#And I'm all for the emotional damage that comes with being a complex creature with too many thoughts n feelings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverwings22 · 2 years

Text

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 36 Lights: Ellie Goulding

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warnings: children in danger, narcotics, organized crime.

Previous chapter:

Next Chapter:

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see Ord Mantell." Hunter grumbled as they stepped out of the Havoc Marauder. They were just returning from another mission for Cid, and it had been a doozy.

"Cid better be paying us extra for that one." Echo sighed, turning around to offer Miria a hand off the ramp.

"It wasn't so bad!" Wrecker laughed.

"She could have told us the drop zone was swarming with Gundarks." Hunter just growled.

Tech shook his head derisively. "It's hardly the first time she's left out key details."

Omega looked over at Miria, who'd hardly spoken in the several weeks since they'd left Ryloth. She tugged the Jedis hand gently as they started towards the parlor. "You okay, Miri? Gundarks didn't get you?"

"I'm alright, padawan mine." The woman murmured. "Simply tired."

Tired. That was her constant excuse lately, but it hardly covered it. Haunted was a better word. Or hunted.

He was after them. Hunting them down and she knew it. Crosshair was coming for them and the little snippets she'd been able to hear from his mind only told her he was angry and desperate. And she couldn't explain it to anyone, because no one understood the complexity of the Force bond between them. How did she even begin to tell how her mind, her very soul, was melded into the damaged and broken spaces in the man who wanted them all dead for the sin of being?

And how did she explain that she didn't want to sever it, because as long as she could occasionally feel the pulse of his emotions she knew he was still alive?

It was a dangerous game to play. A stray, unguarded thought could lead him right to them, and it took so much out of her to keep her guard up. She'd never had to keep anyone out like this before, especially someone else loved so much. Someone she wanted to, so desperately, show the inside of her beating heart until he could see how much she wanted to save him.

Tired indeed.

She was lost in her thoughts and hardly noticed the armored guards around the city until they stepped into the parlor. "When did this place get so popular?" Echo huffed.

Miria frowned. Cid's usual clients were nowhere to be found, only new faces and a lot of matching helmets. It made her skin crawl. "Let's just find Cid." She murmured, heading through the throng towards the office. A guard stopped her short, arms crossed over his puffed out chest. "Where do you think you're going?"

Wrecker took one look at him bucking up to their little general and put him into the wall with prejudice. “Thank you, dear.” Miria murmured, stepping over the guard casually and walking into the office.

Instead of Cid, there was a young green Devaronian man seated at her desk. Several guards immediately turned to point blasters at them, and the batch quickly returned the gesture by training their weapons on the Devaronian. He just chuckled, petting a vaguely familiar lizard creature.

“Ruby?” Gasped Omega.

“Terrible manners to barge into someone’s office without an appointment.” The man at the desk chuckled, stroking the lizard's head and scales lightly with a long nailed hand.

“This isn’t your office.” Hunter growled. “Where’s Cid?”

“She’s… out. I’ll be taking over from here.” He smirked darkly. “Though, if you’re looking for work then I might have use for you.” He gestured for his men to put their blasters away.

Miria narrowed her eyes. Everything about him screamed “gangster”. Classier, perhaps, than the Hutts, but still a distinct and unacceptable danger to Omega. To her guys. “We’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

Miria gestured for them to walk out. “We need to leave Ord Mantell.” Hunter immediately said firmly, pushing them all lightly towards the hangar. “We can get supplies before we go, but we need to leave.”

The Jedi chewed her lip. “That leaves us vulnerable with no home base, Hunter…”

“You wanna deal with gangsters?” Hunter gave her a look. “It’s not safe here. We need to go.”

“What about Cid?” Omega darted ahead and turned around, arms out. “We need to help her.”

“She’s got a point, Hunter.” Miria mused. “It’s strategically sound, and Cid’s helped us. Besides, we’d be in more danger trying to start over since we have no contacts and no one we know we can trust.” All true points, she told herself. It was only right, and had absolutely nothing to do with the gnawing anxiety in her gut about being out in the open again with Crosshair hunting them and nowhere to hide.

That was a lot more frightening than some gangster.

“I always knew the girls were the brains of your outfit.” Huffed a voice behind Omega. Cid was standing inside the hatch door of the Havoc Marauder, hands on her hips. Hunter let out a long-suffering sigh and Omega giggled.

Mira shook her head with a faint smile. “Good to see you, Cid.”

“Get in here. Now! We got trouble.”

“Clearly.” The Jedi took Omega by the hand gently and they led the way up the hatch.

