#And there's more of a chance of her doing someone REAL irreversible if she's in tears. It's like she needs to ERASE anyone and everyone

[romanoffsbish]

A Twisted Web of Lies

Natasha Romanoff x R

Warnings: Cheating(Kinda Sorta), Violence, Injured R, No Happy Ending

Request | Prompts

“This was never real, was it?” / “I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights…”

“Please, don’t leave me, we can fix this.” /“You left me first, I’m just finishing the job.”

Natasha pulled away from Wanda's lips with a start as the door hit the wall. You looked amiss. Her heart beat in worried stutters. Something went wrong, and she's only making it worse.

The sting on her cheek was instant, feeling like pins and needles. Her face became neutral. A heart wrenching sob at the back of her throat being restricted with precision. It'll be okay Natalia, she'll understand one day, the mantra echoing in her mind as she keeps it together.

——

Wanda sobs loudly on the bed, this was never something she had a good feeling about. Nat was just too damn convincing that there was no other way to do this. You had to hate her for this to work, for her enemies to believe you useless. Wanda loved you enough to break you.

It's twisted, but in some part of you that's not hurting, you might even agree with the plan.

For a matter of minutes the room stood still, soft sniffles reverberated off the wall as the ones who betrayed you stayed still on the bed. Then you finally turned to face the woman you entrusted with your heart, you kept a stoic expression, but she saw the pain in your eyes.

"This was never real, was it?" Natasha flinched at your unusually cold tone. Her composure immediately faltering. You sighed defeatedly, "I was just a warm body for those cold winter nights..." Your head shook in disgust. "I hope it was all worth it."

Your stoney glare as you left the room made the redhead gulp, the fear still remaining in her throat, and for the first time she thinks this might've been a bad idea. But it was too late.

Her plan was for nothing. Something she found out while en route to the last person on the list.

The list of enemies that resurfaced out of nowhere, who threatened to ruin her in a way that would bring irreversible damage. Which is why she untethered herself from you, but someone was too smart and called her bluff.

Antonia Dreykov. The woman who chose revenge in the name of freedom. It was gifted back to her by Natasha, but her repentance didn't soothe the maimed woman at all. It was a grudge too thick to wade through, the two bonded, tortured souls were now unraveling.

Natasha took her childhood. A chance at joy. The same way her wretched father took hers, and countless others. Natasha imprisoned Antonia as she broke free from her chains.

So, the Taskmaster herself collected you to even the playing field. An eye for an eye.

Just as Natasha made it to the spot she'd tracked the woman to she heard a scream that made her blood run cold. Her heart having sank into the abyss of her very own personal hell. It couldn't be you, even if she knew in her heart that it was. Every sound you've ever made is embedded in the grooves of her soul.

You were supposed to be on a "mission" with Bucky in Canada. Not in Budapest, the ending point that brings it all back to the beginning.

You had to be over four thousand miles away for her to agree to this. Because whenever she doesn't have you under the eye of a super soldier, or metallic man she has you under hers. Distance never a thing as she ensured a way onto your missions every time, her rank allowing her to torture you with her proximity.

Fury knew what was going on. So he allowed it even when his gut told him it's wrong. It was.

Fury had told you living on your own wasn't an option due to an enemy from your past still being on the loose. Another lie told, the woman was detained, and locked up tight on the raft.

There was no fight left in you, plus, you didn't want the backstabbing whores thinking they had enough power over you to make you leave. No way were you going to help them have more leeway to continue their torrid love affair.

Natasha's feet had never moved so fast, she entered the humid, abandoned warehouse. It didn't take her long to find you, tied to a chair with your body in rough shape, your head lulled

"Not again," you whined before you looked up and saw a blur of familiar features. The red hair stood out to like a sore thumb, and you grimaced as the realization washed over you. "Why are you here?" You were clearly delirious.

"Me?" She scoffed, "What are you doing here?"

"An enemy of my enemy caught me while I was getting a dirty dog!" Natasha could see tears in your eyes, and if the moment wasn't so tense she would make fun of you for your emotional distress over a subpar New York hot dog. But she hadn't the time as she was working hastily to remove your arms intricate restraints.

"You're supposed to be safe with Bucky!"

"Bucky got called away on a real mission," you spat. "He let it slip that the other was bogus."

Natasha felt her blood boiling, an entire six months operation meant to keep you safe was down the drain because of Barnes loose lips.

"I appreciated the honesty," you admitted.

"Y/N," Natasha shakily whispered your name, but before she could go on a shield whooshed between your faces, nearly knocking you out.

"Perfect fucking timing," Natasha huffs, hands dropping the ropes around your legs so she could stand to greet a smug looking Antonia.

"Natalia, so nice of you to join your lover for a proper beat down." Natasha glared at her, a smart quip fresh on her tongue but you spoke first, and left her speechless and heartbroken.

"I'm not her lover," you spat with so much venom Natasha felt all the hope she had die.

"Oh yeah," Antonia gasped in feigned shock. "Natalia here cheated on you in the name of protection and left you even more vulnerable.

Natasha frowned. "Tracking an Avenger should be impossible, but with her reckless new lease on life it was as if she didn't even care to hide."

The redhead looked to you for an answer, you rolled your eyes and tilted your throbbing head to avoid the light shining down. "I wanted Dory to catch me, so I could put her behind bars and be able to leave the compound for good."

Natasha's eyes flashed with something you saw clearly, another layer of secrets kept to protect you, but all it did was leave you more exposed.

Before you could start a fight over the obvious detainment of your own enemy, Natasha was blindsided by a barbaric assault that took her across the room in a matter of seconds. While the destined enemies fought you worked as best you could to untie your legs with your good arm as the other dangled awkwardly.

The fight was anticlimactic, and quick. Without her deceased fathers mind control mod, she was virtually useless against the trained widow.

Natasha slammed her to the ground after the initial shock of being catapulted, then she took a knife from her thigh holster and drove it into the woman's chest. Nicking vital organs, and leaving her for dead. "You're a pathetic excuse for an enemy. I've fought actual children, as a child myself with more stamina than you."

"It doesn't matter," Antonia cackled, blood splattered from her mouth onto Natasha's face. "Can't you see? I won. You've lost your joy."

Natasha looked up to see you upright, you'd removed the rest of your restraints, and were now taking a slow stroll towards the exit. Using the wall to hold up the body you couldn't.

"She'll never forgive you," she weakly spoke while grinning devilishly. Natasha twisted the knife, and the woman beneath her choked out a final breath. The redhead glared down at her for a final time before sprinting to cut you off.

"Y/N please," she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around your legs in desperation. "Wanda and I only kissed, I swear she was fully dressed under that blanket. I-I just had to make you believe it, I needed to keep you safe."

"I don't give a fuck about your intentions." You tried, but were too weak to shrug her off. "They might've been good natured in your very own twisted way, but they led to my heartbreak."

"How do I fix this, please detka. There has to be a way," she pleaded brokenly. A part of you wanted to hold her, to let it all go, but you can't forget all the nights you spent crying over the betrayal that had only ever been a facade.

It caused irreparable devastation, leaving your relationship in ruins. "There's nothing to do Nat. You've had six months to come clean."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears soaking through the tattered fabric of your sweats, you weren't sure if she was talking to you, or herself. "I should've been upfront with you, I know that now, but I needed the enemy to believe it."

"Yeah, how'd that work out for you, huh?"

Natasha's lip trembled as she looked up to see just how badly you'd been beaten. "If I'd have known, then this never would've happened. I would've been prepared for an attack, I'm a fucking Avenger for Christ's sakes Nat, not a defenseless civilian. I would've fought by your side, but you treated me like a fragile child."

"It was a mistake, I'm sorry..." Natasha pressed her forehead to your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your exposed skin for what she believed to be the final time. The look in your eyes enough to nix her hope. "I love you Y/N."

"Let go Nat," you demanded, voice now gruff from the building frustration coupled along with lack of water you'd had being held captive.

"No! Please..." This couldn't be the end.

"Now!" You growled, something you'd never done to her before, but it's proving to be a year of firsts for you two. Just all the wrong ones.

"Please, don't leave me, we can fix this." Natasha pleads over a sob, the desperation innate, her lungs feeling as if they'd collapse any second now as her heart breaks in two.

"There's nothing to fix. I can't forgive this."

Never in her days did she expect you to ignore her truths, and walk away from her. It was to protect you, your future together, but you said you can't forgive her. Maybe Wanda, but her?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. She made a choice that left you permanently scarred. She could've dumped you in a way that wasn't so brutal, and didn't make you lose your sense of self worth.

"I trusted you Natalia," you grimaced, shaking your head side to side just to clarify to her how disgusted you were with your decisions. You chuckled darkly before pulling her up into an intense kiss as a distraction from your hands.

Natasha grunts as she hears the click of metal, feeling as your teeth drew blood from her lips while also feeling a coolness around her wrists.

"After all," you taunted, looking at her with a frown and faux sympathy in your eyes as you prepared yourself to hobble away. "You left me first, I'm just finishing the job."

——

1,899 Words

🥹 Kaitlyn 😔

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #black widow #black widow imagine #black widow angst #black widow x you

[baddygab-bi]

Honestly, even setting aside the whole Buddie of it all, it all sounded like such an out of the blue, poorly conceived idea. So she might have been a nun and he’s got a problem with that? Is it because he hasn’t bothered to get to know her and now he’s shocked she didn’t tell him something and he doesn’t actually know her? Or because they in theory can’t fuck? Because both of those are questionable at best.

I agree with you about how the show just made Buck bi, so they are likely to double down on Eddie being “straight,” and in theory they have kept her around for SOME REASON because she’s had what five seconds of screen time and a couple mentions that she babysat Chris. And yet she’s still “there.” They actually did more to develop a relationship between Eddie and Tommy in one episode than they’ve done to develop the disaster with Marisol the whole time she’s been around. So who knows. It’s really late in the game to try and develop this now. They had chances and didn’t take it. So how would you ever get the audience on board? Tim already stated he doesn’t like relationships where the love interest can’t be involved in the story other than being a love interest. Idk it all seems like a waste of time to me lol

As far as the Buck coming out to Eddie scene, imo calling him brother (and hugging him and telling him he loves him brother - also in the supposed script) really seems like it could be Eddie reacting in a “I have to make this okay and reassure him of our unending connection” and that’s the only language he has for what they are atm.

But who knows if any of it is actually real. They change things all the time anyway.

I just think they could do a couple having intimacy issues without it being based on something super religiousy, you know? Like fine if it is, but also, it would show her more as a human if she was like “Yeah, you know, I’m just scared of being that vulnerable with someone.” Boom, we’d have character for her, which as of right now, we have none of.

I don’t think they know how to develop her character, and with that, the fine details of the relationship, with the lack of time that she has. We know she spends a lot of time with Chris, and that she and Eddie are close enough for her to be around all the time for stuff, but that’s about it. If they had built her like a real character I think I’d give more of a shit about her.

Dude, I swear when I wrote my brother examples I wrote “I love you, brother” first but then erased it because I thought it was too on the nose. Glad to know the writers and I are writing the exact same show when it comes to dialogue. I think that as of right now, the show is making Eddie straight just to make him straight. But I think in season 8, if they want to (pleaseeee) they could easily walk back Eddie calling him brother. It just feels very pointed that Buck is now bi and Eddie calls him brother when they haven’t ever called each other that (since early season 2) before. Almost like the show saying “look, Buck can like guys, can kiss guys, just not this one.”

Season 7 is fully written. But season 8 hasn’t even been started yet. We can only hope that they don’t do anything irreversible to Buddie this season.

#911 spoilers #911 abc #911 leaked script stuff

[mdhwrites]

I Am Getting Tired Talking About the Designs

It is the main thing outside of Clois that I see talked about with My Adventures With Superman. I’ve even seen someone call the show’s style so far as ‘hyper realism’ because of how they’re doing the villain designs which... *stares at the person until holes bore into their skull* And here’s the thing: I don’t mind people complaining about the villains technically. The fact that both Livewire and Slade feel kind of samey next to each other doesn’t help the fact that the show is struggling to give its villains time to shine. They risk slipping into a territory where they feel there as a part of the mandate of this being a superhero show rather than interesting entities unto themselves and I’d be okay with people talking about that.

Or how about the fact that so far none have had a REALLY good or interesting fight with Superman so far? Ivo is the best on both fronts so far but otherwise we’ve see Clark grab someone’s fist before responding with an attack three times now and one of those was against a robot. The only one he hasn’t done it to is Livewire and she doesn’t exactly punch, does she?

I had my brother bitch at me yesterday, if you don’t want to talk about the villains, about Jimmy’s stuff needing a little more fleshing out if he’s suddenly going to be mopey about the two getting together, especially after pushing Clark and Lois towards each other at first. That isn’t an unfair complaint and even in my last review, for as much as I liked the episode, I still admitted there were issues and lacking payoffs, especially with Jimmy. There are issues. This isn’t a perfect show, though nothing should be perfect because perfect is boring. It probably does need to take a breath though because while it is shockingly well paced, it is juggling a lot at once and it is concerning for when one of the balls may drop.

But like... Unless they’re just fundamentally getting the character wrong with no chance for growing into their design, can we just stop bitching about them? Parasite from my knowledge was originally a dude who was fucked up by an experiment and went “Well, they can’t cure me so I guess I’m evil” which is way less interesting than actually having his personality and his personal goals be parasitic to some extent so that they match his powers thematically. I’ve heard Livewire is a cocky, annoying bitch. We all remember the “Smartest person here” banter, right? That bitch with real powers, and irreversible powers as was foreshadowed by her veins, is going to be INSUFFERABLE. And Slade? The fucker is twenty years younger, minimum, than his comic counterpart and has both eyes and his battle suit in the title sequence fits his aesthetics so maybe cut him some slack because his cocky attitude now is clearly setting up for a GLORIOUS fall.

Of course, this is all assuming the show does well by these characters but at least right now they definitely have potential to become like their comic counterparts, especially with the question of how Silver Banshee is getting her screams back after Clark broke her mask.

So unless you complaint is more than “I want them to look exactly like my comic books!” maybe let an adaptation be, you know, an adaptation. I mean, so far the show fits exactly how DC has marketed itself since... I dunno, from what I hear the New 52? Especially in television because *gestures at all the DC movies* so I might not be a comics guy but I absolutely see why DC was okay with this as the rights holder because this is EASILY the most interested I’ve been in literally ANY of Superman’s rogue’s gallery. And no, I’m not a comic book guy but I see people comparing the two and you know my response when people bring up the differences in design? Most of the time I’m curious. Like what is Siobhan like when she looks like some genetically altered mutant or just a straight up alien of some sort? What’s the backstory there? But I also enjoy the cocky, wanna be supervillain of Siobhan in the show with her glam rock hair and raspy voice.

But I will admit that I don’t know the pain of adaptation too well. The closest I’ve come is stuff like Guardians of Ga’Hoole (which frankly is a shockingly good movie for how much of a mess adapting that series to anything would be) and Percy Jackson, where I only bitched about Clarisse because making Annabethe Clarisse was both more boring and narratively pointless because Clarisse is KIND OF IMPORTANT to the second book of that series, bare minimum.

Nothing here strikes me like that and if you disagree... Let me know. I see adaptations like this as a chance to both enjoy something and learn but frankly, EVERYONE bitching about the designs and nothing else is just making me tired and that’s making me not want to learn which means afterwards, I won’t dig deeper which isn’t that what you want as a fellow fan of the character?

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#my adventures with superman

[antiibow-a]

So while I agree with a few things this person wrote about re5, really sitting there and saying Sheva was portrayed as inarticulate and is reduced to Chris' romantic prospect AND, is eager to kill off her black brothers and sisters is such a disgusting lie. As someone who actually ships Chris and Sheva together, I am well aware the game's canon has literally 0 implication they have any romantic attraction to each other which, in my opinion, is the real slight.

In a franchise that romantizes opposite sex partners, any chance they get the black woman, like in most media, isn't seen as desirable by the main protag is a serious issue.

The killing of the Majinis is an unfortunate situation with no alternative. Sheva outwardly expresses how much she cares about the people of Kijuju time and time again, that they are HER people, and has shown she was and is willing to die for them along with the entire planet mind you. The infection of the civilians is irreversible -- the narrative was Crapcom's doing, destroying the infected is the only logical and narratively correct thing to do if there is no antidote or cure. What should she have done instead? Stood around and waited for the Majini to tear both she and Chris apart? These are people that it's implied she knows -- she knows the area like the back of her hand. They didn't afford the chance of her displaying deeper relationships with specific towns people ,but even when you enter the Marshlands, her horrified "How could someone do this to them?" tells you right off the fucking back it hurts her to see what they've become.

Furthermore, there isn't a part of Sheva who is in fact: well-spoken, intelligent, observant, and thoughtful, that is "inarticulate." RE5 and even Sheva as a character isn't anywhere near fucking perfect, but don't say shit that ain't true. I don't care if people want to poke holes into RE5, the company deserves it, but it would make more sense that those looking at it don't make shit up.

Yall lame ass fr.

#̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\ ▸ 𝙋𝘼𝙐𝙎𝙀𝘿 𝙂𝘼𝙈𝙀 ◂ ooc. #really and truly i unno why i do it #in my hunt to get some more info a shred #a crumb #come across some real shit that got me gagged ( negative ) #TW: VENTING #no bc fr this actually made me mad. over some damn polygons

[cassieuncaged]

Grave Bound - Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Summary: Elias moves to New York and finds companionship.

TW: language, etc.

WC: 2.2 K

A/N: We're in the home stretch! Only a few chapters left!

Taglist: @roofgeese, @detectivelokis, @areyenotfondofmelobster, @poisonedtruth, @confidentandgood, @emotionalcadaver, @chadillacboseman

1972

“What are you still doing here?” King said one night as Green Bay played. Elias looked up from a tattered copy of Lord of the Flies, curled up like a housecat.

“Watching the game.” Nodding towards the tube television he was paying no mind. Sighing, the larger of the two men padded over to the other. In a quick swoop, the book was easily tossed away, “You can be a real horse’s ass.”

“Don’t know how else to get you to notice me,” King sat by his buddy, watching as clear blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What are you still doing here?”

“Recovering.” Elias said flatly, running one hand through overgrown locks. “Wasting away.”

“You ever thought of leaving for a while?” King added, trying not to make him feel unwelcome. “I love you like a brother but Diana and I are always going to be here. The world’s not. It’s changing and you might miss out if you don’t go out and see it.”

“You sound like my mother,” Elias groaned, massaging his temple.

“If I was your mother, you’d have gotten that hair cut ages ago. Look like a damn hippie.”

“I like my hair.” Elias grinned, thinking of someone else who did too. Squeezing his eyes shut, she haunted him like a ghost. Strawberry red stained the edges of a tired mind, heart aching more than it already did.

“I know you miss her.” King added, as though he’d been able to read his friend’s mind. But you can’t get stuck in the past forever. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not healthy,” the veteran countered, wrapping his arms around his legs. The icy chill made it feel like he was breathing through a popped balloon while bones ached like they were brittle pieces of balsa wood.

“You’re doing fine. For a man that had to peeled off the ground, life’s alright. But this bellyaching ain’t no good. Got to get out there to do some living.” King spoke sagely, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, one that had lasted through the trials of war. Elias did want to live before the chance was gone completely.

“Where would I go?” he felt microscopic, miniscule across the endless backdrop of the universe.

“Wherever, man.” King sank into the sofa, eyes focusing as the football game unfolded.

“New York.” Elias added thoughtfully, invigorated by the fear the words instilled in him.

“The biggest city in the country?” Dark eyebrows rose into a high hair line, amused yet worried. “Hell of a choice”

“Might as well shoot big,” he grinned wryly, “I thought about it before Nam. Why not try it out?”

“Well, that’s the spirit.” King grinned with an air of pride, seeing something reignited in his friend. Elias had a spark that was dulled by tragedy. He was an injured bird waiting for its wing to mend, one that deserved to soar. “It fucked with me too.”

“War fucks with everyone.” They’d been trained as deadly weapons with no expectation to return alive, broken and lost in a world lacking empathy. “I can still hear the screaming, feel the bullets ripping through me, see all the goddamned blood.”

“You still get nightmares? ‘Cause I sure as shit do.” King added wearily, “Wake up in a cold sweat most nights; Ana holds me until I stop shaking.”

“Get ‘em nearly every night. Mostly of Bob.” Jagged seams pulled together a hard face at it’s center, dark under the canopy of trees. It was like being greeted by death himself every night.

“Good thing the bastard’s locked up.” King added bitterly.

“Yeah,” his voice was hardly a whisper. Revenge didn’t do anything for the benevolent man; it never solved anything. It didn’t matter whether Barnes was rotting in prison or dead in a ditch, the damage was irreversible. Pain would follow him like a shadow until his last breath. His sense of safety and trust had been irrevocably shattered.

War turned men into monsters and left them to die. What else was there to say on the matter?

Elias sat silently as his buddy slowly dozed off, the only sound coming from the television and the clattering of dishes in the kitchen. There had to be more to life than wondering what could be, what would happen if he finally just leapt.

Retrieving the upended book from the floor, brittle pages were flipped to find the correct chapter before he was immersed and the outside world didn’t matter for a moment.

……

Months had passed since the move.

Yet something felt off. A piece of the puzzle was still missing though Elias hadn’t the slightest idea what it could be. He had a job and was slowly learning the city, making a few buddies a long the way.

It wasn’t as empty as he feared it would be in such a big city. Especially with the earth slowly warming up, his hobble was becoming less prominent, breathing less taxing.

A little nagging thought still weighed heavy in his brain, one that seemed inescapable until a cool Saturday morning. Strolling down the treelined streets of Brooklyn, Elias limped past the animal shelter in his military jacket. A fat cat sat in the window, silently meowing through the pane.

He’d never had a pet, a hope his father had dashed when he was young. A pink padded paw pressed flat against the glass, one that Elias gladly matched with a large hand. Animals were intuitive, much more than mankind could ever dream of becoming. They knew when they were needed and maybe this was what he was missing.

“I’ll take a look,” he promised the sandy cat, before ducking in the front door. A little bell chimed as he was enveloped by an undeniable warmth. Several cats milled around on cushions and windowsills. One even reclined on the top of an aged wooden desk.

“Coming!” an accented voice called from a dark hallway.

“Take your time!” Elias called back while he befriended the beast that had lured him here. “Sneaky little guy, aren’t ya.”

Heels clicked on linoleum as the owner of the disembodied voice appeared. A young woman wearing bell bottoms and boots stood in the doorway, kitten tucked into the crook of one arm.

“Sorry,” she sighed, patting the little furball she held, “It’s been a busy day.”

