couldn’t quite tell if he was more pained by his own mediocrity or the flames around him engulfing his now entirely felt body.  To add to his misery was the Massive’s still somehow functioning long-distance communication allowing for that terrible Irken monster to patch a transmission through to the crumbling Armada.  Had he the ability to do so, he would have given that idiot the rightful telling off he deserved—in fact, he would have flown the entire Armada to the miserable planet Earth and blown it up, or even just simply Zim himself.

But such a thing was now impossible.

“Does this please youuu?”

The only response to be mustered was the ceaseless screams of pain and latent fear beheld by the Tallest as their reality was steadily ripped apart before their very button eyes.  And somehow, watching the both of his leaders—and perhaps the Irken Empire itself—succumb to destruction left Zim with pricked antennae and a wide grin plastered across his stupid face.  And as the feed was corrupted by static, such an image of the spiteful little Irken left them drowning in an onset of despair.

This was it—truly the end for the Almighty Tallest, like the two that had come before them—snuffed out too soon by the incompetence and defective nature of Zim.  Doom had been spelled out before them, and there was nothing that could be done to rectify it; the Florpus was merciless in careening them through an endless realm of alternate realities, and suddenly, the Massive itself was beginning to wear from such an erratic and tumultuous journey, shrapnel of the flagship beginning to break away and hurtle into the expanse of seemingly nothingness, causing only for a horrible situation to become worse—what a way for Operation Impending Doom 2 to end.

As the void of space became ever more visible, even the Massive’s crew began to be vacuumed from its safety, shrieking and grasping at each other and even parts of the deteriorating vessel before being swiftly exhumed into the treacherous maw of the Florpus.  It surely wouldn’t be long, now, before the Tallest met such an uncertain fate themselves, and Tallest Purple suddenly found himself reaching out to his revered co-ruler, daunted by the idea of perishing horribly without him—and while he tried to cry out for him, his vision clouded from the heat of the flames around them and the sheer amount of pain wracking his body, he doubted that Tallest Red would be able to hear him over his own cries of pain.

In a blurry world, he continued to reach, grabbing, looking, forcing his tired, tattered body forward, grasping at nothing, searching for someone that should have been there—

And it was dark.

A hand grasped gently at the firm ground, cluttered with debris and ash now, still warm, yet absent of the striking fires that had once engulfed his form entirely.  The wounds were still fresh, making the prospect of fully stirring and coming to quite overwhelming, however, the clock ticking within the back of his mind served as a good motivator.

I’ve got three and a half minutes to wish that stupid Florpus had killed me itself.

Almighty Tallest Red furrowed his tired eyes, struggling to bring himself to his feet, however, he was incredibly pained and exhausted, and settled with a sluggish crawl, hoping pitifully that his PAK would soon come into view, yet the lack of a light source gave him little hope in finding success in the matter.  And his time was already so near; was there anything left, truly, for him to try for? The Massive was all but destroyed, and as far as he could tell, he was the only one who had survived the ordeal—without the Massive, or the Armada itself, how could the Irken Empire hope to continue?  Tension had already begun to rise with the appearance of that dumb resistance force, the Resisty, as well as Invader Tenn’s failure on Meekrob.  Without him, the Empire would surely collapse and become a humorous footnote in the history books of the universe.

Every so often, a figure would come into view, though Tallest Red avoided much investigation—a charred and unmoving form left perhaps a handful of possible explanations, and he was more concerned with preserving his own life than fretting over the condition of what remained of the Massive’s crew.  Even addressing figures that did appear to stir was avoided—what had he to say to them in their fading moments?  

Sorry you’re not dead yet?  

Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon?

A smile wavered onto his face, amused by such morbid thoughts.  It distracted Tallest Red from some of the darker feelings lurking in the back of his mind, such as the ever-present awareness that he was, in fact, in the process of dying, and each pull forward felt much more burdensome than the one previous, and that… he was the singular Tallest.  It appeared to be so, anyway; there was no sign of Tallest Purple anywhere—all that he saw around him were Irken soldiers scorched with black, their glazed ruby eyes gazing upward in endless misery.  The only hope presented through the carnage appeared to be just that, however; purple was an uncommon color amongst their kind, and as of yet, there had not been an encounter with a purple-eyed carcass.

The idiot probably got—

“…sucked out the ship…”

Tallest Red pricked his antennae, recognizing the voice that had somehow managed to complete his thought.  Scanning the area, he spied an extraordinarily short Irken fumbling over his own two feet, toting around an incredibly agitated PAK—one that Tallest Red gleefully recognized as his own, however… something about it didn’t make sense.  His PAK was large and iconic, able to strike fear and illicit respect from even the most formidable of foes.  This, on the other hand… it reminded him of his Elite days.  Before he’d ascended to the position of Tallest—it was small.

“Hey, soldier—” Tallest Red mustered, his voice straining with such little energy he had left, yet when the Irken before him stopped and looked down upon him, he felt his life clock diminish almost completely.

“R-Red..?” The Irken stood rigidly, his face twisted into a look of dread, antennae drawn back as he stared down at the pitiful Tallest crawling on the ash-covered ground. “That’s not you… is it?”

“Please—I need it…” Tallest Red strained himself up, a shaking hand reaching up for the device before the other stepped forward and hesitantly placed the PAK onto his back.

Life began to rekindle inside of Tallest Red, and he was unable to mask a meager smile crossing his face knowing that he wouldn’t be joining the excessively long list of casualties Zim had created—that and the morphine injections had also begun to numb the blistering pain that had been agonizing his burnt form.  While the dying aspect of losing one’s PAK was nothing short of awful, the feeling of having it returned was quite euphoric; nothing was more rewarding than cheating death.

With a greater sense of consciousness, Tallest Red finally brought himself to stand, able to center himself now on the fact that the short Irken that had returned his PAK… was strikingly similar to Tallest Purple.  And that somehow while standing… he was at eye level with the individual as well.

“I’ll… Uh…  Purple, is that you?” Tallest Red asked, recoiling somewhat as he looked the other over.

“I asked you first! But… Uh, yeah.  Yeah, it’s me,” Tallest Purple responded, crossing his arms with a pout.

Tallest Red grimaced, squinting his eyes in disbelief, thoroughly disgusted by what stood before him.

“Why are you so… short?”

“Hey, don’t think it’s just me!  You’re short, too!  We’re both short--!”

Tallest Red quickly looked down at himself, only to verify that the blasphemous claim was valid. He WAS short!  His slender, corseted torso that had taken several excruciatingly invasive surgeries to achieve was gone.  His long, sinewy legs were now stumpy and uncomfortably close to the ground—in fact, they were touching the ground, the filthy, disgusting ground.  He even felt… compact.  Everything felt too close together and remembering Tallest Purple tripping over himself… it more or less made sense now.

“Argh!  It’s that stupid Florpus!” Tallest Red declared, clenching his hands bitterly, and even those were off—somehow his thumbs were back, sheathed not in gauntlets, but generic Irken gloves. “When we get out of this, we’re dragging that little monster to Judgementia and making the Control Brains delete him once and for all!”

“This has to be the worst reality yet!” Tallest Purple whined, pulling dramatically at his antennae and collapsing to his knees.  “Why couldn’t we have landed in the one with the puppets?”

Tallest Red squinted harshly at the other, remembering not-so-fondly of how the puppet reality had quickly ignited into flames, and quickly urged him back onto his feet.

“Throwing a fit over our circumstances isn’t going to change them—we’re going to have to find a way back…” He pressed a hand to his chin in thought, trying to recall what had happened to lead to their current, miserable situation.  “We were going straight…”

“Yeah, we were going straight, and then the communications guy started going off about turning and steering all over the place!” Tallest Purple rolled his eyes. “Stupid Vortians!  They promised us that the upgrades would make the Massive indestructible!”

“Yes, I’m sure there’s plenty of Florpus holes for them to test their engineering on,” hissed Tallest Red, quickly silencing the other so he could think.  They’d been going straight, and the Earth had appeared…  And with it, the Florpus hole.  What moronic thing had Zim exactly done to spawn such a nightmare?  “I think our best bet is to find another one and—”

“Find what?” Tallest Purple interjected, quirking an eye at his partner.  “Another Florpus? We’ll get ourselves killed! We’re lucky we’re alive—look around, Red, it’s not like everyone’s raring for another trip—”

“I’m… aware…” he broke off, pursing his lips together as he acknowledged the prolific number of corpses lying around them.  “I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

Tallest Purple frowned and turned away, his indignant pout intensified at the comment.  “That’s because you’re better at it than me…”

“That’s right, so just…  Shut up and let me think…”  At this point, Tallest Red was used to being put on the spot—Tallest Purple was mostly useless when it came to run the Empire; if anything, he was mostly suitable for keeping their people and himself entertained and polishing out speeches. And saving his life.  Though perhaps he would omit that last fact when expressing his opinion of the other. “Do you know if there’s anything left that’s operational..?” “Well…  There’s some power left, but…”  Tallest Purple grimaced, hesitating to respond.  “I’m pretty sure we only have access to here, in the main chamber…”

“What about the computer?”

“Well, it’s… there.  I didn’t get a chance to look at it though, I was busy looking for you—”

Rolling his eyes, Tallest Red toddled off toward the observation deck.  While it was eerily still now with all signs of the former chaos consisting of only torn and missing paneling and wires dangling precariously overhead, there did appear to be a flicker of hope for the two Irken.  It appeared that, for whatever was left of it, the Massive’s power core was still managing to send power humming meekly throughout the main chamber.  Calling out to the computer did not solicit an immediate response; however, a small garbled message did manage to crack through after a moment, the computer struggling to process the request, and the duo pricked their antennae to better understand it.

[PROXIMITY WARNING: PLANET DETECTED]

“Well, that’s… News… I guess…”  Tallest Red couldn’t help but reflect on his short appearance again—it would be horrifically humiliating for anyone to see them like this.  But then again…  would anyone recognize them?  It had taken a moment to be able to recognize each other initially, perhaps the same would be true on the nearby planet, and if they kept their distance, perhaps no one would.

“So, what are you thinking?” Tallest Purple asked, noticing Tallest Red’s suddenly pensive demeanor.

“I’m thinking we check it out—maybe the planet’s part of the Empire.  We’ll lay low and figure out what’s happening here; I doubt we’re the only thing that got spat out in this reality.”

As to be expected, Tallest Purple didn’t seem to appreciate this idea much, either, as he also glanced down at his shortened figure. Little could be said to reassure him, though, and there was little else for them to do aside from exploring and seeing where they had ended up; aside from the computer, there was not much left of the Massive to utilize, which also brought about the issue of travel.  Until they could find a ship of some sort, or it came down to salvaging the wreck and taking the time to build their own, they were trapped on this alien world, so it ultimately would serve their best interest to become acquainted with their new surroundings.

“Ugh…  Fine…”  Tallest Purple sighed and pressed a hand to the bridge between his eyes.  “But I don’t like this.”

And thus began a long, tedious rant about how much Tallest Purple absolutely and completely hated this idea.  Or the whole situation.  Perhaps both. He hated being short, he hated having to look at the sores and blisters scattered across their immaculate green skin—he hated walking, though, he did appear to hate tripping more, and he also seemed to hate Tallest Red’s bouts of laughter when it happened.  Most of all, though, he hated Zim and the Vortians—Zim because, well… it was Zim.  More so now than ever, given he was solely responsible for the rest of the items on his hate list.  And the Vortians for providing them, the Almighty Tallest, with dookie.

The Massive was supposed to be fearsome and imposing, the harbinger of intergalactic doom, able to be flown through entire planets and stars, and yet somehow it had been all but destroyed by one little Florpus hole.  The absurd amount of damage sustained was appalling… Exiting the main chamber had led them to the outside and the heart-wrenching view suggested that somewhere, perhaps in a different reality, a separate half of the Massive was still undergoing a violent barrage of destruction.

“Aww… Red, the SNACKS!” Tallest Purple could hardly contain his dismay, dropping his arms and antennae at the realization, however, Tallest Red was quick to hiss him into silence, pointing ahead to where there appeared to be a civilization of some sort off in the distance, composed of tall, metallic structures, perhaps buildings? There seemed to be a sort of commotion as well, and making use of their ocular implants, it appeared to be quite the event—why, even the raucous could be heard from such a distance, although it was mostly indiscernible to them at the moment.

“It almost looks like… Do you think we’re on Conventia?” Tallest Red asked.  “Look at the sky; that would be—”

“—the docking ring. Yeah, it definitely looks like it,” Tallest Purple nodded in confirmation, somewhat unsettled by the idea of being here of all places.  The last time they’d been here had been at the start of Operation Impending Doom 2.  As he could recall, they hadn’t any plans to revisit Conventia until the Operation had met a successful conclusion—what purpose could it be serving now?  The red streaking across the sky signified that, for whatever reason, there were other Irken here, but why?

“We must’ve landed on the dark side of the planet—” Tallest Red commented with a frown, cutting through Tallest Purple’s befuddled thoughts.  “There’s nothing over here.  Well, alive, anyway.”

“Yeah, Tallest Miyuki really liked her planets scrubbed clean,” Tallest Purple sighed, recalling how stringent the late Tallest had been about conducting her organic sweeps.  After a successful invasion, the sweep could go on for a months’ time, sometimes more if she wasn’t happy with how completely barren a planet was.  She took the entire extinction of a planet’s organic life incredibly seriously.  “I doubt there’s anything here that’s going to get us over there faster…”

“Really?” Tallest Red questioned, crossing his arms and nodding his head forward.  “What about that?”

Tallest Purple glanced to where the other had gestured, furrowing his eyes somewhat as he pursed his lips together.  Lying ahead was an even more questionable mode of transportation than the ruin that had once been the Massive.  It was certainly not of Irken or Vortian design—perhaps a primitive ship that had once been used by the native inhabitants of the planet.  While it was… an option… Tallest Purple couldn’t mask his disgust at the prospect of using such an archaic thing.

“How long do you think it’s been here?” Tallest Red asked, though he didn’t seem to be desiring an answer of any sort, as he was already popping the ship open and inspecting it meticulously.  While he rarely had the chance to do so, Tallest Red did have a knack for tinkering around with things.  In fact, war and machinery were perhaps his most fluent languages, though Tallest Purple didn’t much enjoy this flex of intelligence—sure it had come in handy a few times, but they were Tallest.  There were other, more suitable Irken to do such things for them. It was grunt work.

“We can play with this later, Red—besides, there’s already someone using it…” Tallest Purple grimaced, raising a hand to his mouth to stifle vomiting as a skeletal figure, perhaps the former pilot, had been revealed to be rotting inside.  His presence didn’t seem to bother Tallest Red, however, as the Irken promptly grabbed the thing out and cast it aside with little issue.

“Listen, if you want to keep walking, you can go right on ahead—”

Unable to form a response, Tallest Purple settled with a bitter harrumph, shaking his head as he turned away.  He had no intention of walking anymore if he could help it, though he had serious doubts on whether the ship would even be able to move if Tallest Red could get it operational again, which, as to be expected, he did manage after a significant amount of messing.  It was just so… old… and weathered away.  It was hard to say how long it had been out rusting in the elements.  From what Tallest Purple could recall of the sweep, the dominant race of Conventia had only just begun to explore freely off their planet.  It must have been quite a shock to their people when the first extraterrestrials they encountered had been nonother than the mighty Irken Empire.  The organic sweep had occurred without much resistance—their people were composed of diplomats; the idea of an army or system of defense had never been relevant until the moment it was too late.  So many offers of peace and attempts at bargaining, when the Empire could so easily just take it from them.  And they did!  A smile crossed Tallest Purple’s face as he remembered challenging Red, who had been an Elite at the time alongside him, to who could massacre more of the populace.  Elite Red had been so enraged to lose by a mere count of three—

“Ah!  There we go!”

The ship had now shuddered itself up, wheezing a noxious cloud and a considerable amount of debris from its exhaust as it staggered to keep itself aloft a pathetic few inches from the ground—surely Tallest Red wasn’t seriously considering using this junk?  Yet the Irken had signaled for the other to join him on board, and it wasn’t as though Tallest Purple was going to refuse, so he sighed and trudged over, hoisting himself up with significant difficulty and fell inside, landing precariously onto Tallest Red’s lap, which he quickly scrambled over to get into the co-pilot’s seat.  While he’d never been within a ship of this particular design, the controls were rather rudimentary and would have been easy for any Irken to figure out.

“I can’t believe this…” Tallest Purple sighed, pressing a hand dismally to his cheek.

“Believe what?” Tallest Red asked.  He’d noticed the other being somewhat of a downer and substantially whinier than usual.  Perhaps it was his way of coping with such intense, traumatic happenings all at once?  They’d never been through something as serious as this before, and they’d never really been alone in a situation like this; before they’d had a chance to complete their invader training, Tallest Spork had been unceremoniously murdered, and they’d quickly been chosen to usurp his position.  As elites, they’d always been a part of a much larger team, and as the Tallest… having no one to oversee was just strange.

“Any of this…  Like… C’mon, tell me, is this really happening right now?  Are we actually—”

“—we’re alive," and Tallest Red turned, planting an intense gaze over the other.  “And it could’ve been a lot worse.  But we’re going to be okay; we’re going to figure this out together and we’re going to go back.  We’ll be tall again, we’ll build a better Massive, and we’ll destroy Zim in every single possible way we can.  And honestly, everyone probably thinks we’re just on vacation or something.”

“On vacation?”

“Yeah!  I mean, when’s the last time we took some time off for ourselves?  There’s no way they’d all think we’re… you know…”

While Tallest Red smiled in amusement, Tallest Purple’s expression fell somewhat and he turned away, muttering quietly, “I thought you were…”

“W-Well I’m not! I’m right here!  We both are!  T-They wouldn’t replace us that fast, they don’t even know what happened!”  Tallest Red maintained, even going so far as to reach and press an encouraging hand against the other’s arm.  While he didn’t pull or tense away, it was obvious that Tallest Purple wasn’t acknowledging the action.  “Hey, c’mon, don’t give up yet.  It’s just another adventure—we’ll find a way out of this, just like we always do! Just...  follow my lead!”

While he waited for a response, Tallest Purple only seemed to be capable of offering another sigh, closing his eyes briefly before taking up his position as the co-pilot, seemingly pensive and… notably tired.  It settled uneasily with Tallest Red, but perhaps it would be best to focus on getting to the inhabited section of Conventia and getting things sorted out first.  Talking about how weary they felt would probably just compound the feelings altogether and make their progress stall further.  Thus, the journey forward was… quiet.  Intermittently passing small comments to one another, however, conversation was kept to a minimum; there wasn’t much to address for the time being.  Neither seemed to want to speak, so they concentrated on maneuvering the flight; as the radio on the ship appeared to be dead—even by Tallest Red’s technical standards—tapping into Conventia’s broadcast systems was currently impossible, and they were left to speculate as to what such a large event could possibly be taking place.  Why, it looked as if the entirety of the Empire had decided to congregate to the planet. However upsetting it would be to walk amongst their people in such a sorry-looking shape, it appeared blending in would be appreciably easier than they’d initially presumed.

Happening upon a border wall, it appeared the duo would have to take up some amount of walking, as flying a ship through the streets would probably not be the best idea as standing out was not an option—they were normal Irken soldiers: nothing more, nothing less.  They would be attending the meeting, whatever it happened to be, if only to gain some intel on the happenings of the reality they were in.  After reassuring themselves of taking on such a humiliating role, they exited the ship and took quick note of their location before proceeding through a holographic barrier into the main hub of Conventia, which, given the mass of activity occurring overhead at the docking ring, was completely packed.  Irken of all backgrounds appeared present, scurrying about and conversing with much excitement; overhead, an announcer was visibly displayed on numerous hover screens, which the two quickly took to listening to.

[…IF YOU’RE HERE FOR THE GREAT ASSIGNING, PLEASE REMEMBER WHERE YOU PARKED AND PROCEED TO THE MAIN CONVENTION HALL!]

“The Great Assigning?” Tallest Purple whispered, his eyes wide with panic.  “I thought we already did that!”

“Be quiet!” Tallest Red hissed, however he found himself equally as distressed at the news. “We…  We’re not the Tallest here, so…  Obviously it wouldn’t have happened at the same time as ours, right?”

Tallest Purple shrugged, frowning and keeping his antennae low.  Tallest Red, biting his lip, hurried his speed, tugging the other along as they followed and weaved through the crowd.  More than a few times, however, he thought he caught the inquisitive look of others staring at them—while they were more than a little battered-looking, it wasn’t as if they were too terribly different than the other Irken around them.  Perhaps he was just a bit paranoid over being so short…  But it felt as though something was wrong, he just couldn’t place it, and glancing at Tallest Purple, it seemed that he, too, was picking up the uncomfortable air around them.