On the ship, Cid quickly laid out their situation. “I see you met Roland Durand. He’s the son of notorious gangster Isa Durand. Heard of her?”

The clones shook their heads. “Not much. Miri?”

“The Temple didn’t have many dealings with gangsters prior to the war. And no time for them during.” Miria said mildly. “But what does he want with your Parlor?”

“Ord Mantell’s easy access to multiple hyperspace routes, and my parlor’s in the middle of the action. He’s trying to make a name for himself out here, make his mother proud I guess.” Cid sighed. “But he’s trying to make a deal with the Pykes.”

Miria raised an eyebrow, shifting a little in her seat. Omega snuggled up under the Jedi’s arm nervously. “Who are the Pykes?”

“No one you want to mess with, padawan mine.” Miria petted her hair.

Cid looked at the men. “He’s got six crates of spice stored in my back office, waiting for a pickup.”

Tech raised an eyebrow. “You want to steal it and disrupt his deal.”

“You’re quick, Goggles.” Cid nodded. “We pull this off, the Pykes will take care of the problem for us.”

Miria pulled a knee up in her chair thoughtfully. “You’re not talking about going through the front door. This is covert.”

“Yeah. I don’t need the Pyke’s knowing we’re involved. Or we’ll wish we were dead long before they kill us.” Cid’s gold eyes turned to her, and Miria felt the harsh yellow of fear bleed into the Force around the trandoshan.

The human woman nodded, plated and gloved hand settling protectively on Omega’s head as she glanced at the guys. “You’ve kept our secrets. I think we can keep this one for you.”

Cid chuckled. “I knew I liked you, Stripes.”

Miria chuckled fondly and grabbed her helmet. “Grab your gear bag, Omega.”

The followed Cid down an alleyway, and once she was sure the coast was clear she shoved some crates out of the way to reveal an access hatch. “Ord Mantell’s old mining tunnels. There’s one that leads right to my back office.”

“What is to say that Durand isn’t in there when we arrive?” Tech raised an eyebrow behind his tinted lenses.

“I took care of that.” Cid explained. “He’s obsessed with that lizard he had me send you guys after, so he’ll be out looking for her for a while.”

Omega frowned. “No one’s gonna hurt Ruby, are they?”

“That lizard scratched my face, Omega.” Miria chuckled. “I think Ruby can take care of herself if she’s in any trouble at all.”

Omega sighed and nodded, clutching the strap of her gear bag as Hunter descended the ladder into the tunnel first. Miria followed, pulling a flashlight from her own pack curiously and looking around. “I didn’t realize the tunnels were quite so extensive, but that does explain why Old Ord Mantell city was in the middle of a stripped quarry.”

Tech nodded, hopping off the ladder behind her and approaching the mining transport carts. “These are quite old, but I should be able to get the motors operational…”

“Motors are too loud.” Cid hissed, climbing into the first cart. “We go manually. Stripes, Tiny, Goggles, you’re with me.”

Miria chuckled quietly and helped Omega into the cart before helping Cid pump the lever that got them moving.

“General, let me take that.” Tech murmured after a minute. He could hear her breath getting a little ragged. “You keep lookout.”

She nodded, swapping places with him and trying not to look as tired as she felt. Her flashlight raked the area below them curiously. “It echoes.” Omega whispered. “It’s kind of creepy.”

Miria chuckled softly. “It reminds me of the Hall of Acoustics back in the Temple. Depending on where you stood in the room, you could get your voice to bounce back in different ways… I used to go there and sing when I was young… it felt like there was someone singing with me.”

They arrived at a sealed door and Cid stopped the cart. “Once we open this door, not a peep out of anyone. You’ll wake the hive and we’ll all die.”

“The hive?” Hunter tensed.

“The tunnels have… a little infestation problem.” Cid sighed.

“We’re not afraid of some bugs.” Wrecker smirked.

“If I never see a Yalbec or Geonosian worm again, I’ll be quite content.” Miria muttered. “Wrecker, open the door please.”

He bounced over and yanked the door open on its old, rusted hinges before returning to the back cart and following as they carefully worked their way through a much more open cavern.

Wrecker might not have been scared of bugs, but heights were another story, and he looked nervously out at the sea of darkness and webbing scattered in deep layers far below the carts. “I don’t like this.” Omega whispered softly.

“Me either.” Miria squeezed her hand.