“Looks like you have your hands full,” Elias chirped.

“Always are,” the kitten was gently sat on a bed beside the desk, “Looking for a friend?”

“Uh, I think so.” The woman arched a brow at this, “I’m new to the city and it gets a little lonely.”

“It can be. Hell, I’ve been here my whole life and I still feel that way sometimes. Can take you back to the kennel if you want? There’s a bunch of critters back there.”

Accepting the offer, she marched him down a dimly lit hallway. Hands were nervously shoved in his pockets. A faint chorus of whines and whimpers grew louder followed by a skitter of claws on the hard floor

A head of voluminous auburn hair turned a sharp corner. Elias followed to find the woman bent over, patting a dog in a gated pen. A German Shepherd wagged its tail, enjoying a quick scratch behind the ears. He was sandwiched between a beagle and a Labrador.

Soft brown eyes looked up excitedly as the man approached.

“This is Major.” The attendant announced happily. “He’s been here for a while. Sweetest boy I’ve ever met that needs a good home. Come say hello!”

Nervously pacing over, a bushy tail kept time like a metronome. One hand was nudged by a wet nose. Acceptance had never felt so important. Heart leaping to his throat, Elias was pleased when a soft tongue swiped across scarred knuckles.

“He likes you,” the woman added in a thick Bronx accent. “Granted, he likes everyone. But there’s something different here. Seems taken.”

“You think?” Elias chuckled before gingerly dropping to gnarled knees. The shepherd wasted no time covering a sharp face in kisses while his two fellow mutts struggled to get attention themselves.

“Oh yeah. Can tell with that one. Total lover, not a fighter.”

“I’d take them all with me if I could. But Major here is the one.” The attendant said something that was lost on the man, who finally felt like there was company to be had. The canine couldn’t fix everything but he could take away the stinging loneliness that threatened to consume him.

Major would provide the companionship that Elias was sorely missing.

1973

Lying on the sofa, Elias held Maggie tightly against his chest. They’d spent the day in the park, feeding pigeons and enjoying each other’s company. Hands dragged against the carpet, fingers clasped delicately. Coppery tresses bled across his black shirt, rising with every breath.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured against a solid chest, earning a wholesome chuckle.

“I’m thinking that I’ve got everything I need right here.” His voice was a rumble against her ear as a shiver slithered up her spine. Maggie hummed contently, folding her arms atop him. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You’re making me blush,” covering her face shyly, Elias gently peeled her fingers away. Pink like the clouds at sunset, full cheeks were pleasantly flushed, freckles dappled across soft skin like brushstrokes.

“I like it when you blush.” Blue eyes met in a searching gaze, a long finger tracing the edge of her jaw. He wanted to remember her every line and curve, to have branded on his brain should they ever be apart. “I like everything about you.”

“Give it time,” Maggie giggled awkwardly, “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Impossible,” gently drawing her upwards, they shared a chaste kiss. Lips sweet as honey, they brushed noses together before she was burying her face in the crook of a long neck.

“You think about the future?” her mousy words broke comfortable silence, vibrations of a warm hum echoing in one ear.

“I try to stay in the ‘now’. Take it a day at a time. But with you,” a calloused thumb ran across a plump bottom lip. “All I can do is picture the future.”

“I’m your future?” Maggie smirked, hardly believing she could ever have such a beguiling effect on another person.

“Absolutely.” Elias yawned, bending one arm beneath tawny tresses. This was home, comfortable and safe.

“You still want that countryside cottage?”

“Sure.” He chuckled dopily, “Could grow our own vegetables. You could do some whittling and knitting. I’d have all the inspiration I’d ever need to paint.”

“I saw the sunflowers; they were gorgeous. I never knew you were so artistic.”

“Dabbled in high school a bit. Until my pops and brother started calling me queer. There wasn’t much I could do after all the surgeries, so I took it up again. You wanna see what I’m working on?”

“Absolutely.” Gently peeling herself from his chest, Maggie stood patiently as Elias ambled to his feet. A large hand enveloped hers as he marched to the spare room. Masked in a bluish shadow, she wallowed in the ambience of night before a light was flicked on. The room was crowded, furnished with an easel and a bunch of canvases. A taupe doe stood calmly under a burnished sky, a bonfire bled smoke across a field of stars, another was a singular lily unfolding pure white petals.

Elias scurried about excitedly, choosing a moderately sized canvas from the others. The painting was propped against spindly, wooden arms for display. It was a rather large painting of a meadow dotted with wild daisies and violets. Trees and mountains were shadows on the horizon. In the middle sat a young woman in a sundress, orange curls shining in the sun.

Her visage was clear, alabaster hands threading through painted petals. Stunning was the only descriptor that came to mind as she experienced pure bliss from every brushstroke.

“What do you think?” Elias asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of neck. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind lately. I wanted to give you the damn world, so I did.”

“It’s absolutely breathtaking.” Fine details soaked in a moment before Maggie spun on her heel, skirt swishing in a blur of maroon. “You painted this? For me?”

“Hell, yeah.” Suddenly bashful, sharp crystalline were downcast beneath mousy lashes, “Like I said, I’d give you the world if I could.”

“You’re my world.” Saccharine words tinkled in burning ears before she was abruptly marching up to him. Yanking at the front of a half-undone flannel pulled Elias to her. Grinning at the uncharacteristic boldness, he delighted in another kiss.

And the rest of the world melted away.

#fanfiction #otp fanfiction #otp: dog tags and flower crowns #maggie x elias #platoon 1986 #q

[oceanxveiined]

She’d be the kind of person to be screaming something like ‘I’m a fucking GOD’ while simultaneously having a moderate to severe emotional breakdown tbh

#hc #//God complex + severe repressed issues is fun #;mun has spoken #//Acts like she owns her shit; that she's too damn strong to be brought down by 'some little childhod trauma' #//Is practically (1) failure away from having a complete and utter emotional detonation at all times #//Usually that manifests at sheer rage or hysteric laughter; sometimes a heaping mix of both; depending on what exactly triggered it #//Tbh; she's safest to approach when she's in a rage. Bc laughing can lower guards and gets HELLA moodswings that make it worse #//The shift from her laughing and over-performing lightheartedness is so startling; even to those who've seen it time and again #//Especially when watching her face contort back to rage right before she flings the nearest thing or her power makes a pipe or smth explode #//At least if she's outright enraged; you KNOW she's gonna throw/break shit and riot. Plus she IS a lileasier to talk out of it/appease then #//Either way; she'll still be looking to IMMEDIATELY wreck whatever set her off; be it a failed project or even a person #//It's Not Good. And it's notably worse when it's a person she 'loses to'; especially considering her upbringing #//You know it's BAD if she ends up sobbing/just crying at some point through. Bc she just LOATHES showing vulnerability like that #//And so she's GOT to regain some sense of control. Destroying anything and everything that broke her composure is her best bet; she feels #//Which ofc end up making things WORSE if she doesn't succeed; for her emotional state and anybody who comes across her then #//Bc she WILL take out her emotional issues on them and claim that as her 'win' to calm down; whether they were even involved or not #//She won't care; she'll just be so desperate and do whatever it takes to seek a scapegoat to erase her failure from her mind #//I guess it's not even exclusive to that time tbh. Her picking and choosing a scapegoat definitely at its worst when she cries #//But it happens when she's angry or hysterical too. There's just less of a chance of her snapping out of it when she's in tears #//And there's more of a chance of her doing someone REAL irreversible if she's in tears. It's like she needs to ERASE anyone and everyone #who's seen her cry. She will not stop at just beating them down or wounding. She WILL be out for blood for real #//Idk; watched Azula's breakdown and it Resonated enough to prompt a hc #//Only got to explore this aspect of her character once awhile back with a friend #//She doesn't actually feel remorse for what she does during a breakdown; no matter who she's hurt. Even if she's TOLD what she did #//'They were just taking a chance at an open shot at me while I was VULNERABLE; weren't they? Serves them fucking right for trying' #//She'll never be convinced otherwise; even if the person was genuinely trying to help. She can never trust that would ever be true #//Definitely owes all this to her mother. Can't have a healthy coping much less a sense of morality when the most influential person didn't #//And she's too damn proud to even START to change. Someone's gotta have a real BIG impact on her to get her to even CONSIDER it #//Mostly notable in her descendants/bnha aus. And those are verses where she's with like-minded folks; so there's ENABLING too #//But ye. Patience is key with her. Also reassurance that failure isn't the end for her. Bc that's the mainreason why she explodes like this

[hotchley]

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #tw intrusive thoughts #tw scars #tw trauma #tw surgery #cw medical

[letstrywritingmaybe]

Irreversible

Summary: If you love someone, you should let them go, but that’s always been his fatal flaw. Being persistent to a fault, leaves them both stuck. A beautiful magic love affair turns to a tragedy; he has her, but she doesn’t belong to him anymore.

Fair warning, this is messy and very off brand of me

She’s sober for a change, he knows it gets worse for her during this time of year. She’s actually smiling more, the light reflecting in her eyes once again. Some days he’s the reason for it, giving him hope that maybe she won’t try to run away from it all. Away from him, now that he finally realizes how important she is. An amused expression on her face as she asks about the case he just finished wrapping up after weeks of chasing dead ends. He eagerly tells her the details, though she was also there at the briefing. She smiles, listening to his babbling, it’s been a while since they’ve been able to talk like this. Almost two years have passed since… maybe everything is going back to the way it should be.

“This just proves you’re the one with the bad luck Shinichi, I wasn’t anywhere near the crime scene.”

“Yes Shiho, I know. You’ve been telling me that for years. Some things never change.”

“… yeah, you’re right… until they do…”

He loses her for a brief second, it’s enough to send him into a panic. She’s standing right in front of him, just a couple strides to reach her. Hold onto her and remind her that she’s here with him, so he does just that. She doesn’t even notice he closed their distance until she’s staring into the blues of his eyes. His desperation is agonizingly obvious; he knows this, and she knows it too. It’s something neither of them ever mention, or at least she’s given up on pointing it out. He refuses to listen anyhow, set in his ways that this must be the truth even though she’s a proven liar. You can’t help who you fall for, and he’s fallen so hard he cannot see any another way. They’re meant to be, fate intertwined their lives for a reason, they found their way to each other despite all odds. A toxin that should’ve left no survivors, yet it gave both of them a second chance. Sometimes he wonders if maybe the files were lost during the takedown, then things would’ve been different. Sure they would’ve had to grow up again, but at least their bond would still be intact. Another cliché waiting to happen, childhood friends who end up together, it’s predictable but it’s a classic. There would be no doubts, nothing would stand between what they share.

“Shiho…”

Her name comes out in a whisper, afraid he’ll push her too hard and destroy what little progress they’ve made. She does not respond, she doesn’t have to when it’s clear what’s going to happen. There’s no use in fighting it, not when there’s no longer any reason for her to try again. She simply waits, closing her eyes the moment his lips meet hers. It’s chaste for what’s to come, this is how it always goes between them. What they have is real, something that cannot be taken away from her, not when he stubbornly keeps her tied to him. As if she would even think to leave, the option to flee disappeared along with her heart.

“I love you,” he tells her.

“I know,” she answers.

And she does, she knows he loves her, knows that he would fall apart without her by his side. Even so, she cannot bring herself to lie to him. Not when they promised to be honest no matter how much it hurts. She stays because there is no other choice, she cannot bear the weight of another life if she were to walk away. Not that she has the strength to wander off on her own, she’s gotten a taste of how it feels to be surrounded by people who genuinely care about her. It’s hard to throw all of that away just to wallow in self pity, besides she also knows it wouldn’t be right to isolate herself when they put in so much work to bring her out of the shadows. He’s her light, she cannot deny this but he shines too bright burning her with its intensity. He means well, but that’s the problem isn’t it? He loves her, but he realized it too late.

I love you. I love you. I love you. He wills for her to accept him, to take back the place that was rightfully his. Pouring his heart and soul into everything he does for her, waiting for her to turn around. He stands at a dock longing for a ship that’s making a one way trip never to return again. Physically they’re together, in every sense of the word. They use the labels girlfriend and boyfriend, practically attached at the hip. Where there is one, the other is always nearby. A packaged deal, impossible to separate, though no one would ever dare to try. Everyone knows he loves her, and she must love him too, why else would she allow him to call her his?

She’s curled up next to him, eyes closed, tired from the long night they had. He watches her breathing even out, tucking her hair behind her ear. She scrunches her nose, a sign that she’s not yet asleep. His mood dampers, he can control what happens here in the real world, but in her dreams… his arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer. Her eyes open meeting his, she knows what’s eating at him, but she cannot ease his concerns.

“Shinichi… is it really worth it?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.

She closes her eyes once more, no more words are said. There’s no use when he won’t let go. Both wishing in vain for something that will never happen. Stuck in the past with no chance at moving forward, perhaps this is their fate after all. The moment the pill dissolved in their system, it was written in the stars, there is no escape from destiny. Bound together by the strings of fate, it was over before it even began.

Also available on ao3 <3

#shinshi #coai #this is like the angstyest thing I’ve written for them and I can’t believe I’m okay with it #sad girl autumn. what a perfect time to announce my breakup with this tragic pairing

[sacredonlybyname]

***SPOILERS FOR RAYA AND THE LAST DRAGON***

So ya girl has finally watched this darn movie and as a SEAsian and a storywriting enthusiast YOU BET MY ASS I'M GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT I WAITED FOR THIS MOVIE SINCE IT WAS ANNOUNCED AND HERE I AM so if you don't want spoilers then don't read this

DID I LIKE IT?

Of course I did, I was already a fan of Raya the moment I saw the first promotional poster. I watched the movie with my mom and we enjoyed it. It's definitely a movie I'll be rewatching a LOT, one because it feels like home and second because...I just loved it!

However, I do have a lot of thoughts on it, particularly on the pacing and emotional beats and characters. I stand by my word that it should've been a SERIES (think the length of The Dragon Prince season 1)

It was rushed. Listen, the movie's great if you want a fast-paced action adventure with two badass princesses, the found family trope and a dragon, but personally I think it would've been better if they spent more time establishing every relationship (however this may be biased as I personally prefer slow-paced character heavy stories)

The worldbuilding suffered from the pacing as well. The difference between RATLD and adventure Disney movies like Moana and Frozen is that THE WORLDBUILDING IS CRUCIAL TO THE STORY. Moana only needs a bit of time to establish the world because the main focus is getting the Heart of Te Fiti back where it belongs (the story fits the movie's runtime). In Frozen, the center of the movie was Arendelle. But in RATLD, every part of Kumandra played a part in the movie's goal and theme: uniting the land through trust. And if you're making a Uniting The World story, you'd better establish why these places even matter.

The emotional beats felt unearned at times. Okay, I did cry, but whatever I cry when there's emotional music and visuals. But that doesn't mean some of them felt unearned due to, again, the rushed pace. I wanted to care for Raya's crew more! There should've been something like a campfire scene kinda thing (or a feast, which did happen but not this way) where the group tell stories about their families as a way to bond. How can I be attached to the rest of them if I only mostly know Raya and Sisu's stories?

Raya and Namaari's relationship. I don't know whether or not you see them as romantic or not (I personally don't, I see Raya as aroace) but what the movie failed to do was establish an emotional connection between them. The "dragon nerd" scene was a great start! They really couldn't have been friends for longer than that? Imagine Raya having her first best friend with whom she spends every feast having fun and sparring, only to have her trust be broken? THAT's how you give someone major trust issues! It hurts more to have your best friend betray you and indirectly 'kill' your father than a friend you've known for a short time, AND it would've made the last fight scene between them all the more meaningful

Speaking of the last fight scene, I LOVED IT. Gosh I just LOVE it when characters get blinded by their rage and overpower their traitorous friend I was cheering the whole time because IT HURTS to see Raya so angry and it's GREAT (and the animation on their facial expressions were absolutely phenomenal and enough for me to make a separate post about it)

I think the scene where Namaari accidentally kills Sisu could've been done differently? Maybe have Raya attack Namaari, who will have already let down her guard, out of fear instead to make the "You're just as to blame as I am" scene hit harder because that felt a bit forced

Namaari's mom just...was okay with things? Fang had no consequences??? It was your chance to show kids that actions have consequences???

Raya should've had flashbacks with her father and the years she spent alone, it would really drill in why she WANTS to find Sisu and bring her people back but yeah this is a Disney movie

I wish we saw Raya alone more because despite having trust issues she sure does only have them when it's convenient (though being alone for 6 years with only Tuk Tuk makes that clear)

I wish we saw more of Namaari's childhood after the Dragon Gem broke, to show her regretting what happened and establishing her own dream of meeting Sisu

And I LOVE that Raya and Namaari are foils by the way, like YES DISNEY that's how you make a great antagonist!!!!!

If I could rewrite it I would've made the deaths irreversible and done the Druun differently but that's because I'm Sad™ that Raya's crew didn't become each other's new family in the end

Also, have Namaari sort of show that she can be trusted not just to Raya and Sisu but also Boun, Noi and Tong (yes, like a Zuko arc but that arc was flawless in redeeming Zuko so of course I'm using it as an example)

I don't care if I have a lot of thoughts on the story and that this is a kid's movie IT'S CAPABLE OF BEING MORE THAN JUST THAT

My mom thought the dragons looked like unicorns

THE PARALLEL WHEN BENJA LOOKS AT HIS SWORD AND SEES HIS DAUGHTER SO HE BACKS DOWN AND DOESN'T FIGHT, AND THEN RAYA LOOKS INTO THE SWORD AND SEES HERSELF AND DOESN'T FIGHT I kinda wish she'd seen Namaari's stone statued mother in the reflection instead to remind her of her father but that's a bit nitpicky

The "trust" message didn't really make sense in some parts considering how Sisu kept trusting people who got her in trouble

Overall, despite its flaws and the points I've made, it really is a damn good movie and a wonderful way to showcase Southeast Asian *inspired* culture.

Was it good representation? Definitely, yes. I loved seeing the arnis sticks in the beginning (I have my own but I only got them for PE class and we never really continued the arnis topic for some reason). If you're talking about accurate rep then of course not. It's not supposed to be accurate. Kumandra is a fantasy land with dragons and magic.

People have noted RATLD's similarities with Avatar: The Last Airbender and one of them is that they are both heavily INSPIRED BY Asian culture, but not actually totally Accurate™ with its representation. And it doesn't have to be! If the Southeast Asian aesthetic really interested you, then do your research into the real culture instead of relying on a single movie. What both RATLD and ATLA does right is represent them in a way that catches people's interest AND not antagonizing Asian culture. On a related note which is totally not self promoting, I'm writing a book which is set in a fantasy world in a place heavily inspired by my own culture, but even if it IS my own culture I still do the fair share of research. And both the writers and team of RATLD and ATLA did that right!

Mark my words, this will not be the last time I'm ranting about this movie

#funnily enough this movie was supposed to make me see myself in Raya #because duh she's SEAsian #but I actually look more like Mulan #I do have Raya's thick bushy hair though #ratld #raya and the last dragon #disney raya #disney raya and the last dragon #raya the last dragon #raya and sisu #raya and namaari

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, fantasy, romance, fluff

word count: 3.1k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

During the past couple of days spent inside the comfortable pool Hongjoong had built with the help of his crewmates, you felt closer to Seonghwa than ever. He opened up more and shared things about his past you hadn't known before. He told you about his first meeting with Hongjoong and about his life as a prince. 

But the one part you couldn't stop thinking about was how Seonghwa asked a kind wizard (unlike the sea witch who had turned your poor cousin into sea foam) living in a lighthouse to transform his face into something different. So that he wouldn't be recognized by his parents who had ordered Ariel killed. You couldn't stop thinking about...if someone like that really existed, would he help you? But hope was a dangerous thing and you couldn't bring yourself to ask Seonghwa directly. You wanted to be certain your request would come true and only then, could you tell him. What good would it do to give him false hope? So, you decided to approach Wooyoung and San. Maybe they'd heard about this good-hearted wizard. Maybe they would be able to help you find him.

"Woo! San!" you whispered loud enough for only the two of them to hear you without waking Soojin from her afternoon nap.

"Are you sure you want to talk to us?" Wooyoung looked utterly confused.

"I called you by your names, didn't I?" you pointed out.

"Last time I checked, we're neither Seonghwa nor Hongjoong," San joked.

"Right! And you've been spending all your time with these two," Wooyoung observed.

"Aren't we friends?" you pouted.

"Sure, what's up?" San relented.

"Great, I need your help. And I also need your discretion. Can I count on you?"

"Oh, you've picked the wrong person," San chuckled. "Woo's the biggest gossip across all the seas."

"Hey!" Wooyoung groaned indignantly. "Don't listen to my boyfriend. You can trust us, Y/N."

"I'm starting to have second thoughts..." you admitted. "But I don't have another choice."

"How flattering," San mumbled sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it like that!" you defended yourself. "Okay, so, the thing is I want to find this wizard who lives in a lighthouse. But I can't get out of the pool and back into the sea on my own, so here we are."

"Hm, I've heard of him," Wooyoung replied. "But I don't get why not ask Seonghwa or Hongjoong to help you into the sea."

"I mentioned discretion, didn't I? The reason I need to find the wizard is of a very delicate manner so I can't let them know just yet."

"Don't tell me you want to give up being a mermaid!" San exclaimed.

"Shh! Not exactly. But I've been wondering if there is a way to...sometimes have legs, sometimes a tail. I know it sounds impossible, but I can't know for sure until I've talked to the wizard in the lighthouse. I've heard he's really good at transformations. I believe it's worth the try."

"Okay, we'll help you," Wooyoung promised. "But only if you let us come with you. Facing wizards on your own does not sound safe."

"Even if they have a reputation of being nice?" you reasoned.

"Wooyoung is right. Wizards are unpredictable, so we'll have to escort you," San insisted.

"Wouldn't Seonghwa and Hongjoong get suspicious if we're all missing at once?" you worried.

"Not if we return by morning. If things don't go according to plan, we can just tell them you wanted to go for a swim in the sea and we took the boat to go fishing or something," Wooyoung suggested cleverly.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," you nodded. "Let's go rightaway so that we can be back by sunrise!"

"Not so fast, sweeties," you suddenly heard Soojin's voice. You had no idea she was awake.

"Soojin!" you exclaimed in surprise. "How much of it did you hear?"

"Enough to know you'll have to take me with you. Unless you want me to tell Seonghwa where you're going."

"Are you blackmailing me?" you croaked in disbelief. "My own sister!"

"Call it what you want. I want to come with."

"To stop us or..."

"No, silly!" Soojin laughed. "If there is a way to keep my tail and have legs occasionally, I want to have that, too."

"Oh. Alright, then, shall we get going?"