Further quickening their pace, they soon had entered the main convention hall, somewhat shocked by how many Irken had actually appeared to attend the Great Assigning.  While the turnout was always large…  this dwarfed the turnout of their own.  It was unnerving… but to Tallest Red, it was an insult.  Who could possibly have made a better Tallest than himself?  It…  It didn’t make any sense!

“Where are we going?” Tallest Purple asked, glancing anxiously around as they pushed their way through the mass of eager, green soldiers.

“Right up front—I want to know exactly who this jerk is!  You see this right?”

“Y-Yeah…  There’s a lot of soldiers here, Red…”

Absolutely fuming, Tallest Red shoved his way to the front of the crowd, arms crossed with an abhorrent scowl smashed onto his face.  And though Tallest Purple attempted to calm his resolve, the Irken just wasn’t having it.  Why, when he found out who this hot-shot was, he was going to have them promptly executed—shot out into the void of space through the airlock!

[AND NOW WIGGLE YOUR ANTENNAE IN SOLUTE BECAUSE HERE HE IS!  YOUR ALL KNOWING, ALL POWERFUL LEADER, THE ALMIGHTY TALLEST!]

And suddenly, Tallest Red’s fury dissipated into crippling, squeedilyspooch-churning dread.

“RED—” Tallest Purple’s voice choked quietly, but no further words managed to form, his hands instead gripping tightly into Tallest Red’s arm, which had become cold now as an all too familiar laughter filled the convention hall, drowning out the riotous cheering around them.  “IT’S…  IT’S—”

“IT IS I, ZIM!

The terror coursing through Tallest Red’s form was enough to leave him nearly trembling in his boots, unable to turn away from this…  this nightmare!  What kind of sick, horrible reality was this?  Where were they?!

“Thank you! Thank you!  It pleases your Tallest so greatly to see you all so eager for the beginning of my most brilliant plan—"

It… It was Zim. There was no denying it—the voice, the mannerisms…  It just couldn’t be replicated.  But he was so tall!  Not… The tallest Tallest he’d ever seen, but nonetheless, Zim was considerably more imposing, adorned in the ever-unique attire befitting of one titled as such, however it appeared smaller in size than that which Tallest Red and Purple had decided for themselves.  It appeared… newer.  As if he was just recently ascended to the position, perhaps, with how few alterations to the outfit there were.  Unlike their own, however, Zim’s attire revealed his spindly legs from within the robes, which were adorned with pink leggings and intimidating, steel-plated black boots; the overall color scheme of the outfit complimented the ruby of his round, glaring eyes, and black accented the corset about his waist and his shoulder pads.  Despite looking overall generic, there was no way to hide the disconcerting aura about him… Perhaps it was the fact that his monologue had gone silent, and that he was glowering down at the two of them.

“What are you doing here?”

Tallest Red couldn’t fathom a response, and from Tallest Purple he could faintly hear him restraining vomit.

“Eh—I mean… What a surprise!  My two favorite elites!  Alive and well, and so… Crispy!” Zim exclaimed, an uncomfortable grin scrawling across his face.  Though his voice expressed joy, his eyes conveyed a much darker impression of the two.  “We’re all so glad you could make it to the Assigning—in fact, it wouldn’t be the same without you!”

The convention hall was completely silent, all eyes focused entirely on the two trembling Irken. So much for not standing out.

“Well, come on then! After surviving a mission like that, your Tallest has no choice but to include you in phase two of my most amazing plan—Operation Impending Doom!”

Unable to refuse the direction, Tallest Red gently tugged Tallest Purple up with him, trying to muster a smile of his own, but it, too, seemed to tremor.  It appeared that their counterparts here were very well known—in what context was hard to say, but from the way that Zim behaved toward them, it appeared not so good…  However, the crowd gave off an opposite vibe, cheering and applauding as the two of them took the stage alongside their Tallest, as if they were delighted by their presence…  What was this?

“Now, as I was saying… Behind me stands the most superior soldiers of the Irken army—”

Tallest Red could only stare at the ground, he couldn’t bear to look at that anymore. Looking at Tallest Purple didn’t help much, either—he looked just about the way Tallest Red felt, probably worse considering he was still choking down his own disgust.  And the speech Zim had to give was, quite frankly, the same as the one the both of them had given, however, the planets weren’t quite right—in fact, Red couldn’t quite recall any of the planets Zim had marked for conquest. Glancing at the monitor, though, revealed that the planets they had designated… were already conquered.  In fact, much of the star map had been conquered, and it forced Tallest Red to turn away in disbelief.

He can’t be that great of a Tallest—there’s no way he’s done that all himself…

“Now, for our surprise guests, eugh… I have another, uh… Very secret mission—on a planet so mysterious, no one has even heard of it!”

Tallest Red found himself huffing in amusement—were their counterparts truly so terrible that Zim had wanted them dead and exiled, too?  And so stupid to fall for something such as this?  Regardless, it was somewhat hopeful, in Tallest Red’s opinion—the Empire clearly wanted nothing to do with either of them, and wanted them gone, which was perfectly okay by him.  This was not his Empire and he would not tie himself down to it or this horrendous version of Zim.  Residing on the outskirts of the known universe honestly didn’t sound too bad of an idea—it would give the two of them all the time and space they needed to figure out how to get out of this mess.

“I’ve got a plan,” he whispered gently to Tallest Purple, who responded only with a nod, seemingly uncomfortable with opening his mouth at the moment.

Soon their group was ushered off to the equipment station to receive SIR units—however, the duo were omitted from receiving one on the grounds that they wouldn’t need it.  They were “two of the very best” and having a SIR would simply get in the way, which was disheartening to an extent, but not something Tallest Red was willing to argue about.  Given how similarly… Tallest… Zim… treated them, he wouldn’t put it past the leader to simply craft them a piece of defective junk just for the fun of it.

“Th-Thank you, my Tallest, f-for… putting so much trust in our, uh… abilities—” it was difficult to not vomit himself saying those words to Zim.

Tallest Zim lowered his eyes in displeasure before leaning down condescendingly to their height. His expression, like his voice, was cold.

“Don’t come back.”

Frozen by the harshness of the statement, Tallest Red almost couldn’t find his feet when Tallest Zim stood rigidly over them, waving a hand to dismiss them and his group of invaders to begin their missions.  Tallest Purple assumed the reigns this time, though, guiding the two of them back out onto the steadily draining streets of Conventia.  The steady quietness allowed for thoughts to settle about their situation as they trekked back to the border wall, where Tallest Purple finally expelled his disgust into the barren dust of the world and Tallest Red climbed back into their sad, little ship, with the other blearily following behind.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, sitting in resigned silence.  Eyeing Tallest Purple, he seemed on the brink of tears, however instead of sobbing, he broke out into a fit of laughter, which shocked Tallest Red somewhat, yet he found himself slowly catching on, chuckling and finally laughing along with his partner.

“Did you see those boots?” Tallest Purple wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Is that how he compensates for that?”

“What?  Being short?” Tallest Red giggled, rolling his eyes before pawing at the controls on the ship—while it had been suitable for the small distance on the planet, he wasn’t quite sure if it would be able to manage intergalactic travel, though it wasn’t as though they had too many options currently.

“What a joke… Zim?  Tallest?  That’s hilarious!  Nevermind the puppet reality, this one is a real trip!”

“You’re telling me—geez, the sooner we get out of here the better.  I mean, could you imagine?  Us?  Invaders? While Zim is the Tallest?”

“Yeah?  Could you imagine?”  Tallest Purple’s laughter teetered somewhat, and Tallest Red’s soon did too, until they were both staring grimly at each other once again, uneasy now that they had acknowledged the situation.  It was a funny joke, but… this wasn’t a joke.  There wasn’t anything to be laughing at.  They really weren’t the Tallest here…

[ESTIMATED FLIGHT TIME: ONE MONTH]

“One month?! You’re going to trap both of us in here for one month?” Purple whined, dropping his antennae and forming another pout.  “Where are you even going to take us?  There’s nothing out there!”

“Oh, yes there is,” Red replied, sulking slightly as a projection of the all-too-familiar planet Earth appeared on-screen.

While Purple looked as though he were about to object, he simply yawned and crossed his arms, leaning back into his seat.

“Well stick this thing on auto-pilot if it has it.  I don’t know about you, but I’m really craving a nap right now.”

Red smirked briefly and did as he was asked—somehow, their hunk of metal could actually fly. And somewhat decently, too, now that it was freed from the pull of gravity and was gliding gently through space toward their destination.

After the excruciatingly long journey they’d had together… a nap didn’t sound half bad.

[ntshastark]

ok, I’ve finished watching it so here it goes:

Bridgerton final impressions

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Daphne: I love her!!!!!!!!! I loved her on the book and I loved her on the show. My only complain is..... The Scene........ The way they changed it up made it so they could’ve easily swapped The Scene for a confrontation. I guess they didn’t want Simon to be the only asshole of the two but then they never addressed how Daphne was wrong too??? They just use the Whistledown voice-over to basically say “oh she’s desperate so it’s understandable” and then kinda shift all the blame onto Violet - and, don’t get me wrong, her sex talk is shit and she should know it, but what Daphne did was already after Rose really explained her how sex really works, so ignorance isn’t really an excuse....

Simon: I love him!!!!!!!!! I loved him on the book and I loved him on the show. My only complain is how they handled his daddy issues arc’s resolution. Like, Daphne just tells him he doesn’t need to be perfect to be loved and! Just like that! He is cured! Childhood trauma? I don’t know her! They don’t even address the real problem, which is Simon going from living to please his father to living to spite his (dead) father, and the book just handled it SO WELL, I really don’t understand why they changed it in the show.

I hope Simon and Daphne don’t get brushed off to the side now that their book’s story is over. Simon and Anthony’s friendship still needs a little patching up; there’s the Will and Alice storyline that, if they choose to continue, Simon will likely be involved in; and Daphne is pregnant during Anthony’s book, so they can do something about that too, and maybe about her helping out Eloise during her first season... I know they won’t be the focus of the story ever again, but I just hope they keep showing up like ABC and E did on this season, and aren’t just mentioned to be doing their own thing off-screen like Francesca was.

Anthony: .......................................................Sigh. I don’t know who that incompetent, irresponsible, lovesick idiot is, but it’s sure as hell not Anthony. They literally took everything about his character, cut into pieces, made a nonsensical collage and called it characterisation. The real Anthony has an incredibly strong sense of duty and responsibility to both his title and his family, because he feels he has to do it as good as his father would - which, in his head, is perfection. He doesn’t skip and/or arrives late to important events because he’s fooling around with his mistress, and he wouldn’t just wave away his responsibilities to his brothers - especially because they are also his responsibility. The real Anthony cares deeply about the happiness of his siblings, and does everything to secure them the Happily Ever After he himself doesn’t believe he’ll ever have. He would never force one of them to marry someone they clearly despise, especially with no serious reason. The real Anthony was a rake who jumped from bed to bed without letting himself create real attachments, because he deeply believes he’s going to die young and can’t bring himself to make someone go through the same pain his mother did when his father died. He simply wouldn’t remain seeing a woman if he thought he was developing feelings for her - and that only changed when he was forced to marry Kate - and he definitely wouldn’t ask someone to run away with him when he’s finally free of society, jesus fucking christ what the hell even was that?????? And so they - knowing he was going to be next season’s protagonist, mind you  - took all of the characteristics Anthony developed in the 10 years since his father’s death, largely because of Edmond - both in how he raised him and in how his death traumatised him - and said “hey, what if we make all of this happen in like 3 months, and be all about that opera singer he kissed once in the book!”

Violet: I love her, but I feel like they sacrificed a lot of Anthony’s character for her sake......... The Nigel thing is a great example of that: The way she solved it was amazing, but for that to happen they had to make Anthony cause the problem in the first place, which was so ooc it physically hurt. And the way she’s constantly reminding him of how much he sucks as a Viscount, and even straight up saying that his father would’ve been much better was icky tbh

Eloise: Loved how they explored her relationships with Daphne and Benedict - and the queen thing was funny - but that’s about it. She’s so incredibly entitled holy fuck. Combine the fresh-faced feminist who just learned the buzzwords and now thinks sexism is the single biggest plague to ever walk this earth with the spoiled rich girl who wants the entire world to bend to her whims and refuses to do anything she doesn’t want, and that’s how you get show!Eloise. But, tbh, I don’t really mind. She’s a teenager, that’s just how teenagers are. We didn’t really see that much of her before the time jump in the books, she has a long way to go until her story takes center place, and I’m perfectly ok with us watching how she becomes the woman we see in TSPWL. Basically, not that big of a fan of her characterisation, but she is in a spot where she can spend some time turning into the woman from her book - unlike Anthony :)). My big issue is actually how her going from vehemently anti-marriage as a teenager to happily married and with a bunch of kids as an adult is going to feed such a tired trope...

Penelope: I love her, obviously, but oh boy is she fucked. I agree very much with this post re: what she did to Marina. I guess, because LW was initially just a writing device to allow for exposition, the show is gonna go WAY deeper into how the things that happen to Penelope (and her being a teenager) affect what she writes, and into the consequences of doing what she’s doing, but honestly? They might have overplayed it...... I really don’t see how in the fuck they’re gonna make the ending of RMB work in the show’s universe - and I already thought the books glossed over the consequences way too much. So, uh. Good luck I guess.

(Also, I wonder what they’re gonna do about that heir cliffhanger. I just assumed Penelope was gonna do what she does in the books and find a way to give part of the Whistledown money to her mother. Gotta admit it never occurred to me that, with all the Featherington children being women and their father being dead, the title and what comes with it technically belonged to a uncle or cousin or something)

Marina: I fucking hate them for making me get attached to her knowing what’s gonna happen. This poor girl, jesus christ. And, ok, a lot of times she seemed rude and ungrateful but 1. Her situation was fucking terrifying and 2. She was suddenly thrown into this world of pampered, superficial, and naive girls, and that can test anyone’s patience. Also, yeah, the whole manipulating Colin thing was not cool, but, again, it was either that, an elderly likely-abusive husband, or a life of shame on the margins of society, so uhhh.

(Also, that scene when she said she would love for her, Penelope and Eloise to be sisters........ And I thought Eloise becoming Oliver and Amanda’s mother couldn’t hit me any harder......... Imagine an AU where George survived and he and Marina get married and Eloise marries Philip and Penelope marries Colin and they’re all sisters-in-law to each other and I cry my eyes out)

Colin: Gotta be honest with ya, chief... I don’t think he passes the sexy lamp test. Missed his and Daphne’s special relationship, missed his love of food, missed his sense of humour... At least he and Penelope were cute. I’m actually already shipping them more in the show than in the books.

Benedict: I think they’re trying to mirror him being in a relationship with a woman of no status (now Genevieve, then Sophie) with being gay and hmm. Really not sure about it. He does seem bicurious to me but I think they’re hesitant to give him an arc focused on exploring his sexuality when we know his love story is gonna be with a woman (but then again, they weren’t afraid of giving Anthony an arc about having a relationship with a woman of no status when we know his love story is gonna be with a perfectly respectable one, so *shrugs*). Once again, very glad they decided to make him and Eloise so close from the get-go. It’s going to make that scene on TSPWL where Benophie’s son gets sick so much more meaningful and painful, I can’t wait.

Siena and Genevieve: They’re both amazing women with an incredible friendship. Benedict and Genevieve have the relationship I was hoping Anthony and Siena would have, from the trailers.

Francesca: Glorified cameo. Disappointing. I know she doesn’t show up much in the books other than her own, but that should just have been seen as an opportunity to do whatever they wanted with her! Not make her disappear for 6/8 episodes! Hope they show more of her on the next season.

Gregory and Hyacinth: They’re baby. The scene where Gregory makes both Anthony and Simon fall on the water should’ve been there. Loved Hyacinth acting like she’s Simon’s BFF. Loved that they cut Hyacinth’s “wait for me” scene bc it reminded me too much of my annoying little cousin and made me not like her for the longest time.

Lady Danbury: 10/10. Please hit me with your cane. Am currently entertaining the idea of having her and Violet get together.

Barry B. Benson: A cold-blooded murderer

Overall: This didn’t fit into any character, but oh god........... the lack of chemises............ But  I loved the show, even if some things annoyed me,  and I can’t wait for season 2 AND MY GIRL KATE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

Ghost of you, 17/?

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 17/?.

Pairings: Human!Nine x Rose; Human!Ten x Jack; Clara Oswald x Olivia Baxter (OC).

Synopsis: “Be thou spirit of health, or goblin damn’d, Bring thee air from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com’st in such questionable shape That I will speak to thee.”

A/N: I've started writing this fiction last year after I had a particularly weird dream (as usual) and after I wrote the prologue, I've put it aside to work on other stuff. I've gone back to it not so long ago and decided that it would be the fiction I would post next, after not posting anything for a while. I must have watched I am legend and Game of thrones way too much to come out with something like this but I hope you will like it. I am not a scientist, nor did I have a particular knowledge of sciences. I do my researches on the internet like everyone to make sure everything is as close to the reality as possible. I have a literature degree only. Writing is what I do and it makes me explore next fields, and learn new things.

“Prithee, see there! Behold! Look! Lo! How say you? / Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. / If charnel houses and our graves must send / Those that we bury back, our monuments / Shall be the maws of kites.” - Macbeth, Shakespeare.

CHAPTER 17:

Eleventh day of October. Day 1755 since the infection. Jack Harkness video log. Our researches are finally leading us somewhere. We have all this different information scattered and we’re trying to make them fit together like pieces of a huge puzzle. The noctiagus isn’t a simple deadly virus like the pest or the cholera. Unfortunately. We have the necessary weapons against those. The noctiagus is more like a cancer. A corrupted cell corrupting everything around it until the body gives in. It seems like nothing since we can’t cure most of the cancers yet but knowing how the virus works is a huge step still. We can adapt our researches to it. That’s what we’ve done already. The doctor Clara Oswald and myself are currently trying to find a way to fix the DNA and stop it from changing to the contact of those corrupted cells. This would be a great improvement for the sick people. And for our friend. The doctor Martha Jones helped us synthesising this sort of temporary cure. It has the form of a tiny pill that can be swallowed with a bit of water. Nothing too complicated. Except we’re afraid of testing it. Our only living subject is Maxence and the latest report on his health isn’t great. Testing it on him can be too dangerous. I don’t want him to suffer more than he does at the moment. And none of us wants him to… we want him to hold on. It wouldn’t be fair if he was dying now. The thought of Maxence dying forced Jack to stop speaking for a moment. He didn’t turn off the recording. He just needed a moment to breathe deeply and pull himself back together. He looked down, moved away, took deep breaths. Maxence being infected was a hard blow on him but there still was that hope to save him. Maxence fighting the virus had been a good thing at first but now… he was dying and Jack couldn’t handle that. He was putting his brave face on when he had to face everyone but deep down… deep down, he wished for this nightmare to be over. With all the geniuses gathered in this place, how could this cure still be unreachable? Jack ended up turning off the recording. This entry to the video log was over. He couldn’t say more. There wasn’t anything more to say anyway. The main information was inside. He sent the video to their common server. He didn’t mind what would be murmured behind his back for being so emotional. They could say whatever they wanted. They could even go to hell. His friend was dying for fuck’s sake! His best friend, the man who saved him from the consequences of after war. It couldn’t end like that. It couldn’t end before Jack found a way to thank him for this. He let himself fall on his desk chair and rubbed his face. It was hard to focus and worry at the same time. He hated this situation as much as everyone else in this building except for Colin. Colin who couldn’t harm anyone anymore thanks to Tegan. “Last time I’ve seen you looking so defeated, you were refusing my job offer.” For a second, Jack thought he was hallucinating, that the lack of sleep had finally gotten to him, but his brain was telling him that Maxence was speaking to him. He raised his head. His boss was sat on the chair on the other side of the desk, his legs crossed, and was observing him. Jack was a former soldier. Consequently, he knew that hallucinations came to him in his moments of weakness and guilt. The guilt to still be alive, the guilt not to have been able to save the men and women and children around him, the guilt to have killed in order to survive. Right now, he was feeling guilty for not working faster, for not finding a concrete answer, for not being able to save his friend and he was beyond exhaustion. All he needed was damn good news and days of sleep. Which he wasn’t gonna get this time again. He was clever enough to ignore the image of his boss. Last time he had spoken with an hallucination, he was in the psychiatric unit of a military hospital. Weeks after he was sent back home, he had lost his mind. He had broken down and his boyfriend at the time had had to have him locked up for his own sake. They had broken up because of that decision but Jack now had forgiven him. It had been the best decision at the time and he couldn’t see it. After that, he had gone back to his first love: sciences. That’s how he had met Maxence, how he had arrived here today. “Good thing I’ve insisted.” “What are you here for this time?” The words had blurted out of his mouth before he could hold them back. He stared at his boss straight in the eyes and folded his arms on his chest. He was aware that he was talking to someone that wasn’t there but it was too tempting to answer, to have a proper response to his questions. However, this time, Maxence remained silent and his image flickered. He looked at his hand that was almost translucent and frowned. A usual reaction when something wasn’t going the way he thought it would. “I came to say goodbye, Jack.” The former captain felt his heart furiously beating against his ribcage as if it was gonna come out of his body at any time. It was painful but the physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological one these words caused in him. ‘I came to say goodbye’ could only mean one thing and Jack didn’t like the meaning of it. He didn’t wait for the next sentence this fake Maxence could say. He jumped to his feet and rushed out of his office. He ran to the underground part of the lab, to the place his painful heart and the stabbing alarm resounding through all the building was leading him: where everyone was gathered to watch the worst happening under their eyes…