“I do wish we’d stop going on missions to places this dark.” Miria murmured, back pressed against Crosshairs. They were here on Devaron, helping defend an outpost from Separatists until the fleet could arrive. They’d been traveling through the dense jungle, using the massive maintained vines that connected so much of the natural world to the beautiful urban cities of this beautiful planet, when they’d been ambushed by droids. Everyone survived, but she and Crosshair had been knocked from the vine and down straight into the jungle during the skirmish. They’d managed to get a patchy, static-filled message out to the Tech to let the others know they were alive, but it was nightfall and they’d both been injured. Crosshair’s left leg was almost certainly broken, and Miria had landed badly on her right wrist that was now swollen and purple.

“You hear them skittering around in the trees, don’t you?” He murmured. They were both exhausted, and help wouldn’t arrive til the morning sun.

“Just bugs. Nothing to fear…” she said, more to herself than him, but her left hand still inched backwards until she found his and wrapped their fingers together.

“How’s your wrist?” He squeezed her fingers gently.

“How’s your leg?” She squeezed right back.

Crosshair snorted. “Took that thigh plate off. Femur’s broken, hurts like hell. Now how’s your wrist.”

She smiled. “I took my wrist bracer off too… the wrist was bent backwards. Pretty sure it’s broken too.”

“Great. I can’t walk and you can’t swing your lightsaber. Aren’t you right-handed?” He sighed. “We’re sitting ducks.”

“I can splint your leg, and we can use your rifle as a crutch while you lean on me…” She mused.

“How do you plan to splint my leg if you can’t use your dominant hand?” He huffed.

“I have another hand and the Force. The edges of the bandage might not be straight, but we’ll walk out of here. I swore after Geonosis I wasn’t going out by insects, and you don’t get to make a liar out of me, Cross..” She finally groaned and leaned up, bracing on her good hand to get to her knees and scuttle around to dig through her kit for the first aid pack.

He winced as she flipped her saber to life and cut three straight and sturdy sticks, using them to make a makeshift cage for his thigh and bandage it tightly. “Fuck…”

“Sorry, my darling. I know it hurts.” She murmured, tearing the gauze with her teeth and tying it off. “But that should do it.”

“Let me wrap your wrist, then. Gimme something to do with my hands for a minute.”

Miria smiled and sat, letting him gently explore the delicate bones in her wrist and had to check the damages. “This is going to hurt.”

“That’s okay, I’m a Bad Batcher. We’re tough.” She smiled, leaning into his hand when he cupped her cheek.

“Keep that spirit.” he murmured, turning her hand in his lap and starting to wrap it as tight as she could tolerate. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Miria swallowed hard. “Alright, let’s get you on your feet.” She murmured quietly, pushing herself up and hauling him with her left hand.

Crosshair groaned and leaned on her as she helped get his rifle up to be used as a crutch. “You got any idea which way we’re going?”

“Yes.” She shouldered her gear pack and his, wrapping an arm around his middle so he could lean on her. “Yeah… I can sense the city. Just… one step at a time.”

Miria jumped back to the present when Wrecker’s flashlight went hurtling down into the depths. Everyone froze, Cid oozing waves of barely contained panic. Miria’s hand inched towards the bag on her right hip, where her saber was stored. But there was only a tense creak and faint shifting from below, before it settled down.

Cid looked at Wrecker. “Nice going.” She whispered.

“It was an accident.” He whispered back.

“Let’s just keep moving.” Miria whispered.

Cid nodded and went back to working the lever, Miria pulling Omega back from the edge of the cart. They eventually made it over the chasm and up to the secret door to Cid’s back office. The trandoshan checked her comm and nodded. “Roland took the bait, so we can go. But let’s hurry, I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Wrecker nodded and yanked the hatch open, shoving up a false floor that was hiding the access from the inside. It wasn’t hard to locate six huge crates of spice sitting in the corner, and the big clone started passing them back to Hunter and Echo. They moved them down to the carts, and Tech and Miria secured them.

“What do you think Cid’s going to do with all this stuff?” Omega asked, sitting on the floor of the first cart while they worked. “Spice is worth a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“I’m vaguely horrified that my little sister knows the approximate street value of illegal narcotics.” Tech muttered.

Miria chuckled weakly and shook her head. “All that matters to us is that she’s not allowed to hide it on our ship, Omega.”

Her eyes darted up as she heard a flurry of activity up the ladder. Wrecker tossed the last crate down and tossed it on the cart. “That’ll have to be secure enough.” Cid jumped into theirs. “Go, Roland’s getting in the office.”

They started working the levers furiously, just as the armored guards from earlier found their getaway tunnel and hopped into the other two carts to pursue them. “They’re using the motors, they'll catch us any minute.” Omega whispered. Miria shoved her down behind the side of the cart as the guards started firing.”