"I don't see why not," San replied.

After he and Wooyoung helped you and Soojin out of the pool and back into the sea, the two pirates lowered the boat and the four of you embarked on a journey to find the mysterious good-hearted wizard living in a lighthouse. By the time you discovered the lighthouse, it was already night. You and your sister had been swimming for hours, while San and Wooyoung had been rowing the boat. You wondered if it was all a myth or if there was a grain of truth to the whole story. You would determine what it was soon enough. Approaching the lighthouse at a safe distance, you looked at your friends and sister, unsure what your next move should be.

"What do I say?"

"I don't know, Y/N, it was your idea in the first place," Wooyoung pointed out, completely unhelpful.

You rolled your eyes and decided to improvize. You'd gotten this far already, you wouldn't back out now.

"Oh, great wizard of the lighthouse, we have come to seek your assistance!" you exclaimed, a bit too melodramatically. But oh well, it was too late to change your words.

No response came. You sighed, not daring to hope for any.

"Well, we tried," you shrugged and no sooner had you done that than the door to the lighthouse opened.

Out of it, a very tall figure appeared. It was too dark to discern his features properly, but you could tell that he had quite the strong presence. However, you weren't scared of him. Rather, you felt curious to hear what he would say.

"You must new around here," he observed. "Those who've met me know there is no need for such theatrics."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. "Wasn't sure how to address you."

"Yunho will be fine," the wizard introduced himself. "And you are?"

"Y/N and this is my sister Soojin."

"And we're Wooyoung and San," your friends added.

"What brings two mermaids and two pirates in front of my home?" Yunho asked.

"How did he know we are pirates?" San whispered in disbelief.

"He's a wizard, remember?" Wooyoung responded in a hushed tone.

Yunho chuckled, utterly amused by your and San’s clueless nature.

"Um, I was wondering if there is a way to...have legs at times but not lose my tail permanently," you admitted.

"Same here," Soojin murmured nervously.

"It won't be easy but it's not impossible," Yunho nodded thoughtfully.

"What will it cost?" you inquired. If it meant losing your voice or life like it had happened to your cousin, it wouldn't be worth it.

"What do you mean?" the wizard tilted his head in confusion.

"I mean, what do I have to give up?"

"Give up?" Yunho mimicked your voice. "You don't have to give up anything. Did you think I would take away something from you like that greedy sea witch?"

"Honestly? I wasn't even sure you're real," you confessed.

"Well, here I am," Yunho laughed.

"Is there seriously no catch?" Soojin was stunned.

"Why would you help complete strangers and get nothing in return?" you wanted to know.

"Why not?" Yunho reasoned. "And it's not nothing. If I ever need the help of a mermaid or a pirate, I'll know who to contact."

"I suppose that's sensible. But still, I'm amazed such a selfless person even exists."

"Not a person," Yunho reminded you. "But I appreciate the sentiment, nonetheless. As for the transformation spell, the only solution I can think of is to bind your human nature to the sun and your fish nature to the moon. In other words, you would have legs during the day and a tail during the night."

"Sounds pretty good to me," you cried out excitedly.

"I also think it's suitable," Soojin said.

Yunho sighed, as if disappointed by how quickly you'd agreed to it.

"Are you sure you want me to do this? Once the binding spell is complete, it will be irreversible. It is absolutely mandatory that you two are in the water whenever the sun sets and the moon lights up the night sky."

"Relax, we've survived quite some time in a fishnet without water. I'm sure we can handle anything."

"You don't understand," Yunho explained. "You would no longer be mermaids in the broad sense of the word. Such a binding spell may have unexpected side affects. During the day while the sun is out you would behave more like humans. During the night and especially during a full moon...you could be more like sirens."

"Are you saying there's a chance we could hurt the people we love?" you asked, worried that this whole thing sounded too good to be true.

"Anything is possible. Which is why you must be absolutely certain this is what you want."

You and Soojin exchanged a meaningful glance. You already knew you were on the exact same page.

"Even if it is dangerous, our decision remains the same. We will do our best not to hurt anyone and we'll warn those close to us of the possible side effects."

"I don't know you well enough, but something is telling me to trust you," Yunho admitted reluctantly.

"I could say the same thing about you," you teased. "Oh, great wizard Yunho of the lighthouse."

The tall man simply chuckled.

"Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

I woke up to Hongjoong's arms around me. Despite the foolish deal he'd made with some demon, I could understand the logic behind his decision. I probably would do the same thing if it meant saving one of our crewmates. They were all like family to me and I would rather die than let anything bad happen to them. So I was glad that Hongjoong was still here. And determined to make sure he stayed exactly where he was. I didn't care what it would take. I would face the demon myself or come up with a plan. I had finally gained so much. Hongjoong and Y/N - my two loves - were finally getting along. I would be a fool to lose it. I gave Joong a quick kiss and gently removed myself from his arms. I smiled at his sleeping figure and started dressing up for the day. The first destination I wanted to visit was Y/N and Soojin's pool. I hoped they slept comfortably and was looking forward to talking to them.

The minute I walked out onto the deck, I realized something was wrong. The pool was empty. And the whole ship was uncharacteristically quiet. I told myself not to panic but that didn't help much so I hurried towards Yeosang's room, hoping he knew what the hell was going on. I disturbed his sleep in vain, for he seemed just as clueless as I was in connection to Y/N and Soojin's current location. Which was extremely troubling, to say the least. After that, we entered Wooyoung and San's room, hoping they would have an answer. Imagine my distress when I couldn't find them either.

"Should we wake Hongjoong up?" Yeosang suggested.

"We don't seem to have a choice. Two missing mermaids and two missing pirates is quite the disaster."

"I just hope they're alive," Yeosang sighed.

"They have to be."

Once we informed Hongjoong of our disturbing discovery, we were disappointed, but not surprised to find out he also had no clue of these four's whereabouts. We were getting a little desperate, so we went to Mingi, our prisoner, to see if he'd heard anything. Being locked away had made him surprisingly cooperative and pliant so he simply replied that he wished he could help, but had unfortunately, no knowledge on the issue. Him being so nice to us was a little suspicious but we still left him some food and water. We were pirates, but not monsters, after all.

As soon as we returned to the deck again, the three of us saw that the sun had already risen. And in the middle of the sea, a small boat was advancing towards the ship. Inside, there were four figures. It was too far to tell their faces apart but something inside me ignited a flame of recognition. It was them.

"We were so worried that the four of you had disappeared without a trace," I scolded them as soon as the boat was in earshot.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me on my fresh set of legs?" Y/N exclaimed.

"Please, don't tell me what you had to give up," I sighed.

"Absolutely nothing. You'll have to thank your wizard friend for that."

"You met Yunho? Why didn't you just ask me to take you to him?"

"She wanted to surprise you, dumbass," Wooyoung interfered.

"Say another word, Woo, and I'll beat your ass!" I vowed angrily.

"Relax, honey," Hongjoong put his hand on top of mine. "The most important thing is that our friends are safe."

"You're beautiful, Soojin! With or without a tail" in the meantime, Yeosang was gushing at his girlfriend.

"So are you, Sangie! With or without a hand!"

"Ah, young love," San lamented wistfully, abandoned the boat and started climbing on the ship's ladder. "Remember when we were like that, Woo?"

"What are you talking about? We're still like that," Wooyoung pointed out, following him right behind.

"He's right," Hongjoong chuckled. "You guys are so in love it's gross."

"And if it isn't the pot calling the kettle black," San murmured.

"I will kill you both for sneaking out without telling us! We thought you got kidnapped or something!" I insisted, pointing a finger at Wooyoung and San who had just boarded the ship, while Hongjoong and Yeosang were trying their best to hold me back.

"Hey, this was Y/N's idea! Why are you attacking us for simply escorting her and Soojin?" Wooyoung complained.

"Because Hwa is a perfectly refined gentleman. He wouldn't harm a lady," Hongjoong defended me.

"Oh, so I'm a lady now?" Y/N giggled. She had just successfully made use of her legs to get on the ship. And as angry as I was, I couldn't resist the temptation and embraced her tightly.

"You're lucky you're so cute," I whispered.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Hwa," she mumbled into my chest. "Don't get mad at Woo and San, they just did what I asked them to."

"Next time you need anything, just turn to me, okay?" I begged her. "No more surprises."

"I'll have that in mind. Speaking of, I have to tell you something."

"Shall I ask the guys to leave or...?"

"No, it's fine. Wooyoung and San already know, but I think it's sensible to tell all of you."

"Sure, what is it?"

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

When Y/N and Soojin were finished telling their story of their encounter with the wizard of the lighthouse, silence reigned over the deck. While I was happy that they had achieved their wish to have legs during the day and tails during the night, I wasn't very fond of the implications of such a decision. Yunho had warned them of possible side effects and they had decided to go for it anyway. Naturally, I wasn't scared for myself. I'd had my fair share of adventures and facing actual sirens was one of them. And on top of that, I had sold my soul to a demon. So, it couldn't get any worse for me, could it? But I was a bit worried of what these side effects could mean for Seonghwa and Yeosang, in particular. Wooyoung and San were perfectly immune to feminine charms. But Hwa and Sangie’s affections for the mermaids were so strong I feared they wouldn't be cautious enough around them, especially during a full moon. A siren's nature was too captivating and dangerous to control. I had grown used to Y/N and Soojin's presence, but as mermaids. I couldn't picture how they would behave as sirens. As long as I was around, I was confident I could protect my crewmates. But one day the demon would come to collect...And my friends would be on their own. I wouldn't be able to do anything to save them. And that terrified the hell out of me.

"I know what you're thinking," Y/N was the first to interrupt the silence. "But I swear, Soojin and I will learn how to control our siren nature. And if you don't trust us enough to let us remain in the pool at night or during a full moon, we will return to the sea and come back to the ship with the sunrise."

"I'm with her on that one," Soojin added. "We'll do anything to make sure you feel safe around us. The last thing we would want is for you to feel threatened."

"I trust you both," Seonghwa replied in a most serious tone. "But can he say the same?"

Without even looking up, I knew he was referring to me. It was clear that Wooyoung and San didn't worry much about these potential side effects. Yeosang hadn't spoken his mind yet, but I was fairly certain he shared Seonghwa's opinion on the matter. Which left me, of course. I had to weigh in my next words very carefully. I didn't want to put my crewmates' lives in danger. But I also didn't want to lose the fragile friendship I had somehow formed with the mermaids despite all my shortcomings. And last but certainly not least, I didn't want to do something that would mess up things between me and Seonghwa.

"Honestly? I don't even trust myself," I admitted darkly. "But we're all on the same team now. You're welcome to stay for as long as you wish. We'll deal with whatever comes our way together."

Way to go, Hongjoong. That's one hell of a speech that would undoubtedly end up in a disaster. But what was I supposed to say? It would be too cruel to kick them out considering the possible reasoning behind their decision.

To my surprise, Y/N ran towards me in gratitude, landing on my lap and attacking my neck with kisses.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! We won't let you down," she promised.

"You gotta stop doing things like that unexpectedly," I joked, even though a small (okay, that was a lie, maybe it wasn't that small) part of me wanted her to do the exact opposite.

"You kinda like it, though," Y/N observed. And damn it, she wasn't wrong.

To be continued…

#ateez #yunho #seonghwa #hongjoong #seongjoong #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #pirate au #mermaid au #writing

[prinxlyart]

I was just chilling in the morning and then I started to think about how Amity was mean to Willow when they were alone in the woods even though there was no one around to rat her out to her parents or something and now I can't stop thinking about how much it affected her to be forced to cut Willow off and how from the 3 Blight kids she's the one that seemed to crave her parents' approval the most despite their abuse that might not have been evident to her until meeting Luz and seeing that Eda was more caring and supportive of a kid she found in her stand than her parents of their kids.

Anyways, do you have any headcanons about how those 7 years were like for Amity?

This goes perfectly with the last one I answered so let’s dig in

(This is another Long One ™️)

Amity cried for like, a month after she was forced to cut ties with Willow. The only ones that knew this were her siblings though. She made them swear not to tell, although she didn’t really need to. They knew what their parents were like.

As time went on, Amity felt....Othered. She was different from her siblings (she wasn’t a twin nor was she naturally good at illusions). She was different from the girls she was told to be friends with (they were mean and Amity didn’t like being mean). She was different from all the other kids in her grade (she was a Blight).

This odd sort of unintentional distancing left her feeling almost numb. She didn’t know how to act around her new mean “friends”, but over time she picked up their behavior. She knew if she wanted to convince her parents that she was getting along with these girls, she’d have to act like she liked them and act like them too.

So she started imitating them. She’d watch how they made fun of anything and everything and learned to keep her own interests hidden for fear of being the next one they’d ridicule. They would even make fun of each other which was the most baffling to Amity. Were any of them actually friends?

She tried to keep her eyes off Willow. She couldn’t bear to see her, especially now that Amity’s new “friends” picked on her constantly. She couldn’t stand to see the tears in Willow’s eyes and the look of fear and shame her “friends” caused her to don.

As the years went on and her numbness settled in, she learned how to adopt her “friend’s” behaviors even when they weren’t around. Because even though they might not be around, everyone else around her still knows she’s a Blight. And Blight’s always make sure that their status as The Best is known to those around them. So she starts making comments on other people’s poor grades. Snide remarks about others’ lack of talent. Whispers with her “friends” about how so-and-so could barely be qualified as a witch. She had a whole persona to uphold after all; she made sure that no one would be able to call her out for not acting like a Blight.

The library was her safe haven. Her secret nook inside the library was even more so. Even the library was too public for her to be caught acting as anything other than a Blight. The only time she could remove the mask and just be herself was when she was either in her secret nook or, eventually, when she started volunteering to read to the little kids.

Amity cherishes her time spent reading to the little kids because she can indulge in all of her childish interests and fiction under the guise of extra credit. And the kids love when she gets so into her story-telling, so who does it hurt? Those little kids don’t know what her reputation is supposed to be and they have no expectations beyond telling them a fun story. Anyone that does know who she is will only think she’s going above and beyond in what she’s doing like she does with anything else.

She still missed Willow. Every time she saw her eating alone at lunch or hiding in her cowl hood to avoid the taunts and jeers thrown at her from their peers, it broke Amity’s heart. The only person she could be her real self with had become the school target and she was among the people that made her that target. It made her want to puke if she thought about it for too long. So she opted to try not to think about it at all. She would mindlessly listen to her friends drone on about whatever new thing had caught their attention and sit in her thoughts until her attention was drawn by the group.

There were times when she would find herself alone with Willow and she would flash back to her 7th birthday party. Her parent’s threats would echo in her ears and she would have to bite the inside of her cheek to remember to Act Like a Blight. So she kept up the facade, even if it was just the two of them. She had to do it then, of course she’d have to keep it up now.

At the point we see them in the show, Amity’s been pretending for so long that she’s starting to believe her own lies. She’s forced herself to think about only being top of her class and maintaining her family’s reputation (not like her siblings have helped on that front). She is better than Willow, at least when it comes to magic. She can barely do anything with her magic, it was visible proof. Amity had worked harder than anyone to master abominations to the degree she had. She was a Blight. Anyone that tried to say otherwise could suffer her wrath.

She gets along with her friends almost the same way she gets along with her siblings: be civil and relatively friendly in the presence of others and then complain about whatever nonsense they did in her diary. She wishes she had another actual person to talk to about all this, but her “friends” were as fake as the relationships she had with them and as far as she knew, none of them were being threatened by their parents to interact with one another. Maybe Skara? Potentially Boscha? But Boscha has been so into her role as Top Bully for as long as Amity’s known her and she hardly thinks her parents are coercing her into acting so horribly.

When she sees Willow start hanging out with the Illusion track kid (augustus, she finds out from her siblings; he transferred to their home room after being bumped up a couple grades), Amity’s heart drops entirely. She’s officially been replaced. Despite the years of distance and tormenting, Amity wanted to believe that somehow, Willow would find it in her to forgive her and they could be friends again. But Willow’s moved on and made a new best friend. She deserves to.

Somehow it hurts even more when Luz starts attending Hexside. Amity actually likes Luz. She hasn’t actually liked another person since, well, Willow. And now Luz attending Hexside and not being ashamed of being friends with Willow makes her heart ache in a way it hadn’t for a few years. Willow’s smiling. Laughing. Sure, that Augustus kid makes her smile too, but it’s much different with Luz around. With Luz by her side, Willow was coming out of the shell she’d built for herself to protect herself from all the mockery Amity’s friends encouraged the rest of the school to throw at her. It was an odd feeling of melancholy watching them be best friends in the halls of Hexside; Amity was happy that Willow was happy, that she finally found someone to help her out of that shell Amity was forced to make her build. But it stung just as much because it wasn’t her that was able to make Willow smile and laugh like that. Amity hadn’t been able to do that for Willow since they were small.

She truly didn’t mean to ruin Willow’s memories. But she also wasn’t trying to maintain her reputation when she burned the memory of her 7th birthday. No, Amity was sick to her stomach of the years of watching Willow suffer at Amity’s own hands. If she could just. Remove herself from that memory? Remove the fact that it was Amity that caused her so much pain? Amity would much rather Willow forget her entire existence than live with that pain. She half wished she could do the same to herself, but she didn’t have much chance to dwell on it before she realized she somehow had set all of Willow’s memories on fire.

When she was able to finally admit to Willow the whole truth of the reason she ruined their friendship when they were small in Willow’s memory? It felt like the weight of the Titan had been lifted off her shoulders. It didn’t excuse her actions, not by a long shot, but at least now Willow knew it wasn’t because Amity suddenly stopped liking her. Amity never stopped liking her. But to a 7-year-old, she didn’t feel as though she had any choice in the threat her parents posed and then grew up with that same fear looming over her shoulder. She didn’t know how to take it back.

Amity didn’t know what she did to deserve Luz popping into her life from a pot of Abomination goo. What she did know is that the decision she’d made when she was 7 felt irreversible her entire life up until Luz showed up. Luz, who didn’t judge her by her past actions or her fake identity, who liked Azura and was an even bigger nerd about it than Amity, who forgave Amity’s awful behavior when she tried to get her dissected and again at the Covention and then tried so desperately to become her friend; Amity didn’t understand how Luz could be so understanding and not hold Amity’s shitty behavior against her, but she’s so grateful that she didn’t because now she’s pivoted. Her whole life has made a sharp turn into making decisions for herself and not just for her family’s name.

And somehow, Luz managed to give Amity the second chance she never thought she’d get in her life: a second chance to be a better friend to Willow. And she’s so glad she took that chance.

Tl;dr: it’s fuckin ROUGH but like, dissociation, yknow? Works wonders.

#prinxly inquiries #anonymous #the owl house #amity blight #willow park #luz noceda #toh headcanons #toh character study #Amity has a Bad Time™️ -megalovania theme plays- #me gently breakdancing: What’s wrong son?

[morganaspendragonss]

The Broken Soul of TK Strand 3/?

there's a little bit more torture in this chapter, but a lot less than in last 😊

ao3 | 3.4k

“TK, babe, wake up.”

It took him a few moments to open his eyes; he was so tired that he just wanted to sleep.

“Come on, it’s time to wake up, there are a lot of things to do today.”

Carlos’s voice was soothing, almost like a siren’s song, but not the kind that smashed ships against rocks, sending sailors to their deaths. This song was pleasant and warm and exactly what TK needed to feel better.

At last, he was able to open his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming or if he was awake. A figure moved next to him; TK turned, though the simple movement of his head provoked a tidal wave of sensations, all terrible and painful, and he closed his eyes again.

“Yeah, you have a bad concussion and if you don’t deal with it, it’s going to get worse. It could be irreversible.”

“Thanks, babe. I already knew that, you don’t need to remind me that I’m in a horrible mess.”

“I’m only telling you because with every day, every hour that passes, you get weaker and your brain is only going to want to sleep and rest. You can’t let that happen.”

TK opened his eyes again. Carlos looked at him, smiled, and TK saw him kneel down next to him. He could feel the touch on his cheek, though he knew that Carlos wasn’t here; he knew that it was part of his dream or the concussion. Still, it made him feel better all the same—it made him feel protected and that everything was going to be okay.

A loud ringing inside his head made TK clench his teeth so hard it hurt, but not even that got rid of the pain caused by the noise, which pierced his head clean through. He tried to curl his body into a ball, as if that would solve the problem.

TK didn’t know when the pain passed—or, rather, when he began to lose consciousness again without realising. Once awake, he tried to get to his feet, but it was an almost impossible task in his weakened state. Now, he was almost sure that the guy intended to leave him here to die.

He still didn’t understand the story about the ritual, probably because nothing about this dark lord made sense. Much less so now that TK was practically seeing double and could barely distinguish between what was real and what was in his head.

Whatever the case, since the previous day’s nightmare with the heart he had to eat and the wine he’d been forced to drink, not to mention whatever had been done to his shoulder blade, the guy hadn’t come back to pay him a visit, and TK feared that he had abandoned him to die.

(TK would give anything for a mirror to see what was on his back—it hurt horrible, it burned, but maybe that too was because of the concussion)

He tried to remember what he knew about concussion and how much time a person could suffer one before it became truly dangerous. Something told him that he had already passed that limit, but he had to keep fighting, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that Carlos and his father were doing everything they could to find him and save him.

So TK had to use all his strength to fight against everything inside of him that told him to just give up.

“Yes, yes, my lord. His blood is perfect, I did that test that you asked and it is exactly what we were searching for… what you were searching for, forgive me, what you were searching for.”

TK got closer to the door, dragging himself along the floor so he could listen to the man’s voice.

“Tonight we will get his tears and the blood we need for the ritual and tomorrow… Oh, my lord, tomorrow you will rule this world.”

TK only heard his voice—he must be talking to himself, or worse, he thought he was talking to someone else. He was crazy enough to hear voices in his head, after all.

He lay back down on the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. It was interesting how the smell of blood and all the other things around him didn’t bother him anymore; how easily humans get used to horrible things like that.

“He’s going to kill me here and leave me to bleed out.”

“And you’re going to let him?”

Carlos sat by TK’s side and took his hand, stroking and kissing it. TK could feel the actions clearly, which was definitely a bad sign; he was getting worse, as everything that wasn’t here seemed all too real.

He smiled—it felt like the times when he had taken pills and then lay on the sofa, calm and happy from the substances running through his veins. It was like being drugged again and, just like then, as if he had gotten too carried away that he could end up dead.

“I’m so scared, babe.”

“I know; that’s why I’m here. You created me.” Carlos stretched out his hand and, when TK took it, pulled him close and hugged him. It felt so real, and TK would have given anything for it to last forever. “I know you think that you aren’t strong enough to fight and beat this by yourself, but there are few people as strong and brave as you, TK. You can do it, you can hold on until your father and I find you.”