x

Tegan had thought that now that he had figured out who was behind this worldwide mess, things would be easier. He just needed to transfer the information to his team and they would be able to work harder on the noctiagus. With a copy of all the researches done by Myrtle Appleton that he had found in Colin’s computer, they had everything in hand. They couldn’t fail now. He was done typing the mail. The attached documents were done charging in the mail. He clicked on the ‘send’ button, closed the messaging service window and moved from his chair to his couch. He barely had his eyes closed for a bit of rest that he was getting a call on his phone. He groaned, pressed a pillow on his face and tried to ignore the call. How was Maxence doing this job? Worse, how was Harvey dealing with this whole building so well? The phone stopped ringing and he felt guilty for being so relieved. What he wanted was just a little bit of rest. Like the rest of his team, he was way beyond the exhaustion. They were all holding on to the nerves to find that cure and it wasn’t a good thing. Saving Maxence was becoming very urgent – more urgent with every minute – but working in these conditions was pushing them to make mistakes. Or to miss someone who was sabotaging their researches. Tegan was still feeling like an incompetent idiot for almost killing his boss. His boss… The words felt strange now that he was the boss and Maxence was a simple patient in his special unit. A patient with very worrying scans. The virus was winning but Maxence refused to let go. This was killing him, and Tegan wondered if the mistake he had made hadn’t sped up the process. His phone rang again and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. It could be important. It could be a life or death question. It could also be nothing. There were still blokes who thought that they were funny by calling people and scaring them. The communication means were almost all down. The CRCD had its own aerials that were giving the whole building a constant access to internet and phone lines. It was a real blessing in times like this. They were rarely getting calls from the exterior but it sometimes happened, especially through radio frequencies. Usually, they were coming from survivors that were looking for loved ones or for help. Everything was written down in a notebook and transferred to the appropriate security services. The normal police had long lost this battle and Tegan ignored if the messages they were transferring were helpful to the persons who launched them. He finally picked up his phone on the third attempt of his caller to reach him and mumbled something in the speaker. He hoped that it was for something important because he wouldn’t move from this couch if this was just for a fight that had occurred somewhere in the building. It was up to the security to deal with that. He had had enough to do with Colin already. The news he was given was far more interesting though. He sat up quickly. “Say that again.” The man on the other side of the line repeated his words. “Let her in. Lock her in a crate and take her to one of the sterile rooms.” He ended the call and pushed the pillow away. He also pushed the fatigue away. It wasn’t time to sleep. Not anymore. Myrtle Appleton had decided to come into his realm and it was his duty to go and welcome her in person. She was infected but, unlike Maxence, she had all her abilities. It was another sort of sick person and he was willing to work on this. He would take care of her case personally. Scans, blood tests, saliva tests. Everything that would enable him to find the answers they were all craving for. If he hadn’t lost his trust in Adam, he would have taken him as his assistant. He would have learnt a lot but he had chosen Colin and Colin had ruined him. Now, Adam had been transferred to a lesser job and he had been advised to shut up about Maxence’s case or worse could still happen to him. Being fired, having this behaviour mentioned in his file and he was done in the job. He stopped by the lockers room and pulled on a hazmat suit. He wouldn’t lose any time. He would start working as soon as he got there. He was closing the door of his locker when he heard someone behind him. He jumped and turned around to find no one. Once again, he called himself an idiot for being so easily scared of a small noise, for being paranoid. “I’ve always known you would make a great boss for them all. You just needed someone believing in you and the necessary push.” This time again, Tegan jumped and turned back around. A pale image of Maxence was leaning against the lockers and looking at him. He had that smile a father would have after his kid told him about an achievement they would have done. Tegan was a scientist and didn’t believe in spectres. So, he just rubbed his eyes to get rid of their fatigue and passed through the ghost as if it wasn’t there. When it appeared again before him, he thought that maybe some help for this new case would be needed because he was really tired. “Be thou spirit of health, or goblin damn’d, Bring thee air from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com’st in such questionable shape That I will speak to thee.” Tegan was quoting Hamlet in the beginning of the Shakespearean play when the young prince faced the spectre of his father for the very first time. His own ghost, the ghost of his mentor, seemed amused by the reference. If Tegan had believed in supernatural stuff, he would have been terrified by this. He had read enough Shakespeare to know what spectres could push you to do in their names, or just because they were the manifestation of a deep guilt. The Macbeths once experienced it and it led them to madness and death. “I am thy mentor’s spirit, Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confin’d to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg’d away – Are you a man?” “Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil.” From Hamlet to Macbeth, there was only one verse and they had crossed the line. Tegan thought that he might have fallen asleep in the end. This was too unreal for his liking. He had no time for such fantasy. He needed to wake up and quickly! “I’ve got no time for this.” “I’m proud of you, T. Keep up the good work.” “What?” The image faltered and, with a bright smile, it disappeared and Tegan was left alone in the corridor he had stopped in. For a couple seconds, he remained still, unable to move or think. Until the alarm went off. An alarm that made his blood speed up in his veins and fear crush his heart. He completely forgot about Myrtle Appleton, about her researches, about everything that wasn’t Maxence and he ran, ran like crazy toward the current disaster of the building.

x

Amy was standing in front of the wall of pictures. She was still in Maxence and Rose’s room but she was alone now. Rose had thought that taking a shower would do her a world of good after this failed nap – for her at least – and she had left Amy to observe her surroundings. The therapist wouldn’t say no to a shower. After such a deep sleep, she felt rested but she needed to refresh herself and to change clothes to feel even better. Rose had allowed her to have that shower here when she would be done and she would also lend her some clothes. It felt weird to Amy to have a friend willing to do so much for her. From what she could see on this wall, Rose was quite the popular girl. Her childhood might not have been one of the best but she had managed to beat fate and to build herself this life she could be proud of. These pictures were showing the story of Maxence and Rose’s life. It almost looked like a fairy tale to Amy. There was so much love between those two human beings that she was almost jealous. Her husband never loved her the way Maxence loved Rose. He never did any of the things Maxence had done for her. The scientist seemed like the perfect man that every woman was dreaming of. He wasn’t as handsome or sexy as those photoshopped playboys you could find in magazines but he had something. Charisma. Gentleness. Intelligence. A rare combination in a man. Rose had found the rare gem and everyone could be jealous about it. She hadn’t let the opportunity disappear thankfully. She had grabbed it and kept it and her knight in shining armour was now the damsel in distress. Funny how things could change quickly. Her eyes stared at another picture. A friends’ picture that looked almost like a family picture. Taken around Christmas time. Maxence and Rose were gathered with Allegro, Jack, Tegan, Clara and Olivia around a small barbecue on the balcony of some flat. Maxence was roasting some chestnuts on the fire. Amy regretted not having friends like this to share such a moment. Her last Christmas… When was it already? What had she done? Probably gotten drunk and been sick for the next few days. She used to love this celebration so much before. She was always overexcited when Christmas time was rolling around. But with William’s death… “It was our last Christmas.” Amy jumped. She hadn’t heard Rose coming out of the bathroom. She turned to face her. Her brown hair that she was usually colouring into blonde or red were falling on her shoulders, wet. She had pulled on clean clothes but hadn’t finished with her hair yet. That was why she had a towel around her shoulders so it wouldn’t soak her T-shirt. “Sorry. Thought you’ve heard me.” “It’s okay. I’ve got lost in your story.” “Almost a fairy tale.” “Definitely a fairy tale.” Rose sighed and sat on the bed. She used the towel on her shoulders to dry her hair the best she could without using a hairdryer. She would just do a quick ponytail. No need to do anything fancy for work. She needed to go back to Maxence. She needed to find this cure. “You can use the bathroom. I’m done with it.” She grabbed the brush on her bedside table and started brushing her hair slowly. She would dye it in any colour Maxence would like to if she managed to save him. If it was the contrary… She would certainly die. She wouldn’t have the strength to keep going. Amy didn’t move. Not yet. Her eyes were still on the pictures. She wished she had such a wall, such memories. It was never too late to start. Maybe when the virus would only be a bad memory. Maybe Rose would take her in that sweet band of friends. She turned around when she heard Rose gasp and drop her brush. Her face had gone pale and her eyes were wide open. She was staring at something beside Amy. The therapist looked at the wall but couldn’t see what was scaring her patient so much. “What do you see?” “Not in the mood for therapy,” retorted Rose. She suddenly was up. She walked to the spot right next to Amy and raised her hand much to the therapist’s astonishment because she couldn’t see what Rose was seeing: the pale figure of her husband standing there with an apologetic look. He avoided her touch. “I’m just an image,” he declared sadly. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks silently as her hand fell back by her side. She never saw a ghost before but she knew how to tell that what was before her was real. His voice was distant, almost like an echo of lost words, and he was so pale she could see the wall and the pictures through him. As if he was nothing but a veil before her eyes. “Rose?” hesitantly called out Amy. “Why?” The question came out of her trembling lips. She had read enough books and myths to know that ghosts only appeared to the persons they loved. They were coming to say goodbye. A one last goodbye. There were people down there. They could save him before she even left this room. What were they doing? “I’ve never been that strong. My brain went through a lot when I was a boy. It couldn’t handle the virus any longer.” “You can’t…” Rose couldn’t form full sentences and Amy was watching her patient talk with a wall. Her attitude was clear enough: she was seeing her husband. It was her exhaustion and her anxiety playing tricks to her, making her hallucinate. She put her hand on her shoulder but Rose shrugged it off. She had no time to waste. Once again, she tried to touch Maxence. His image flickered and almost disappeared. She swallowed a sob. “I’m sorry, I wish our song wasn’t ending this way.” “I…” “I love you, Rose. In this life and all the others if they ever exist. Be strong for me, my love. Find this cure. Become the hero I’ve always known you were.” He bent over and she closed her eyes, thinking she would feel the ghost of his lips pressed against hers but there was nothing and when she opened her eyes, he was gone. She could have collapsed and cried but she swallowed the sobs again and rushed out of the room. She didn’t want this to end like this. Amy would have followed her if she hadn’t been facing the very same spectre Rose had been talking to. She opened her mouth but considering that he was barely visible now, that the image was fading away, she wouldn’t have time to say anything before he disappeared. He had one last thing to say and it was for her. “Take care of her for me. She’s the best woman you’ll ever meet.” “I will,” Amy promised. The next words he pronounced struck her. They were like a stab in her heart but in the good way. If a stab could be good in any way. ‘William wants you to know that he misses you and he’s happy you’re making friends again.’ Was he…? Her son… Was he around like Maxence? Could he see her and watch over her? She wanted to ask but Maxence was already gone and, the weight of these new words on her heart, she followed Rose’s path.

x

Liv was in Allegro’s cage when the alarm went off. Both of them raised their heads. Liv rushed to the interactive wall and checked Maxence’s vital signs. They were almost inexistent. She glanced at Allegro and mouthed a sorry before she rushed out of this cage to go to the other one. She dragged Maxence away from the broken bowl and spilled food and turned him on his side. The fall hadn’t hurt him badly but it was clearly not the matter now. She didn’t have time to lose. His heart was giving up because his brain was suffering from a severe pressure. The reason was unknown at the moment but they would find it later. Right pupil blown, cerebral fluid flowing through his nose. How had they missed the signs? They should have seen it long before this happen. She ran to the airlock and grabbed the medical bag she left there earlier. It would be very needed. She hurried back into the cage and knelt down beside him. She pulled out disinfectant and cleaned the area she was gonna work on. She hated this. She wasn’t a neurologist but she knew the process. She took the medical portable drill and cleaned it off quickly. Then, she pulled on latex gloves above the gloves of her suit and took a deep breath. Three fingers above the ear, two on the side of the blown pupil. A quick vertical cut. Ignore the blood. Place the drill in the middle of the cut. Drill a first hole. Behind the hairline, a bit off the midline. Second hole. Drill around the hole. Remove as much blood as possible. It was the process but she didn’t know what to do anymore now that the holes were pierced, now that the brain pressure was relieved. Tegan would know. That was his specialty. And she was just a simple doctor. Her eyes were clouded with tears as she was taking off as much blood as possible with gauze. Maybe a derivation would have been the best way but she hadn’t had time to do things properly. She was trembling. The life of her friend was between her hands and she was lost. “You can’t leave, Max. Not now, not when we’re so close. You gotta hold on. For Rose, for me. What will happen to us if you die?” She sniffled. Her tears were flowing. She didn’t hold them back anymore. “Rose will survive. She’s strong, she can do it but me? I need you. I need my friend. I need the man who saved my life and got in troubles for helping me. I need the man who gave me a second chance, the man who healed me with his kind words and hugs and support. I need to hear you tell bad jokes and I’ll laugh along even if it’s not funny. I need to see your smile again to think that the world is a good place. I need your presence to stop thinking that I’m unworthy, to think that I have my spot in this world. I need you to keep me above the water because I can’t do this without you, Max. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about dying and you’ve just come around and get this out of my head? Do you know how many times I’ve told myself that I couldn’t disappoint you after all you’ve done for me? Now is not the time, Max. This is not your time. I won’t let you.” She wiped away her tears. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t see a thing because of them. She was still cleaning that blood. There was too much, way too much and she was afraid that she might have done wrong. What if she had killed him instead of saving him? Rose would kill her this time. She would be so angry and devastated that she would kill her for ruining her husband’s last chance. “Please,” she begged. “Please, don’t die on me now.” Maxence had come to her too but she wasn’t seeing him. He was standing beside her, beside his wrecked body and was sadly looking at the scene, at his friend. She couldn’t see him because he was too translucent, couldn’t hear him because he was too weak but he was there. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I believe you’re stronger than you think you are, Olivia.” He was the only one able to use her full name, a name she hated for reasons only Rose and him knew now. “I believe you will go on with your life without me. And it’s gonna be fantastic.” He gave a small sad smile at the scene. He wished she could have heard him. He wished she could see how strong she was. He had been their cornerstone for so long and now, they were gonna have to learn how to live without him. It would be hard at first, but with time, it would be okay. He would find a way to stay around them, when he would be less tired. He closed his eyes. Now was his time to go…

To be continued...

Ghost of you © | 2017 - 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

×××

In the next chapter:

She could hear his voice now but she didn’t react to it. It was her grief speaking. Just a memory in a spectral form. It was no way to remember this fantastic man. She preferred keeping the precious memories of him smiling and laughing, the priceless image of the man who took her out of the orphanage when she was sixteen, the picture of him bruised after he got involved in a fight with his biological father who was responsible for her rape, for her miscarriage and her now inability to carry children. She remembered the many nights spent on the phone with him because she couldn’t sleep without nightmares, the many times he came over so she wouldn’t be alone and do something she would regret later.

×××

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[commander-daine]

*wrings hands in glee* human asks; 4, 5, 6, 13, 16. Other one; 6, 16, 22, 23, 26, 28/29, 35, 50. TELL ME EVERYTHING.

4. Do they have any strong ties with their heritage?

Yes! She’s part-Canthan, obviously from several generations back. That side of her family landed in Lion’s Arch in 1128 AE, having left not long after the Canthan Emperor Usoku started being an isolationist and xenophobic prick. Her ancestors were members of the Kurzick House zu Heltzer that were dissatisfied with the way the nation was controlled under the Ministry of Purity. They intermarried with the locals, mostly Krytans, and the family spread out from there.

Her family didn’t live in the Canthan District (dodged a bullet there), so they still have their old heirlooms, including a few zu Heltzer poetry scrolls. Canthan is a fairly dead language on mainland Tyria since there are no newcomers that speak it, but she could hold a brief, basic conversation in it if needed. Old Canthan glyphs are something else entirely - she knows around 100 of them, mostly basic things like numbers, the elements, some basic objects, etc. but honestly she’s not sure how much they’d even be used in Cantha nowadays, assuming it still exists.

She also has a carved mandarin duck made of Echovald Forest wood, and it holds a special place in her heart.

5. Describe their childhood.

Her parents owned a large tailor shop with a top floor that served as a residence for the family. She has a brother that’s older than her by several years and was already being trained to do basic tailoring tasks when she was born. They were a rarity among rarities - a happy, functional family. 

Despite owning a local business, her parents were often away for long periods, which should have given away that something was up. But Daine was young enough that she thought their excuses about traveling long distances for exotic fabrics were legit. It turns out they were Shining Blade agents and got themselves killed, and that’s influenced some key opinions of hers rather drastically down the line.

The childhood itself was mostly a medley of playing with kids in Salma District, going to basic education classes, spending time with her family, learning to tailor, and being ecstatic when her parents returned home for a while. Her brother still runs and lives in the tailor shop, along with his husband.

6. Do they feel particularly blessed by one of the Six?

She’s closest to Dwayna, being most in-tune with lightning and air, but she’s always felt fairly distant from the Gods. After the whole fiasco with Balthazar, her opinion of Dwayna went from “thanks for the air magic” to “please keep your idiot pantheon in line.”

Ironically, she would have been a Dervish in another life, and a Ritualist in yet another. It all came down to the time and place she was born.

13. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Usually, no. Sometimes she’d rather be in a different universe entirely. When she decided she wanted to ‘help people’ she didn’t mean she wanted to be a hero a la sagas and epics. She’s been responsible for more death than she can ever absolve, no matter how much good she does. Her dream was to fight evils the size of the Nightmare Court and such (quantifiable, and making an impact on the world) as opposed to leading people into fights with forces of nature that are almost guaranteed to kill them all.

But if you asked her, she’s not sure what she’d rather be doing. A tailor’s life would be rather boring after all of her misadventures, and pure domesticity isn’t in her blood.

16. What’s their love life like, if they have one?

It’s changed from “happily single” to “wakes up with spikes stuck in sensitive places and is pleasantly surprised that Canach is still there to grumble at about it.” It takes a while for this to happen, and the process is far too long to describe in a post.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Daine went through public school in Divinity’s Reach, and she was an obnoxiously good student without ever worrying about studying. History was her favorite subject aside from the more specialized classes that taught her beginning elementalist magic. Thankfully she wasn’t required to stay in classes that didn’t interest her past her earlier school years (which were sort of a trial run to assess kids’ talents) so there aren’t classes she can say she ‘hated.’

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

No real time and place to collect anything right now, but if some twist of fate leads to a retirement, she’d love to have a duck pond that includes a pair of Canthan Mandarins among other breeds.

22. What are their favorite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

She’s most likely to complain quietly to friends, but gods help you if you tick her off in-person by being incompetent or stubborn. She’s sarcastic and biting with her words if confronted directly, and people are often left reeling after a sudden confrontation with the ‘cute’ commander.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

Above average with facts and statistics, around average with names and faces. She tries her best to associate them since they’re individual people that matter to her, but she can’t remember them all and that’s just another thing to feel guilty about when they eventually die under her command.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

It depends who she’s around - among bigger groups of soldiers she tries to appear serious and hide her emotions most of the time, but will let positivity show via smiles and laughter and gentle teasing. In smaller guild groups and in her alone time she sometimes sways/rocks in her seat and hums happily to herself.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Her biggest fear should, theoretically, be something like “Tyria exploding” or “failing to neutralize a dragon” or “dying in the line of battle.” But the thing that wakes her up at night is the thought of having to kill Canach.

Because she knows, from personal experience, what it’s like to look directly into the eyes of a beloved sylvari as you skewer them on a sword. And Trahearne was just a friend; with Canach as her lover, and given her newfound expertise with a blade, just how much more visceral would it be?

She wakes up to panic attacks from related nightmares, and although he’s sometimes there to see them, she’s on the fence about letting him know. It’s a lot more openly emotional of a topic than they usually touch.

In general, the thought of ‘nothing’ terrifies her. Having no friends, no talents, no powers, no sense of time or space. She’s not a huge fan of the Mists, which is ironic because they contain a lot of Thing™, but so much of it is empty that it might as well be a void if you’re dropped in at random. She respects Rytlock a lot for dealing with that.