“None of that’s gonna matter if they wake the hive.” Cid hissed.

“None of it will matter if we’re shot dead, either.” Miria snapped back. “Tech, keep Omega and Cid safe.” She jumped up, saber coming up, and leapt out of their cart and into the first one the guards occupied. Tech ducked his head as Hunter went over them entirely to get in on the action.

He landed with a kick to the face of the nearest guard, Echo right behind him. Miria was deflecting shots from the second guard cart as they cleared men out of the first and tipped them over the edge. “Lock the breaks.” Miria nodded to Hunter. “Then get ready to jump.”

“Jump, why are we jumping?” Echo frowned, but locked the breaks as she said. She put her saber away, grabbed the guys by the arms, and took a Force-assisted leap from the cart just as the second guard cart came hurtling up. Echo, having figured out the plan, shot their engine controls so they had no choice but to crash.

They landed in the cart with Cid, Tech, and Omega, wincing as the crash sent men flying into the dark. “Sorry, Cid. That was louder than anticipated.” Miria said softly as Hunter and Echo went back to help Wrecker in their assigned seats.

“Let’s hope that didn’t wake the hive.” Cide just said ominously.

“Indeed.” Tech murmured. Omega squished to his hip nervously.

They passed back into the deep tunnels and Cid frowned nervously as an animalistic noise rose from deep below. Hunter frowned. “There's another cart coming.”

Miria took a deep breath. “Tech, power up the engines, we’re going to have to outrun the enforcers and the hive.”

Cid gritted her teeth unhappily. But there was no escaping that the Jedi was right. Tech dropped to start the engine. As it roared to life, there was a loud roar from below and a billion flapping wings and screeching mouths came flying up at them. “What the hell are these things?” Hunter hissed as they were swarmed and he felt teeth trying to rip into him through his armor.

Miria yanked Omega to her chest, watching the creatures ripping their pursuers apart. “Can’t these things go any faster?!” The guys were all shooting at the swarm, but it was an uphill battle with no chance of winning one shot at a time.

“Use your torches, they’re avoiding the light!” Tech yelled as the cart rocked dangerously and a crate of spice went flying over the edge.

“Not the spice!” Cid yelped.

Miria gritted her teeth. “I think your life is a little more important!” She ripped her saber up and activated it, the bright light scattering the flying creatures away from them. They hauled ass for the exit and made it out with Miria holding the swarm at bay until everyone escaped, leaving the spice where it fell and Wrecker slamming the door shut when the Jedi ran through.

She leaned against the door, sucking air like she was drowning. “What… the hell… were those?”

Tech fiddled with his datapad. “Irlings. They’re nocturnal, aggressive, and extremely photosensitive.” He finally reported.

“Not a fan.” Miria huffed, coughing into her elbow.

Omega looked sheepish. “At least we got rid of the spice.”

Cid smiled a little and put a clawed hand on her shoulder. It was nice to see the rough trandoshan having a soft spot for Omega… but Miria had a weird feeling that this was far from over.

“Are you sure the parlor is safe?” Asked Omega, looking up at Cid.

“Bolo and Ketch said the Pykes have already come for Roland. It should be fine.” Cid smiled fondly. Miria frowned, touching the blaster on her hip as she nodded to the guys. They took the wordless order and broke along the sides of the door, ready to clear the building.

She kicked the door open, and Hunter went in first. “Clear!’

Omega followed Cid in and gasped. There were dead enforcers littering the floor like trash. Miria looked away, shaking her head. So much senseless death… there was always so much death, and no reason for any of it…

“Looks like it worked better than expected.” Cid chuckled, stepping over a body. “The Pykes don’t take kindly to unpaid debts.”

Omega looked deeply disturbed by that and stepped closer to Hunter. Miria turned her head at the sound of someone stumbling, just in time to see Roland in cuffs being shoved forward by a trio of Pykes. “She’s the one you want.” He pointed at Cid. “She stole the spice, along with them.”

Miria narrowed her eyes and straightened her spine as the Pyke leader approached her. “Return the spice and we will consider this matter resolved between us.” He said in an eerily unaffected voice, eying Cid.

“We don’t have it.” Cid said quietly.

“Then you are of no further use to us. Kill them.” He waved to the other Pykes, and blasters quickly leveled at the clones. Who all brought their own guns up. Miria held her hand up.

“Unit, weapons down.” She said calmly, glancing at Cid’s stressed expression. Then her eyes moved back to the Pyke. “We do not have the spice, but we know its location. We can retrieve it, if you let the matter die there.”