“I don’t know, babe, I’m so tired.”

“Do it for me.”

Carlos’s figure began to fade as TK’s brain took control again. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before he short-circuited again.

TK decided not to lie back down—if he forced himself to stay sitting up, then maybe his body would fight for longer to stay awake, thus giving Carlos more time to find him, just as his boyfriend’s image had said.

*

“Carlos,” Nancy called, upon seeing him leaving. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

The cop turned around—he’d spent half of his time in the station, and the other half in the precinct, as the idea of going home hurt too much. Knowing that TK wasn’t there and wasn’t going to return at the end of his shift… Carlos couldn’t do it.

“Of course, I was just going to the precinct to see if they had anything new. Is everything okay?” He huffed a bitter laugh after saying that—of course nothing was okay. “Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“It’s okay. I actually wanted to see how you were.” Nancy offered him a cup of coffee. “The truth is that I didn’t know who to talk to. I don’t know Captain Strand very well so it would feel weird talking to him, and the others… They’re all busy all the time; if it’s not work, it’s trying to find TK. I think they’re trying to do anything so they don’t think about it, but I can’t. I don’t know how, I just feel paralysed.”

“I understand.”

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. You’re going through something so awful and here I am, going on about my stupid problems.”

“They’re not at all stupid.” They moved to sit in the now-empty kitchen, and Carlos smiled. “Really, I’m happy to talk about how other people are doing; everyone is treating me as if I’m made of glass so they don’t tell me anything and only talk to me if it’s to ask if I need anything. The only thing I need right now is to have TK here, with me; everything else is irrelevant.”

Nancy sighed. “Do you know, the last time I spoke to TK before...before all this happened, it was to argue with him?” She took a sip of her coffee, not looking at Carlos. “I’d put the bandages in an order in the ambulance drawers and he was changing it. I told him that my way was easier, he told me his way was the rule, and I said that we would end up losing time when we couldn’t afford to.

“Then he said that we should ask Cap and I got angry, telling him that I was the one who’d been in the team for longer and I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to put away the bandages. I’d had a bad day, my roommate left and only told me that morning. I took it out on TK and I never got the chance to tell him how sorry I was. It was really stupid, and it was the last thing I said to him before…”

Carlos reached out and placed his hand on top of Nancy’s. “Me too. I didn’t argue with him but I know that I made him feel bad the last time we talked.” He scoffed. “How little an anniversary matters when you don’t know if your boyfriend is going to come home again.”

Nancy nodded. She didn’t know that feeling exactly, but she did have an idea of what Carlos was going through. “We’re going to find him, right, Carlos?”

“I won’t stop until we do.”

Carlos stared down into his half-empty coffee cup for a moment, as if he could read the grounds and have them tell him where TK was.

“You’re still here?”

Carlos turned again, seeing Owen with a look typical of a father whose son didn’t pay attention to him and continued playing video games instead of getting reading for school.

“I’m sorry, Owen, I just…” Carlos sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders. “I can’t go home, I can’t even open the door without… I’ve always had anxiety attacks, but it’s been so long that I’d almost forgotten what they were like. Now, everytime I go home, I try to open the door, but knowing that TK isn’t there, that he isn’t coming back—that he might never come back… I can’t do it, Owen.”

The captain approached the table. Nancy prepared to leave, but he gestured for her to stay. “I understand. I haven’t been able to go home either without thinking that...that TK has escaped and come home. I know he hasn’t, so I can’t go in. I’ve been sleeping here—what little sleep I’ve managed, anyway. Go up and lie down for a while. You need to sleep.”

Carlos nodded because he needed to sleep, because he wanted to stay here, and because Owen felt exactly the same as he did, though they hadn’t been able to talk about it until now.

He accepted the offer and said goodbye to Nancy, thanking her for the talk. He headed to the bunkroom above and lay down in the first bed he found, knowing that it didn’t belong to TK.

He must have fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow; he didn’t even have time to take off his shoes. He was so tired, and he had spent so long fighting it that once he decided to sleep, he fell completely into dreams.

Carlos felt himself fall, like Alice down the rabbit hold, ending up seated on the floor. He heard a sob that he recognised immediately and got to his feet, spinning around to find him. But he didn’t see anything; it was so dark that Carlos could only hear the sobbing voice as it came closer and closer.

“TK! Babe, I’m here, can you hear me?”

The cries became more intense, followed by a shout that had Carlos’s hair standing on end. There was no doubt that it was TK’s voice—someone was hurting him. Carlos spun around again, searching for something, anything, in between the total darkness.

“No, please… Don’t hurt me.” TK sounded like he was behind Carlos, but when he turned, TK wasn’t there.

He walked everywhere, but he still saw nothing. The only thing that caught his attention was the floor he was walking on—it seemed like old wood, and at the same time like the forest floor. He was in a cabin that had been abandoned years ago.

Carlos was at the point of screaming when he noticed hands wrapping around his waist from behind—just like he would recognise TK’s voice anywhere, he also knew the feel of his hands and his mouth which now kissed his neck.

Carlos turned, and there he was. But it wasn’t the same TK he remembered from two days ago. Although he was smiling, this TK was emaciated and tired-looking, he had many cuts and wounds, he was pale, and it seemed like he had lost the flow that always surrounded him.

He caressed his cheek and TK pressed his face against Carlos’s hand, like a dog seeking comfort from their person.

“What have they done to you?”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m waiting for you… I’m tired and I know that he wants to kill me but I’m waiting for you because I know you’ll find me and save me.”

“Of course I will, babe. We’re all doing everything we can to get to you; Grace is pulling double shifts in case she gets a call that could help and the others…”

“Only you can save him, Carlos.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m tired, that man...he’s crazy. We should have realised that first day when we saw him at the fire. I recognise him now. I saw him when he took me, he’d covered his face with a hood, but I saw him and I know it’s him. Remember?” TK came closer, legs shaking; if it weren’t for Carlos holding him, he would have fallen.

Carlos sat down and held TK in his arms. If he could take him away from here through the dream, he would do it; instead, he squeezed him tight and kissed his head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Ty.”

“The man from the fire. I pointed him out to you, remember? I told you that he was weird and he seemed too interested in what we were doing.”

Carlos shook his head; he had too many things on his mind to remember a conversation from three days ago.

“It’s the same guy who took me. He covered himself so he wouldn’t be seen, but when he hit me, I saw his face. You can see him too, my love. You can see him...you can see him...you can…”

TK’s body vanished. Carlos shouted and called out, but TK didn’t return. He shouted and screamed until his throat was sore, until he was awake in the station, surrounded by Owen, Tommy, and all his friends. They were looking at him as if they were seeing a ghost.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to sleep,” Carlos said, smiling as if nothing had happened, but his breathing was still shaky and faltering.

Marjan handed him a glass of water which Carlos almost drank in one.

Then he realised.

The vision, the dream—it had been his own mind working. He had been so worried, hoping that someone would give him any clue as to TK’s whereabouts that he hadn’t realised that he himself had seen the kidnappers face. He had seen him twice, as the TK in his dream had said, and he had the image in his head, but it was also in the video.

“We know who the kidnapper is, we have his face.”

Carlos leapt up and raced down the stairs, asking Owen if he wanted to accompany him to the station, though there was no need for a reply as the two climbed into the car. They only had to watch the video of the kidnapping and find the videos from the fire—that man would be in both.

*

When the guy finished the next part of the ritual that night, TK wasn’t aware of his exit. He’d taken even more blood, too much to remain awake and alert. TK had begged him not to kill him, to let him live, but nothing had worked. The guy’s mind was high on the idea that some creature from Hell needed TK’s blood to come to Earth.

There had been nothing TK could say or do to make him change his mind.

The final part of the ritual was terrible for TK. If he thought that drinking wine and eating a raw heart had been the worst that could happen, he was sorely mistaken—the worst was yet to come.

After listening to him talk, TK had wondered what he meant by getting his tears, but the answer was so simple that he didn’t even think of it.

The guy, covered by a hood, entered. He didn’t say anything this time, like he was in a rush, but TK didn’t have the strength nor the will to ask. He had a box in his hand which he left on the floor next to him. TK tried to sit up—putting a few centimetres wasn’t going to make much difference, but he needed to fight until the end.

Little good it did him. The man kept watching him, and TK realised that his eyes had changed. Last time he had seen him, the man seemed to love him like a sacred idol, but now he had the look of an animal, like someone prepared to do anything without remorse.

He grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the wall; TK was so weak that the guy barely needed to make any effort to move him. He took out the same knife from last time and pressed it against his neck.

“Give me your tears.”

“What? You want me to cry?”

“You have to cry,” the man demanded, pressing the knife a little harder against his neck. “I can hurt you until I get them as long as you’re still alive for me to extract the blood I need.”

“Please…”

The blade dug into TK’s skin, causing a small cut.

“I have you under my control. I know who your boyfriend is and, if this ritual goes wrong, if after everything I’ve done, my lord can’t come to this world, I assure you that what I will do to your boyfriend will be much worse than anything I’m doing to you. I suggest that you give me your tears; your blood I can take when and however I want.”

As is emphasising his words, the man delivered a blow to TK’s abdomen, making him bend double.

“You’re beautiful, kid, the best possible offering to our lord, so I hate to hurt you. But if you give me no other choice, I will have to take longer to finish the ritual.”

“Please...stop.” The pain in his head was killing him and his vision was blurred, little white lights dancing everywhere, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Whether it was for fear that something could happen to Carlos, fear for himself, the pain, or the exhaustion, TK began to cry, and the man placed a small flask to his cheek to collect the tears.

He left him lying on the floor for a moment. He hadn’t collected more than a few tears, but he seemed happy, until, without warning, he made a deep cut on TK’s arm and held it over a tub.

“This won’t take long.”

“What are you doing? Let me go, please.”

TK didn’t know when he lost consciousness again, but he thought that it would be the last time, that he wouldn’t wake up. He could tell; he was too weak to stand another session of this torture.

Either way, he was sure that the stranger was going to let him die, or would finish the job soon enough. That closed the window of probability that his father and Carlos could rescue him.

However, if he had been conscious, TK would have heard the sound of vehicles in the distance and the two helicopters that were beginning to close in on the area. He also would have noticed that his kidnapper was rushing desperately around the house; he would have heard the sound of his feet hitting the floor, and he would have seen the agony he felt over being discovered before he could finish his ritual.

But TK was fighting for his life with a concussion that clouded his thoughts and blood loss that could kill him while he slept. Time had run out, and it was better to sleep and dream of Carlos than it was to bear even more pain.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #owen strand #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE LOST PROPHECY

Lily watched Harry come back inside and flop morosely down at the table, burying his head into his arms and looking so exhausted she wouldn't be surprised if he'd simply fallen over asleep. Still keeping Hickory wrapped in her arms for that deep purring noise keeping her together instead of what she really wanted but determined to keep her infant upstairs, she sat down next to him and ran her nails through his hair, smiling slightly when he tilted his head towards her touch.

"They'll get through this, they always have," Lily promised.

"Exactly how many times has some kid come plopping down into their life to tell them in detail how you lot were going to die?" Harry demanded, his words muffled and all the more grateful he couldn't see the look he knew would be on her face for that.

He was right not to look, he decided, when her voice came out so strained but still as sure as ever. "Doesn't change what I said, they're the most resilient lot I've ever known in my life. They'll bounce back from this just because that's who they are."

When Harry didn't respond to this, she instead tried, "Remus will forgive you, the man can't seem to hold a grudge anymore than he can avoid laughing at his mates," except towards himself she mentally finished with a pained wince for the poor dear.

Harry peaked up at her then, whispering, "I'm killing you all, why should any of you forgive me?"

Lily swapped to smacking him on the forehead, across his scar, and he went cross-eyed for a moment but his stricken expression didn't change. "You are doing no such thing," Lily snapped. "Even if we could, we wouldn't change our own past! I'd fall in love with James again, I'd have you as my first child all over again, I wouldn't change a thing that's happened in my life because of everything it's gifted me. Can you really say you wouldn't come here and meet us if you had the choice right now?"

Harry met her eyes, and felt worse than ever he would deny no such thing. Did that really make him a terrible person though, just to meet his parents, to have his chance again to see Sirius? He'd kept struggling with this the more he cared for is own friends, when had they switched to being his family? Now they were all he had left from that time, he wouldn't ever want to live without them, but could he give that up for being with his new one?

He was saved from having to answer that now by Sirius stomping back in and kicking Harry's chair.

  "What did I do now?" Harry asked as he looked up at him, still sounding more exhausted than anything, though not entirely able to cover his awe he was still able to just look at his godfather, still just have a casual conversation with him.

"Since when did I need a reason to get your attention?" Sirius demanded back, before tapping him on the forehead with the book. "It's your turn by the way, think you can manage that without causing another storm?"

It was spoken as a jest, but Harry managed something resembling a smile at Sirius still looking out for him, his every indication saying he'd keep going if Harry couldn't. He'd been a fool, of course this was still his Sirius, Azkaban may have changed him, but nothing could really take him away.

He took it and followed James and Remus still muttering to each other into the living room, the two sitting down on the double seater while Harry still felt heavy with guilt for what he'd said, it was saying something Remus would still be in the same room with him as he sat down between his mother and Sirius to try and start.

They didn't know, and they didn't care what came next, whatever hellish thing was set to end Harry's fifth year. It wasn't going to mean much except Harry still walking those halls, truly the only thing they could stand hearing about at this point.

Harry landed in Dumbledore's office, which had magically repaired itself to its former glory.

Sirius tried in vain for a giggle, sharing with the others his instant idea of Dumbledore just waltzing into the school just to repair his office.

James countered with McGonagall might have done it, and the two may well have turned the whole thing into a debate of who was more likely to have done that under Umbridge's nose if Lily hadn't kept their attention. Harry was only just keeping himself pulled together, his voice still shook with every word and he was all but glued to Sirius' side while remembering a grief he'd only just suffered through in here, and though watching the two avidly, it would only hurt him more the longer that had to linger in his mind. The two quickly realized all of this and shut themselves up as soon as she'd cleared her throat.

His breathing was rapid, he tried not to think, but there was nothing to stop it. It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault.

Harry could feel the protest boiling around him, but he had to get this out, he didn't want to hear any false securities right now, venting as loud as he could.

If Harry had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, he'd still be alive, if only he'd listened to Hermione.

"No, no, no, and extra no!" Sirius still managed to speak over him. "Harry, how could you blame yourself for something you had no clue of at the time!?"

"Everyone was warning me this would-"

"No one told you shit!" Sirius barked back, keeping one eye on Harry's bleak face and the other on his mates who were both breathing rather heavily again as well as if stopping themselves from screaming.

"Hermione did," Harry breathed, and though nestled right beside his godfather, there was still that dark hole that may have grown smaller with time, but seemed open fresh and wide now Harry could not shake off, the thoughts still plaguing him all these years later if he'd only listened...

"Then blame her," Sirius seemed to conclude, even as he watched Harry with a small little smirk and knowing what to expect.

He got exactly that, Harry looked at him utterly affronted, "it was my fault for not listening to her, not her job to force me to!" He didn't look like hew was going to start crying anymore.

"You did listen to her," Sirius agreed as much to soothe that temper as make Harry hear what he was saying.

"Even when none of us would, you wouldn't let us yell at her for doing so," James uneasily agreed, now wishing he'd thought more of that at the time as well.

"Then Kreacher did some twisted mess, and Umbridge got in the way, and you had no reason to think otherwise," Sirius' face couldn't help but cloud at the end himself, how the world seemed stacked against Harry like that.

"Yeah, what was with that," Remus snarled quietly under his breath. "Why did Kreacher lie then of all times?"

"Doesn't particularly feel like he chose then to grow a sense of shitliss humor," James agreed foully.

They didn't actually have an answer for that, and now the one person who could have forced him to say what had been going through that deranged elf's mind was no longer around to do so...

Sirius swallowed hard when he realized his own words had backfired, and for a moment he let Harry keep going just to keep himself collected. He enjoyed hearing about this no more than them, honestly hated himself more than anyone ever could, for doing what he'd done to Harry, leaving him like that, failing James and Lily and his godson for his stupid arse getting caught and leaving the last of his family alone. If he thought about that too long he'd see red again, the only thing keeping himself in check was making absolutely sure Harry would always know the real truth, it wasn't his fault.

It was unbearable, this hollow feeling growing in him where Sirius should have been, he could not be alone with it.

Lily made a keening noise as she reached out for her child, could no more let him be alone with this than let her infant go without food. Harry leaned into her touch, knowing he wasn't alone now as he had been during the worst moment of his life then. Lily carded her fingers through his hair as gently as she could while her mind viciously demanded what had Dumbledore been thinking putting him back in there all alone, where was Remus or the rest of the Order, someone?!

The portraits around him, which had actually been sleeping, began to stir as dawn crept into the office, Phineas being the first to spot him and asking if Dumbledore had sent him to give another useless message to his worthless great-grandson?

The page snapped out of place as if it were Phineas' face. He couldn't help it, no matter the stupid petty insult it was, no one was ever going to talk about Sirius like that!

Lily quickly reached over and fixed it, smoothing it back into place while keeping worried eyes on him, but he hardly acknowledged her look, continuing like nothing had happened, though they could feel by the second something was churning in him, just waiting for a release.

Harry couldn't respond, to say the words aloud would make them irreversible.

Harry had to breathe carefully through his nose or that was going to end on a sob again. He'd had his moment, pouring his past out that way onto his godfather now, he wouldn't just keep breaking down and crying like some child every time it was mentioned now!

He couldn't just stay here and be scrutinized by these paints, so he tried to leave, but the door would not open. Another ignored this attempt entirely and asked if Dumbledore would be back soon, it had been very dull around here.

"That school has never been anything remotely dull," Remus muttered, though there was no inflection in his voice, they were still reeling from too many emotions to feel something simple like a joking tone right now.

Harry started to panic as he couldn't get the door open. He couldn't just stay here, where the feeling was rising in him like a wave leaving him ready to crash, he could not stay here!

A flash of green behind him, and Harry turned to see Dumbledore appear in his fireplace. He stepped out carefully, and avoided looking at Harry

"Oh, this again!" Lily burst out in frustration so loud everyone around her jumped and her cat ruffled and glared up at her.

"I swear if that man doesn't do some explaining, I'm going to-" Sirius cut himself off before he'd let his stupid threat pass through his lips. He'd been fixing to say haunt him, but even he knew he couldn't get away with that without Harry breaking down again in his lap and his mates possibly murdering him here and now.

as he stepped over and deposited the tiny baby Fawkes into his usual perch before sitting at his desk, telling Harry none of his fellow students would have permanent damage from the nights events.

"Good," Harry sighed in relief, though he'd winced heavily while saying so as he'd hardly spared a thought for them while hounding after Bellatrix. He already couldn't really forgive himself for what had happened to Sirius, he'd have wasted away to nothing if the same had befallen his friends because of him as well.

Madam Pomfrey was patching everyone up now. Nymphadora Tonks may have to spend some time in St. Mungos, but everyone would make a full recovery.

Sirius made a little rumbling noise of concern, he'd loved hearing of how his little cousin had turned out and didn't like imagining what Bellatrix had done to her.

Harry tried to say this was good, but the word escaped him.

Dumbledore next said he knew how Harry was feeling, and Harry at once said he had no clue!

Lily sighed deeply, her hand still a comfort on him. Dumbledore was only trying to say what many would in that instance, they weren't naive in thinking he'd never lost anyone as surely the man had parents or some such at some time in his life, but what Harry needed most now was the one thing he'd just been denied for the rest of his life, and no sympathy on anyone's part would make that better.

Phineas laughed at this, saying he'd told Dumbledore already never to try and sympathize with the students. Harry ignored this and turned away to the window. The Quidditch pitch could be seen in the distance, where Harry had once seen Sirius as a black dog watching his game, he'd never asked why...

"I thought that was implied," James said through a thick throat, his voice cracking at the end anyways, that was not a memory he wanted to be reminded of right now! His whole body shook, he could have fallen over in that moment from too much loss, but then like he had so many times for Sirius, Remus leaned over and whispered something in his ear. James muttered something back, and while he still seemed to be having trouble breathing, he desperately waved on anyone who would change the bleeding subject.

Dumbledore continued that there was no shame in what Harry was feeling, on the contrary, this pain was his strength.

Harry felt a white-hot anger lick at him, leaving him with the desire to hurt back Dumbledore's calm words.

James could sympathize, he'd feel the same way of anyone who walked in right now, almost wished for it as he needed someone to take all this out on, he just couldn't even imagine doing so to those around him.

Dumbledore just kept going though, saying Harry's suffering proved he was still human-

"That's not helping!" Remus said lowly, fighting shaking limbs himself just to keep upright, and now took back his own thought. Did Dumbledore know nothing of comforting someone in pain?

In all honesty there was no comfort for this, but that certainly hadn't been a way to go!

Harry roared back he didn't want to be human! He picked up the nearest thing, one of Dumbledore's silver instruments, and threw it against the wall.

Sirius swallowed hard as Harry managed to shout all of that with the same intensity, that anger from before bleeding right through back into him now.

Several of the portraits gasped in surprise, but Harry kept going at the same volume he didn't care, he'd had enough, he didn't want anymore, all the while chucking the things around him until he ran out so he flipped the table to.

None dared to stop his tirade, letting him vent and yell all that out and honestly wanting to join in. It felt like too much, he just kept losing everything, and they no longer had the will to promise it would get any better, not after this.

Dumbledore had not made a single move to stop him, in fact still watching with that maddening calm as he said Harry did care, he cared so much the pain left him feeling as if he'd bleed out from it.

Lily watched Harry steadily even as she vaguely registered Dumbledore's words. There was what they'd been looking for, that truly did make it sound as if Dumbledore did know what Harry was feeling, he did know what loss was...

Harry now senselessly screamed he didn't, shaking in place and wanting to rush at Dumbledore now, to break him to, so he'd feel just an instant of his own horror.

That violent streak, though not a surprise, worried them the most. They'd seen that play out in here, and didn't want to know what Dumbledore would do if Harry acted on that in there.

Dumbledore just kept at his calm, saying oh yes Harry did, he'd now lost his mother, father, and the closest thing he'd had to a parent. Of course he cared.

"Still not helping," Remus said again through gritted teeth. Constantly feeling on the verge of crying and refusing to act on it made him feel as if he were suffocating, but he refused to let himself. If Harry punched him again than so be it, but the only thing keeping him listening was watching Sirius, knowing this hadn't happened to him, it wasn't going to, so he would not cry!