And how does she act when she’s scared? Brusque, at first. A “no time to waste, let’s get in, take care of it, and get out” attitude. Puts on a mask, because she’s the Commander and she has to. But if it’s a longer lasting scenario she’d be clumping around friends and getting quiet, overthinking things. If she was still anxious when away from friends, she’d probably go back to her tent and cry herself to sleep if it was really bad. She’s bad with stress. And she deals with a lot of stress.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?

Depends on the severity. For something small, there could be some teasing. For bigger issues, she’d support them through it and be fairly protective if they were pushed unnecessarily in regards to it.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

Guilty pleasure: She once bought a multi-colored melon from the Choya in Pricklepatch Hollow and ate the whole thing in one sitting. They’re excellent, sweet without being overpowering or too watery, but she’s not sure how she’d explain purchasing and consuming what appears to be something’s kin.

Unguilty pleasure: twisting wire into pretty shapes and running electricity through it. It’s a soothing form of artistic expression and stress relief. Sometimes there are variations like lightly burning/engraving/frost-etching patterns onto wood/stone/metal, but air is her favored element to play with in general.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

Fairly standard stuff - some rations and food, maps of the area and a compass, a basic med kit, a journal and pencils, a change of clothes, a blanket/bedroll, and a towel. 

[badsithnocookie]

Unification (14/15)

'There is no easy way to say this. As many of you know, Empress Acina was receiving medical care on the Republic flagship. I spoke with her myself to confirm her health and well treatment. However, while I was aboard the Republic flagship negotiating matters with Commander Malcom, an unknown assailant managed to infiltrate the Empress's treatment quarters and assassinate her. The Republic is officially denying responsibility for her death, and has agreed to cooperate with Alliance officials in an investigation.

'Empress Acina and I did not see eye to eye on many things, but as Sith, we were once allied against the Dread Masters, and that is not a bond I will forsake lightly. Whoever is responsible for her death, and for the deaths of all those here at Iokath, will answer for their crimes to all of us - to the Republic, to the Alliance, and to the Empire.'

-

As speeches went, it had to be the worst one she'd given lately - not least because of the events that had prompted it. Eirn wondered if she didn't bring it upon herself, sometimes; making herself as public as she did, even if it seemed like she was the only one stupid enough to care. Especially, somehow, as it seemed she was frequently the only one stupid enough to care.

Her hands were shaking; hadn't stopped since they'd returned from the Aegis, despite her best attempts. She'd tried to eat, and failed, managing a few unenthusiastic mouthfuls of pasta in the galley before making an excuse and retreating to her quarters, where she'd failed just as much to- stand, to sit, to shower, to focus on anything that wasn't Acina's dead body and the thought of the galaxy at war. There hadn't been a peace between the Empire and the Republic since the one that she'd helped Baras break; Zakuul had forced both to bow, yes, but had never cared about the fighting that had continued among its surrendered enemies. In the months since Zakuul's own fall, little had changed - the constant border conflicts and cold hostilities had proceeded as they always had, and Eirn knew it was just a matter of time before they erupted into something worse.

(Which was why, some hours later, she still hadn't slept; couldn't sleep, propped up this time by fear and guilt as much as anything else, and none the better for it whatsoever)

-

At least in the sanctity of the Gravestone, Eirn could nurse as much caf as she pleased to - even if the ship's synthesiser was no competitor to freshly ground beans. Still, it was more an accessory to focus her worried thoughts - and draw the attention of others away from her exhaustion, even if the rest of the Alliance's senior staff seemed too polite to draw attention to it.

'You really think that whoever killed Acina- is behind Lana's intel, too?' Theron seemed cautiously sceptical, even as his gaze hopped between the two Sith - trying, Eirn could only assume, to get some kind of read on them.

'I don't know,' Eirn sighed - though it was an idea that had nagged at her ever since she'd seen Acina lying in what had become her deathbed, and realised that this meant war was now more inevitable than ever. 'Maybe- someone in the Republic just saw an opportunity, and took it. But-'

Eirn sighed again - pausing as she marshalled her thoughts, and scrambled for the words to express them. 'If Acina hadn't been- maybe we could have- this could have- ended peacefully. The Empire wouldn't have an excuse for vengeance, and the Alliance and the Republic wouldn't be on eggshells around each other. But now- things are worse than when we got here.'

'It's not just the Empire we should be concerned about,' Lana replied, slowly. 'Whoever was behind the intel that brought us here wanted us to fight each other. With the Empress's death, this all but guarantees war.'

'The same kind of war that Vitiate wanted,' Eirn added, after a moment - a possibility that she hadn't considered before, but which she knew now was going to nag at her until she got some answers - and ones that she could believe.

'Vitiate's- gone, isn't he?' Theron replied - studying Eirn warily, which didn't do anything to reassure her. 'I thought you- dealt with that,' he added, a note of doubt creeping into his tone.

'He's gone,' Lana said - far more firmly than Eirn rather abruptly felt. 'We've got no reason to believe he had any influence on any of- this,' she added - leaving her opinion on Eirn's paranoia unspoken, but still audible.

'Guess we should probably count ourselves lucky Zakuul isn't involved,' Koth volunteered, albeit a little dubiously. 'I mean, at least someone isn't gunning for us, right?'

Unless this was a ploy by Zakuul to weaken us all at once, Eirn's paranoia mused, unhelpfully. They still have the Fleet, even if it is weakened now, and have been suffering since you put a stop to their robbery-

'I've got some good news,' Lana continued - not acknowledging that, but not contradicting him, either. 'The Republic has agreed to release the Imperial troops they're holding, along with the Empress's body, on the condition that the Empire withdraws from Iokath without further conflict. The Empire has not given an official response yet, but under the circumstances...'

They'd be idiots, Eirn finished, silently, to refuse. Not that Imperial policy was made by being rational about odds of survival; if it was, then they'd never have reclaimed Korriban.

It just meant that Eirn was thinking about Malavai again, though - made her all the more acutely aware of that faint knot of nervousness, two decks down. Not that she'd stopped being aware of him, all the time she'd known he was there; not that this stopped her wondering if she was imagining it, a symptom of guilt and selfishness as much as loneliness.

'What about the Imps we're holding? You get an agreement from the Empire for them, yet?' Theron was the one who asked Lana that, somehow; Eirn was too busy mulling on her failings, and Koth seemed distracted by something on his datapad.

'Tentatively,' Lana replied, nodding. 'Once the agreement with the Republic is finalised, their people will be returned.’

'Last of our crews just reported in,' Koth volunteered. 'There were a few stragglers in the bases, but none of the wreckage was occupied. Seems like droids were already helping themselves to it for scrap,' he added, a little dubiously.

'Have your people get any Republic soldiers back to the Aegis,' Lana started, 'And-'

'Already on it,' Koth interrupted, making a briefly dismissive gesture. 'Got a few Imperials, too. I'm sending you the names now.'

'If that's everything,' Theron started, 'I should get back to the Aegis myself. Not that I don't trust our Republic friends, but...'

The investigation into Acina's death was going nowhere fast, and Eirn felt herself wince at that thought - that all her incompetence had resulted in was more messes for other people to have to clean up, that all she'd usefully contributed to this was- nothing, actually, and they'd all have been far better served by her absence. It was that thought she was stuck on as Theron and Koth made their farewells and left, both of them competent enough to be trusted with important tasks and neither, apparently, inclined to stick around.

'Lord Illte,' Lana added, as Eirn started to move - addressing her, not that Eirn really wanted to acknowledge it.

'Lana,' Eirn replied - looking tiredly at the other Sith, and hoping this would be over quickly - if only so that she could find a quiet corner to be alone with her failures.

Lana, of course, was offering her nothing of the sort - not that Eirn had believed for a moment that she might get out of this easily.

'Major Quinn was asking for you,' Lana started - holding Eirn's gaze the entire time, her expression not faltering for a moment. 'I believe he wished to talk in private.'

Which Eirn wasn't certain how she was supposed to take - and Lana's expression and aura, as always, provided no clues. The older Sith was as business-like as ever, but Eirn knew better than to assume that Lana had no feelings on the matter - no insight, no suspicions, no agendas.

What did he say. What does he want. Is he- Is he-

'Thank you,' Eirn just managed - the words trying to catch on her throat on their way out. It was impossible to squash all of the emotions that bubbled up just at his name - not least because she was Sith, raised to express herself (at least, express certain parts of herself), not to push emotions down but to turn them in weapons that she was no longer sure she even wanted to wield.

'I'll- speak to him,' she added, faintly - distantly, already simultaneously reaching out and retreating, in the Force, and quite certain that whatever it was that awaited her, it was nothing pleasant.

-

There were a thousand excuses she could have made - that tried to make themselves, as she forced herself to make the journey to where Malavai was being held. The simple fact was, though, that what she was afraid of was almost entirely herself - the knowledge that she couldn't give Malavai the one thing he'd ask for, and was half-convinced that the thing she wanted to ask of him the most would be one thing he could never offer.

She knocked before she entered, again - felt ridiculous for doing so, again, even if that feeling got swallowed up immediately by the nervous terror that kept threatening to consume her. When she entered, it was to see that he looked much the same as he had the last time they'd spoken - turned out as immaculately as he could be, under the circumstances, at least as afraid as she was and barely a reassurance for it.

'Eihn,' he just managed, in greeting - an improvement on their last meeting, though not by much, especially as the name seemed to try to strangle him on its way out.

'Lana- said you wanted to talk,' Eirn just replied - half quietly, half numbly, half barely - half not even sure that these were the words she should have been looking for, and entirely certain that whatever happened next, she would regret it.

He just nodded, though - briefly, nervously, tension coiling up in him in a way that promised nothing pleasant.

'Lord Beniko was kind enough to inform me of Empress Acina's passing,' he started, his nervousness not reassuring her in the slightest. 'And- your- statement- I saw the broadcast, but- I wanted-'

He kept pausing - hesitating, grappling for words that wouldn't come, an imperfect reflection of her own attempts to rehearse speeches that never sounded half as convincing, when she made them, as when she wrote them in her head. A projection, perhaps - but Malavai had always been an imperfect mirror, his own inability to measure up to his impossible standards for himself reminding Eirn of herself in a way that had at least meant she was not alone.

When he looked to her, though - when he paused, before drawing himself up with a sort of confidence that Eirn didn't feel - he wasn't a mirror, but a mirror image - determined in all the places that she wasn't, assured in all the things she couldn't be.

'I wished- I needed- to ask-' he started, half forcing that determined almost-confidence and half speaking simply because he desperately needed to, 'What are your... intentions regarding the Empire?'

'My intentions?' Eirn repeated, not getting it - and then, when she finally did, 'Or the Alliance's?'

He didn't respond to that; didn't even squirm, just met her gaze and failed entirely to answer the question. An answer in itself; that he was being careful to examine her every reaction, watching and waiting for her to trip up and reveal some truth she tried to hide even from herself.

'I don't- hate the Empire, Malavai,' she added - deflating, just a little. She didn't; couldn't, no matter how much easier it would have been. It was- it had been - home, or something like it, and a part of her would never stop longing for the days when everything had been simple - when the Republic had been a distant, faceless enemy, when her fights had been with fists and foul language, and the greatest trials she'd faced was her mathematics homework.

'I just...' she added, trailing off as her gaze flicked away from him, 'Want it to be- a better place,' she sighed, 'Than it wants to be.'

One of the late-night realisations she'd come to on Odessen, lying awake on a bed that would never be hers. The Empire would never change unless it wanted to, and she had neither the support nor the immortality required to make it. The Sith would rather tear themselves apart than remake themselves as something better, and Eirn had no desire to get herself killed failing to prevent it.

'As far as the Alliance is concerned,' Eirn continued, trying to grab for that professionalism that everyone but her seemed able to master, 'We don't want war, with either the Empire or the Republic. But we will defend ourselves, and the territory under our protection.'

He didn't respond to that - at least, not verbally, though he did tense a little at her final statement. He knew as well as she did that the Empire only ever desired to expand its borders - and what that would mean, should it turn its attention to Alliance protected space.

'What about you? What are your- plans?' she added, finally - not a question she enjoyed the thought of in the slightest, but- well, it seemed to be the topic that he'd wanted to talk about, even if that didn't stop him wincing a little at her words.

'Truthfully, my lord,' he replied, slowly, 'I- my preference would be to- return home, with you at my side. I know that you have always had a... complicated relationship with it, but the Empire is truly poorer without you. Both for the service that you always gave it, and- for my own, selfish, reasons.'

Which wasn't an answer; or was, but not to the question she'd asked. Not to the one he seemed to have wanted her to ask; not one, at that, she wanted to hear.

'I- if I thought you might- be persuaded,' he added - admitted, just as slowly, 'I admit I would not hesitate to try. But- I know you too well for that, Eihn. You are...' he paused, for a moment, smiling a little to himself, again. 'Singularly stubborn, when you have made up your mind. A quality I admit that I always found as... admirable as it was infuriating.'

Which Eirn wasn't sure wasn't supposed to be some kind of insult, half-dressed up as a compliment. Not that this answered her non-question; not that it reassured her any that she was wrong in her assumptions, either.

'And what about you?' she asked, after a long moment. 'I mean-' she added - scrabbling for words, again, and not managing to find anything but the conviction that she'd only use the wrong ones.

'I- meant what I said,' she managed - babbled, or so it felt, 'Before, about- coming to Odessen. If- you wanted to. I-'

He was watching her - staring at her, and Eirn couldn't help but feel like he was judging her, with it. Acina was dead, and all she could talk about was him leaving the Empire, and the flash of guilt that bubbled up at that thought threatened, for a long moment, to consume her thoughts entirely.

'-I didn't want anything to- happen like this,' she sighed, her train of thought utterly derailed. 'I don't hate the Empire,' she repeated, looking away from him, finally - she didn't, and couldn't have if she tried.

'You have always cared for the Empire,' Malavai replied, quietly, 'Even at great cost to yourself. Even when the Empire did not care for you. It was- another reason, I suppose, I- expected you would- assist the Empire against the Republic here, despite your- differences with the Empress.'

Which Eirn couldn't help but take as a criticism; which she couldn't stop herself wincing at, not least because of the accusation that it was (that she'd levelled against herself). She did her best to swallow back her immediate defensiveness, though, not least because of how unhelpful it was. (Of how little her actions deserved defending, at that)

'Everything I did here,' she replied, slowly, 'I did- to try and stop war breaking out. Not just for the Empire's sake, but for everyone's. It might not be very Sith, but...' she trailed off, sighing again. 'Is this really all you wanted to talk about, Malavai?' she added, looking back to him. 'The Empire?'

It was his turn to wince, in response to that, at her half-spoken accusation. At the reminder of the one thing that had always come between them, even if it was the same thing that had brought them together to begin with.

'No, Eihn,' he replied, though, 'I- wished to- I mean- the Empire was- a part of it, but-I wanted to know, because-' He kept pausing - hesitating, skipping over words he seemed he didn't want to acknowledge, pushing out the ones he did in fits and starts. 'When you were- in hospital, after- Ziost- when I thought I might lose you, I- everything we'd argued about seemed so- and I was- so afraid that you would not wake up, that even if you did, after all of that, I might- that you might- and then-'

And then she'd been arrested, as soon as she'd been able to withstand the Inquisition's lash without immediately relapsing. The Dark Council had wasted no time in attempting to make an example of her - one of the few of Vitiate's servants they'd been able to round up, never mind threaten with execution. Marr's death at Zakuul's hands had been the most hollow kind of vindictive near-retribution; Eirn's biggest regret had been that the Sith hadn't died at her own hands, but at those of the creature she'd been the one accused of serving.

'Come to Odessen,' Eirn just replied - not responding to what he'd said in the slightest, not directly, but her thoughts were too tangled to respond in any other way. 'Please, Malavai. I- know that things with the Empire- aren't good,' she managed - an understatement, and one he had to know the truth of, but- 'And- I know things with us weren't- but all I wanted-'

The words kept denying her, though - kept refusing to come, kept refusing to make sense, and Eirn blinked, and hated the tears that momentarily blinded her, even as she irritably wiped them away. 'Zakuul- nearly did execute me, and- all I could think about was- how I wouldn't get the chance to- try and fix things. When I- all this time-'

'Eihn,' he started, not letting her finish, 'I-'

'I love you, Malavai,' she managed - blurted, finally, the words she hadn't been able to say before forced out into the open, as awkward here as they'd been when they'd hung between the two of them, unsaid, but- 'I love you, and I've missed you, so much, and- I don't know,' she added, descending into babble, 'What's going to happen with- the Empire, or anything, but I just- want a chance for- us,' she finished, limply - all but certain, as she did so, that these were only words that she'd end up being made a fool for.

He didn't say anything in response to that, though - just smiled, after a long moment, as her words slowly sunk in. 'I- know, Eihn. And I- love you, too. I-'

He paused again, though - hesitated, glancing away for a moment as his smile faded, and all Eirn could feel in the Force was years of loss and regret - on both their parts.

'Truthfully,' he added, quietly, 'I- left the Empire the day I- defied Moff Lorman's order to- give up, on you. I knew then that- it was an action from which there would be no return, though- I did not expect that it- would be one I would survive. But- you...' he finished - looking back to her, finally.

'I- had to try,' he continued, after another long moment. 'When I was- When I-' he paused - hesitated, again, before plunging on. 'What I am- doing terribly at saying, Eihn, is that- I wanted- I would like- very much, for- another chance,' he managed, 'For- us. On- Odessen,' he added, 'If- that is what it takes.'

Eirn was silent for a moment, after that - stared, as she listened to his ramble, not hearing the words she was expecting him to say and not certain she could believe the ones she was hearing.

'You- you're- sure...?' she just managed - half mumbled, half not daring to believe she'd heard him correctly - half immediately worried that he was only saying what he was because he thought it was what she wanted to hear, and entirely certain that whatever she said, it would be wrong.

'I came- to Iokath- to find you, Eihn. I- admit that things have not- transpired as I hoped they would, but- if I walked away now...' He paused, at that - seemed to consider the idea, and for a numb moment, Eirn was terrified he might reconsider - decide that walking away was his best option, and not for the first time, she wished she'd said nothing.

'I made you a promise,' he continued, eventually, 'That I would- find you, no matter what it took. I- failed,' he added, 'In- part because I allowed my own fear to decide my actions. I- will not make that mistake twice. If- you would allow me the chance, I-'

Eirn didn't give him a chance to get any further than that, though - just closed the gap between them, finally, pulling him into as tight a hug as she dared, burying her face in the shoulder of his uniform, and-

(surrounding herself, finally, with him; the way he smelled, the way he felt against her, the way his worried tension always knotted itself in the Force around her own; the knowledge that whatever happened next, whatever trial she had to face, it wasn't one she'd have to face alone)

'I love you, Malavai,' she just managed - repeated, again, mumbling it into him as though it could somehow bypass sound and impress itself into him through sheer force of will.

For a moment, he tensed - and she did, too, a sort of terrified unsureness gripping her (the conviction, for that moment, that she had misheard, and badly) - and then it passed, as he returned the gesture; looped his own arms around her, his hands holding onto her robes as though she'd disappear if he let go, nuzzling her hairline and murmuring something inaudible as they clung to each other for the first time in what felt like whole lifetimes. (His heart, pounding in his chest, as worried and relieved as hers was; his breath, as unsteadily half-uncontrolled as she)

'I know,' he murmured, though; his own breath shuddering, for a moment, as he attempted to control his breathing - and failed, just as she was. 'I love you, too, Eihn.'

Which was, for now, all that needed to be said.