“Someone with sense.” The Pyke nodded. “My patience wears thin, however. Retrieve the spice, and all will be resolved. However, the child and the woman remain here.”

“Not happening.” Hunter growled, arm coming out in front of Omega.

The Pyke fixed him with a look. “You don't understand. This is not a negotiation.”

Miria held a hand out to Omega. “It’s fine, Hunter.” she said softly. “Please take our weapons to the ship, and we’ll get them when you come back for us.” She handed her blaster, rifle, knife, and saber. Omega sheepishly handed over her bow, taking Miria’s hand. “We’ll see you soon.” Miria murmured, as a Pyke took her by the upper arm and half dragged her to the Parlor office, where she let herself be cuffed. Omega was also cuffed, and sat beside her and a deeply regretful Roland. When the batch walked out, Omega scooted closer into Miria’s arms.

“I don’t like this, Miri.”

“I know, padawan mine. But we’ll be okay.” Miria murmured. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

If Roland hadn’t felt alone before, he did now while watching them interact.

Omega looked up over Miria’s shoulder after a while, noticing a blaster left unattended and close enough she could reach. “Don’t.” Roland murmured. “They’ll kill you. If your friends don’t bring the spice back, they’ll kill us all.”

“They’ll bring it back.” Miria said calmly. “Though… the Pykes only said they would consider the matter between us and them resolved. I’m somewhat concerned for your fate, Durand.”

His green skin looked distinctly paler at that. “You should have stayed out of other people’s business.”

“You took the parlor from Cid!” Omega hissed. “We were just helping a friend.”

“It’s the Durand way. Take what you want.” He mused. “My mother has perfected the tactic.”

Miria looked at her lap. “When you always take and never give, you drive everyone away.” She said softly. “That sounds like a very lonely existence to me. Is it worth it, Durand?”

He stared at her for a long moment before Omega broke the silence. “So your mother is a criminal too?”

“You make it sound so undignified.” he muttered. “But… I wonder what she’d think if she saw me right now.”

Miria eyed him. “If she’s any decent mother, hopefully appalled you’re in such terrible danger? I know I would be, if you were my son.” She shook her head. “My own mother would be breaking down the door right now if she could see me…”

“Your mom always gets so worried.” Omega said solemnly. “She’s more anxious than you…”

Miria smiled. “She’s very… free with her feelings.”

Ruby chose the moment to go waddling past Roland and crawled into Omega’s lap. The girl smiled with delight and petted the creature's scales. Miria chuckled when the lizard headbutted her hands to demand pets from her too. “You know, you’re actually quite charming when you’re not clawing my face. Lovely little creature.”

Omega smiled and cuddled Ruby happily, before glancing over at the look on Roland’s face. “What?”

“Ruby just… doesn't usually take a liking to most people.” He finally said softly.

Omega nodded, looking back down at Ruby. “Don’t worry. We’ll get out of this… my brothers won’t let us down.”

“Brothers…?” Roland blinked, looking from Omega to Miria.

“Yes. She’s their sister.” Miria murmured, looking at him with quiet eyes.

“Then where do you fit? Or is that why you asked me if I was lonely? Because you don’t?”

Miria took a steadying breath and smiled. “There’s one more brother.” She said softly. “That’s where I fit.”

He nodded, watching Miria as she bent her knees and made a space for Omega to snuggle with Ruby in the protective cage of her armored legs. “Do you really think they’ll bring back the spice?”

“They’ve never let me down before.” Miria murmured.

It had been hours, and Omega was squeezing Miria’s hands nervously as night fell. “It’s dark, Miri. Those things are more active at night…”

“I know. But I'm sure Tech thought of something.” The Jedi hugged her a little closer to her chest. “And I’ll bet it’s spectacularly destructive, and he recorded it like he does everything, so we’ll have to watch it a hundred time while he explains how smart he is to us.”

That made Omega smile a little. “He is smart…”

Miria pushed her nose against the girl's cheek, affectionate and comforting when she needed her most. She recalled, when she was most sad and scared growing up, the feeling of Master Plo’s mask pressing against her face. She’d done the same thing for many frightened younglings over the years to make them laugh.

Omega smiled, comforted, and they all looked up as the squad walked in dragging the crates of spice. One of the Pykes came over and hauled the three hostages up to meet them at the door.

“The issue between us is now considered resolved.” The leader muttered as the other two loaded the crates onto a hover cart. He uncuffed Omega and Miria, who walked back over to the batch. Omega looked back at Roland, stopping short.