Harry tried to keep shouting, but words were no longer enough, smashing things wasn't helping. He just wanted to run, keep running and not look back.*

Sirius inhaled sharply as he understood that all to well. He'd felt that twice in his life, in very short amount of times. Once after what he'd done to Remus, he hadn't come out of the Forest for days and no one had even noticed his friends had all been so furious with him, he almost hadn't come back but finally guilt had triumphed over his own self loathing and so he'd returned. That very summer, after that night his parents had kicked him out, turned on him as no mother and father ever should to a child, and there was a reason it had taken him some time to make it to James's place in the state he was, he'd simply ran all the way there. Those two stuck vividly in his mind, and he couldn't breath for a moment knowing Harry had to feel the same and it was still worse for him.

Harry went back to the door, which was still locked, and commanded to be let out.

Dumbledore simply said no.

Harry tried to make a threat, but Dumbledore was not impressed, saying Harry may continue doing as he pleased with his possessions, he did have to many.

"Is he trying to be funny!" Lily said near hysterics now, feeling a wild mess herself at how alone her child was, how it felt like he could never have a single reprieve! She kept flashing back to what he'd seen witnessing this happening to Cedric, but then Sirius had been there for him! Now he'd never have that again, and a few more tears traced down her cheeks for this future.

Harry commanded in a cold, calm voice just like Dumbledore's to be let out, but again, Dumbledore simply said no, not until he was heard.

Harry was back to shouting he didn't care what Dumbledore had to say!

Dumbledore said he would. Harry was not yet nearly as angry as he should have been, for it was his fault Sirius had died.

James went utterly still, like a wild animal that had just scented its prey.

Though he would not be arrogant as to claim the whole, Sirius was a brave, energetic man who would not have simply sat by while others were in danger. Yet Dumbledore should have been honest from the beginning, that Voldemort may have tried to lead Harry there and this could very well have been a result, therefore, the blame lay with him.

"You are kidding me." James stated, and there was not a trace left of sorrow, though his face was still a blotchy red. "He knew-"

"James," Remus tried, honest fear galloping so hard through him his words still shook. "Prongs, he-"

"Shut up Remus!" James snapped right back, his eyes laser focused on Harry now. If Dumbledore was actually saying what James mind insisted he'd just heard, that man wasn't going to live, and Remus nor anyone was going to stop him!

Harry was still shaking by the doorknob as he watched Dumbledore, who asked he please sit down.

It was not a command, but a request, and Harry threw himself into the chair as violently as he could.

Phineas interrupted to ask that the last of the Blacks were dead?

Dumbledore said yes, and Phineas said he didn't believe it, walking out of his portrait.

Harry couldn't say that properly, he still didn't want to believe it even as he'd had no choice.

Harry could imagine him appearing in Grimmauld Place, how he'd hop from portrait to portrait shouting for Sirius who would never again answer...

Lily felt that catch in the back of her throat, her hand shaking in place upon Harry and he covered hers with his for a moment, but unable to look up, away from an answer he only wished he'd had at the beginning.

Dumbledore continued he owed Harry much, to start with an apology of an old man's mistake. He'd forgotten what it was to be young.

James felt a rushing noise in his ear, a fire that he still wanted to act on, but he'd hear Dumbledore out, know in detail if that man had really done the unthinkable regarding his family.

So Dumbledore began with Harry's scar, saying he'd suspected those fifteen years ago the connection it could hold to Voldemort, and much more recently when he'd gotten his body back, how this may progress. This became apparent on the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.

Harry said Snape had told him this, but Dumbledore corrected Professor Snape.

"No!" James snapped so sharply the cat hissed at him. "He's done nothing to earn that, and you need to keep your priorities right now!"

Harry shifted uncomfortably under such a quelling gaze, it helped nothing to remind him his father wasn't looking at him with that acquisitory look, but Dumbledore...right?

When Harry ignored this Dumbledore kept going, asking Harry had he not wondered why he hadn't been teaching Occlumency, why in fact he hadn't so much as looked at Harry for months?

"A damn fool would wonder that, clearly except the man doing it," Lily hissed.

It was because he'd feared Voldemort would soon learn of this connection as well, and that he'd use it through Harry to spy. Dumbledore had feared if he looked Harry in the eye, he'd see the shadow of a snake stirring, and he'd been right.

Harry's skin crawled, no matter the explanation that feeling still residing of how tainted he was, and now he had absolute proof of how true it was. He suddenly expected those around him to pull away, his errant thought from before festering into a sickening fear he could not shake. They should hate him, blame him for this happening to Sirius, Voldemort had been using him this whole time and now it was no longer just a thought but a fact, Voldemort had possessed him, was inside of him, maybe even now-

"It's alright Harry," Lily breathed in his ear, all of them had sensed the change jumping through Harry, his anger switching to something new and it wasn't the loss Sirius could help with, that was an expression none could stand to see on his face, he was back to feeling guilty and maybe something more.

She tried to take the book away from him, she couldn't stand to watch him suffer through this twice and though whatever idea that was in his head would continue, at least she could hopefully keep his attention on one problem she could fix, but Harry's grip only tightened around the binding, he wouldn't let it go. If he did, they could realize the same as him, and he couldn't lose them now, he just couldn't!

Harry vividly remembered those times where he'd felt like a snake ready to strike, and watched Dumbledore avidly now as he continued to explain that Voldemort's aim of possessing him would have meant destruction as he'd tried tonight, to sacrifice Harry in hopes Dumbledore would try to end them both.

Then he made a desperate noise, every joint feeling like it was going to pop out of his body.

"Harry," James watched him in surprise, the only thing able to pull him away, to distract him from what he'd felt for Dumbledore and Sirius, but his son.

Harry wouldn't though, he wouldn't look at him, couldn't look at any of them, he knew what he'd see, what should have been there. Anger, hate, how could they not after what he'd done?

Dumbledore sighed then, and Harry cared nothing. He would have wanted to know all of this less than twenty four hours ago, but now it felt meaningless.

It all slide away with one brush of Sirius' hand. Just like every time Harry had needed him, Sirius was there now, making a little tisk noise and telling Harry, "alright, deep breaths there, I have proof now I'm not the center of the universe and I may need some comfort here soon."

He tried for a pleasant tone of voice. Harry just watched him with a feeling he knew he'd had until this moment, which vanished in a flash. Sirius didn't blame him, didn't hate him, even knowing Harry's part in this. He kept looking to his parents and back to him, and for a moment he didn't know what to do with this.

Sirius chuckled in surprise when Harry hugged him, but he took it in stride and just let him cling until he pulled back. Sirius wasn't even quite sure what that had been, but the deep warmth he felt that he'd helped Harry figure it out wasn't comparable.

Sirius had told Dumbledore Harry had felt Voldemort inside of him the night Arthur was attacked, and Dumbledore had only known that his fear was correct, Voldemort now knew of this connection, which was why it was so important he learn Occlumency.

James still felt that heat all across him, two levels as some part of him still wanted to murder Dumbledore on the spot for a full explanation of what exactly had been done to others lives, but also a feeling of peace he'd already accepted and now got to almost blissfully watch. It would never not burn he couldn't be there for Harry, but at least he had the one here who did.

He paused, and the whole world felt like it should have been suspended in silence, but it wasn't. The portraits around him were still shuffling or clearing throats, Fawkes was cawing behind him, the sun was creating dazzling images off of the sparkling broken glass around like dew in the carpet.

Remus fidgeted uneasily Harry had an audience for this, as well as one in here. It was different for sure, but truly the boy had never had an alone moment in his life when he really needed one, as opposed to such a lonely childhood all he'd ever wanted was the one thing now gone.

Then of course Harry had pieced together the rest, understood that something was hidden in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. Only those who had a prophecy ordained about them could lift one from such a place or suffer madness, and the urge to learn Occlumency had become of even greater importance.

"Would it have killed the bloody man to say that?" James said for only Remus, he was afraid if he spoke any louder he'd only hurt the others but he couldn't keep this bottled up. "So Voldemort would know Dumbledore was trying to stop Harry seeing these things, I don't see the flaw in that!"

Remus couldn't either, he had no defense for his old idol, and he couldn't even think of him as that anymore, not after what he'd just confessed to doing.

Harry reminded he hadn't, though everyone had warned him, but if he had Voldemort couldn't have shown him, and Sirius-

Sirius now realized what he'd just saved Harry from thinking as his godson further leaned into him. He continued to look worriedly down at him, but his voice was trying hard not to keep that heavy tone, so Sirius must have convinced him this wasn't his fault.

The explanation burst out of him he'd tried to find him first at Grimmauld Place, but Kreacher had said-

Dumbledore explained Kreacher had lied. Not being his master,

Harry was so lost in his own mind, the tiny nudge of contradiction on his conciseness meant nothing to him right now.

Kreacher could lie without even punishing himself while he intended for Harry to go to the Ministry of Magic.

"He what?" Lily began poisonously.

Harry gaped he was sent there on purpose, and Dumbledore explained Kreacher had been serving a new master for months.

Sirius had felt betrayal, he knew he'd never feel something so deep again as when his mind flickered to a certain rat, but this was something new. An insulted pride for something he couldn't have called, his mouth hanging open and just waiting for a punchline he was sure was coming, because this was a sick joke, right?

Dumbledore had Kreacher explain to him that shortly after Christmas, after Sirius had commanded he 'get out,' Kreacher took him at word and went to the only other family he had, Narcissa Malfoy.

"No." Sirius said the one word in a flat, cold tone that chilled Harry to the bone. "He did not, he could not- what did I do..." he trailed off though and Harry shivered harder than ever, wondering if he'd just heard Sirius beyond the veil.

"That, that vile, that-" Remus spluttered, beyond words now. He'd never even meet Sirius' elf, and that was probably a good thing right now, his mind didn't need any more fuel for the burning mental images playing through.

Harry shushed them though, as unwilling to let Sirius think he'd done something stupid as Sirius always did for him. This was not his fault, something more was going on there...

Harry asked how he knew, and Dumbledore went back a bit and explained that when Snape had gotten Harry's message, he had contacted the Order. Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin and Sirius had all been at Headquarters at the time.

"You have got to be kidding!" Lily hissed, feeling all of this spin through her mind sickeningly fast now. "All of them were there, and not one of them heard Harry shouting in the kitchen! Came down to see what Kreacher was laughing at! What, how-"

There was something twisted up inside of Remus, a snarled thread of reminder he was one of those, and Lily seemed to realize this at the same time and stopped protesting how the world was out to kill everything that mattered to her.

Sirius was supposed to stay behind and tell Dumbledore everything, but Sirius had delegated this to Kreacher. So when he'd arrived the elf had done as told while laughing.

That part hadn't surprised Sirius, the wretched little thing it was always laughed at misery of any kind, especially his, and to know the feeling he'd have hearing of Harry like this, Kreacher would be ecstatic.

While Kreacher hadn't been able to give up any Order secrets as Sirius had explicitly forbade this, he was able to pass on something vital enough Voldemort could use that Sirius hadn't deemed worth banning. The person Sirius cared about most in the world was Harry, and the feeling was shared as Harry was coming to regard Sirius as mixture of brother and father.

Sirius couldn't imagine hiding that fact from anyone, he'd wear it proud on his shoulders just like he would his little pup some day when he was big enough. It couldn't be though, something like that couldn't get you killed, the world wasn't such a cruel place something like that could exist!

While Voldemort may have known this already, through Kreacher's information it became clear to Voldemort how he could use this.

Harry's lips were numb and cold.

Harry could feel that now, remember that vividly as it tried to cut through his words, but Harry wouldn't let them stop him, he had to hear all of this while he still had the breath.

He realized that Sirius had been there yesterday, Dumbledore confirming as much that Sirius had been upstairs tending to Buckbeak. Kreacher had been instructed to keep Sirius as away from others as possible in case someone came to check on him when Harry received his vision, and so the elf had injured the hippogriff, which Sirius was tending to while Harry was there.

Sirius made a strangled noise, his eyes fit to pop out of his head, his hands twitching maddeningly. That elf had hurt his hippogriff to keep him away from Harry, had been the cause of all this! James could do what he liked to Dumbledore for withholding all this from Harry, but Sirius was very soon fixing to be without a servant the moment he stepped out of here!

Harry still couldn't believe Kreacher had said all of this, while laughing. Hermione had told them to be nice to him!

Dumbledore had not found it surprising, he had warned Sirius to show more kindness and respect for Kreacher as well.

James spluttered something that may have been forced laughter. He just couldn't believe Dumbledore was still saying this, even now! That f'ing thing should have been put out of its misery rather than what it had ultimately done to his brother!

He'd warned Kreacher could be dangerous, but Sirius had not taken him seriously,

Sirius felt a funny tugging feeling inside him, he never would have thought saying his own name as a joke would ever hurt, but for the first time in his life he questioned whether he even should. He'd never once done it around Harry in his time, and though he lived to do it for his friends never ending annoyance, it somehow didn't feel right now that the idea was firmly set in stone he may not get to do it again some day.

Then he glanced at Harry, and he knew he'd never regret saying, "I always take things Siriusly."

There was a heart stopping beat, like now that Harry was told his godfather had passed he'd somehow lost the nerve to laugh at all for anything relating to him. It was proven untrue the moment Harry chuckled and looked to him with a happy shake to his head, muttering, "that's never going to get old."

Sirius smirked and straightened up in his seat, absolutely in agreement with his godson.

or that he'd even seen Kreacher's feelings as acute as a humans.

"Now you see why!" Remus snarled, his hand itching to go for his wand and slit someone's throat out for this. "That, that- no human could do this and laugh!"

Harry was back on his feet without remembering how he got there, rage nearly constricting his words as he told Dumbledore not to talk about Sirius like that!

Dumbledore gave this no notice as he continued that Kreacher, much like Dobby, was how he was because of how wizard kind treated him. To be pitied, a miserable existence.

"Then he should have been released like I wanted him to be!" Sirius howled in frustration, finding yet another mark to chalk against that aged old man. "I never wanted him there! If I'd had my way he'd have crawled into a grave and none of this would have happened!"

Being forced to do Sirius' bidding while enslaved, he'd had no loyalty, and Sirius had never done anything to make this easier-

"He went too easy on that thing!" James said in pure disgust, "by not ripping its eyes out!"

Lily watched all of them get whipped into a frenzy over Kreacher, and her arms tightened around her cat, her hair falling across her face in a bit of shame she didn't feel the same. She still pitied Kreacher more than anything, seeing the manipulation that must have gone on there. Sirius had never said a kind word to him in his life, had only made his being there more unbearable, and even now it seemed they couldn't see their own mistake.

Harry shouted not to talk about Sirius like that! Dumbledore didn't understand how much Sirius had suffered!

Sirius just huffed and wouldn't look at anyone for that. He didn't want to think about that right now, how shitty his life was after the next Halloween, or that feeling was going to overwhelm him all over again they'd never find a way to change it.

Harry tried to force him to change onto Snape, he wanted to hear the blame on him! When Harry had told him about this he'd sneered as usual!

Dumbledore kindly reminded what was he to do in front of Umbridge? He could not take Harry seriously,

"Now he's just doing it on purpose," Remus muttered into the oddly deadly silence. Sirius hadn't even seemed to have heard Harry that time, his wide green eyes watching his godfather with worry like all of them were for the lack of comment.

Sirius had to drag himself back around and see why they were all staring at him, then he fixed a smile into place but just waved Harry on without comment.

or she would have been aware as well. Yet the moment he was away he'd made others aware of the situation, he'd also been the one to prescribe Umbridge with fake Veritaserum when she'd gone to interrogate Harry earlier this year.

"That makes all his behavior okay then!" James spluttered in outrage. "All his taunts, his complete lack of any human emotion when trying to help Harry when it should have been that old cod who couldn't give you the time of day for fear it would ruin his own plans!" James was so close to shouting by then the cat finally had enough and slinked restlessly out of Lily's arms. She watched him flit from the room tail in the air and honestly felt like following, she couldn't hear much more of this without having her own breakdown. She could already see where this was going, how much Harry and all of them hated Snape and so his part, or lack of it during this instance would not go through quietly.

Harry ignored him and kept going, feeling a savage pleasure in blaming Snape for this guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.

Lily tucked her hand more firmly around Harry, her nails digging in a bit as she was well aware no matter what Dumbledore said, nothing would satisfy him right now, but she understood. It was only human this, she just couldn't imagine doing this herself, blaming all these problems on one man.

He stammered how Snape had goaded Sirius about staying in that house, calling him a coward.

Sirius tried to ruffle himself up, to eye Harry and bring up an old argument, "you think I let something like what that man said to me do anything to me?" It didn't come off like he meant it, his voice still too heavy, Harry's reality crashing down on all of them more every second, this future no one person should live through.

Dumbledore reminded Sirius was too old and clever to let such feeble taunts get to him.

Then Sirius winced for repeating Dumbledore at a time like this, chancing a glance at James who just shook his head for his best mate always seeming to get the last word, even through Dumbledore.

Harry viciously reminded right back Snape had thrown him from his office, stopped giving him Occlumency lessons!

"Which is all the more loathsome now that we have the full understanding for that," Remus said quietly but with such a promise of violence none would be surprised to see his wand appear. None disagreed either, what Snape had done in that moment was like what he'd done to Lily all over again. He'd left Harry to deal with Voldemort all on his own, instead of treating this like one should have, pushing his childhood problems aside and focusing on why Harry needed him.

Dumbledore agreed, that was his mistake as well, he'd been sure at the time nothing was more dangerous than himself teaching Harry for fear Voldemort would use the connection to spy while in his presence.

"Conceded old birk!" James said flatly. "The man's the best one for the job of that happening when it did, the only one who could have found some way to explain to Harry why it was instead of getting Snape of all people to farce some explanation about this!" James was breathing heavily, he couldn't decide who he was most angry at anymore, Dumbledore, Kreacher, Snape, all three could have dropped dead in front of him this second and he wouldn't bat an eye, would probably be tucking his own wand away after doing it himself!

Harry threw out what Ron had once said, that his scar always hurt more after dealing with Snape, that Snape was probably helping Voldemort all along!

"You can't convince me otherwise," Sirius seethed, hearing Kreacher's part of the plan put it together easily in his head, how many around Harry had set this up, and he didn't believe for a second Snape had done anything to help. That bat had dragged his feet in telling everyone, taken his bloody precious time informing of the situation, and then wasted time puttering around 'looking' for the kids after they'd long gone. Harry could have died before the Order had reached them, and Sirius would never forgive that.

Dumbledore simply disagreed, stating he trusted Severus Snape with his life. He'd thought the man would rise above a childhood grudge against James Potter in helping Harry, but he had been wrong, but this did not put Snape in any way responsible. The blame entirely laid with him.

"Oh, it can admit when it's wrong!" James said through gritted teeth, "f'ing too late!" Dumbledore seemed to have been at fault for everything that had happened to Sirius!

Harry seethed that was okay then? Snape could hate his dad, but Sirius couldn't Kreacher?

Dumbledore corrected Sirius did not hate Kreacher,

"That man doesn't know me at all, though that was made perfectly clear," Sirius snapped with pure loathing, Dumbledore speaking for him at a time like this.

he'd simply regarded him as lesser, of no importance. Wizards had mistreated and abused others for too long, and now they were reaping their rewards.

Harry shouted back Sirius didn't deserve this!

Dumbledore agreed that was not what he meant, nor would he ever say such a thing. Sirius was no cruel man, but kind to house-elves in general. Yet he had no love for Kreacher, being the reminder of the home Sirius hated.

Sirius blinked slowly, as at least that was true, but there was a coppery taste in his mouth for Dumbledore having to speak for him, a taint that wouldn't leave he'd never have the chance to speak to Harry again...

Harry's voice was starting to crack as he agreed with that, he had hated that place, and Dumbledore had made him stay in there, that's why he'd gone out last night!

"No Harry," Sirius softly whispered, he'd never let Harry forget this one. "I came to get you out of there, just like I always would. Doesn't matter if I was on the opposite side of the planet free as a bird, I'd still show up there for you."

While Harry had known that to be true, it didn't exactly make him feel much better about the end results.

Dumbledore couldn't just lock people up like he'd done to Harry last summer as well!

Sirius shivered while Harry gave a heavy sigh, neither appreciating that.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face away, and Harry's anger only grew. Dumbledore should not be showing signs of weakness when Harry was raging at him.

James fingers were digging furiously into his palms, he quite agreed with Harry but as his son worked all of this out from his past James didn't have that same release, had no one he could properly vent at and that just kept building inside him.

When he looked up again, Dumbledore asked that Harry sit back down, it was time he was told everything.

Lily couldn't help but scoff a bit in disgust. "Oh yes, tell him all the answers now when he's sick with grief and wants nothing to do with you!"

"Twisted bit of sense that, Harry's angry at something else and can't snap at Dumbledore for the more important detail," Sirius muttered.

After that, he would not stop Harry from doing whatever he felt he needed.

It took every bit of concentration for Harry to just retake his seat, and Dumbledore stared at him for a long time before stating that five years ago, Harry had arrived here safe and whole just as he'd planned.

Harry heard four deeply disgusted noises around him for that.

Dumbledore corrected himself not quite whole, he had suffered. He'd known what he was condemning him to leaving him on his aunt and uncle's doorsteps all those years ago, a dark and difficult youth ahead.

"He knew!" Harry heard the splutter of outrage around him, knew he should have felt something for that as well, but honestly when he looked up he saw Dumbledore's timing had been perfect.

They were so drained, exhausted, and hurt from having to live through Sirius' death that no matter how much they wanted to rage for this as well, it would not erupt. It was simmering below each of them, Harry could feel it himself as he could already count the days again of when he'd be going back, but for now, talking would keep the fire back.

If Harry were to ask why had he not been left with any numerous wizarding families who would have taken him in, Dumbledore would have responded same as he did to anyone at the time. It was too dangerous. Voldemort would return, and though he had not been sure how long that would take, it would happen. In the meantime, Death Eaters had still roamed free, hungry for revenge against the Boy Who Lived.

Remus still had enough of himself to shake his head in disgust. He still couldn't believe that was Dumbledore's decision to make! Lily would never leave Harry to Petunia, she knew well her sisters feelings for her. Clearly Sirius and...the other weren't an option at the time, and he wouldn't be able to...so then there was truly no one left but a bystander family. It still should have been their decision. Dumbledore was begin vain in saying no one would realize that taking in this particular infant was dangerous, but at least it would have been by choice, not something Dumbledore should have made for anyone!

In killing his mother, Voldemort had gifted Harry with the most powerful enchantment that could be enacted. So long as Harry lived with blood, his mother's sacrifice would remain.