[punkcherries]

get ready to rrrrrumble

jesus christ this is a long ass submission so uh puts it in a read more also puts my txt in bold so its easier to read 👍

Right, so I’ve just read everything that happened in the last few asks you got and I’m just gonna sit down and tell you this right now. You better strap the fuck in because this is long and if you’re not gonna read it, shame on you, because all of this is specifically about YOU and the problems people have with you (the people Blu mentioned). First off, I’m not Blu, so don’t go and start calling him names in your server because you’re finally, FINALLY, being called out on all the bullshit you do. I used to be your friend, I left on semi-good terms, and this entire thing is going to explain WHY I left + why you need to square the fuck up.

sounds like fun whoever u are

You need to get your shit together and seriously change yourself, but of course you’re not gonna do that, because you’re an incompetent piece of shit who has your head so far up your ass you can’t see all the things you do wrong. You act like you’re the person who suffers the most, and that anytime anyone is rude to you it’s THEIR fault, not the fact that you did something terrible to someone or that you started some drama. I’ve been fed up with this shit for months, and have been hesitant to say anything directly to your face, because you don’t even know me that well and we hardly talked. We did interact a few times, but those few times were absolute hell to me, because I must have literally retracted some kind of disease just from being near you. You are the fucking EMBODIMENT of tumblrina, and it’s so fucking sad because you weren’t like this before (based on what a few others have told me).

the use of tumblrina here is jus makin me laugh ur a funny guy buddy but i feel like my past self is worse thn my current self like past me participated in cringe culture so like ew

The way you talk? Absolutely fucking horrid. Sit the fuck up and talk like a normal goddamn human being. I’m here to talk to you, not to decipher some 57 commas and abhorrid shortening of words. Jesus fucking Christ Sombre, I can understand Internet slang and cutting some words up, but you fucking butcher the English language so bad it literally sounds like a toddler having a stroke while mashing at their keyboard. It’s “that” not “tht”, it’s “thing” not “thng”, it’s “something” not “smth”, and for GOD FUCKING SAKES IT’S “THE” NOT “TH”. ARE YOU LITERALLY SO FUCKING LAZY THAT YOU CAN’T EVEN TYPE “THE”, A THREE LETTER WORD. I don’t give a shit if you’re talking like this to sound like an anxious uwu tumblr piece of SHIT, it sounds fucking IDIOTIC and it’s an ABSO-FUCKING-LUTE PAIN TO READ.

language is fake and is mostly just sounds we give meaning, im very sorry if you have trouble reading the way i type and id be more than happy to try and not speak to you like i usually do to everyone else if you just asked politely and talked it out with me (tho the idiotic part is accurate im not very smart lmao)

SPEAKING OF YOUR TUMBLR, LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR UPSET.TXT TAG. If you think anyone is gonna pity you, SPOILER ALERT! THEY’RE FUCKING NOT. Unless they’re your shitty “friends”, NOBODY fucking gives a shit, alrighty? Speaking from my perspective and a few others, nobody’s gonna see this venting on their dashboard and give two shits. Unless they’re your mutuals, they won’t care and it just leaves a bad impression. It’s pathetic how when ANYTHING negative happens to you, you decide to take to Tumblr to boo hoo crypost about it. You wanna vent? You wanna cry yourself to sleep? Cool, talk about it on your server, NOT FUCKING TUMBLR, WHERE LITERALLY ANYONE CAN SEE IT. This is just like how Facebook used to be, you see these posts of people posting personal shit and getting bit in the ass for it later, YEAH WELL THAT’S WHAT’S HAPPENING TO YOU RIGHT NOW BUDDY. DON’T LIKE IT? DON’T FUCKING VENT ON TUMBLR.

i rarely vent on here dude like?? do you see the time gaps between the posts in my vent tag? its also my blog so i can post whatever i like as long as im not hurting anyone yo, plus the point of venting for me at least isnt to like get attention or sympathy its to let off some steam not to mention most to all of my vent posts are vague as hell so like…. why do you even care though?? if i get bit in the ass then thats my problem not yours

Right, so let’s talk about your “im gay” tag too! You identify as male, correct? That’s cool! Congrats. But you’re not gay if you clearly show an interest in girls. Doesn’t matter if they’re fictional or not. Your “im gay” tag is filled with girls (Bismuth, some anime girl, pinup girls). NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE! You’re male, those are females! Opposite genders! That means you’re NOT GAY! WOAAAAAH! So who are you to be reblogging and posting all this shit about how hetero people are the devil, hetero people are the worst wah wah, when you yourself identify as a guy and clearly seem to be interested in girls, even if just a little?

dude i used to identify as nonbinary i only recently started identifying as male, hell i used to identify as female ages back so like? the posts in that tag are most to all old and i do realize my attraction to girls isnt gay, hence why ive only been referring to my attraction to dudes as me being gay post-male identification i guess

Speaking of all the heterophobic shit you reblog, have you not considered it could make some of your followers feel absolutely terrible? I’m bi myself, I like both guys and girls, but holy FUCK when I see that shit on your blog it makes me feel guilty for liking guys at all! Is that how you want people to feel? Whether they’re pan, bi, or straight, that shit’s literally so fucking damaging and it sure as hell hurts to see! And don’t throw that “some of those posts are jokes” bullshit at me, because guess the fuck what! They may be jokes to people who aren’t hetero, but they sure as hell don’t seem like jokes to those who are! How would you feel if I made a joke that was even SLIGHTLY negative towards homosexuals? Wait, no, don’t answer that, because I already know how you’d feel. You’d get pissy, you’d stomp your little baby feet over to Tumblr, and then crypost about it, saying you’re facing homophobia and being harassed blah blah blah.

HETEROPHOBIC IM LAUGHING…. buddy…. pal…. heterophobia is fake and im very sorry if those post make you feel bad as a bisexual person (im also bi so) but heterophobia isnt actually a thing, comparing jokes directed at straight people to lgbtphobia is inherently lgbtphobic as it compares little jokes most to all directed at bigoted/ignorant straights to something that can often result in the actual literal death of hundreds of people for their gender/orientation- that doesnt happen to straight people dude

Also: you don’t have autism. Were you officially diagnosed? Because I’m gonna be real fuckin’ honest, it doesn’t sound like you have autism. You sure have something, hoh yeah, but it’s sure as hell not autism. You put your “autism” up on a pedestal and act like it’s one of the only things about you, like no hunty, your mental illness doesn’t define you. Nobody gives a shit, okay? Your mental illness isn’t an excuse to act like a literal fuckface, it’s not an excuse to treat people like shit, and it sure as hell isn’t an excuse to blame everything on others and make yourself out to be the good guy because “my autism made me anxious or forget things ;w;”. This is the exact kind of tumblrina thing I’m talking about, people on this goddamn website act like their mental illness is the only quality about them and that not being neurotypical makes them special. NEWS-FUCKIN-FLASH, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t. You don’t see me using my mental illness as an excuse for my actions, because I actually step the fuck up and take responsibility for shit I’ve caused. My mental illness does not define me. There’s more to me than that. You need to realize that your fake-ass autism isn’t an excuse for you to be a fucking asshole to the people around you, and that your actions do have consequences. Stop blaming others for shit you’ve caused, stop calling people jackasses when it’s YOU who’s insulting people and twisting the truth, and for the love of God tell your white knights of friends to shut the FUCK up if they don’t know all the details of a situation.

i was technically diagnosed albeit in a nontraditional fashion (a psych at our middleschool was the one who diagnosed me) and i have never defined myself solely by my autism nor have i used it as an excuse for my fuck ups, ive literally apologized and stopped doing the things i did since the blu incident, i recognize i fucked up there and i apologized and i havent done the whole lying out of anxiety thing since, also my white knights of friends??? YOURE the one coming into MY inbox to tell me how shit i am after i blocked blu i literally just want this to be over leave me alone dude

Alright, so now that we’re done talking about YOU, let’s talk about your fandoms. You like Osomatsu-San. Okay, that’s fine. What’s not fine is how FUCKING obsessive you are about it. There’s nothing wrong with liking something and being attached to characters, making art of it, having a blog, reblogging it, talking about it, that’s okay. That’s okay! But you? You fucking hold the characters so close and act like they’re your own characters. You get upset when something doesn’t go your way in the show. This was evidenced by how many times you’ve complained about episodes (guess where? upset.txt) after they’ve come out. That anon about the straight joke? You got so heated over that, didn’t you? Saying Chibita was “out of character”, BITCH, what do you fucking know? He’s not your goddamn character! The writers will write him however the fuck they want. It’s THEIR fucking show, it’s THEIR fucking characters, and it’s THEIR decision of who does what and who acts like what. There’s a VERY thick line between canon and fanon, and you can’t seem to distinguish that AT ALL. You merge your shitty headcanons with the canon universe, and when something doesn’t go your way, you FREAK THE FUCK OUT and go crying about it in your server or on your tags.

youre blowing that ONE FUCKING POST so out of proportion ive never complained abt ososan in upset.txt outside of MAYBE episode 4 and that would be because of the NONCONSENSUAL SEX SCENE i KNOW my headcanons arent canon i KNOW that the chibita/snowtoko complaint was MINOR and i fucking LIKED THAT EPISODE A LOT!! i didnt cry i just felt that based on how the staff have characterized chibita up until that point it was a little jarring to see him react like he did THAT IS ALL! what the fuck!! how would you even know what i talk about in my servers!! youre obviously misinformed my guy!!!

Lemme tell you something, Sombre: Karabita isn’t canon. OH SHIT! I SAID IT BOYS! THAT’S A FUCKING CURSE ISN’T IT!! No, sorry, sit the fuck down and suck those tears up, because it’s true. It’s not canon. It isn’t. You grasp at straws to say it is, but it isn’t. Chibita wore somehing blue? Oh shit, it’s Karamatsu! He’s clearly in love with him! No, sorry honey, that’s not how it works. Of course Chibita would feel pity on him and let him stay with him (ep 24), because who wouldn’t? That doesn’t mean they’re dating. Karamatsu may be the most bisexual person ever, but he sure as hell isn’t dating Chibita (at least, not canonly). Speaking of Chibita, you need to stop acting like any other Matsu x Chibita ship is literal hell. They’re not. There are some decent ones out there, and although they’re rarepairs by now, they’re a lot better quality than the Karabita bullshit you spew out.

me saying karabita is canon is a joke, and my disdain for non karabita matsubita ships is based half in coping reasons and half in chibita has literally no chemistry with the other matsus and seems to not like any of the other bros at all whereas hes actually shown some level of tolerance or interest in karamatsu

While we’re on the subject of non-canon ships, Atsutodo isn’t canon either. Fuck’s sake, they were on screen together for 10 damn seconds. Yes, I’m aware there’s card art of Atsushi and Todomatsu having a meal together, but they’re very clearly not dating if Todomatsu is still going out with girls and holding their hands etc. Oh, speaking of Todomatsu: Your trans hc of him? Generic as fuck. He’s not trans. Call me a transphobe, I don’t give a shit, but he’s not trans. Look at the -kun animes. He’s a guy. Where in his life would he have magically been a girl and then go right back to a guy? The time span between a 12 year old and a 21 year old isn’t long enough to allow you time to transition. In that day and age, it wasn’t even acceptable to be transgender. So none of the Matsus are trans, get that out of your head. Get those “autism hcs” out of your head too, because I KNOW you hc Kara and Jyushi as autistic (and I’m aware you used to headcanon Ichimatsu as autistic too, but we’ll get to that later).

i know atsutodo isnt canon i never said it was all the “x ship is canon” jokes are about karabita and theyre jokes dude, i just think atsutodo would be cute. why the fuck do you even care about my trans hcs?? theyre HEADCANONS they dont HURT ANYONE and like dude there are trans children out there….. stop being a fuckface about simple headcanons what the fuck.

Lemme tell ya something. Karamatsu sure as hell isn’t autistic. Literally the only reason you headcanon him as such is because you yourself claim to be autistic and because “uwu he’s m fav,,,, i relate to him,,,”. Also, I realize “jyushi is autistic xD” headcanons are common, but JESUS FUCK it’s time for them to die. Jyushimatsu is just bizarre in and out, it’s his personality and his way of life. If you’re gonna hc him as autistic for his personality, you’re obviously ignoring his physical abilities. What about that time he cloned himself? Grew different sizes? What about how he seemingly has no bones (tentacle arms)? But oh, let’s ignore that, because he’s always got a smile on his face and he has a childish personality so DURR HE’S OBVIOUSLY AUTISTIC. Also, you used to headcanon Ichimatsu as autistic, but as soon as you started hating him you threw that headcanon out the window. This is PROOF you only headcanon your favorite characters as autistic, and that’s some of the STUPIDEST shit ever.

literally just let people headcanon what they want if it doesnt hurt anyone, im sure in canon theyre not autistic but this is HEADCANON. and is this also to imply that just because a character can do bizarre thing with theyre body they cant also be autistic?? what the fuck does that have to do with anything??? and i didnt throw my autistic ichi hc out the window because “i hate him” i dont even hate him im indifferent to him i hate his fanon incarnation because its stupidly out of character and one note, i also didnt even drop the autism hc for him i feel like he definitely 100% could be autistic but i just dont think about it as much because i think about other characters more than i think about him

Oh yeah, I’d love to hear why you hate Ichimatsu so much? Shut up, I know it’s because “hhhh he abuses kara” but that’s fucking wrong. Listen, Ichimatsu isn’t exactly my favorite either but at least I don’t make him out to be a fucking asshole to Karamatsu. All of the brothers have treated Karamatsu like shit at one point or another. They’ve thrown things at him, ditched him, called him names, ignored him, it’s a fucking trope in the anime that Karamatsu was the one to get hurt. Sure, season 2 has kinda turned that around, but the whole “Ichimatsu is bitter to Karamatsu” thing is the dynamic between them. They DO have moments where they’re not onto each other, though. See how Ichimatsu followed Karamatsu into the woods? Remember the episode where they switched clothes? They didn’t kill each other neither of those times, did they? And yes, I’m aware Ichimatsu has hurt Karamatsu at times (the bazooka, I think smacking?) but he doesn’t LITERALLY ABUSE HIM. You don’t see him kicking him around, PUNCHING HIM, HITTING HIM, EVERY SECOND OF HIS LIFE. Yes, he calls him names. Yes, he’s threatened to hurt him (“I’ll kill you, Shittymatsu.”) but he’s been stopped or HAS stopped every time. If he really was so intent on hurting Karamatsu, don’t you think he wouldn’t ignore his brothers and hurt Karamatsu anyway? But no, he didn’t, and he stopped each time he grabbed Kara. That’s because the entire “Ichimatsu despises Karamatsu” thing is a GAG in the show. It’s meant to be funny. It’s not meant for your negative ass to label it as abuse and then boohoo about it every time Ichimatsu is mentioned. That’s not a valid reason to hate a character, hell, even Karamatsu’s seiyuu said in a Doramatsu CD that Karamatsu was just comic relief. And if you’re gonna look for a reason why Ichimatsu dislikes Karamatsu, consider the hinted and well-supported reason: Ichimatsu “hates” Karamatsu because of how confident he is and how he can always be himself. Ichi is insecure. Ichi is antisocial. Kara, on the other hand, can express himself and show how “cool” he is. Consider that Ichimatsu wants to be more like him, hence why he said he’s the “number one Karamatsu boy” in that one episode.

okay this is just ridiculous i DONT HATE ICHIMATSU and i KNOW its a GAG, i KNOW they get along sometimes i KNOW all the brothers have shat on kara I KNOW THIS abuse takes many forms though and in a more serious anime the way the bros treat kara would probably be depicted as abusive, but it isnt a serious anime so its a gag and i understand that thats FINE, did you even watch the ichimatsu incident? ichimatsu got plenty fucking pissed off at karamatsu and stuff and the “number one karamatsu boy” nonsense was him being concerned about how karamatsu might think of him as such not him calling himself a karamatsu boy, and yes i know the whole ichi wants to be cool and confident like kara thing i understand that but even so that wouldnt logically excuse his bitterness toward kara but again, its a gag anime so its whatever, youre also ignoring the facet of his disdain towards kara being in part because kara is also vain and ichi finds this annoying and thinks kara is fake as hell because of it there was something in i think a magazine where the bros are all asked what they think of eachother i think and i THINK ichi said something along the lines of him not liking kara because he fakes being nice for the sake of his own ego or something (which is likely ichi just having a negative image of kara rather than that actually being the case because i dont think karas that smart but who knows i dont!!) so like y’know

In conclusion, I would like to say you need to shut the fuck up and chill with your fandoms and headcanons, realize headcanons aren’t canon, and also get your head out of your ass. You’ve done so many wrong things and need to stop blaming them on others. You’ve lied, insulted, and put the blame on so many of your old friends, you’ve avoided people who you deem “toxic” (simply because they have different opinions than you), you think people can’t form their own opinions, and you don’t back up your friends when they’re getting shittalked. You act like an assoholic brat and cannot, for the life of you, open up your eyes and see this. You’re lucky the dicktwats on your server are there for you, because if they weren’t, you’d be all alone, and honestly? That seems pretty good at this point. Fits you perfectly.

i know headcanons arent canon, i know ive lied (though ive really only insulted people who were dicks to my friends and maybe blu which probably not a good thing but i mean hes also insulted me so?? even i guess??) and i regret that, im more honest now and try my best to show kindness to people who have done me and my friends no wrong, ive only ever put blame on blu i literally dont blame anyone else for anything, i dont avoid people i deem “toxic” i avoid people i dont get along with because if i dont get along with them then theres no reason to talk to them im gonna let them live their lives, of course i think people can form their own opinions what on earth are you talking about???? when did i not back up a friend when they got shit talked?? i dont remember that but id like to deeply apologize if i ever did, unless youre talking about when someone in my server insults blu over ykno… him not leaving me alone and harassing me when ive done nothing but mind my own business since the incident, then while it was kind of uncomfortable for me because i felt it was the wrong thing to do i couldnt exactly muster the words to protest it. im very sorry you feel that way im always trying to improve and i like to think that im making some level of progress in being more sensitive and kind to those around me. but also dont insult my friends they didnt do shit weve been minding our own goddamn business this entire time blu is the one who started it back up again.

Now, go back to crying in your server and soaking in self-deprication, fuckass.

yknow i get the feeling i know who this is but i dont want to jump to any conclusions so, uh, okay! see ya my dude :0c

[lesmotsincompris]

Thoughts on GoT S07E04

We’ve hit the halfway mark!

Do you know that feeling when someone tells you a joke and you know it’s supposed to be funny and you know what about is meant to make you laugh, but it just doesn’t work for you and you don’t laugh at all? That’s how I feel about GoT’s big moments, about it’s ‘epicness’ and ‘badassery’.

In this episode, most of the scenes were either “of all the possible book points, are they gonna bring THAT and THIS WAY?” or “why is this scene happening?”. I was surprisingly indifferent too, considering the butchery of long-time favorite characters.

But more under the cut.

Winterhell

Look, I love the Starks. I know it’s cliche, but Jon, Arya, and Sansa are my three favorite characters in all of A Song of Ice and Fire. That’s no small feat. I love all the Starks, and the direwolves, and the people of Winterfell, and the little bits we learn of Northern culture and memory.

So you can imagine I’m angry at the show.

It’s been a while since the Stark siblings stopped being the same characters as their book counterparts, but at this point they’re not even interesting characters in their own right. D&D simply don’t care say about the Starks or what they represent, though I can imagine they love these foul show creations they put in their place.

Out of all possible book points, they decided to bring back Bran’s assassination attempt. In the books, Joffrey was responsible for it, but I feel in the show they’re gonna pin the whole thing on Littlefinger. How? He wasn’t even in Winterfell, he wasn’t even aware that Bran was comatose.

“That very question is what started the War of The Five Kings,” says Littlefinger. That means “I know we’re bringing this back far too late, so here’s some backsposition for you to remember what we’re talking about.” I see what they want with this: they want to blame Littlefinger for the WOT5K so that we feel a lot of Dramatic Satisfaction™ when Arya enacts her revengey revengeful revenge on him.

Other than that, Littlefinger is there mostly to lust after Sansa, because that’s not creepy at all. There’s no reason he has to follow her around and I can’t see why she doesn’t give him something else to do. 

Oh, and they brought back the ‘chaos is the ladder’ speech, because D&D are onanists.

I have this pet theory that Isaac Hempstead-Wright accidentally did something to piss off D&D, because they butchered his character years ago and now are even preventing him from acting. “You died in that cave” is a retcon, because if I recall correctly Bran wasn’t acting like a robot last season.

Now that a wheelchair replaced 90% of Meera’s role in the story, she can quietly melisandre away. Aren’t D&D classy and subtle in how they get rid of characters they no longer want to write?

The guards of Winterfell are mean to Arya, because people in Westeros are mean to everyone in every possible occasion. Why was this scene here? Only so that we could see what a great ninja Arya has become, after being beaten with a stick for two seasons?

I like the concept of Arya and Sansa meeting in the crypts, but once again we only have one Stark sibling acting per scene.

“I wish I had” “Me too”. FUCK YOU, SHOW. FUCK YOU, D&D. I CURSE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN. I CURSE EVERY IRRESPONSIBLE FRIEND, TEACHER, OR TV CRITIC THAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD PUT TWO WORDS TOGETHER SUCCESSFULLY. I CURSE THAT HEINOUS FUCKERY YOU CALL A WRITING. I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FLAMING MOUNTAIN OF POOP.

Stark sisters bonding over murder. Great. You know, the pattern of gleeful murder in this show is deeply disturbing. All female characters actively enjoy murdering: Arya, Sansa, Ellaria, Cersei, Daenerys, Brienne, Yara... The same doesn’t happen with male characters, and even the likes of Sandor or Bronn don’t get high on carnage. The only male characters who truly enjoy a good butchery are villains like Ramsay, Euron, or the Mountain. I’ll just leave this information here for you to think about it.