Miria glanced at her before looking at the resigned, tired face of the young Devaronian. “What are you going to do to him?” Omega whispered. “Please, he just made a mistake, he shouldn’t have to die over it.”

Cid nodded. “Kill him and you’ll have a gang war with Isa Durand. Do you really need that heat right now?”

Miria softened her approach with quiet eyes. “Cruelty begets obedience through fear. Mercy begets respect. Only one lingers when the power is no longer in your hands.”

Cid leaned in. “Just call it a bad deal and walk away.”

“We do not accept bad deals.” The Pykes shoved Roland down on his knees and pushed his head over a crate. Mira turned Omega away when a knife flashed, but the girl whipped her head around.

Instead of slitting his throat, Roland’s right horn was cut off nearly to the scalp. He yelped in pain, but there was mercifully air in his lungs to do so. “Our business is finished. It would be wise that our paths do not cross again.” The Pykes took their loot and left in a creepy huff.

Omega extended her hand nervously towards him. “Are you okay?”

Roland touched the base of his cut horn, wincing. “A small price to pay…”

Miria smiled as the girl set Ruby down and the creature ran to his arms to try to comfort him. Roland cuddled her to his chest for a long moment, eying the Jedi and child like he wanted to say something. But he finally made himself walk away, holding his pet in place of his dignity but still alive.

Cid chuckled. “First round’s on the house, you guys.”

“You owe us way more than that.” Wrecker grinned.

“Don’t push your luck, Muscles.”

He rushed past, on Cid’s tail with Echo and Tech jogging to keep up. Miria took a few steps, giving Hunter and Omega a little space. “Why’d you stick up for me, after all he’s done?” Hunter was murmuring to the girl.

“I… don’t really know. Ruby liked him… and Miri said he was lonely. So maybe he’s not all bad.”

Hunter chuckled. “Only you two could end up hostages with a gangster and somehow make a friend.”

“I like making friends.” Omega chuckled.

“Ask Miri about the time she made friends with a Sith that stabbed her.”

Miria laughed until she coughed. “That’s such a boring story, Hunter! Tell her the good ones, like when I dragged Cross out of the jungle on Daveron. I was thinking about that in the tunnels.”

Hunter chuckled. “You only had to drag him because his leg was broken from diving after you.”

“And I only needed diving after because Wrecker hit me with a scrapped droid.” She laughed. “Come on, Omega. I did promise to tell you some war stories.”

“Finally!”

#crosshair #eventual smut #explict #original character #crosshair smut #clone force 99 #caught in the crosshairs

6 notes · View notes

wistfulrat · 3 years

Text

this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely.

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

#drarry fic rec #drarry #we live and die for desi harry aka hari poddar bc fuq jkr #a lot of soft drarrys this week but in my defense ive been reading hella angst and my depression was not finding that cute #weekly drarrys

323 notes · View notes

e-vasong · 4 years

Note

Not sure if youre taking the whumptober asks but can I request #6 with five? 👀 Also sorry new to Tumblr so not sure if I'm doing this right lol love your writings btw!! ❤

Oh!! YES I LIKE THIS ONE. It is not October, but I’m not so much “participating” in Whumptober as I am just using it to kick myself into gear with writing.

I may kinda suck at filling prompts, even when I ask for them, but when I do...it takes a really long time because this was supposed to be 1000 words max and is actually like. almost 3000 words of shameless whump. WHOOPS. Most of this is under a cut, because it’s long and...well, whumpy.

TW: Torture, electrocution

No. 6: Please... “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please.”

“Hm,” Agent Finch laid the bloody pliers back on the metal tray with a clatter. “You’re as resilient as I remember, Number Five.” He sneered the words, hands tightening into fists at his sides.

Five supposed that Finch meant for that to be a threat, but he just couldn’t bring himself to take it seriously.

“Go ahead and hit me, Finch,” he gave the man an affable smile. “If you really throw your back into it, it might even hurt.”

The provocation worked. Finch did hit him, then. Right across the face. The force of the blow snapped Five’s head off to the side, slamming his skull into the metal back of the chair. The steel reverberated, the noise echoing painfully in Five’s ears. It did hurt, in a distant sort of way, but Five had found that being punched was always more jarring than it was painful. Not to mention the fact that it was just bad technique. After all, if you really rung someone’s bell...

Well, in an interrogation, where the goal was to disorient your target and trick them into giving you vital information, a concussion could be useful. But it was a poor tool for torture because it made it easier to zone out, to forget about the pain. And if Finch were any good at his job, he’d know that.

Five sighed. “Ouch,” he said, voice droll. He worked his jaw experimentally. Everything seemed like it was still in its proper place, though the movement tugged painfully on the bruise that had already started to blossom across his left cheek.