"It wasn't worth it," Lily said at once, her face growing more ghastly by the moment as she still felt responsible for her child's terrible fate because of her blood. "Anything else could have been done, and he still would have grown up with more love and care than the absolute nothing he got."

Harry agreed, he'd wished more than once he had grown up in some kind of foster system, anything other than the neglect he'd had.

Harry at once said Petunia didn't love him, but Dumbledore corrected she'd taken him in. Grudgingly, bitterly, she'd given him room in the house which enacted the strongest shield Dumbledore could give.

"I don't believe that!" Sirius said in pure disgust. "Of all the magic in the world the man can do, that was the best he got? He himself admitted it would only be a temporary fix, it's not a long term solution, and so he still put you through his own admittance of suffering for nothing!"

This was not what Harry had been hoping to focus on, as if flipping from one fresh torture to an old festering wound.

While he called the place where his mother's blood dwelled home, Voldemort could not touch him.

"But he doesn't think of that as his home!" Remus dissected, trying anything like he was chatting with Dumbledore about this now. "He refers to Hogwarts, even the Burrow as more his home than, than that place!"

He need only return there once a year to be safe.

"That's not-" Remus tried again, but Harry couldn't hear anymore. He was on the verge of something again, whether anger, sorrow, or something else he did not know, but he just couldn't hear this now.

His aunt was aware of this, he'd left her a note detailing this when she'd found him on her stoop. Petunia Dursley was aware that sharing houseroom with him had kept him alive the past fifteen years.

"He didn't even have a room!" James bitterly protested his word choice. "He lived in a bloody cupboard the first ten years! They only changed that after they realized someone else knew! No, that doesn't make what they did okay!"

"What about the Death Eaters anyways, he said that's the reason he didn't offer you to another family, they'd be attacked sooner than even Voldemort's return," Harry whispered miserably. He wished more than them this hadn't happened, but he'd never wish the circumstances of his life on anyone else either, considering everyone around him suffered because of it.

"Clearly the protection runs against anyone who would do you harm, otherwise you'd be right in saying that should have happened," Lily bitterly pointed out.

Harry realized he was not going to get even a small bit of understanding from any of them.

Something clicked inside Harry as he watched his headmaster, stating in surprise Dumbledore had sent that howler, it had been his voice shouting to remember the last.

Dumbledore agreed he had thought she'd need reminding of his last correspondence, of the pact she'd sealed in taking him in.

Harry's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he realized this, the snarky comment flying through his mind of how Dumbledore had even sent Petunia more mail than him over that summer.

"That utter arse," James blinked in stunned disbelief. "He, I didn't thing Dumbledore was capable of sending a-"

"Honestly that just makes the whole thing all the more confusing," Lily seethed. "Why care whatever Dumbledore bloody says, it shouldn't have changed anything, they clearly don't care what happens to you in the house! Why not abandon you the first time they could, they wouldn't care!" Lily jerked with the force of her own shouts, face ablaze with hatred for the thing that should have held the responsibility of her child but instead had treated him like scum.

He'd suspected the dementor attack may make her aware of the dangers of having him as a surrogate son.

"How dare he even pretend to call it that!" Lily spat in disgust. "Those, those ruddy-"

"He choked our child!" James snarled, his hands still fisting up for that reminder. That hadn't even been the only occurrence, the constant insults, the frying pan, instant after instant of questioning the humanity of them, the legality part wasn't even in debate if someone looked at it for even a moment! And it was all Dumbledore's fault!

It had been one thing for him to leave Harry there and pretend it was okay, it was a wholly other for the implication the man knew of it all! Had even anticipated such a thing and gone through with it anyways!

Both were sitting forward in their seats, their grief was quickly slipping into murderous anger again, both wanted to crack Dumbledore's head open for putting Harry through this suffering just as he'd done to Sirius, when they still blamed half the mess of him winding up in Azkaban on the old man as well! It didn't feel right, how could he have done this? Who was he to decide this for their child!?

"What the bloody hell would Dumbledore have done if they'd killed him?" Sirius demanded, his teeth bared, eyes wild. "They came bloody close to starving him, glory knows how much they really hurt him!"

"Stop," Harry finally pleaded before they could go full blast with this, of listing every single thing he'd mentioned and what they'd pulled together themselves. "I know okay, it's just...wouldn't you rather hear the rest than yelling about this?"

"Can't we do both?" Remus demanded snidely, but Harry ignored them and kept going more quietly than he needed to in hopes they really would stop.

Dumbledore got back on track then, saying five years ago he'd arrived at school alive.

Harry heard it again, that deep throated noise all around him promising no one thought this excusable or at all okay.

He had not been a pampered child, but as normal a boy as the circumstances could have.

"The man's damn lucky you even made it there," James snarled. "Considering they tried to stamp out your magic to begin with!"

Harry shivered at the reminder but was clearly still determinedly ignoring them.

So his plan had been working, and even in his first year he'd faced challenges and rose magnificently against them.

"There should never have been a challenge!" Lily seethed in protest, all her fears of Harry's first year ultimately confirmed right then. "He set you up! He wanted that bloody Stone there, he wanted to see how you'd handle it!"

Then he'd found himself again face to face with Voldemort, and survived. Dumbledore had been prouder than words could say.

Remus felt nothing for that like he would have thought. There was a time where Dumbledore's word meant everything to him, but that feeling was getting harder to recall the more he heard.

Harry should have been honored to have such a thing, but after all he'd been through because of their old headmasters decision, it felt more like the man should be begging forgiveness than showing off pride.

It was also then Dumbledore had foreseen a flaw in his plan.

"His plan," Lily bitterly repeated, not caring one damn bit about anything of his plan right now, she wanted Harry as far away from that man as Voldemort.

Harry still had no clue what he meant, so Dumbledore continued, reminding that while Harry had asked at the time, Dumbledore had denied the answer of why Harry carried that scar. He should have, but eleven had been much to young.

So he recounted the rest of Harry's years, his triumphs and life, how he'd been matched more closely and carefully than Harry even realized, and still Dumbledore's flaw in his plan grew as he delayed in telling Harry. He'd cared too much.

Harry felt that deep, soothing feeling of why he hadn't been as angry as those around him, like he'd been expecting a warm hug and had received just that.

He chanced a look at the others and saw they didn't share the same feeling.

"Cared my arse," James muttered, his face still set in a hard line of frustration as he watched his child, still imagining his crying infant with no comfort to come. "What that man put you through doesn't at all sound like he gave a damn."

Harry winced and kept going anyways.

He'd cared more for Harry's happiness than placing the burden on him of what was to come, wanted Harry's future to seem more than it had been no matter what it was costing countless lives in not sharing with Harry sooner what he needed to know.

"He can't say one thing while doing another," Lily said with pure ice. "He can not just say he cared about you above others while leaving you to go back there against your wishes!"

Remus caught Sirius' eye though, and they felt a tiny niggle of understanding for just a moment. Were they any better? If Harry had to go there right now to protect the rest of the world from falling under Voldemort's reign...and they couldn't do it. No matter how terrible that made them, they still couldn't bring themselves to accept this as their fate, they'd just have to find some other answer, there had to be one!

Dumbledore couldn't bring himself to add another after all the boy had been through, the greatest one of all.

James couldn't breath. He wanted to keep screaming, threatening Dumbledore and promising this was never going to actually happen to his child, but here finally was the answer for that. The truth of why it had happened at all...so he caught Lily's eyes and finally managed to still her as well, a deathly calm settling over them for the one thing that would stop the retribution against the Dursley's and anyone, what had happened to make this their future?

Now he saw he had no choice. Voldemort had set out to kill Harry because of a prophecy made shortly before his birth. Voldemort had only heard a part of it, and had set out only to gift this baby and fulfill the prophecy himself, leading to the backfire, Voldemort's own downfall. The record of all this had been in the Hall of Prophecy. Since his return Voldemort had been determined to hear it in its entirety, to know where he'd gone wrong.

Harry could feel it, like a rubber band fixing to snap into place somehow helping all of this to make sense, and he worried his words would come out to jumbled for them to make sense even as he kept going.

This was the weapon he'd been seeking, the knowledge of how to kill Harry.

"Bloody hell," James was the first to speak in the echoing silence, and it wasn't even that coherent.

"That, is, insane," Lily spoke this clearly in fear anyone would misunderstand. "Voldemort, is out to kill Harry, because of a prophecy!"

"But, but those things-" Remus kept blinking spastically, but no new words popped up to prove he wasn't hearing things. "They're, they're a farce, a whim at best to tell you-"

"But they're not, are they," Sirius whispered, his face haggard. "They're bloody real, and somehow Voldemort knows it."

"I-" James couldn't keep going, none of them could. Their future was in ruins because of a Seer!

Harry only kept going from the will of having to know everything, the answer right on the tips of his fingers though those around him still sat like gaping fish at this news.

Harry blankly recalled that no one could know, it had broken.

Dumbledore mostly agreed, only one person left knew it, and that was who the prophecy had been ordained to, himself. Sixteen years ago in the Hog's Head inn.

"Sixteen years!" Lily repeated with hissed fury. Her shock wore off fast enough to latch onto this bit of information. "The Order knows about this, Dumbledore knows about this right now!"

"But, he hasn't, we haven't-" James tried to protest this. Yet it was there. Harry was only fifteen during this, which meant this had happened while Lily was still pregnant. "He hasn't told us!"

James got angry again as well, shock switching to all but shouting again at once. "Is this why he even let us into the Order! To keep an eye on-"

"I'm going to kill him," Lily snarled in disgust, there was no more question about this, and no one said otherwise.

Harry still twitched uneasily, though there wasn't a trace of any of them showing they didn't mean it, Harry still kept plowing on, though at this point even he wasn't sure why, it still only managed to keep getting worse.

He briefly explained he'd gone to see a teacher for the post of Divination, and while not keen on allowing the subject in school, he'd respect that the woman applying had been the ancestor of a renowned Seer. Dumbledore went to get his Pensive and set it between them, then he plucked a memory from his mind and set it inside. After a moment, Sybill Trelawney materialized before them,

Harry's mind floundered for just a moment, but a squeak of protest informed him this shocking moment held no more care than a fly on the wall, not now.

When she spoke it was not in her mystic voice, but the harsh tones Harry had only heard once before;

Insert the Prophecy

Sirius could still remember the last prophecy seared into his memory, every word had convinced him it had been his undoing, and it had been completely wrong. Now he finally understood this had been what made Voldemort come after Harry! Something so entirely vague it could have applied to a dozen people, and Voldemort had chosen his best mate! His godson! It didn't feel real! Like nothing else before since this mayhem had started with Harry landing in their kitchen, Sirius felt like he was dreaming, a nightmare though, that in such a short amount of time lives would end all because of-

James couldn't help it, he breathed in relief. "This is ridiculous!"

"James, I know you don't like them, but you can't deny now," Remus tried to calmly say to a clearly irrational father-

"No, no!" James insisted, a smile edging at his features that held a slight tint of detached humor, but his eyes were edging for complete disregard of this world. "It has nothing at all to do with- that's why Dumbledore hasn't told us! Don't you see! It's not..." but he trailed off as he blinked again, the world snapped back into sharp focus, and he looked at Harry. From that very first day he'd convinced himself he'd somehow brought Voldemort down on his family, that he was the reason his son's life was the way it was. Now it was all because of a stupid prophecy gifted by Sybill Trelawney! In the most deranged way there was, he was almost happy again!

Then he'd realized the rest, that somehow, Voldemort had decided that nonsense was his son.

"How did he know?" The tone was such a shift they all watched him with even more worry, his voice now bleak and hollow. "Trelawney couldn't have told Voldemort about this, Dumbledore didn't! How did Voldemort get a hold of this thing long enough to decide- why us!"

Lily had no answer for him, none of them did. There had to be any number of people out there who that prophecy spoke of, why was Harry alone left with this burden?

Harry couldn't even find it in himself to keep going, like the final nail in the coffin. The why didn't matter, it truly was his being alive that had cursed this family, Voldemort had chosen him and now everyone he knew suffered because of it. He wanted to snap the book shut, to walk right out of here and no one could stop him, why would they? He'd be leaving for good, he'd find Voldemort now and make sure he got exactly what he wanted...but he couldn't move. The idea was crystal clear in his mind, but his fingers wouldn't do the simple job of putting this all away, his feet seemed glued rather than the fierce energy driving him out. Why? The question that just kept coming up again and again for him, what more had he to learn from this that excused his existence, his infestation in their lives?

He realized why he couldn't bolster that anger at Dumbledore then, because he was just as bad as him. He wouldn't leave them, because he cared too much about them. He wanted to stay here as long as he could, until he had no other choice, still childishly clinging to that hope of something, an answer that would make all of this okay. The prophecy hadn't done that...so was there more?

There had to be, everything he felt believed in that, so amidst all of their still whispering panics and mutters, Harry still kept going, that was all he could do.

The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.

Sirius growled still more loudly over Harry, "I have a solution, let's just kill this one and be done with it! I'm sick of her ruining our lives!"

Harry was much more sure Sirius didn't mean that one, he was still speaking out of besotted anger he did deserve. What were the odds the same woman would do this twice to him in such a short amount of time?

Harry just gaped, tried to recall the words, and then gave up and asked what that meant.

Dumbledore explained in simpler terms Voldemort would be conquered by a child born at the end of July, whose parents had defied Voldemort three times.

Harry fidgeted with the page, still feeling his parents words, honestly wishing for the same, that Voldemort had not decided his family was the one this meant...but if not him, then it would have been someone else, and did they deserved this any more or less than him?

Suddenly Harry was finding breathing difficult, even as Dumbledore acquitted that it very possibly could not not have meant Harry at all at the time.

"Exactly, that's what I was-" James mutinously tried to keep going.

Two boys could have been the likely child of the prophecy, the other was Neville.

Lily felt her heart still in her chest, eyes narrowing as her mind flew with that information, well aware of how true that was...and she gave a deep, broken sob. "Oh, oh this is-" she couldn't keep going, raking her nails through her hair with fury at what her mind was showing her.

"Lily," James whispered, wanting to hold her tight to him and never let go, but she was not to be comforted right now.

"Don't you see, we were fooling ourselves! Of course Voldemort didn't pick just one and go with that! The attack on Alice and Frank, Voldemort probably has a list of families like ours! He has Death Eater's going to every one of them to, to silence and make sure-" It had been said the attack on their friends had happened shortly after Voldemort's downfall, but how shortly? The story had been spread the Death Eaters had been torturing the Longbottoms for information, but what if they'd simply been having some fun before moving onto their goal, the infant. Was it possible they hadn't even heard word of what had happened to their master yet and been acting out his orders still?

"That doesn't make this unavoidable," Remus said flatly, his hand on James shoulder and watching her with absolution. "We figure that out as well! I'll bet you anything that's why Dumbledore hasn't told you lot about this yet! He's deciding who Voldemort is going to pick as well, probably got his own list of family's! We get them as well, we make sure Voldemort can't take this out on anyone!"

Harry watched them agree, the fight bolstering back in them that he couldn't quite feel. It all still felt inevitable to him, but he tried to blame that on his scar, that it had already happened to him. For them, this was still a concept, something they were going to fix, and if this was one of the ways Harry wasn't going to be the one to stop them even if he couldn't find the hope it would work.

Harry wasn't even sure what was in his own voice when he asked that it could be Neville?

Dumbledore corrected could have been, but no longer was. There was no doubt this was now meant for Harry.

James still snarled in outrage, Dumbledore couldn't let them just have one moment of peace! That man just had to ruin whatever life they tried to have, as if he wanted this to happen! There must be some other way to defeat Voldemort than what some bloody Seer said, there had to be!

Voldemort had fulfilled his half of the prophecy by marking Harry, who was now his equal, Neville bore no scar that was both a blessing and a curse to its bearer.

"More one than the other," Harry muttered as he took pause for a moment to rub at it, as if they'd forgotten.

Harry protested Voldemort could have chosen wrong!

Sirius did as he always would, he started wondering aloud any errant thought flitting across his mind to chat to the others about. "Could Neville have taken the Prophecy? If it's meant for the person who it was spoken of, and Neville and Harry were both candidates-"

"No, I don't think so. Dumbledore said it himself, he made me the child." Harry reminded, his voice much calmer than the others would have guessed for this topic, but clearly as they weren't discussing his past about Sirius and his living arrangements, he was almost back to normal.

"Sirius, you are a wonder," Lily said flatly, meaning to scold for trying to jump off topic, but he just smiled when she couldn't really get that tone.

Dumbledore had no more clue than anyone, Voldemort had made his choice. He had not picked the pure-blood child, but the one he'd seen himself in, the half-blood.

James was still riled up with disgust. "How dare he! My son- nothing like him-" but his furious mutterings weren't cutting into Harry now, he could see the end in sight, and more than ever before, he just wanted to be done with his part. He wished it hadn't been so just as much, but their terse mutters changed nothing, only action did that, and Harry had to act on his.

Harry didn't understand why Voldemort hadn't waited, to see which child would have been more dangerous to him.

Dumbledore agreed that may well have been the correct course of action, if he'd heard the whole thing. Instead they'd been interrupted, much as Harry himself had learned. The person listening had been thrown out before hearing the whole thing, and so had only reported the part that set Voldemort on his way, not knowing what he was creating in the process, giving Harry powers the Dark Lord knew not-

Harry's pulse quickened at the new tirade of insults around him, but as always he could feel the importance of that without knowing why. It was some scum Death Eater, he realized the same as the others, some information carried on by a careless person who gave not a thought for the consequences of what they were sharing. So why then did Harry feel no want for a death he should have, that ultimately made his parents?

Harry protested he hadn't anything of the sort!

"I don't know Harry, that look you give me sometimes is something I'm sure Voldemort never could," Sirius told him with an attempt at his chipper tone, the constant anger and fear around him feeling suffocating.

Harry gave him that exact look, watching his godfather in pure exasperation for a moment before shaking his head and continuing while Sirius smirked at the others who continued to look at him as if for his health, but it had worked for just a moment, they were all fighting back a smile as well for him.

Dumbledore ignored this and derailed back to talking of the Department of Mysteries. Of the room that was always locked inside, because the power it held, what they were studying was one that was more powerful than any source available, it resided in his body, it was the reason Voldemort could not possess him when he'd tried. His heart saved him.

Harry gazed down at that for a long time before he looked again at his mother. It hurt to even take his eyes off her, the woman he'd wanted most to meet in his entire life. He craved to know about his father, but through Sirius even for the briefest second he'd had just that. There had been no one for her though, not Molly or anyone could ever cause him to feel like he was watching her brush at her hair, eyes meeting in the way only theirs could. He still didn't understand, not really. He loved her, he loved all of them, but why then was that all it took to defeat someone as powerful as Voldemort, when he knocked such things as love aside like they were nothing? James had loved them, but he had been tossed out of the way without so much as a glance. Yet Lily's love for him had saved his life. Where was the key to this answer, that Voldemort somehow bestowed upon him?

They could gain no answer for this. Somehow, again, Dumbledore's answer felt like no answer, but finally, they could not hold that against him. He could only speak of what he knew, and perhaps even Dumbledore didn't know this as the answer, but was only speaking more speculation. Finally then, they felt they knew all he did, and they'd just have to work out the rest for themselves.

Harry closed his eyes. If he had not gone to save Sirius, Sirius would not have died . . .

"As endless a cycle as Hermione's time-turner," Sirius softly returned. "You should have known all along not to come, if you had than none of this would have happened, if and if, we can go back as far as you want Harry, but that makes nothing your fault. You couldn't change your past no matter how many possibilities there were."

Harry still kept searching his gaze and finally seemed to find what he was looking for, though it had been there all along. His voice was not steady, but at long last he knew without any regrets why this had happened, and he couldn't hate the fact that he'd loved his godfather enough to do this to him.

To stave off that, Harry whispered the last of the lines, concluding for himself this meant that one of them had to kill the other?

Dumbledore simply said yes.

Harry waited then, vividly remembering their reaction to his using one lone Unforgivable curse against someone who had inexplicably deserved it. He waited for them to finally be afraid of him, convinced if this hadn't done it than perhaps his family was truly mad.

Then James scoffed and muttered, "why do I get the feeling there's some stupid catch to that as well?"

"Because this whole thing has been one long gotcha'," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I'm just so glad Dumbledore thinks he's got this prophecy all worked out," Remus agreed bitterly.

Lily seemed no more able to believe it, leaning over Harry's shoulder and hoping he was done soon, trying to completely disregard the fact that Dumbledore had just told her child he had to be a murder. As if that man hadn't done enough to Harry's life.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of them, but while he forced himself to try and finish with some sense of ease they weren't disgusted with him, it helped nothing to ease his mind of the rest to come.

For a long time neither of them spoke again. Harry's mind was back on Sirius, and he was still convinced if he'd pulled that curtain aside his godfather would have stepped back out, smiling as always at the sight of Harry, maybe greeting him with that laughter like a bark.

Sirius tried to do that now, just to prove he still could it seemed, but the effort only offered a sharp noise like a kicked puppy.

It went unmocked, but it made the sharp sting return to all eyes. This just could not be it, they refused to accept this as the end to their Padfoot. They'd find a way to save him as much as James and Lily.

Dumbledore broke the silence by telling Harry he owed him one more explanation.

"Not another one, I can't take much more of these," James whispered.

If Harry had been wondering why he hadn't been made prefect, it was because Dumbledore had felt he'd had enough responsibility to be getting on with.

Sirius blinked once, twice, and then it came through, his bark like laughter filling the room. He just couldn't believe his ears, after all that, Dumbledore had decided to say the one thing that had been on no one's mind!

Lily watched him throw his head back with that carefree laugh of his. In school, the noise had been maddening, like a braying donkey. Now she honestly considered it one of the most cheerful noises that could be, right along with her baby's giggling and James soft chuckle. It was something that still made them all smile, that infectious noise they all knew they would never see end.

Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

Sirius shook himself slightly in pity for laughing so hard when Dumbledore was reduced to tears, something none of them had ever envisioned was possible. Sirius had laughed his way through much of life, seeming to find the only way to make others hear you was to start with something as attention grabbing as a good laugh. That's how he'd gained his friends, it's how he'd lived through his summers, laughing off everything he could. Apparently that's how he was going to die as well.

HPHPHPHPHP

I've never been subtle in showing I don't particularly like Dumbledore's character, he was a man given too much power and decided too many fates he shouldn't have, which was all proven in this very chapter. Yet like with everybody, the man gets his redemption's in the next two books. Like with Snape, Harry very clearly forgave Dumbledore for this and everything, so if you think thinks got to heated in this, remember to wait till the end. I love you all!