Overall their meeting looked very stiff; I know Sansa and Arya weren’t the best of friends, but there’s something rigid in their acting and dialogue that made the moment bland for me. And we already know it doesn’t take much for me to appreciate a Stark meeting.

There’s a difference between exploring the consequences of Sansa’s rape and inserting little nods to it that mean nothing but “hey, remember that time we made everyone angry by raping Sansa Stark?”. I see a lot of the latter, not much of the former.

A few weeks ago conspiracy theorists were going crazy over Sansa’s hair being styled like Cersei’s. Where are they now that Sansa is using Daenerys’ weird-braid-circle style in her hair? Can we just stop with the crack theories?

Brienne admits she did next to nothing to reunite the Stark siblings. Poor book!Brienne, the one true knight of Westeros, your kindness and hope had no chance and no choice in D&D’s grimfest. At least show!Brienne was nice to Pod for the first time in ages. Character development!

That didn’t last long, though, and in her next scene she shoved him aside because she found a more important character to fight. Fighting is all Brienne does in the show. 

This fighting scene with Arya was as lazy as it was fanservice-y. Brienne defeated the Hound, but now Arya’s smirking at her and displaying her ninja skills. Does that mean Arya could defeat the Hound? Please, D&D, don’t answer that.

What was the point of this scene? What did it accomplish other than pure fanservice? Why were we seeing Sansa and fuckin’ Littlefinger’s reactions to this?

Every little bit of Winterfell was a mess. Fuck the show.

Dragonstone

Jon took Dany to the Westerosi equivalent of Lascaux, carved in ancient times when people only had enough blue ink for the White Walkers’ eyes and nothing more.

It would be really lazy if some carvings in a cave were all it took to convince Dany of the White Walker threat, so I’m glad they didn’t follow that route. But then I must ask: why was this scene here? Did it tell us anything new?

Again Dany comes across as this entitled brat that makes it all about her, her, her. I genuinely cackled when she said “I will fight for you, I will fight for the North… when you bend the knee”. She tells Jon to stop being so proud, but all this knee talk makes her look self-centered. Again we get a reasonable man and an unreasonable woman. I’m not angry at Dany, I’m angry at the two idiots that write her.

Good thing that Dany blamed Tyrion for the loss of her armies, but I wish the narrative could recognize that his plan was stupid even before Cersei used a cheat code. 

Dany asks Jon for advice, because when a woman loses the man that tells her what to do she must find another man to tell her what to do. It doesn’t matter that she barely knows him, gods forbid Dany thinking on her own. But hey, show!Jon is just as incompetent as show!Dany or show!Tyrion, so maybe they can be incompetent together.

Davos became a character that makes boob jokes, stans Jon, and flirts with Missandei. That’s the extension of his arc or inner conflicts. Oh poor Davos.

Alfie Allen is too good for this.

King’s Landing

THE GOLDEN COMPANY, OH MY FUCKING LORD. Out of all possible book points… Also filed under: cutting Aegon is hurting the story in more ways than expected.

Somewhere over the Reach

That part reminded me a lot of Skyrim, from the gold ingots to the way the dragons were animated. During the battle I couldn’t help but imagine the Dovahkiin theme song playing.

I forgot that show!Bronn was a thing. Lucky me.

Out of all possible reasons to turn Jaime against Cersei, why is fuckin’ Olenna Tyrell one of them? Jaime seems more affected by Olenna’s words than by Cersei blowing up the sept.

Come on, show, Jaime killed the king he swore to protect because the guy threatened to do what Cersei did last season. The septsplosion should have been Jaime’s worst nightmare coming true, the perfect reason to finally break up with his sister-lover. If that’s not enough to at least give him conflicted feelings, nothing should ever be enough to separate Jaime and Cersei. Ever. They’re the skeletons in Lost now, together until the end.

Forget conflict, we have a few armies to teleport. 

A few episodes ago I assumed the Dothraki went to Casterly Rock with the Unsullied, but they didn’t. But what were they supposed to be doing, then? Dany didn’t plan to attack the Lannister army until very recently, what were her original plans for the Dothraki? Just hanging out in Dragonstone?

Is it me or even the Dothraki ‘battle cry’ sounds racist?

The battle scene was too orange, but at least I could actually see things. The CGI of Dany in Drogon’s back was beyond terrible, but Drogon itself looked good. It better look good, four direwolves had to die for that. 

That was it for the scorpion? I mean, nobody actually thought it would kill a dragon, but this was beyond anticlimactic. Why bother inserting this at all?

Tyrion has inner life? What show am I watching? Peter Dinklage does a great job conveying Tyrion’s feelings at the sight of the Lannister army being decimated. Too bad he doesn’t look nearly as affected when his queen Dany falls out of her dragon.

Seriously, what were the stakes for this battle? Did anyone thought Dany, Tyrion, or even Jaime could die? In the best case scenario, D&D would be burning their budget (literally) to cause Bronn or Dickon Tarly’s death.

Hey, don’t look at me like that; Dickon Tarly has more personality than most of the cast at this point.

Extra notes

Can I admit that I nearly hissed at D&D’s names when I saw them in the opening credits?

See you next week for the later half of this mess.

[hekate1308]

As You Are

Drowley once more, I am afraid. More Destiel will be coming, though. AU, mafia boss!Crowley, married Drowley. Enjoy!

His husband would never forgive him for getting blood on the carpet. It was Dean who had insisted on the thing (Crowley had from the first thought it was hideous) and now he’d dropped a body on it.

It was the fool’s own damn fault. He should have known there’d be a knife coming. How dared he break in and try to kill him as if he was a run-of-the-mill minion anyway?

There was a reason they’d called him the King of Hell, once.

Still, things between him and Dean hadn’t been going well lately, and now the carpet...

It didn’t matter anyway, he realized suddenly.

He would have to leave. He’d never force Dean to vanish and never see his family again, so that meant...

Dean would probably be happy to watch him go. It seemed like all they’d done during the last few months was fight, and over the most trivial things, too.

“For God’s sake, it’s a couch, just pick one!”

“I would like to be comfortable in my own home – “

“How am I supposed to know what you “like” since you never tell me a thing – “

Maybe they had been doomed from the start. There were just some things he’d never been able to share with Dean, things that had slowly come between them, things that, if he’d known them, would have led to him running away at top speed, and...

Crowley should have known better.

His only excuse was that Dean had looked as gorgeous on the morning he met as he always did, and that he’d known from the first minute that he wanted him.

He sighed as he sat down on the couch.

He was getting too old for carrying bodies around on his own, but this time it couldn’t be helped. And in the morning, he’d tell his husband he wanted a divorce.

He wearily eyed their wedding picture on the wall. Five maddening, insane, wonderful years, the best years of his life, and it was all over.

He really was getting old. He’d fallen asleep right there, on the couch he’d picked out just last week, and woke up to Dean asking in a pointed manner, “Crowley, why is there a corpse in our living room and why is there a knife in its back?”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he replied, “Sorry about the carpet.”

“Sorry about – oh God, it really was you”. Dean was looking at the body.

“But why in the back, you can’t tell me – “

All in all, Crowley was rather impressed with his husband’s calmness at the situation. He’d waited for hot, boiling rage. Or maybe fear.

“I had to kill him before he harmed you”.

“Had to... Crowley, we call the police if there’s an intruder in the house. This is what they are for.”

“Not when you happen to be me, darling”.

“Don’t call me that” Dean snapped; for some reason, he’d always hated that particular pet name.

“I’m calling 911. Someone will have to clean up here – “

“Dean, you can’t” he said hastily, getting up.

“Don’t be an idiot, I have to. I’ll call Sam too, it was self defence of course, but why did it have to be in the back – “

“It was dark and I had to throw it”.

“It was... of course you did”. Crowley ripped his phone out of his hands.

“Give that back!”

“I won’t. Sit down so I can explain”.

Dean made an annoyed sound but did sit down.

“Alright. You got five minutes before I – “

“Dean, my real name was never Crowley Sheppard”.

Like ripping off a band-aid, he told himself. He’d always been against useless pain.

Useful pain, to gather information for example, was something else entirely, but that was a subject for another day.

“What?” Dean blinked.

“My name wasn’t Crowley Sheppard. It was Fergus MacLeod”.

“Why would you give me a false name? And why tell me now?”

He wasn’t even angry; that’s how little he already meant to the man he’d married.

Apparently he’d never heard of him, but that didn’t surprise him. People paid little attention to details when it came to news about criminals, unless they happened to be very notorious, and he’d always been content to keep himself in the background.

“From the Hell cartel”.

The media had been responsible for that nickname, and it was more than reasonable to assume Dean had heard about it at some point.

Since a few years had passed, he needed a moment to place the name.

His eyes widened and he moved away from him on the couch.

That was it then, the moment he finally lost him.

He reminded himself it had been coming for some time.

“Wasn’t MacLeod... are you telling me you were a freaking mob boss!?”

“That is exactly what I am telling you”.

“Are you kidding me?”

Dean sprang up and started to pace up and down, pointedly ignoring the body.

“I married – wait why the assumed name? And why did you go after me in the first place? Suburbia isn’t exactly what gangsters usually go for... oh God it was all a cover, wasn’t it. Every single minute. You were playing me...”

“No” he interrupted him. “I wasn’t. I assure you, I wanted to marry you”.

“But... why?”

“What do you know about the Hell cartel?”

“I... didn’t the feds get them all a few years ago?”

“You’re looking at the chief witness against them. As well as several other high-profile criminals”.  

“But... wasn’t it your cartel to begin with”.

“Yes. And then...”

Crowley took a deep breath.

“I told you about Gavin”.

Dean nodded.

“You said you never wanted to talk about him again. I know you still miss him, though”.

He smiled at him somehow weakly. The years had dampened the feeling of loss slightly, but the guilt was as strong as ever.

“We didn’t really get along for years. He spent most of the time with his mother, and I... I didn’t feel comfortable as a father”.

“I suppose you had enough to do”.

Dean was actually joking. There was hope then, of at least parting ways amiably.

“But... things got better. Eventually. He and his girlfriend were on his way to visit me when they had the car accident”.

He’d told Dean as much. Then he’d demanded they never mention it again because he hadn’t wanted to repeat half-truths again and again.

“It turned out someone had cut the breaks of their car. The...” He swallowed.

On to something else he’d never confessed to Dean.

“The autopsy revealed Fiona was pregnant. I think that’s why they wanted to see me... They wanted to tell me in person.”

“Oh Crowley”.

Dean sat down next to him and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“I’m so sorry”.

He nodded, acknowledging the comfort he’d never been able to ask for before.

“I decided to investigate myself... it was members of my own cartel”.

“Back stabbing sons of bitches” Dean said, earning a smile.

“I decided I was done with it all.”

“So you went into witness protection?”

He chuckled.

“It took a while for the FBI to believe I was being sincere”.

“Can’t imagine why. And this guy...”

Dean gestured towards the corpse without looking in its direction. He was still holding Crowley’s hand, and he cherished the contact. It was the last time after all.

“The FBI have always been grossly incompetent. A few managed to escape... No one high up in the organization, but still.”

“I see. So he came for revenge”.

“I didn’t leave him the time to explain himself”.

Dean nodded.

“So what now? We call your... handler or whatever in the FBI?”

He nodded.

“I suppose I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours”.

“What do you mean?”

Dean withdrew his hand abruptly.

“They’ll hardly leave me here, and I know you’d never move away from your family. I won’t expect you to follow me. They’ll probably fake my death like they did before...”

Only he’d had no one left behind but his mother at the time, and she’d most likely been glad he was gone.

“So... that’s it? Five years, three of them married, and you’re just going to leave me here?”

He shouldn’t have, but he enjoyed the hurt in Dean’s voice. Even after all their fights, he was still angry at him for going away. He was still that important to him, at least.

“I told you...”

“Okay, you said that would happen if you called the FBI. So what if you don’t?”

“Dean, there’s a body on the floor”.

“I know and you’re paying for the new carpet, mister, but that’s not the point.”

Dean looked down at the body again, this time seizing it up.

“We need shovels and flowers”.

“Flowers?”

“We do have a garden, don’t we?”

Crowley’s eyes widened.

“Are you suggesting...”

“We burry this thing and forget about it, yeah. Does he have any friends likely to look for him?”

He shook his head.

“Even if he told someone where he was going, they’ll guess what happened and keep their mouths shut”.

“Well then”.

This was a side of his husband Crowley had never seen before, and he was enjoying it immensely. And yet...

“Dean, what do you think you are doing?”

“Keeping my husband” he replied simply, stepping up to him.

God, it had been too long since he saw that gleam in his eyes.

“Are you propositioning me over a dead body?”

“We’re not standing over it exactly. Don’t act so high and mighty, you were the mob boss here”.

“I’m just surprised”.

Dean grinned and gave him a shove. He landed on the couch, Dean towering over him.

“What can I say? There is something sexy about a man being ready to kill for you”.

He pulled him down and kissed him.

They made love right there as they hadn’t in too long, desperately, passionately.

Three weeks later

Sam and Sarah arrived at Dean’s and Crowley’s barbecue a little late, but there was nothing Dean couldn’t forgive if it meant seeing his nephew.

“Hey mini-me”.

“Should have known there would be repercussions for naming him Dean” Sam muttered, but he was smiling.

His smile only grew bigger when Crowley stepped up to Dean to greet them, his hand resting at the small of his husband’s back, and he actually relaxed into the touch.

Things were looking up.

He and Sarah had been worried about Dean’s marriage for a while now. They just didn’t seem to have anything to say about each other, and if he’d had to hear about Dean’s “blue balls” one more time...

That was a thing of the past too, if Dean’s posture was anything to go by. He remembered it well from their teenage years.

Crowley and Sarah were talking about Dean Jr. while he was working on the grill; Sam came to talk to him after Benny had moved away.

“Things seem to be going well” he said carefully.

Dean grinned.

“Yeah. We were in a bad spot for a while, but we talked it all through – no more secrets.”

Sam snorted.

“I bet a business man has a lot of those”.

For some reason, Dean chuckled.

“I’d tell ya, but I’d have to kill ya”.

After a moment he added, “We’ve been talking about kids. Nothing specific yet, but – you know”.

“Dean, that’s awesome!”

Dean had always wanted kids. Crowley hadn’t seemed to be interested until now. Maybe he’d needed some more time to get over his son’s death? Sam could easily imagine that.

His eyes wandered to the new addition in the garden.

“That’s a good place for a flower bed.”

Dean grinned.

“Yeah, thought I’d try something new. Charlie had a freak-out about it earlier, you can go fangirl with her”.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but it looks pretty nice”.

“We did it together. Sort of bonding experience, you know...”

He caught his husband’s eyes and smiled.

[alwayskaysanova]

If We Go Down Then We Go Down Together

Fandom: Merlin Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Rating: M Word Count: 6,207 Summary: “Arthur is tasked by Uther with bringing down the most active group of sorcerer's Camelot has seen in decades. He's been trying to expose them for the past year and so far has only made a handful of arrests and followed even less good leads. His team, nicknamed The Knights, are the best officers in the business but with Arthur making little progress they're in danger of losing everything. And don't even get him started on what's going on between him and Merlin.“ {ao3} {ff.net}

Arthur threw the file down on the desk and growled with frustration. He'd spent the last two weeks following up on what he'd thought was a promising lead only to find out that the whole thing had been a jealous attempt at payback as a result of a lover's quarrel. He was going to have to remind Gwaine what taking a thorough statement actually meant.

He threw himself back into his chair, one hand rising to his head in an attempt to soothe the blinding headache he could feel coming on and the other clenching into a fist on the desk as he fought not to slam it against a wall. Again.

His father had assigned him to the department just over a year ago. It was supposed to have been a minor investigation, a quick case to prove he was capable of following in his father's footsteps. There had been reports of an organization hell bent on building a rebellion, destroying everything Camelot stood for and bringing back magic to a country where it had been outlawed for the entirety of Arthur's life.

The investigation had turned out to be a lot more serious than both himself and Uther had originally thought. Dead ends, secret meetings, misinformation, no eye witnesses and not even a whisper of a members name had almost driven Arthur mad. They only had one word that kept cropping up but they didn't know whether it was a codename, an actual name or even an object. Emrys. That was it. The lack of solid evidence in the presence of such overwhelming hints at sinister activity was what worried him the most.

It was like chasing a ghost.

He kept telling himself that someone was bound to slip up, make just one mistake, and he'd finally be able to bring them down but so far absolutely nothing. His father was getting more paranoid by the hour.

There was a knock on his office door and Arthur raised his head and glared at it. He tried to school his features into a mask of indifference but he knew the anger he was feeling at his continued failure couldn't be smoothed over.

"Come in." Arthur yelled, wincing as the volume of his voice reverberated harshly inside his head.

Gwen opened the door, smiling wearily, another dozen files tucked against her chest.

"The files you asked for," she nodded at her hands as she held them out towards him, "there's a few new details that Lancelot managed to dig up but nothing significant. Leon and Elyan think they might have a lead on Emrys, but they don't know whether it's a witness or a member so they'll debrief when they know more. Percy is heading back out to check on that woman's lead from last week, take some more statements, fact check, the usual, and Gwaine wanted me to tell you that he's getting the drinks when we all go out this weekend." Gwen rolled her eyes as Arthur snorted.

"I guess that's as close to an apology as I'm going to get from him."

"It's Gwaine." Gwen offered, as if that explained everything.

"He should know how to do his job properly." Arthur argued.

"He's not the only one who believed the information." Gwen reminded gently.

"His lead, his responsibility."

Gwen grimaced but dropped the argument. "Everyone needs a break. We're all under a lot of pressure, especially you. Mistakes are bound to happen."

"We can't afford to make those mistakes and we definitely can't afford to take time off. If Gwaine can't handle it then he should leave."

Arthur met Gwen's eyes harshly. He knew he was being hard on her, hard on them all, and somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized that he was substituting Gwaine for words he'd been telling himself for the last 6 months but he couldn't afford any weakness. Not from his team and not from himself.

Gwen nodded, shooting him a strained smile and walking towards the door. She reached back to close the door behind her, looking at him once more. "Morgana offered her services again, I think you should consider it." She shut the door before waiting for his reply.

Arthur slumped forward onto his desk, pushing away the new files and hating everything about his life.

He doubted Morgana's private investigating skills would be able to help considering her normal clientele were nothing more than cheating spouses and suspicious partners but he was forced to admit that his options were looking less and less promising by the minute.

He'd already said no almost weekly since he'd first started and it was getting harder and harder to keep saying it the longer the case dragged on. She was going to be unbearable if he gave in but his pride meant nothing if she could actually help.

Arthur resigned himself to the end of another unproductive day and set about organizing his desk. After fifteen minutes he gave up, shoved a few files in his briefcase and headed out of his office.

He nodded to Leon and Gwen as he passed through on his way to the exit. Gwaine was no doubt in one of the training rooms, a convenient reason for avoiding him, not that Arthur had the energy for a confrontation anyway.

His eyes flickered to the clock in his car as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking garage. It was almost 8pm, the earliest he'd left the office for at least a month. It took him less time than usual to get home and Arthur briefly entertained the idea that his luck was finally looking up. That idea went to hell as soon as he opened the door to his flat.

He often wondered why he'd allowed Merlin to move in with him. Their friendship had gotten off to the worst start possible when Merlin had somehow managed to dump an entire pot of, thankfully cold, coffee all over him the first day they'd met.

Admittedly, it had obviously been an accident but Arthur hadn't been having a great day considering he'd already been two months into the investigation with exactly zero to show for it when Merlin had decided Arthur obviously needed some kind of wake up call.

It probably hadn't helped that Arthur, instead of acknowledging Merlin's stumbling apology, had launched into a tirade about incompetent tossers. It had taken Merlin all but two seconds to start a blistering attack on over-privileged stuck up arseholes and from there it had escalated into both of them getting lifetime bans from Starbucks. Arthur still blamed Merlin entirely.

The radio blasted out a song that sounded like a dying seagull being slowly plucked to death as Merlin danced badly in the kitchen and cooked what smelled like a car tyre.

Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust, unsure whether the sight or the smell was worse on this occasion. He decided it was a tie. He also decided he absolutely did not find any of it adorable.

Merlin made what was probably supposed to be a spin but more accurately depicted a sort of aborted flail which evidently brought Arthur into his line of sight because Merlin made the most ridiculous half scream and threw himself backwards into one of the cupboards.

"You prat!" Merlin shouted, rubbing his hip and scowling at Arthur. "I told you not to sneak up on me anymore!"

"I didn't sneak up on you! It's not my fault you can't hear anything over that damn racket," he gestured towards the radio in annoyance, 'Though it's a wonder you can miss hearing anything considering your ears." It was an old insult but it never failed to piss Merlin off.