“You can’t fucking run, Five,” Finch said. There was a new speck of blood on his chin, bright against his salt-and-pepper stubble. “I know you. I’d say we have a good half hour before you can jump again; probably longer, with you in pain like this--” Five couldn’t repress the laugh that bubbled up in his chest at that. “Which is plenty of time for me to make you regret ever crossing--oh for fuck’s sake! What are you laughing about?”

“Oh,” Five rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great.”

“What?” Finch’s hand returned to the metal tray, grabbing the pliers again. “Not enough pain for you? Fine. Another fingernail, then.”

Boring, Five thought. A sadistic appetite with no real vision or talent to follow it through, that was Finch’s problem. He watched with disinterest as Finch pressed the pliers against his left ring finger, readying himself to breathe through the inevitable pulse of pain that was coming.

“No!” The shout came with a clatter of chains and cuffs as Diego jerked against his bonds. Five jumped, and Finch did too, pliers slipping from his hand and hitting the ground with a clang. Huh. They’d both forgotten, somehow, that Diego was here too.

“You sick son of a bitch,” Diego bit out, the dramatic fucker. Five’s annoyance was practically a living creature inside of him. Diego’s hero complex was both entirely predictable and deeply unwelcome, since Five had this very much under control, not that Diego much seemed to care.

“Shut up!” Five and Finch snapped at the same time, voices overlapping as they spoke.

There was a brief lapse in conversation, the room falling silent as they both processed what had just happened. Finch whipped around to glare at Five, and Five glared sullenly back. He wasn’t about to be the one to break eye contact, but it was more annoying than he’d admit to accidentally end up on the same wavelength as his oldest and most incompetent acquaintance from the Commission.

“Why?” Diego said, responding only to Finch. “Because you’re some twisted fuck that gets off on torturing children?”

Diego could be dangerously intelligent when he wanted to be, but he was a bad actor under pressure. And this was a stupid, blatantly obvious attempt at provocation, even by Diego’s standards.

So of course Finch turned back towards Diego, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Diego,” Five said, a warning in his voice.

“You know full well that your brother isn’t as young as he looks,” Finch said, talking over Five. His voice was calm, but he was moving closer towards Diego as he spoke, successfully baited.

“Oh, sorry,” Diego said, yanking on his chains again defiantly. They rattled against the ceiling pipe above Diego’s head and Diego winced. The struggling was likely doing no favors for the discomfort of his position. “I guess that makes torturing him alright, then.”

“Your brother,” Finch said, “was supposed to be my backup on a job once. Instead, he shot me in the back and left me for dead.”

Diego, to his credit, looked utterly unfazed by Finch’s unfavorable and one-sided description of their former partnership, even though it was, essentially, accurate.

“Your back? Really?" He jerked his chin in Finch’s direction. “Damn, I’d have guessed he hit you in the face. Maybe he should have. Can’t get any worse than this.”

Finch punched him, which seemed to be his default reaction to everything that upset him, the neanderthal. His fist collided with a sickening crack, and Diego went limp. Five stiffened in his chair. For all that he’d critiqued Finch’s technique, the man was still a burly six feet, almost all of it muscle. A poorly-gauged blow--and Five did not trust Finch to gauge anything well--could do more grievous damage than Finch may have intended.

“Diego?” Five called. If Finch killed one of his siblngs, Five wouldn’t much care whether it was an accident or not.

There was a heart-stopping moment where Diego didn’t respond. He just hung there, limp and unmoving. Five’s breath caught in his throat.

Then a shudder passed through him, and Diego’s head lifted slightly. “”M fine,” he muttered, though he was clearly too disoriented to raise his head all the way. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought for consciousness, and a bit of bloody spittle dripped from his mouth to the ground.

“Five’s right,” Diego said. He was slurring his words. That was bad. “That barely even hurt.”

But Finch didn’t respond to the jab this time, not the way that that he did when Five had resorted to the same taunt. Instead, he stopped to look at Five.

“Did you...?” Finch tilted his head to the side, looking thoroughly bewildered. And then his face split into a wide, almost hysterical grin. “My, my,” Finch said, and Five went stiff.

Finch’s smile was smug, like the cat that caught the canary, which was a disorienting turn of events. Five was used to being the cat, not the songbird, and he rather liked it that way.

“What?” Five said, terse.

“You almost sounded...God, what’s the word?” Finch said. “Oh, I know! Concerned.”

“About him?” Five scoffed. “In his wildest dreams.”