*I sympathize with this a lot. Whenever the world feels too much to me, I go on long walks with my dog, this line echoes in my head, I can't imagine what Dumbledore did to Harry really is okay. The guy just needed to get away for a moment before he was talked to. This isn't like last year where I can see Dumbledore's side in needing to hear everything. It wouldn't have been a kindness for Harry to have a break before sharing all that. This time though Dumbledore didn't need information, Harry should have been allowed to just flat run and not look back until he chose to, but I guess that's just a personal opinion.

#The Life That Never Lived #Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #Marauders #James Potter #remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

[iffeelscouldkill]

Mission Log: REDACTED

A/N: Now that Yuletide reveals are revealed, I can go ahead and own this fic I wrote for the awesome Mousek for Yuletide! It’s quite long (14,999 words), so I’m not going to post the whole thing here, just enough to give people a flavour and lure them to AO3 for the rest.

This fic is written in an “audio narrative” format, in the same style as the From the Archives ficlets if you’ve read those. Slightly spoilery warning (skip over this to remain unspoiled but please read if you’re concerned about potential triggers): this fic features people’s memories being modified (though not completely irreversibly) without their consent.

Enjoy, friends!

Summary: Canon divergence AU from mid-episode 9. Instead of executing Plan B, the Rumor crew learns about a top-secret Regime project that is being carried out at ADVANCE Labs - and that the fate of the crew of the Iris is not what they thought it had been.Violet Liu goes in undercover, posing as a member of the lab team. But can she undo what the Regime has done to the crew and free them - without losing herself in the process?

Read on AO3!

---

“This is Agent McCabe. Two weeks have now passed since our last update. Based on the continued lack of audio input via this swarm of Strain H, we can assume that the crew of the Rumor have acted on the intel given to them by the insurgents, Thasia and Violet Liu, and successfully cured themselves of the VCN nanocloud infection.

 “As a result, pending further developments in this case, the Strange Case of Starship Iris is now considered closed. Footage from the case remains available in the archives and can be accessed on request by submitting form B7-081 with a superior’s signature.

 “My thanks to Major General Frederick, Agents Bauman and Cross, and the specialists at Procyon, as well as Junior Agent Goodman for their assistance in this case. Long live the Republic.”

*

SYSTEM: E.L.L.A.

USERNAME: EMILY CRADDOCK

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 26 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to check in and say that I’m fine, I’m safe and I passed the background checks without any problems. I kept thinking the whole time that someone from the intake process would recognise me, but – none of them seemed familiar, and I guess I wasn’t either. Just a very small cog in the vast machine of the Reg- the Republic. God, I’ve got to get used to saying that again.

“I’m all settled in in my apartment – it’s twice the size of my room on the Rumor, but I can’t help thinking how much I miss that space.” Quiet laughter. “And you all. I… guess I’ll talk to you soon. I’ll have more to update you with tomorrow, after I start work at the lab. And I’ll be able to let you know whether our intel was good.

“Until then… Violet Liu out.”

*

“This is uh, lab report 05, week two? Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Over the past few days, our lab has continued work on synthesizing the NDMA proteins, and Specialists Chang and Yeboah report that they have made some positive advancements in this area. We have provisionally moved up the timeline for the first round of testing with this in mind, though Specialist Yeboah cautions that we need to monitor how the new proteins react with other molecules in the solution first, and then with the blood cell samples.

“A new member also joined our team today – specialist Huang. I wasn’t aware that we’d actually been hiring for our vacancy, but uh, she seems very qualified? A little over-qualified, even. In addition to her qualification from Brightwell she has extensive experience with this type of lab work, which makes us lucky to have her as part of the team. She’s joined Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson in their work on the histone deacetylases.

“My specialism is in a completely different area, and I’m pretty sure our work histories have never overlapped, but – she seems familiar somehow. Except she said she was based on Mars up until six months ago, and I’ve been working on New Jupiter since… uh…

“Sorry – lost my train of thought for a minute there. I’ve been getting these persistent headaches… I think it’s all that poring over modelling data. Though I never get them while I’m working, so maybe they’re delayed-onset headaches? Heh. It could be the lab lighting; I might ask Supervisor Kaaka if we can swap out the bulbs for a lower wattage.

“Uh, anyway. This is Analyst Brannon signing off. Long live the Republic.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, it’s me. Oh my god… oh my god, I can barely process what’s been happening. I was going to send this message as soon as I got back to my apartment, and instead I’ve just been sitting and staring into space because it’s just so… surreal…

“They’re alive. They’re all just… alive and working in a lab at ADVANCE on New Jupiter.

“I mean, we haven’t ruled out the possibility of highly advanced duplicates, but why would the Repub- the Reg- the IGR go to all that trouble? The simplest explanation - even if it still sounds pretty far-fetched - is that they're the same crew.

“Brian, if you’re listening to this – Alvy's alive. I know I didn’t work with him that long but I’m sure, I’m so sure it's really him. But it’s like Thasia and Other Violet said – none of them remember who they were, or their real names. Everyone here calls him Analyst Brannon – Michael Brannon.

“We’re not working very closely together, but I found an excuse to go over to his workstation and introduce myself, and – it seemed like he recognised me. I’m gonna try and find ways to talk to him – the real Alvy Connors is still in there, Brian, I’m sure of it.

“Is there anything you want me to… ask him? Maybe a question that only he would know the answer to?

“Sorry, I don’t have much more time – the IGR has listening devices planted throughout every Republic-issued apartment; everywhere except the bathroom. Even they have to draw the line somewhere. I scanned it, and it’s clean, but if I remember right there are still sensors that will activate if you go above a certain noise, light or heat, threshold – y’know, in case anyone takes it upon themselves to… build a bomb in here or something. And I don’t want the bugs outside to pick up what I’m saying, which is why I’m whispering.

“But I can’t stay in here too long, or they’ll get suspicious, so – I’m fine, and so far I haven’t messed up or called the Republic the Regime or anything in earshot of anyone. And no-one has recognised me. Well, except for Alvy, maybe.

“I’m still trying to figure out what exactly they’re working on, here. If you’re going to go to the trouble of staffing a lab with the crew of an… of an exploded space ship, it must be important, right? Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just a test, to see how well they assimilate.

“I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then… stay safe. I will too. Violet Liu out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 27 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hi, Liu. It’s me.

“I’ll keep this to the point, since I know you probably don’t have much time to spend playing back these messages. We’re all fine here. Kind of in a holding pattern, since there’s not much to do until we hear more from you or from Thasia and the other Violet, but it’s not too bad.

“Jeeter’s really happy, by the way, since he listened to your message. I mean, I think he’s still – processing – because he thought Connors was dead, he even wrote to his parents, and now we find out he’s alive, but not… y’know. Not Connors any more.

“But he’ll be fine. Krejjh is helping, which means the two of them are being even more nauseating then they usually are, and that’s saying something.

“Anyway. Listen, I know you want to try and get through to Connors, but… just be careful, okay? None of us, including Jeeter, wants you to get hurt or – worse – on the off chance that we might be able to bring him back. We always knew it was gonna be a long shot.

“Tripathi said to tell you the same, by the way. Well, she said it in a more… Tripathi… way, but the idea was the same. Find out what you can, but don’t get caught. We can’t afford to lo- to mess this up.

“Okay, I should go. Arkady Patel out.”

*

“This is lab report 06, week three. Analyst Brannon reporting on behalf of Gamma Team at ADVANCE.

“Since my last report, we have introduced the synthesized NDMA proteins to the solution and tested their interactions with samples representing different blood types. Six out of eight of the samples produced expected results, but two of the samples produced some unexpected interactions with the AB type blood cells, which warrants further testing and study.

“Specialist Huang, Analyst Vázquez and Assistant Hudson are progressing with their work on the histone deacetylases, which should be ready to introduce in the next phase of the solution, pending resolution of the AB blood cell issue.

“Okay, what else… Oh, Specialist Huang is integrating well with the team. She and I have had a couple of conversations, though our second one was unfortunately cut short when my headache started up again. Maybe I should bring it up with Dr. Starling…

“Damn it. Is that the time? I was supposed to go for my treatment a half hour ago – damn it, damn it.

“Uh… I should probably redact that from the final report. This is Analyst Brannon, signing off. Long live the Republic.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey guys, it’s me again. Violet. It feels kind of nice to use my own name for a change instead of being called ‘Specialist Huang’ all the time… I almost forgot to react to it once, though luckily Vázquez thought I was just focused on my work.

“Not a whole lot to report still – I’m still trying to figure out what it is the Regime is doing in these labs. It’s something to do with DNA methylation and synthesized NDMA proteins – well, I won’t bore you with the science, but why would the IGR be working on that? Could be they’re trying to develop a neural enhancer, but for what? I haven’t ruled out the possibility of there being some kind of link to the nanobots, but no-one here has mentioned nanites, and there are no nanotech specialists working in the lab.

“They keep us very siloed, too. I know what I’m working on, or at least what I have to do, but I don’t know why, and none of the people I work directly with seems to know what we’re developing here. Just something about a solution and blood cell samples. We might not even be the only lab working on this, which means I’ll have to find another way to get at the bigger picture.

“I spoke to Alvy a couple times – I was careful, Arkady, don’t worry. We didn’t manage to talk for long anyway – people don’t socialise much here. I’d kind of forgotten what it was like to work in this kind of environment, where no-one trusts anyone or lets their guard down, because people will backstab each other for the slightest thing. Maybe they had a professional disagreement, or don’t get along, or they wanted to get the credit for the other person’s work. It doesn’t take much of an insinuation to get someone transferred or – worse.

“Nothing’s happened, not yet, and it’s still nowhere near as bad as that student internship I did during the war. But it feels… tense, almost hair-trigger. I think I heard we’re having an inspection later on this week.

“Anyway, Alvy – I didn’t get to talk to him for very long, not just because of the environment, but because he had this headache come on the second time we talked. I’m not sure if it means anything – he said he gets them often. Brian, do you… remember him saying anything about that before?

“He seems a little different to the way I remember him on the Iris – a little more serious, less laid-back, though he’s still the friendliest person on the team. I didn’t… get to know him under the best circumstances, so I’m not sure if that’s due to the memory wipe or not.

“He also mentioned that he’s been seeing a doctor for these treatments – they all have. It could just be something to do with the away shuttle explosion, some kind of recovery program – there was an explosion, even if it didn’t really kill anyone, and Alvy’s got these – support struts in one of his legs, I think they’re carbon fibre. He walks with a slight limp sometimes.

“It could be nothing, but I feel like it might be worth digging into? Arkady, are you able to poke around in ADVANCE’s systems a bit, see if you can find anything that resembles medical reports?

“I’d better go. I brought my makeup bag in here as a cover for taking a bit longer – I don’t even know if the IGR has cameras in these apartments, but better to be safe than sorry – but there’s only so long you can take to put on the bare minimum I wear.

“Send me a message when you can. Violet Liu, out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 30 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu. Good instincts on the medical treatment thing. I didn’t spot anything like that in my initial sweep of the system when I forged your interview and acceptance records, but I wasn’t on the lookout for it either.

“There’s a limit to what I can access without jacking directly into ADVANCE’s mainframe computer or piggybacking on their local network, but I’ll dig around as much as I can.” Jokingly: “ Worst comes to worst, we could always send Jeeter in with an earpiece and make him pose as a computer technician.

“Oh, also, Jeeter says he doesn’t remember Alvy ever mentioning any kind of migraines or head pain. Apparently he’d go on these all-night coding benders and then sleep for two hours and be completely fine the next morning. Maybe it caught up to him, but – well, I’m not gonna jump to any conclusions. I’ll see what I can find in the medical records.

“Also – be careful with the inspection, okay? Your ID will hold up, Campbell doesn’t skimp on the quality, and you look different enough from the physical description they have on file, but those Regime higher-ups will ask some weird shit to catch you out.

“You’ve got the comm if you need us for anything. Just… keep your head down.

“Arkady Patel, out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Hey, Liu, listen. You were right. There’s something weird going on with these treatments.

“I managed to track down the medical records for the whole crew. Wasn’t easy, but I’ll save the tales of my security-defying exploits for another time. Anyway, I managed to hack into an account belonging to someone called Dr. Starling. They were brought onto ADVANCE’s payroll on June 1st – two days before the away shuttle exploded.

“There are files for all of them, and the scientific stuff doesn’t mean much to me, but from what I can tell, they’re monitoring them all for signs of what Starling calls ‘leakage’ – memories from their previous lives. Five of the other crew members have reported experiencing head pains, and it’s not a physical injury – Starling seems to think the pain is set off by them thinking back beyond a certain point, or being reminded of something from their past life. They upped the frequency of the ‘treatments’ to try and counter it, but so far it hasn’t worked.

“I think that’s what they’re for, the treatments – they’re keeping the crew’s memories suppressed. Which means, if they can be interfered with somehow…

“Bad news is, I can’t get into the scheduling system, not without access to the local network. But in Starling’s notes it says that Alvy was meant to come in for a treatment earlier today- well, yesterday technically, since it’s after 3am. But he didn’t show. So maybe you could get through to him.

“Obviously, don’t blow your cover, but if Alvy’s been getting these headaches a lot, it could mean he’s trying to remember? You said he got a headache when you guys talked – what were you talking about?”

A stifled yawn. “Shit, I’d better sleep, Sana wanted me to help encrypt some intel to send to Thasia and the other Violet Liu first thing in the morning. I’ll talk to you later. Arkady Patel out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“Arkady, you’re a genius! Oh my god, I could kiss you.

“I’ve only skimmed the records you copied, but they make references to a solution that sounds a lot like the one we’re developing in the lab. What if that’s the answer? What if that’s what the IGR is having the crew develop, another version of the treatment – maybe one that’s more permanent…

“…Oh god, that’s so dark. They’re having the crew work on erasing their own memories. It’s so inhuman, so – exactly what the IGR would do.

“–I have to go, I’ve got work in half an hour, but – this really helps. And I’ll try to talk to Alvy today, see if he seems any different after his missed treatment. Violet Liu out.”

*

ACCESSING RECENT DRAFTS... YOU HAVE ONE RECENT DRAFT. COMPOSED: 31 JULY 2191.

REVIEWING DRAFT...

“You, uh—” The sound of awkward throat-clearing. “You are welcome. Yeah. Like I said, it’s uh, it’s what I do! So, no, uh thanks required. Though if you wanted to, I—

“Shit, I’ve gotta go, Sana needs me. Uh, Arkady Patel out.”

Read the rest here!

#fic #TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #Yuletide #Yuletide fic #mission fic #Violet Liu #Arkady Patel #Alvy Connors #RJ McCabe #Vikady #I really enjoyed writing the dorky Violet/Arkady interactions in this fic #I mean I really enjoyed writing all of this #but especially that aspect #also please ignore the sciencey jargon #though I've been told by someone who is more sciencey than I am that it is not bad jargon #it took me way too long to come up with 😂 I wanted it to be vaguely plausible #but it's not necessary to understand the fic

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 133

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire’s night of passion is the beginning of their healing but during the night Claire is woken by memories of her incarceration.

Chapter 132(NSFW) and all other chapters can be found at  …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations.   This story is not on Ao3.

THANK YOU all so much for supporting this story.  I am very grateful to each and every one of you.

Also, if I could make a suggestion. You may like to reread the four chapters … Chapter 130(S) , Chapter 131(S) , Chapter 132(NSFW) and this chapter … one after the other.   You will then get the whole picture as to why these chapters are so important to Jamie and Claire’s healing.

   CHAPTER 133

Softly Jamie kissed her lips once again and they closed their eyes. In no time, they had both succumbed to an exhaustive but satisfied slumber with all thoughts of Jonathon Randall and the monastery at the further recesses of Claire’s mind.  Or so he thought.

  Although Claire lay sleeping beside her love, it was a restless, anxious sleep.  The slender fingers of her hands lay clenched, one near her face and one on her lower abdomen. Her mind seemed to have taken control of her subconscious as vividly realistic images from the monastery began to rattle her. Suddenly she began to twitch in her sleep while her brows furrowed in distress. As disturbing, dark thoughts entered into Claire’s mind, she began to shake her head from side to side on the pillow.  Her eyelids began to flutter rapidly while her heart was pounding incessantly in her chest.  Horrific fear began to consume her thoughts.  She cried out in anguish.

“Jamie!!!!!!” In the silence of the night the sound of his name uttered with such raw, guttural terror woke James Fraser up with a start. He blinked his eyes but was immediately aware of the woman lying beside him as she restlessly tossed and turned in their bed. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms but he knew that his Claire was now having a bad dream. He turned his head towards her sleeping form and watched as she struggled against invisible demons in her mind and his heart broke a bit more for all that she had suffered at the monastery. Jamie saw the agitated movements and the sweat on her brow as she thrashed about. Whatever it was she was fighting against seemed very real to her. A gamut of anguished emotions crossed her face as her head obviously filled with horrifying images.  Her hands flailed wildly about. Extremely agitated Claire lashed out blindly hitting Jamie in the process. She squirmed like an eel in his arms, then rolled over him, wriggling and biting.

“Go to hell ... you bastard!!!” she screamed out in defiant anger.

Firmly grasping her hands in his, Jamie held them in a firm but gentle grip so as not to alarm her and lowered them to the bed. Claire was obviously having a nightmare about her torture at the hands of Jonathon Randall. She had endured more than she should have and when he’d found her the evidence of the triad’s methods of pain and suffering had been gut wrenching. Jamie leaned over and could feel the sweat cooling on her heated skin. Placing his hand to her chest he felt her heart racing madly. His Sassenach’s face was damp with tears and he watched as they trickled down her cheeks. “What do you want from us?” she yelled as another image obviously formulated in her tortured mind.

For a moment, two moments, Jamie struggled, trying to hold Claire close and kiss her tenderly. He’d thought to ease her, both of them, with the wine at dinner. He’d known she lost all sense of restraint when in drink; and with their explosive lovemaking he thought that his Sassenach had turned a corner … but obviously not, for demons still ruled her mind. He simply hadn’t realized what she was retaining he thought grimly, trying to seize his love without hurting her.  Carefully, Jamie brushed the salty drops of tears away with his lips pulling Claire lovingly into his arms. This seemed to calm her a little and her movements stilled as she moved and nestled into the crook of his arm. Gently his hand stroked her head brushing her tangled tresses from her face. 

“Ssshhh! Mo ghràidh,” he whispered tenderly against her ear just before placing a light kiss there.  

His lips moved down her cheek placing soothing kisses to her fevered skin. Jamie’s calming cadence continued as he tried to soothe her agitation and distress. He knew full well the kinds of demons that walked the dark spaces between her dreams for he too had fallen prey to their insidious pull. He had fought them off and he would help his love to do the same.  His voice was gentle and calm as he tried to placate the horror thoughts crossing her mind.

“Dinna be scairt Sassenach. Yer safe a nighean. I’ve got ye.” 

“No!!!”

“Sleep now ... everything is okay... ‘twas just a bad dream mo nighean donn.” 

Claire’s lips parted suddenly in a quick intake of breath. “Jamie?”

He watched her face intently. Could he reach out for her battered soul and bring it back to the light?

Wanting to allay her torturous thoughts, Jamie held his love’s body more tightly to his, while protectively enclosing her in the warmth of his embrace. He could feel the sweat cooling on Claire’s heated skin, as her heart raced madly in her chest.  Her face was a little wet with tears, and ever so gently he stroked those tears away. Cradling her tenderly in his arms, his comforting words washed over her as his arms enfolded her against his chest.  He lovingly trailed his hands down her body soothing away the hurt of these images that had taken control of her mind. He also gently stroked Claire’s head by running his fingers though her hair at her nape to calm her agitation. She snuggled closer to the man she loved as he pacified her movements while her thoughts consumed her psyche. As he held her, he whispered endearing words into her ear to placate the savage beast and kissed her fevered brow.  

Claire sighed in her sleep. Eventually sensing Jamie’s concern, she responded to his touch and the sound of his voice as she roused a little from her restless slumber. She called his name quietly, “Jamie?”  “Ssshhh!” he whispered into the night, his soft voice washing over her like a soothing balm to her senses. “It's alright Claire. You're safe." At the sound of his voice, reality returned in full, washing away the last traces of the nightmare. Her eyelids fluttered as she nestled a little closer turning her sleepy eyes towards her lover’s hypnotic voice. Opening her eyes, Claire stared up at the man in whose arms she felt safe. Tears welled up in her eyes once again when she saw the concerned but loving face of her avenging angel.

“Dinna cry mo nighean donn. No, shhh.”

The gentle cadence of his voice washed over her with soothing strokes.  “The mind just takes a little longer to heal than the body Sassenach. But you're strong, mo ghràidh.” He paused, lightly pressing his hand to her cheek as his thumb nonchalantly stroked across her cheek. “Dinna be afraid. Let yerself remember ... the dreams will stop and I’ll be here to catch ye.”

A heartbreaking sob tore from her throat as tears welled in her eyes. “Jamie … I’m sorry ... This is all my fault.”  “No … no … ‘tis not my love,” he answered softly sensing her guilt-ridden regrets. “Dinna ye dare be sorry Sassenach. I willna have it, d’ye hear?”

Tightening his arms around her, Jamie hugged her body firmly to his own. He could tell by the tremulous quaver in Claire’s voice that her mind had relieved all that had happened to them at the monastery.

Her anxiety and stress levels had been heightened by her experience and it was only natural that his Sassenach would find it difficult to banish these thoughts from her subconscious mind. The trauma of these upsetting events would test the strongest of individuals and although his Claire was strong, she was also vulnerable. It was little wonder that Jonathon Randall had had such an impact on her psyche, but with his love they had the chance to put the past behind them.  He knew that his Claire would survive because together they would write a different ending to what was causing her nightmares.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Safe in Jamie’s comforting arms, Claire closed her eyes as his calming and reassuring words washed over her.  However, when she opened them and raised her eyes to look at him, she found her love cradling her so tenderly that she couldn’t stop gazing into Jamie’s blue eyes.

“I survived,” she stated categorically with conviction with just a tiny hint of a smile.

Jamie’s breath caught in his throat while his eyes were focused on his brave Sassenach. “We both did my love and those who are responsible will be punished.  Ye have mae word.”

“Jamie?” she whispered again.

“Aye? Are ye hurting? D’ye need me to get …”

She gave him a tentative smile. “No. I’m okay.”

However, he was not okay.  Thoughts of what his Sassenach at endured again flashed through his mind. He needed to be gentle. Very gentle. She was broken; he must go canny, take his time and be very careful in gluing back her shattered bits. Her bruises had begun to heal but there were still faint traces on her porcelain skin of the evidence of her torture. Rage consumed him. Anguish for what had happened to his beautiful Claire tormented him. He wanted to kill someone. He wanted to hurt Jonathon Randall as much as he had hurt his Claire and then he wanted to kill him with his bare hands. The irreversible damage he had done to his love’s psyche would remain with her for a long time but with his love he hoped that together they would heal and recover.  Claire was a strong woman she would not let this torture experience beat her.  She was a survivor and for that he loved her even more.