"You're not usually back until 11, asshole." Merlin grumbled, turning around to check on whatever monstrosity he'd cooked. He turned off the gas before whining and dumping the contents of the pan in the bin. "You made me ruin dinner!"

"It was ruined before I got here!" Arthur scoffed, dropping his briefcase on the couch and heading towards his bedroom to change, ignoring the look of indignance on Merlin's face.

"You're going to have to pay for a takeaway now!" Merlin shouted at his retreating back.

"Like hell I am!" Arthur yelled, fighting the grin that was starting to take over his face. Somehow arguing with Merlin never failed to shake him out of a bad mood.

He heard Merlin laugh, no doubt already leafing through the various takeaway menus stuffed in one of their kitchen drawers.

Arthur changed into a pair of sweat pants and exchanged his tight fitting shirt for a baggy t-shirt with 'Sarcasm Loading' emblazoned on the front. He didn't know how Merlin's clothes kept finding their way into his wardrobe but at the moment he couldn't be bothered to correct it.

He walked back towards the kitchen, heading towards the fridge and pulling out two beers.

Merlin was laid across their sofa, flicking through TV channels and humming to himself.

"Move or be moved." Arthur said, looking down at him.

Merlin huffed but sat up, moving to one side of the sofa and rolling his eyes.

Arthur passed him one of the beers then sat down, sinking into the sofa in barely restrained relief. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down and actually attempted to relax.

"Pizza's on its way."

"Did you…"

"Yes."

"With…"

"Obviously."

"And…"

"No, I didn't forget the mile long list of minute topping variations you somehow think amounts to an actual pizza." Merlin smiled, fond exasperation leaking into his tone.

Arthur shoved him. "Idiot."

"Clotpole."

"Still not a word." Arthur reminded him, raising his beer to his lips and tilting his head back.

"Still not a pizza." Merlin retorted.

Arthur chuckled and Merlin grinned back, eyes flicking down to the words on his t-shirt.

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

"You need to pay more attention to where you put your stuff."

"If you did your own washing instead of expecting a servant to do it for you this wouldn't happen."

"If you were a competent servant you wouldn't make this type of mistake." Arthur countered.

"I'm not your servant."

"I know, you're too incompetent." Arthur grinned.

"I can't believe I live with you."

"Oh, please, you love me."

"I love your apartment," Merlin corrected, "you're like the one blemish on an otherwise perfect creation."

"Liar."

Arthur snatched the remote from Merlin's hand, holding it out of reach as Merlin dived forward to get it back.

"You picked the food, I'm picking the movie."

"You picked last time!" Merlin whined, but sat back anyway, already deciding to admit defeat.

"That's because I'm better at picking obviously." Arthur almost, almost, stuck his tongue out. His urge to become a petulant five year old was always tested when he was around Merlin.

Merlin grumbled under his breath and Arthur took that as an agreement.

Arthur eventually settled on Dragonheart, beaming in triumph as he turned towards Merlin.

"Shut up." Merlin said.

Arthur tossed the remote onto the coffee table and settled back into the sofa.

He might tease and snipe at Merlin daily but he had to admit that he was the only bright spot in his days at the moment. He dreaded to think how much worse he'd have been if Merlin wasn't there at the end of everyday, even if only for a few minutes. It was like a release and Arthur almost recoiled at the idea of giving it up.

They hadn't had time to sit around together lately and it was nice to get back to the familiarity of their nights in.

The last few times had been different though. There was an undercurrent of something Arthur had been trying to decipher.

Looks that were held for a few seconds longer, laughs that felt deeper, touches that he swore lingered.

Arthur didn't know whether the stress of the case was making him see things that weren't there or whether their friendship was beginning to progress into something else.

He sometimes felt like doing something about it but the fear of being wrong held him back. He couldn't stand that type of failure nor could he risk losing Merlin if he was imagining things.

It's not like he didn't understand that his feelings for his best friend sometimes stepped over into territory that suggested more. Arthur knew he felt more than just friendship but with everything going on he couldn't risk ruining the one thing that was still working.

He tried to focus on the movie, smiling as the characters went through the motions of sword fighting. He sometimes felt that he was born in the wrong time. He should have been a Knight or maybe a King.

His headache was starting to flare up again and he rubbed uselessly at his temples, closing his eyes against the light.

He was considering getting up to hunt down some aspirin when he felt a tug on his arm.

"Come on." Merlin said, grabbing a cushion from behind him and propping it up against the armrest.

"What?" Arthur replied, confused.

"You'll be a right grump if that headache hits and I'd rather not put up with you when you're in a mood." He patted the cushion and jerked his head as if Arthur should know what any of that meant.

"What?" Arthur repeated, not understanding in the slightest.

Merlin sighed like Arthur was the most oblivious idiot on the planet and he had no idea why he bothered trying to communicate with him.

"I'm offering you a head massage, you prat."

"Why?"

"Because you need one and I happen to be very good at them."

"I doubt that."

"Then I'll get to enjoy proving you wrong." Merlin said, pulling on Arthur's arm again, more forcefully this time.

Arthur allowed Merlin to manoeuvre him onto the pillow, belatedly realizing that he was now effectively laid in Merlin's lap. Arthur had a moment of panicked awkwardness in which he had no idea where to put the rest of his limbs before mentally shouting at himself to get a grip and allowing Merlin to position him.

Arthur shuffled a bit then glanced up a Merlin.

Merlin's ears had pinked and there was a slight blush to his cheeks but he looked back, determined.

Arthur didn't know where to look so he settled for closing his eyes and waiting.

The anticipation was an unusual mix of worry and excitement, before Merlin finally pressed the tips of his fingers to Arthur's temples.

It was strange at first, like they were both holding their breaths, on the edge of something. Then Merlin started humming softly and Arthur began to relax.

Arthur grudgingly admitted to himself that Merlin was actually rather good. The soft circles he was drawing into his skin instantly began to ease the build-up of stressed pressure. He felt a slight tingling sensation but decided that was probably the beer. Arthur hadn't had any alcohol for a while having refused invitations to their friends weekly night out for the last few weeks.

Soon Merlin's fingers began to move towards the centre of his forehead, keeping up the same circular movement that had Arthur ready to start drifting off to sleep. He was on the cusp of it when something started to feel different.

Merlin's hands began tugging softly through Arthur's hair, stroking down the sides of his head, his wrist occasionally brushing Arthur's jaw.

Arthur felt his breathing pick up slightly and the nervous thud of his heart began to beat faster.

What at first had felt soothing now felt almost teasing, playful, enticing.

It was ridiculous, but Arthur was sure he wasn't imaging it.

Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin looking down at him, smiling warmly.

"Better?" Merlin asked.

Arthur's mouth felt dry and he had to clear his throat to reply, "Yes."

"Told you." Merlin laughed, smug.

"Shut up." Arthur said, bringing up one of his hands with the intent to shove Merlin's away. He closed his hand around one of Merlin's wrists, stilling him, but he couldn't find the will to actually push it away.

They locked eyes, emotions Arthur couldn't name flashing rapidly across Merlin's face.

"Arthur?" It felt like Merlin had just asked the most important question of his life.

"Merlin." Arthur answered, boldly, hoping it was answer enough. He wasn't sure what made him suddenly feel certain but he was resolved to meet every challenge Merlin laid out.

Merlin scanned Arthur's face, looking for something Arthur didn't know how to let him find, before he nodded, lips quirking in amusement.

Merlin tilted his chin down, bringing his face closer to Arthur's and slowly closing the distance between them.

Arthur pushed up slightly, letting Merlin come to him but making clear he was ready for whatever Merlin did next.

Their lips were temptingly close to each other's when Arthur's earlier assessment of his luck being on a considerable downward spiral proved completely accurate.

The doorbell rang and Merlin jerked back at the same time Arthur threw himself up into a sitting position. Arthur's head dropped forwards into his knees as he felt Merlin sigh and stand up to get the door.

Arthur couldn't hear anything for a few seconds over the wild beat of his heart and the frantic thoughts of 'what the fuck just happened?!' wizzing through his head.

He dimly registered the front door shut and shook his head, preparing to put the last half hour behind him.

He heard the padding of Merlin's feet walk back towards the sofa and swung his legs down to turn back towards the TV.

Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the screen, registering Merlin placing the food on the coffee table in his peripheral but not turning to acknowledge it. He needed a few more seconds to compose himself.

He felt Merlin sit down next to him before a tug once more on his arm sent him spinning towards him. He didn't even have time to look up properly before Merlin's hands roughly grabbed his face and Merlin's lips crashed against his own.

Arthur's body caught up long before his mind did and immediately responded to the urgency of Merlin's touches.

It was frantic, wild. A push and pull but such a glorious give and take that Arthur worried for a second that his heart would fly right out of his chest in an effort to get closer to Merlin's.

It felt like hours but their kisses gradually shortened and slowed until it was just a casual brush, a small nip, a shared breath between them.

The kisses ended by some unspoken agreement and their foreheads came to rest against each others, Merlin's hands still grasping Arthur's face and Arthur's clutched achingly against Merlin's shirt.

Arthur's eyes were closed and his breathing harsh as he fought for some semblance of control. His proximity to Merlin was wrecking havoc on his ability to think clearly but he couldn't bear to put even an inch more distance between them.

He felt Merlin's thumbs rub gently against his cheeks and pulled back to look at him.

Merlin had his eyes open and his smile immediately ruined any ounce of control Arthur thought he'd built. It was dazzling, infectious, so perfect that Arthur felt his own grin stretch ridiculously in response.

"Are you hungry?" Merlin asked, still smiling and looking like he'd just won something.

"Not for pizza." Arthur's response came before he even had time to think.

Merlin laughed loudly, head thrown back drawing Arthur's gaze to his throat before he brought his face forward once more, his hands gliding down to loosen and wrap around Arthur's.

"Good answer." Merlin pulled Arthur up with him and made towards his bedroom, Arthur following in a happy daze.

As soon as they were in the room Merlin spun back towards him and captured his lips once again.

It was messy this time, more urgent, almost like Merlin was trying to pull Arthur into him.

Arthur was content to let Merlin lead, his hands struggling to decide where to put themselves. He wanted to touch Merlin everywhere at once and his pants were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second.

Merlin's mouth moved from Arthurs lips to his jaw and then he began to bite and lick slowly down Arthur's neck causing him to tilt his head and allow Merlin more access.

Merlin's kisses were almost drugging and that same tingling sensation Arthur had experienced on the sofa was back, growing in intensity the longer they touched.

The pace had slowed once more but Arthur found himself impatient. It felt like he'd been waiting forever and even a few more seconds would be too long.

He pushed Merlin away, then immediately stepped forward again, his hands grabbing at Merlin's shirt and yanking it upwards. As soon as it was off Merlin did the same to Arthur's (Merlin's some part of Arthur's brain shouted) and then they were both kissing again, warm chests pressed against each other and hands wandering over as much skin as they could reach.

Merlin started pulling Arthur towards the bed and dropped back on to it as soon as his knees hit the frame. They parted and stared at each other, breaths loud and frantic.

Arthur hooked his fingers into the fabric at his hips quickly shoving his sweats and underwear to the floor and stepping out of them. Merlin just watched, eyes darting everywhere at once, eventually fixating on Arthur's cock, hard and leaking. Merlin let out a groan, his eyes blown wide.

Arthur walked the remaining step between them as Merlin shuffled backwards to make room, pushing down his own trousers and flinging them somewhere on to the floor.

They took a second to stare at each other once more, finally naked with nothing between them.

Arthur thought he should feel nervous or unsure but when his eyes met Merlin's there was nothing but acceptance and encouragement.

Then Arthur broke and closed the remaining distance, pushing himself onto Merlin until there wasn't an inch between them.

The friction felt fantastic as they rubbed against each other, kissing deeply, tongues sliding against each other like they'd done it a thousand times before.

Merlin's hand glided down between them and gripped Arthur's cock, stroking him firmly and causing Arthur to groan against Merlin's mouth.

Arthur wrenched his lips away from Merlin's and started to suck at his neck instead, biting then soothing away the sting as Merlin panted into his ear.

They rocked against each other and Arthur jerked gracelessly as Merlin stroked him faster.

Arthur knew he was mumbling nonsense but he couldn't think long enough to control his words.

He felt hot everywhere and the tingling was becoming almost unbearable yet the added intensity only increased his desire. He'd never felt so lost yet so anchored to another person.

He felt his orgasm rush through him and dimly realized that he'd been moaning Merlin's name as he did so before he collapsed forward, limbs trembling uselessly.

He felt Merlin's hand stroke through his hair and managed to raise his head enough to look at him. Merlin was panting and grinning and Arthur's muddled brain finally caught on to the fact that he had something very important to take care of.

Arthur grinned, reaching a hand up to cup the back of Merlin's head and pulling him in for another blinding kiss.

Arthur slowly began to work his way from Merlin's lips and down his chest, alternating between kisses and bites and thoroughly enjoying the sounds Merlin couldn't stop making.

He reached his hand down to grip Merlin, sliding his hand teasingly up and down his cock and squeezing the base as Merlin rocked into his hand and arched up in frustration.

Arthur chuckled and positioned his head between Merlin's thighs, his strokes getting faster and faster then slowing as he waited for Merlin to look down at him.

"If you don't keep going I'm going to kill you." Merlin gasped, hands fisting the sheets and hips thrusting upwards into Arthur's grip.

"Patience, Merlin."

"I've been patient since the day I met you, you ass."

Arthur blinked in surprise, "Really?"

"Unfortunately, I even find asshole you attractive. If we hadn't have gotten thrown out for that argument I'm reasonably sure we would have when I bent you over one of the tables." Merlin grinned, cheekily. His eyes were alight with taunting mirth.

"Fuck." Arthur was getting hard again just imagining it.

"I'd appreciate it if you would, yes."

"Merlin, do you have any idea how long I've wanted this? You've been driving me crazy."

"Then we're even. I haven't been able to think of anything other than you since we first met."

"Fuck." Arthur repeated, still half stunned.

"If you're going to keep repeating yourself, you may as well start putting that mouth of yours to better use. Sucking my -nghn," Merlin gasped and hissed, arching once more.

Arthur slowly sucked Merlin's cock, running his tongue along the underside of it as he pulled back then swirling the tip as he pushed back down.

Merlin moved one of his hands from the sheets and gripped Arthur's hair, pulling desperately but allowing Arthur to set the pace.

Arthur was beginning to realize that Merlin's fingers and their presence in his hair was quickly becoming a kink that was probably going to get him into trouble in the future.

He relaxed his throat and swallowed as best he could, letting Merlin thrust into his mouth, forcing himself to breathe through his nose to hold off his gag reflex.

It didn't take long for Merlin to still, tensing up and releasing a low groan as he spilled down Arthur's throat and sunk back into the mattress, trembling and gasping for breath.

Arthur tried to swallow as much as he could, allowing Merlin to ride out his orgasm before pulling away and kissing back up Merlin's body.

When he reached Merlin's mouth he surged forward, bringing him into a dirty kiss and savouring the moan Merlin couldn't help but let escape as he tasted himself on Arthur's tongue.

Arthur pulled back eventually and collapsed next to him. Both of them were still breathing shakily and Arthur wondered whether he'd ever actually manage to catch his breath again.

He rolled on to his side, tangling his legs with Merlin's and resting his head against his shoulder. He brought his hand up to rest over Merlin's heart and closed his eyes.

He felt Merlin turn slightly before a blanket was thrown over both of them.

He wanted to open his eyes again so he could talk about what had just happened and what it meant but the exhaustion from his lack of sleep and the pleasant buzz he was still experiencing pulled him under.

There was plenty of time to deal with the aftermath tomorrow.

***

Arthur woke up, pleasantly warm and loose limbed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up so relaxed.

He was still curled around Merlin who was asleep and breathing deeply.

Arthur took a moment to study him and allow his feelings to wash over himself full force. He'd spent so long ignoring what was between them, making excuses for why it wasn't there, that it felt freeing to finally admit that it was happening.

Arthur allowed himself another few minutes before he started to feel slightly weird about watching Merlin sleep, despite the fact it couldn't be helped when Merlin looked so captivating when he was this vulnerable.

He moved away slowly, careful not to wake Merlin up. He rolled out of bed, pulled on his sweat pants from the night before, forgoing his underwear and a shirt, and padded into the bathroom to use the toilet.

When he'd finished and cleaned himself up a bit he walked back through the bedroom, forcing himself not to linger too long on gazing at Merlin again, and walked into the kitchen intent on making them both breakfast in bed.

Arthur was fully aware that he was already way too invested as he cooked bacon and scrambled some eggs. Part of him knew that he was probably (completely) in love with Merlin and while that scared him he was also immensely relieved that he could finally do something about it and that it was at least, in part, reciprocated.

He wasn't looking forward to the awkward 'what are we' conversation but he knew the aftermath would be more than worth it and it felt like his life had finally started to fall a little more into place.

He'd just finished plating everything up when the phone on the kitchen counter went off, indicating a new text.

Arthur glanced over, realizing it was Merlin's phone and picked it up to take it with him into the bedroom.

He hadn't really meant to read it but looking down one word caught his eye.

He froze as his mind caught up and everything clicked.

His heart shattered about five seconds later.

He heard a shuffling from Merlin's bedroom but was unable to react even as he realized Merlin must have woken up.

Arthur watched as the bedroom door was yanked open and Merlin scrambled into the kitchen, his face breaking into relief as he saw Arthur.

"Oh, good. I thought for a minute that you'd snuck out and you were regretting what happened last night but then I smelled the bacon and I knew...," Merlin trailed off, finally picking up on Arthur's tense stance, "Arthur? Are you okay? What happened?" Merlin made towards him and Arthur couldn't help but flinch back.

Hurt flashed across Merlin's face but he kept his eyes on Arthur's.

"What's wrong? Arthur, you're scaring me." Merlin's hands flexed at his sides as if he wanted to reach out.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak but couldn't. He cleared his throat to start again but the only word he could manage to force past his lips was, "Emrys."

It was like a curtain had been ripped back. Merlin's entire demeanour changed, became harder, more cautious.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur heard the lie now he was ready for it. He'd always thought Merlin was the most open person he'd ever met. He'd been so sure Merlin couldn't lie. Now he knew to be looking for one he grimaced. Five minutes ago would have missed it. He wondered how many more he'd missed in his ignorance.

"Liar." Arthur almost hissed, pain lancing through him as he remembered the teasing way he'd said it last night.

Merlin flinched at the harshness in Arthur's tone but his eyes remained steady.

They stared at each other, barely breathing. Waiting. Arthur wanted to scream at how similar yet how completely opposite and wrong every word and look was matching the last twelve hours.

Merlin seemed to decide something, softening slightly and taking a step towards him, hands reaching out.

Arthur stepped back, glaring hard. "Don't you fucking dare."

"I can explain." Merlin raised his hands further, pleading.

"You're involved with them aren't you?" Arthur didn't even need to tell him who 'them' were. He'd moaned about his case countless times. A sharper pain pierced him. He'd been so stupid, so naive. Merlin had probably laughed over how easy it was to dupe him.

"It's not what you think. You have to trust me, Arthur."

"Trust you? How the fuck am I supposed to trust you when you've been lying to me since we met!" Arthur shouted, moving forward in his anger. "Oh, god," he whispered as he thought back to when they'd met, "it was all a set up, wasn't it? You were a plant. A spy."

Merlin opened his mouth, anger flashing through his eyes, before he slumped slightly, rocking back. "I was supposed to watch you. That's it. It wasn't to gather information or gain your trust or anything like that, I swear. I was just meant to watch. I wasn't even supposed to make contact, but you know me, I'm too clumsy." Merlin attempted lightness, his voice hopeful, urging Arthur to share the joke.

"I thought I knew you." Arthur bit out.

"You do know me! None of it was a lie, Arthur. We aren't a lie." Merlin argued.

"It was all a lie, there is no we!" Arthur exploded, "You're one of them! You want to kill my father! Kill me!"

"Of course I don't! That's not what any of this is about, that's not why I'm here!"

Arthur ignored him. "So what was the plan then? Get close to me, hold me hostage to lure out my father? Or were you just going to murder me and hope the grief finished him off too?"

"You're being ridiculous! Our only goal is to stop Uther from persecuting those with magic. We don't...I don't want him dead. You have to see that what he's doing is wrong! You've told me that sometimes you disagree with your father. I know that once you realize what's really going on you'll understand."

"So your plan was to manipulate me then! Make me switch sides. You'd have me turn against my own father." Arthur seethed.

"I'd have you see the truth!" Merlin yelled. "We're people. We're hunted and we're tortured and we're killed."

"We?" Arthur stumbled back, realization rushing through his body and making him dizzy. "You have magic?" As soon as Arthur said it he knew it to be true. It was obvious. Of course Merlin had magic.

"Yes." Merlin confessed, his face becoming more and more weary the longer Arthur stared.

"Is that why I feel the way I feel about you? Did you make me fall in...," Arthur swallowed, shaking his head, "Did you do this?" He gestured between them, embarrassment and shame swirling in his gut. He'd been so, so stupid. So blind.

"I can't make you feel anything you don't feel yourself. I would never use my magic on you, Arthur."

"How am I supposed to believe you?" Arthur could sense he was close to pleading. It was eating him up inside. He wanted so badly to just believe everything Merlin said, to go back to this morning and everything it had promised. But he couldn't be weak.

"I love you, Arthur. I'm so fucking in love with you. I would never hurt you and I will never hurt your father or our friends." Merlin said, eyes boring into Arthur's as if he could force the truth of his words to register. "But I also won't let you or your father or our friends hurt my people. I want to protect you all and the only way to do that is to stop Uther and bring magic back to Camelot." He finished, stepping closer and reaching towards him.

Arthur felt so tired, so beaten. He didn't know who or what to believe in anymore and he couldn't find the strength to push Merlin away.

Merlin's hands cupped Arthur's cheeks tentatively and Arthur closed his eyes. He wanted to cry at the sweetness he felt emanating from every part of Merlin's body. If this was magic making him feel like this he almost wanted to let it, let Merlin, have him.

"We can figure this out together. No one gets hurt, or manipulated, or killed. I'll tell you everything, I swear. Just please, please don't walk away." Merlin rested his forehead gently against Arthur's and breathed deeply.

Betrayal still thrummed harshly through Arthur's veins but his gut told him Merlin was being sincere.

Arthur could believe that Merlin could lie to him to protect himself and others. He could believe he'd join a shady organization to put right what he felt was a terrible wrong. A wrong Arthur had often questioned himself, even before Merlin had come along. Hell, he knew his whole team had occasionally expressed discomfort at some of the cases they'd had, the people they'd arrested.

When Arthur searched his mind and his heart the one thing he couldn't truly believe was that Merlin was evil. Even the best actors, even the best spies, slipped, and Arthur had always been good at catching them.

He may have been blinded for the last year but Arthur's instincts had never let him down and his instincts were telling him that Merlin could be trusted.

Arthur sighed opening his eyes and allowing the tension he'd been holding to dissipate. He slowly brought his hands up to grip Merlin's wrists, pulling his head back slightly and holding Merlin's eyes.

"Okay. I believe you. I need you to tell me everything. No more lies, no more secrets. Then we're going to figure this out. Together."

Merlin smiled, his features losing some of their tension and his eyes filling with relief.

Merlin leaned in, softly brushing his lips against Arthur's, a plea, a promise. "Together. I promise." Merlin pulled back and walked over to the cooker, emptying out the contents of their now ruined breakfast into the bin.

"But first, breakfast." Merlin smiled, an apology written on every corner of his face.

Arthur allowed a small huff of laughter to leave his lips before he rolled his eyes and joined him.

[rfschatten]

"You learn, just as you learn good manners, how to approach things with a certain amount of Diplomacy" ~~~ Robert MacNeil

When you have Kim Jong-un & Donald Trump; 2 impulsive Psychopaths, dreadfully Callow, Egocentrics, and raving stark Narcissists…what can ever possibly go wrong??

Admiration for someone's "Leadership" in the World, should be based on his or her positive accomplishments, not on a person's constant failures in Foreign Affairs throughout the World. An Administration without a solitary sense of Wisdom or Moral Leadership cannot Lead a Nation…and consequently, because of their actions…cannot ever lead a Free World!

Diplomacy? In the Era of Trump? Where Immorality, Obscenity, crass Disrespect, Bad Manners, and Systematic Hatred reigns supreme?…Diplomacy, like Decorum…is a nasty dirty word in TrumpWorld!

Now, you got two Man-Babies holding pissing contests over waging Nuclear Annihilation. And all just for that ever-present "Limelight"!…they're both passionately in love with themselves, and in love with those Lights & Cameras. And the Notoriety that comes along…no matter whether it's the Fame or the Infamy!

There have been many models studied on ways Thermal Nuclear Warfare might be started...but, in today's world, where nothing is Traditional or Rational? Who would've ever thought both sides would be disputing, who wants to end the World, 1st??

Yes! Both sides are led by Childish, Egocentric, Spoiled Temperamental Brats! Two Big Fat grown-up Bullies, both ironically, with really tiny little hands. And just to think; These whiney little Man-Childs might be responsible for the end of this world!

Both, extremely Immoral, obscene human beings, whom neither of them understands a single meaning of Critical Thinking, nor Logic or Rationality. These two ding dongs? Basically, neither of them knows how to Reason whatsoever! Not good! when these 2 little fat clowns have matching Red Buttons at their disposal!

What civilized people understand and imbecile Trumpers can't ever get it right; If the sh*t ever hits the fan for North Korea, and the United States uses a Preemptive 1st Strike with Nuclear Warheads, the fanatic North will not ever surrender! If death is imminent, they'll simply Nuke neighboring Seoul, South Korea…and maybe Japan…before they're all vaporized together and cease to exist. "We may be Dead, but we still Win...argh"!! Yea! it's from a little movie that proves; all the Nuclear Power… without an Intelligent Leadership, doesn't really mean diddly squat!

Does anyone know the cost of waging war with North Korea? The Physical and Financial Loss? The tragic death toll in the Multimillions…at least 25 Million in North Korea? and 51.44 in South Korea? Don't forget, South Korea is among the world giants in the Auto Industry, the Tech Industry, in Commerce, and Banks! Their GDP (PPP) for 2017 is $2,030 Billion!! It'll be the Crash heard around the World! The Human Loss! and the Collapse of the World's Markets! A financial devastation unequal to anything ever seen before. The US? what's left of us?...it'll take 100 years or more, rebuilding our Society to make America Great Again!

Our problem?...and the World's?...is that we have 2 Dysfunctional Human Beings!!! One rules a Country cause he's the 3rd "God" of North Korea, following his Father, Kim Jung-iI (God II), a famed collector of Porno Flicks...and his equally crazy Grandfather, Kim il-Sung, the originator of the horsesh*t tale on how he became Korea's chosen God! This rotund little guy is sure following in the footsteps of a lot of horsesh*t! The Other? A Bullsh*t Artist, Con-Artist, Liar extraordinaire, incredibly incompetent, and a seriously inept and unqualified Humanoid to lead a Nation!...he's not even qualified to by a Father!

Don the Con is a cheat, who cheated in Politics like he cheats in life…all his life...and had Russia hand him an election, without getting a Majority! America's Leader is selected by the Majority of the American Voters….technically, he may be a leader in "Name Only" or the Leader of the entire Universe within his own imagination!…but he's not the true Leader of this Nation! The majority of the United States has already voiced 'that' opinion by who they voted for! And if the Russians did assist this Orange Clown, the legitimacy of the Election is thrown out the window…null and void! Is Trump an Illegitimate President??

When all this drama ends, if he gets his Nuke War? I 'will' guarantee you; a man disguised as a Mexican with a big mustache and a big Mexican hat will start inquiring on a Travel Visa & a one-way ticket to South America...under the name; "D. Drumpf". All those good so-called "moral" Christians may get their Armageddon opportunity, after all, thanks to their love for an Idiot, who's always full of sound & fury but never actually signifying, absolutely nothing!

America's biggest problem…and complication…in negotiating Foreign Policy, is Donald Trump. A man who doesn't listen to anyone doesn't take advice from anyone! and who truly believes he's the World's Greatest Salesman! Well? At least, He's proving one thing; He's the World's Greatest Sucker…a schmuck, who's become the easiest "Mark", World Leaders & Politicos everywhere have to exploit and manipulate to their heart's desire!

And as complications continue to set-in on the negotiation efforts by the most amateurish, unqualified State Department in American History, more complications continue to pile up for the United States…and now, just to pour a 'little' gasoline over the fire?…Vladimir Putin stated Russia will "support" North Korea Militarily if ever attacked in a Pre-emptive 1st Strike. And recently, told the United Nations he would not abide by their sanctions and continue to export Oil to Pyongyang. China too offered the same conditions for Military support and also refused to recognize the sanctions. They too will continue to export 'their' Oil to North Korea.

This whole Korean conundrum is what happens when a totally Incompetent President and a totally Incompetent State Dept. takes hold of Foreign Policy. Our Leader and his Crony Sec. of State have absolutely no experience or understanding of International Foreign Affairs, on Diplomatic Engagements and Skills, or how it all works in World Politics!! Using Military Options cause they exhausted all talks?? BULLSH*T!!

How in the hell can any talks even be held between the Countries involved, if the State Dept...with all the tension of Nuclear War and Armageddon…still has no Ambassador in place in South Korea? Or in China? Or in Japan? And no Undersecretary of State for Asian Affairs? More than 30 countries still lack US Ambassadors, Embassies under budget, and all running dangerously understaffed!!...and then, you hear the constant hypocrisy of the GOP, always bitching about Benghazi?!?! The next Benghazi? Any of a couple of Dozen Embassies with no Ambassadors, a very small Budget & a very small Staff!!!...in all seriousness, God help them!!

As tension grows, the military escalation by Korea and the US continues to grow...and while the tension of Nuclear War spreads around the World...the White House's (actually Rex Tillerson's) official schpiel on their beloved leader was; "Don't listen to what Donald Trump ever says".

Don't listen? don't Listen?? Improvising, or flat out Lies!...Donald Trump simply does not understand or just lacks the knowledge that as President of the United States...anything he says represents America's position, and is taken as his official "word". He definitely lacks the academic knowledge…or did you really expect Donald Trump to turn into a respected Gentleman, Statesman, and Scholar??

Don't believe what Trump said in the United Nations?...His speech declaring himself "Ronan the Accuser" and threatening a Wrath of Hell on North Korea? I know what Rex said after another of Trump's Rants, and Mattis made sure to say it after this speech…don't listen or believe Trump. But, you really got to feel sorry for Kelly. This man can't ever raise his head in public from the shame and embarrassment his boss brings to him! His expressions and body language say it all!

Sorry, Donny! You flunked again in the World of Diplomatic Decorum, Barack Obama you'll never be! nor will you ever reach up to his level. Which is why You, Sir! are so deeply deeply jealous of 44! Live with it, you can't change reality!

The Man-Baby War of Imbecility that can exterminate mankind. As rhetoric continues to escalate between these 2 totally incompetent fools, our readiness level is reaching "DEFCON 1"!!...the "Cocked Pistol" is loaded and ready to unload a Nuclear War!

Like Slim Pickens' Wild Ride down the B52's bomb bay doors...I believe that if Trump ever drops his damn Bomb...it's only appropriate, Trump to be 'Forced' to Ride It Down like a Bucking Bronco, and waving a Big Cowboy Hat! Yippy Kai Yay! Motherf*cker!...and Adios, Amigo!!

[lesmotsincompris]

Thoughts on GoT S07E01

I’m a little late for this discussion, but since I decided to watch the show again I figured it would be nice to have my own notes here. 

For those who don’t know, I quit the show during season 5 (guess when). After that I’ve seen a couple of episodes here and there, a few loose scenes, but never actually watched the show regularly as I used to.

Until now.

For some reason I decided to watch it again. Maybe because it seems like one can’t escape the show these days, so I might as well watch it and form my own opinion about it.

Others have already expressed most of my feelings for this episode, but I’ll try my best not to be repetitive:

I confess I was a little nervous, like when you know you’re gonna see your ex in a party. In the end it was easier than expected, mostly because I barely felt anything. I wasn’t as angry as I expected to be, my eyes didn’t roll as hard as I expected them roll, but the big moments didn’t do much for me either. I always compliment the show’s direction, acting and setting, and indeed all of that was correct. But that’s it.

Arya

I’m not sure what to make of her? Several people poked holes on Arya’s contrived plan, so I won’t go there. I wanna question D&D’s goal with her in terms of themes/characterization (I know, I know). 

They paralleled Arya’s massacre with the Red Wedding itself, so are we supposed to assume it was a bad action? Mind you, in the books is Lady Stoneheart who is killing Frey by Frey and might be responsible for an upcoming Red Wedding 2.0, but LSH is hardly a character we’re supposed to root for. Arya also compares herself to a wolf and the Frey to sheep, but sheep are nice and fluffy, so more points to Arya Did a Bad Thing. Yet they ended the scene with triumphant music and an Empowered Smirk™, so what? Am I supposed to root for her? Am I supposed to think she did something awful?

The ‘Ed Sheeran and the Nice Lannisters’ scene makes this all the more confusing. It wasn’t a bad scene, though the Lannister soldiers were perhaps too nice (oh, the ever-changing patriarchy of show!Westeros, where the setting is oppressive or friendly to women depending on the needs of the plot), and that music was very much out-of-context. I’m surprised Arya didn’t say she was going “wherever whores go”.

Before I forget: is 'killing the men, sparing the women' D&D’s version of feminism? But why would Arya do that, really? Do we have any indication that no woman took part in the Red Wedding? That no woman could seek revenge against her just as she did with the Freys? This is the kind of stuff that earns D&D the title of faux-feminists, especially when even Arya’s way of preventing the child bride from drinking wine was quite misogynist.

Bran vs Evil Dead

How did Bran acquire his powers? He now has visions without weirwoods or ravens or anything, he simply ~knows~ stuff about Edd... But when/how did he learned all that stuff? He got a power upgrade simply because Bloodraven died? He says he’s the Three-eyed Raven now, but what does that mean, exactly?

My issue are not the powers themselves, because I do believe book!Bran will boldly go where no greenseer has gone before, but how those powers are suddenly more impressive than what we got last season. I didn’t watch the season properly so maybe this was explained.

Is it too much to hope that Edd (or anyone, really) is gonna send a raven to Winterfell saying that Ned’s legitimate son is alive?

The other Starks

I gotta say this is my least favorite plot, maybe because book!Jon and book!Sansa are among my favorite characters of anything ever, but here we have two stupid, jerk people who fail at basic communication because the writers don’t know how else to write conflict.

Sansa raises valid points, but the place to raise them was pre meeting and not during the meeting. And I can see no reason why she and Jon couldn’t have sit down to discuss their common strategy before this gathering, but this isn’t the first time the writers use lack of previous communication as a source of conflict for the Stark siblings.

Much like the Kingsmoot or smallfolk everywhere, crowds in the show are there just to fill a room, but they have no opinion and no influence. They just cheer for whoever is talking.

I’m already done with Lyanna Mormont, but she’s one of D&D’s pet characters. Faux-feminism strikes again in her speech: teaching girls how to fight too is actually super important in this moment, but this point could be delivered without diminishing the importance of knitting. It’s winter, knitting is more useful than ever. But hey, knitting is usually associated with ~girly things~ and D&D like to show how Empowered™ their female characters are by having them dismiss typically female activities, so there you have it. It’s not the first time something like this happens, so I have no reason to believe it will be the last.

I love Alys Karstark in the books, yet here I felt nothing. Who is Alys Karstark in the show? Why is that moment supposed to be meaningful? The Northern theatre was so confusing over the last two seasons that I can barely keep track of who was an ally and who wasn’t, and mostly I wasn’t invited to care.

Much like Alys, Jon’s struggles with leadership also belong in his tenure as Lord Commander. We see Sansa complimenting his skills, but we don’t see any actual demonstration that Jon is a capable leader. You know what, book!Jon was ten times the leader show!Jon is, but book!Jon paid for his blind spots and struggled with the job because the job is hard. Show!Jon is incompetent at best, but keeps being rewarded because we’re told he is a good character, so he must obviously be a good leader. Remember GRRM’s remark about Tolkien and good kings? D&D are writing the exact kind of fantasy story that GRRM criticizes in his books. Oh the irony, it hurts.

“When I was Lord Commander I executed men who betrayed me”. Well, technically you had already died and resurrected, so you were no longer Lord Commander and only a common murderer. But if you were still LC, then it means death didn’t release you from your vows, so you’re now LC or a deserter and have no business being King in the North. You can’t have both, but D&D want both so let’s have it. Nobody questions this because of reasons.

Speaking of D&D trying to have it both ways, I’m always a fan of Sansa burning Littlefinger, but the effect is undermined when in the very next scene she says how much she depends on him. They need the Vale men, very well, but I can’t see why they wouldn’t at least try to use Lysa’s murder or the Bolton Marriage Plan against LF. And, you know, preventing the icepocalypse is in the Vale men’s best interests too, so it’s not like they’ll just go home.

Repeat after me, children: Ned and Robb weren’t stupid. They made mistakes, yes, but everybody in this series makes mistakes. Those mistakes didn’t cause their deaths, no more than being backstabbed means you threw your back against someone else’s knife. Honor isn’t a mistake, kindness isn’t a mistake. Compare Ned’s legacy vs Tywin’s legacy and you’ll know that. Book legacy, that is.

Jon is a bit of a jerk during this episode and I can’t see why he would think Sansa admires Cersei… and then Sansa is silent and admits Cersei taught her a lot. I give up. No, wait, I remembered that famous Sansa book quote, if I’m ever queen I’m gonna bomb all my enemies.

The Lannisters… and Euron?

Speaking of Lannisters, I fail to see how Cersei is still queen. She has no claim, she has no army to force her presence in the Throne for much longer, and she just bombed the Vatican with everybody’s favorite pope plus Princess Diana inside. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Not an angry mob because that would require D&D to remember that smallfolk are a thing and exists.

How does Cersei knows everything she does, from Tyrion being promoted Hand to Jaime releasing his brother? Does she read the scripts too?

‘A dynasty for us’ is my new pick up line. Hey baby, I want to build a dynasty just for us.

‘Do you think I listened to father for 40 years and learned nothing?’ Well, D&D listened to GRRM for five books plus several meetings and learned nothing, so it’s not impossible.

Everybody already made all the good jokes about Euron’s rockstar look, I knew I should have watched the episode the night it aired!

The Brotherhood without Stoneheart

Probably the moment that worked best? Kind of undermined by Sandor’s lust for violence last season, but hey, I’ll take what I get. To be honest I didn’t remember anything about the father/daughter, so this undermined the scene a little bit too. It’s amazing that D&D expect us to remember those two, but Tysha? Naaaah who’s Tysha man nobody is gonna remember that better pretend she didn’t exist.

Two more nitpicks that are not actually that nitpicky. One: that fire vision came super easy and super straightforward for Sandor. Why? Can anyone do that? It makes Melisandre look an idiot.

Two: death doesn’t affect Beric that much, as it didn’t affect Jon. I mean, what’s a little dying, right?

Sam Potter

Fun fact: I had to interrupt this episode because my dinner was ready… and I interrupted right before the Oldtown montage, so I had the benefit of watching all that shit and food and shit being associated with food with a belly full of actual food. Yay! Having Sam perform humble tasks while in Oldtown is a good concept, but this was deliberately meant to be gross. Why? We just don’t know. Happy shitting!

How many episodes Sam wasted in learning what Stannis had already told him ages ago?

Hey, refresh my memory: what was Gilly’s arc over the last four seasons?

Creepy Jorah is still creepy and still being framed as romantic. Great.

Daenerys

I honestly expected this would be my favorite moment this episode. The show is always good with visually impressive moments, and the scenery and sountrack do help. It was indeed a nice scene, but that was it.

‘Home’ is a very dear concept to book!Dany - whether this ‘home’ means Westeros, the house with a red door, etc is another issue, but this has been a major motivation for her during her journey. Show!Dany’s journey was more erratic, so the moment lost a bit of its emotional significance.

Who is show!Dany? What was her arc? What has she learned? How is she any more prepared to rule Westeros than ADWD!Dany? What does she want? To rule Westeros, but why? How? What do her supporters want? Missandei and Grey Worm just want to follow their white savior, but what’s in it for Tyrion or Dorne or Olenna? They’re just supporting her because they hate the other candidate more?

(wait, I take that back, that actually happens a lot)

It’s still a pretty scene, but eh. I legit thought I would be more excited to see this. And I agree with everyone that pointed this would be better as the ending of a season than the ending of a first episode.

Also let’s trash Stannis, because why not, right?

Extra comments

Gee, look at all that foreshadowing about the Wall falling, I wonder if something bad is gonna happen soon.

Now that they got rid of the direwolves, can’t they use the extra budget to pay for better wigs? Sophie Turner’s was especially bad, but Emilia Clarke’s wasn’t that great either.

Lol what’s with the black battle dresses and shoulder pads. That looks so silly and anachronistic. I usually like the show’s costume choices (ignoring all their reasoning for it in-universe, that is), but those outfits are just ugly.

I really, really don’t like the design for the Night’s King. Too artificial, too Power Rangers villain. And ah, it’s so D&D to center the threat of the Others in one single dude.

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See you next week, y’all!