If it was the last thing that he did he would see that his Claire would not suffer one moment more of her torturous thoughts.  Her body had begun to heal but what had come to pass was still very raw to her. Although he thought she was recovering, he now knew that it would take a little longer for Claire’s mind to erase those horrendous memories of incarceration. Last night had certainly been a start but obviously his Sassenach was still suffering, but he would help her get through this. He would help her rid her mind of those thoughts. His love was more broken than he realised but here in this paradise he would do everything in his power to let her heal completely and to make his Sassenach whole again.   Remembering those times and confronting her fears was a good thing.

When next they made love, gentleness would be his weapon in helping her realise that the violence she had suffered would not discern who she was. Claire needed to face her demons to be able to let them go and then together they would dispel the atrocities through his love and devotion. Letting go would not be easy but when she did her nightmares would stop. Not a day would go by than he would miss an opportunity to reconfirm how precious she was to him and that they would have recompense for what had taken place at the hands of Jonathon Randall and the Rising Dragons. 

But first he wanted to hold her in his arms forever and keep her safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With his face so close to hers that his words caressed her skin like thistledown, James Fraser gathered his woman up into his embrace speaking softly and kissing her between each statement, "I’m here … Ye're safe … Nothing will harm ye as long as I’m with ye … Go back tae sleep Sassenach."  Claire closed her eyes as Jamie kissed her brow, her eyelids and cheeks. She whispered his name as tender kisses anointed her face over and over again.

“Things will be better in the morning. Sleep a bit. You're worn out my love,” he murmured against her ear. 

Eventually his evocative caresses lulled her senses causing Claire to drift back into a peaceful sleep but not before her arm tightened around Jamie’s torso. He felt her steady breathing on his neck, however, sleep evaded him. He stared up at the ceiling for quite a while, his heart gripped with the enormity of the task of restoring his Sassenach’s spirit after such abhorrence. Brushing away a few wayward strands of her hair from her forehead he drew his love more comfortably into his arms hoping that the remainder of the night passed without her nightmares returning. He studied her face now calm in repose and knew that he would not rest until his Claire was avenged. That was his solemn vow. 

Closing his eyes, he waited for sleep to come but it did not. Instead Jamie softly cried, a tearless, soundless wail that lay heavy on his heart for his beautiful Sassenach. His muscles strained to achieve that he might not shake with it, that Claire might not wake and know it.  His only comfort was the small, so fragile weight that lay warm upon his heart, breathing steadily. He pushed the building rage for Jonathon Randall away from his thoughts, for he knew that Claire would feel his abhorrence for the man with any tenseness in his body if he didn’t.  He certainly didn’t want his love to feel anything other than the calm, soothing caress of his body next to hers. His arms were a safe haven and for the next fourteen days he would see only to her needs in order for his love to heal. He would bide his time until they met again, as they would, then he would summon his wrath again but for now he would only focus on his Claire.

Eventually when he did finally succumb to tiredness James Fraser fell back into a troubled sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the early light of the morning’s rays, Claire awoke and dreamily stretched her limbs so satisfied and in love with the man beside her that it was impossible to feel any happier. Subconsciously she’d repressed memories of her nightmare, and consequently she had no recollection of her bad dreams during the night. Only the vivid pictures of their lovemaking so profound, so beautiful, so soulful, formed a tapestry of images in her head of what had happened between them. Last night had been utterly incredible. Sexual healing was crucial to them finding themselves and was the road back to recovery for both of them. Healing of the mind, body and soul would be their catharsis and this tranquil oasis was what they needed to achieve that.

Turning her gaze towards the man of her thoughts, Claire studied the beautiful human lying next to her and let her eyes do the caressing. From his steady breathing and rise and fall of his chest, to the twitching of his eyelids, she took in every aspect of Jamie’s softened features in repose. Both of them had been through an indescribable trauma in Hong Kong but here in this place of tranquillity, she knew that they would both recover with each other’s help. Her eyes devoured the chiselled contours of his face, especially his whisker roughed jaw, the adorable cleft of his chin to the riotous mass of auburn curls on his head. 

Moving closer she touched her finger to his mouth.

James Fraser was a conjurer. She loved everything about his kisses ... the gentle brush of his lips against hers, the teasing, playful games they played and the delirious passionate kisses that took her breath away. Just thinking about what this man did to her senses with his caresses made her want to wake him and experience those kisses again and again. But most of all she loved the cat and mouse games they played when his lips connected then pulled back ... teasing and cajoling a response from her in tit for tat. She was receptive to whatever Jamie wanted to do. It was as if she was entranced by the magic ... the pull of his desire coupled with the caress of eyes that slid over her lips with intent. All of these things made her toes curl. They were curling now.

They had made love into the wee small hours of the morning while their insatiable longing for each other had totally fatigued them both. Except it was never, ever enough.  Adoring eyes traversed James Fraser from head to toe in appraisal as he lay in a deep slumber, but it was the sweet smile on his lips as he slept that melted her heart. Just being able to observe him without him knowing made her smile as well.  This was a man who had moved heaven and earth to find her, he’d been tortured and shot, he’d risked his own life over and over again for her, and if they had died in that gas chamber, then she could ask no more than to die together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie had always put her welfare ahead of his own but as she studied him, Claire could see that he was exhausted. It had been a long journey to Australia, and he was still recovering from his operation. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt that he may have aggravated his wound last night although not once had he complained that it was hurting. However, regardless of what Jamie had said, the energy spent during their lovemaking must have taken its toll on him for it was so unlike him to remain asleep this long. Her hands itched to caress his skin, but she knew this would awaken him and though it was excruciatingly difficult, she resisted the temptation to do so.  But it was his mouth, a mouth she longed to reconnect with, that held her mesmerised.

Her own lips were swollen from the powerful flurry of kisses they’d shared last night, and she gingerly traced her fingertip over her bruised lips in remembrance. A raw need for this man once again rushed through her veins, but she didn’t want to wake him although he was oh so tempting. Nevertheless, she still lowered her mouth and ever so gently pressed her lips to his delicately tasting his bottom lip. Jamie stirred. Her mouth trembled at the gentle connection and Claire felt them respond somewhat to her caress. However, fearful of awakening him she reluctantly broke away. Her eyes then travelled down the column of his throat before resting on the dressing covering his wound.

She wondered if it hurt. After all the exertion of last night it must surely ache terribly this morning, she thought. Gingerly she lowered her mouth to the spot and again placed her healing caress to his injury. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jamie moved beneath the covers and when Claire pulled back, she was captured by the mesmerizing gaze of her lover studying her. His eyes swept the features of her face so lovingly that she was unable to look away.  Little did she know, but Jamie was looking to see if she had remembered her bad dreams from last night. Claire in turn smiled at him as if she had a special secret that she might or might not share with him. She seemed as if last night’s nightmares didn’t even exist.  His eyes lingered on her beckoning mouth and the tongue tip just peeking through her lips cheekily that begged to be caressed.

Hence, judging by his Sassenach’s demeanour, it was obvious that the frightening thoughts were buried deep in her subconscious.

Reaching out for his hand, Claire lovingly interlaced their fingers giving them a gentle squeeze. She smiled; her eyes lingering on his sensuous mouth. 

“Good morning,” she said in a whispered voice.

Never taking his eyes from her face, Jamie brought their joined fingertips to his mouth and intimately kissed her fingers. Releasing her hand, he traced his love’s petal soft lips before closing the distance between them with a chaste caress.

“Good morning a leannan.” 

Smiling she traced her fingertips along Jamie’s powerful jaw feeling the bristly stubble on his chin which tickled the pads of her fingertips. “I can’t believe that we're really here in another country,” she whispered with wonder in her voice. In reply, Jamie rubbed his chin up and down her palm. Overcome with the erotic sensation of the rough hairs pressed into her hand, Claire mewed happily. Tenderly she stroked his face before tracing the outline of his mouth, trailing her finger lazily across his bottom lip. Provocatively she dipped it inside his mouth all the while holding his gaze. Her eyes were captivated by his lips and her leisurely touch was having an effect on any logical thought patterns. 

Capturing her wayward index finger, Jamie caressed it with his tongue before reluctantly releasing it. “Aye … we are,” he answered as his fingertips separated the tangled tresses from Claire’s nape. 

A rosy red hue coloured her cheeks as his eyes seemed to penetrate to her very soul while the soft timbre of his voice caressed her ears. Claire could only imagine what it would be like to wake up every morning for the next two weeks in this man’s embrace.

Laying side by side they moved a little closer towards each other until they were nearly nose to nose. Their eyes were full of the wonder of such a thought knowing that they could not be contacted by Section One for the next fourteen days.  Jamie let his gaze drift over her face but Claire lowered her eyes as his stare seemed to bathe her with stabbing jolts of burning embers.  His gaze scorched her, and cupping his hand around the nape of her neck he brushed her hair away from her face, and drew her head closer before gently kissing her forehead.

“God Claire yer so bonny. I canna look at ye and keep my hands from you nor be near you and not want ye.”

“Is that how you felt the first time we lay together?” “It's always been forever for me, Sassenach.”

Claire couldn’t hide the beaming smile that graced her lips at what Jamie had professed as he continued a languid inventory of her body this morning.  He stroked the back of his fingers up and down her cheek and under her chin, then he lovingly traced the arch of her brow with the pads of his fingertips. She sighed as little shivers of delight possessed her, and welcoming his touch, Claire brushed her head against his hand, wanting more of these caresses. Ever so gently, he stroked the arch of her brow once more before returning to her half-opened mouth.  With gentle dexterity, he traced his love’s petal soft lips, then closing the distance between them he tenderly captured her mouth in a loving kiss.  “Mo nighean donn?”

“Yes …” she murmured fluttering her eyes at him and floating on cloud nine.

Teasingly, he nipped her swollen bottom lip once more. “We better think about …”

“Hmmm?” She mumbled against his mouth while intent on splaying her hands against Jamie’s virile chest and idly tracing her fingernail across his skin.

Sucking in his breath, he trembled at her touch but his words were garbled. “… getting up.”

“I’d rather stay in bed Jamie … Wouldn’t you?”

“Aye … Sassenach … I would,” was his husky reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Claire’s playful seductive mood was a good sign that her bad dreams had been banished from her mind. Jamie felt himself overcome with emotion at his love’s reaction and he couldn’t help himself. Two could play this game. Without wavering he shifted his body, taking her with him and rolled onto his back-settling Claire’s body on top of his flush from neck to knee. This was a much more comfortable position for him and presented less pressure on his wound. He still felt a little tender, but having Claire’s weight covering his own felt like thistledown this morning.

The hard length of James Fraser pressing hotly between her suddenly damp thighs left Claire in no allusion as to how he was feeling. Jamie’s erection brushed her inner thigh as her nipples scraped his chest. A carefree chuckle bubbled up in her chest, revelling in the knowledge that she was the one who had this effect on him. Wantonly rubbing against his growing arousal, she was really enjoying his predicament. She had never felt this close to Jamie after making love before and it felt good … it felt right. Her eyes looked deeply into his. “It feels strange. We’re really together here.”  Holding her captive in his arms he rolled them back so that they were lying on their sides facing each other and silenced them both with a mouth soft yet hard at the same. His lips determinedly coaxed a response from her making her forget all her worries. A soft whimper of need immediately bubbled up inside Claire’s throat when his responsive tongue slipped between her lips to seek and caress. “Aye … We have fourteen days.”  Claire attentively bit her lip in a way that he loved before a huge smile bowed her mouth. “Two weeks. I’m so happy Jamie.” Achingly rocking her hips against his, desire for each other immediately consumed them once more and time stood still. There was no Section One … no Madeline or Operations there was only just the two of them and the time they had together in this beautiful part of the world for the next fourteen days.  “So am I.” 

James Fraser had two weeks in which to erase Claire’s nightmares and heal his love completely and there was no time like the present to start.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday the 24th July.

#jamie and claire fanfic #jamieandclairecrossover #jamieandclaireau #the lallybroch library #outlander fanfic #covertoperations #LFNoutlander

[vr2]

i think kaeya’s suffocating one-way loyalty to others, especially diluc, is one of my favourite parts of his character. an inhumanly knightly ideal stretched transparent, gauze-thin to try and obscure the deficit of your own personhood. like clawing shut a black hole with bloodied fingers but still finding it weeping uncontrollably, hysterically. it’s not exactly self-sacrifice but more like some ill-fated way of seeking validation, plunging yourself into the dark to reaffirm that there is something light, barely alive, faintly flickering within. something worth saving, something human after all. its knowingly asking a question that cannot be answered or taken back. an irreversible change of state is the culmination of rubedo, the metamoprhic stage preceding it symbolized by the peacocks tail, cauda pavonis. understanding the true weight of flesh without blood is to kill the creature beforehand, but this is the only way a true value can be known. childhood dreams denature into scar tissue, charred memories leave a bitter taste in your mouth no matter what you wash it down with. twisting the knife to feel agony once more, confirmation there was some soft underbelly to to the beast, still made of blood and bone, steel carapace and blood-dark claws nothing more than bygone idles. this body can catch alight, can burn brilliantly. this maddening fragility can only be human.

an enduring but deceptively frail nature. i think most of his potential as a character is just waiting for him to shatter and reveal what exactly is left underneath it all like a kinder surprise! but the surprise is abject misery compounded upon whatever fucking awful events would have to cause him to break cleanly in two. i think, naturally, if left to his own devices with little change other than his tentative limbo with diluc, the niggling fear of his truth being exposed and his true utter loneliess, rather than breaking, kaeya would slowly be eroded with time. already well entrenched in the safety of his masks in the city he all but rules, slowly the glaciers hes built turn into the sea and without realising it one day he’d be stranded in an ocean of his own making completely and utterly desolate. eventually kaeya will find himself swalloed by the abyss and he will not struggle as the water comes to claim him.

as fun as that is i think there are much more interesting avenues to go down. for all kaeya is mond’s glacial cavalry captain he’s paradoxically also characterised by his emotional vulnerability. and i just think it’s delicious to prey on that and have some extreme emotional distress that tears him apart. although it’s never alluded to ingame outside of jean’s story quest it seems that kaeya orchestrates a lot of things and is relatively deeply involved with the personal lives of many characters who could not particularly offer him anything in return. specifically jean, klee, lisa and amber. somehow slowly he has scraped together some semblance of friendship and camraderie if not outright family. with him being abandoned twice over, one more final abandonment making kaeya compeltely lose all sense of reality would utterly break him for the last time. like realising all this time, all this change, everything yous aid and did was not only pointless but it was a distraction. the ice beneath your feet is is cracking even if you screamed for help you’d simply be damning another person to die with you, selfishly, thoughtlessly, cruelly. realising your purpose was nothing so grand, but with lies and misdirection they sent you to die in the snow convincing yourself a martyr. there is nothing to catch you, nothing to hold onto but whatever is lurking beneath. you can at least trust a beast to be beast, you were denied to live amongst the land of men but in the depths of the abyss you monsters you call your kin reach out to you, knowing. its only a matter of control now, to either fall off of the edge of the world or dive into it.

like a bird trying to swim beneath the water and finally succumbing to the waves. abandon yourself to your fate. revel in it, drink it down in huge gulps, fall into the spiral and dont look up, don’t acknowledge any other ending than this. there is no use making wishes, the stars are not listening.

i think the event that makes kaeya lose his tenuous grip on reality will actually be completely unnoticeable to anyone who doesnt particularly know him ie other than maybe jean, rosaria and diluc. kaeya will not endanger mond directly, but he is aware, that when he falls, so does a pillar of mond’s defence. he will not raise his sword against the place that gave him a wonderful illusion of belonging but he will not save it either, there was no way for him to understand this land of wind, as someone who was born not knowing the sky.

kaeya would mostly act as usual but there’s something distinctly off-kilter. his usual teasing more strange and obtuse, his usual silvertongue tempered into something more humble, cut with a strange truthfulness, a quiet gentleness of a youth from long ago. as if the captain had suddenly turned back time, as if slowly opening up and blooming like a flower. jean is happy to see kaeya smile again, even if she knows it if an affectation of a memory of a memory. she feels like the anemo archon had gifted him wings, this lightness a blessing she should be thankful for rather than weighed down with niggling worry for her oldest friend. rosaria finds it rather liberating, feeling as if kaeya has finally had the strength to shake off the great weight he carried, that burdensome melancholy has finally thawed. if it was not for the face master diluc is making at him however, she might have missed how wide and unseeing that smile seems.

diluc would be torn. there is something wrong with kaeya. but at the same time isn’t this what he wanted? perhaps in another life if kaeya ragnivindr had the chance to grow up, to bloom into adulthood, this is what he’d be. there is a childish softness he had thought he had burned away, the specter of a boy from another life warm and real before you. that makes something in his throat catch, the back of his eyes ache. diluc would feel tormented, kaeya surely had found some peace but here diluc has convinced himsef its ill-gotten. theres a warring inside him of wanting to reach out and hold this person you’ve never seen before, lest the disappear like snow come dawn and at the same time dig your fingers into it, sift through it until its in pieces before you and find what must exist in the heart of this illusion, even if it means tearing it to pieces. its often, often, he curses demanding the truth. honor and code and chivalry mean nothing any more but he has chosen the path and he can no longer go back. because now it means he cannot leave this kaeya, who can at least pretend to smile like he used to, intact. even this short reprieve must be burnt away.

questioning kaeya is painful, he uses his truthful emotions to disarm and its impossible to get anywhere. kaeya knows what hes doing. if he must be a liar to the end, he will give them the grandest, most beautiful illusion he can create. he pulls on his own strings until he feels them dig into skin, closing around his throat. choking down all his childish wishes to be saved, and turning once more to the audience. smothering it is the kinder alternative than to let the small voice in his heart live, take pitiful struggling steps and have to watch it fizzle and die out with a whimper under the weight of the world. the show must go on, such a mundane performance is not worthy of the king of khaenriah.

kaeya has always known that no matter how he comes to the finale, he has his part to play. in the end his choices dont matter, nobody has ever let kaeya have anything but (a photograph set alight by the fireplace. black satin ribbons tied in neat loopy bows, order in unruly heads of hair, scratchy facial hair against your cheek, the smell of cologne and grapes, not yet wine, three bodies curled on an armchair, a book of fairy tale held in two sets of hands. there is hole is in the center). his body has always belonged to khaenriah, his sword to the knights of favonius, his life to mond. there a quiet vindictive selfishness still, of owning and having complete control of your heart. one ill retaliation that gurgles out of your throat and takes the form of half-aborted laughter spilling out like tar, like sickness. turning the world upside down and righting your positions. kaeya sets the board to its rightful place.

is it still falling if you jump? no need to fear of someone letting go, if you had no intention of holding on. one final indulgence, one last rebellion. the childish vindictiveness of taking something from someone and not giving it back, getting the last laugh even if you laugh alone.

the peacock stage in alchemy, is the stage of transcendence, to destroy the original form and purify it to its final rubedo. the peacock must be swallowed by the phoenix. burning through its brilliant colours to achieve the transmutation between the mundane and divine. this is the the purpose of the cauda pavonis. it is to represent a form that is to be destroyed to achieve completion. a sacrifice.

to kaeya, knowing his purpose yet still foolishly living beyond it is the thing that truly truly sinks its teeth in. knowing that everything he built will be destroyed and he must allow it for being foolish enough to build it in the first place. he knows his impermanence and yet still he is beside himself with a festering rage called humanity creeping into his bones. having no way to process this as anything other than some inherent malignant evil that must be intrinsic to himself, i think kaeya takes ‘pleasure’ in not only burning that bridge but proving to everyone that he was an awful person who deserved this and he really is getting the last laugh. and truly there is something about it, for once, destroying something for your own pleasure. even if it is taking your own chance of redemption, that weak-hearted hopefulness and crushing it between your teeth, finding your saviour just to spite their naivety. the onyl thing left ot destroy is yourself so kaeya will make it absolute and spectacular! a performance seen this night and never again.

but the just straight up sacrifice for the sake of devotion, feeling as if he truly has nothing left but himself and he is his own person to destroy, his only act he can take, the only move on the board is sexy too. in another world, those deeper desires never breaking the ice, layers of permafrost scarred over and scratched raw - idle fantasies of love and forgiveness and belonging, mundane dreams reserved for better people - that could not be burnt out of you that night, like your hair, like your hands, like your flesh, like your heart. an ashen taste that lingers, a bitter aftertaste ever present no matter what you try and wash it down with. you can at least appreciate that the ache of your lungs filling with water, with wine, with the heavy weight of lies -- you can imagine you will sink, heavy with this grief. no one can change this punishment you have decided for yourself, they cannot save you without your consent. you see an invitation to be smothered, for your death to have a purpose, just as your life and birth had predetermined value, how could you deny such a privilege?

what is this if not a final act of devotion? to who, it’s undecided. but the fact you have burnt through this life for others, that you have bled for them, have been their hope, perhaps with this you can finally earn the title of a good man in their eyes. but your own dull gaze is the only one that looks back at you.

to think of their faces, their names, their warmth would sully this divine duty with pointless sorrow so you would close your eyes and clutch at the chest, where an abyssal heart would beat fast and scared, a betrayer and coward til the end. in the cold water, the outline of a dream, the gauzy silhouettes of people you loved, the light of the sun cast shadows across lands both alien and comforting, and, and - anything at all would be worth it. anyone but you.

perhaps this is simply the end. the final act lay unwritten for there is no point writing words that will never be read. perhaps the mask has slipped and you never noticed, insisting the show must go on when there is no one to play to. a performer perpetually stuck on the stage, turning about the head of a pin, boring into you with every revolution. 

the depths of the abyss, pale in comparison to a gaping maw of this despair so wide, that this ocean is nothing but shallow waters to you. walking into the sea, with sword in hand, a sickness in the form of a love that is incomprehensible and cold. to finally rest free, a sojourn with no hope of return a voyage to far away from here. kaeya alberich falls to the end of the world and you will not save him.

as well and good all this rambling is, i think my favourite rendition of kaeya alberich shattering into tiny little pieces is to the tune of ‘kelly clarkson - since u been gone’

#damn you ren #its a banger song #i like my vindictive kaeya he deserves it king #renshin impact #unhinged kaeya rambling time #cw suicidal ideation #i am jus rambling its nothing coherent #organic free range delusions served fresh and hot #if even 20% of this is intelligeible i am a goddamn GENIUS #unfortuantely i will never know since i do not intend to ever read this again