But it was too little, too late. Finch’s lips twisted upwards in a vicious grin.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “After all this time. You know, we used to gossip about you in the break room. Wonder if Five, the best assassin the Commission had ever seen and the Handler’s favorite little pet, had a weakness we could exploit. We never did figure it out. Who would have realized...” Finch turned back towards Diego and grabbed him by the jaw, tilting Diego’s head upwards as if to get a better look at him. “That it was something so...sentimental.”

Finch laughed. “I mean,” he continued, “we had some really crazy bets going. But this is just-it’s just--oh, don’t scowl at me, I’m trying to give you a compliment. I guess I really didn’t see this coming from you of all people. I didn’t even realize you had emotions. Other than, you know, anger and irritation. Those I knew about.”

Five opened his mouth. Finch hushed him. “Don’t lie to me, Five,” he said. “You should have heard yourself just now. That was the most scared you’ve been all night. You have a soft spot! All this time, I’ve been hitting the wrong target. You should have said something earlier.”

Five grit his teeth furiously. “Leave it, Finch.”

“No,” said Finch simply. He walked back towards Five, and Five knew better than to think that Finch was coming back for him. Instead, Finch gathered up a handful of cables, loose electrical wires sticking out of the rubber on one end, plugged into a large metal device on the other, and winked.

“Enough,” Five said, lowly. “Finch. Finch!”

“’S fine,” Diego spat. “I can take it, Five.”

No. Five struggled, but it was fruitless. Finch palmed some sort of button on the device, and the air around them filled with an electric hum. Finch strode idly back towards where Diego was strung up--the device was by Five’s side, presumably because Finch had meant to use it on him, but the cables ran long enough that Finch reached Diego without needing to pull them taut.

“Finch!” Five tugged sharply at the leather straps that kept his arms bound to the chair. No luck.

“Hm,” Finch was in front of Diego again. “Let’s try it out.” And then he reached out and pressed the exposed wires to a patch of exposed skin on Diego’s collarbone.

Diego tensed. Five could see the muscles in his neck clenching as he grit his teeth. He didn’t scream. He likely couldn’t, paralyzed by agony, but the anguished groan he made in the back of his throat spoke volumes.

Five twisted fruitlessly in his bonds. He heard something in his right hand crack, the thumb popping out of place. He wouldn’t be surprised, from the feel of it, if a few bones had broken too. But even so, the leather was simply too tight.

He couldn’t get free.

Finch held it for a moment, then pulled the cable away. Diego sagged, panting heavily. A few more tremors went through him, aftershocks as his body processed the pain.

“That all you got?” Diego slurred.

“No,” Finch said. “It isn’t.” But before he proceeded, he turned his attention back towards Five. “You see? All this over a couple dead civilians?” he asked. “You realize that I’m going to kill your brother, right? Was it really worth it?”

“Stop,” Five’s voice cracked. He pulled at his bonds again, paying particular attention to his now-broken hand. If he could just force it, he could get free. In his old body, he might have been able to do it--sure, it hurt, but pain was nothing in the face of the panic coursing through him. But in this body, he just wasn’t strong enough. “Please. Finch!”

“Wow.” That did seem to give Finch pause. He clicked his tongue, sizing Five up thoughtfully. “You know, the begging is a nice touch. It’s really making this whole experience a lot more enjoyable for me.”

Then he pressed the wires to Diego’s throat again. Diego twisted in agony, and Five knew that Finch wasn’t going to let up this time.

Diego was going to die. Five yanked against the leather straps again as he jerked forward, overtaken by instinct. It couldn’t end like this. He couldn’t let it.

And then he was free. With a flash of blue light, he stumbled out of a jump right behind Finch. Finch dropped the cable immediately, even before he turned around, likely recognizing the distinctive sound of Five’s warping. The live wire sparked on the ground.

Five didn’t bother with grabbing a weapon. Finch twisted around, and Five punched him in the face with his good hand. Finch staggered, though he caught himself on a nearby pillar of concrete before he could fall. But Five was behind him before he could regain his balance. He got an arm around Finch’s neck, braced his mangled hand against Finch’s jaw, and twisted hard.

Five felt the bone break under his hands, just beneath the brainstem. Even pained and concussed, his technique was perfect. Finch collapsed to the ground, dead before he even hit the floor, and Five had just enough wherewithal left in him to angle the corpse so it fell on top of the live cable’s exposed wires.

“H-holy shit, Five,” Diego said. Five’s heart twisted slightly at the sound. Lapsing back into his stutter like he was, Diego sounded so like the young, childish version of himself that Five had left behind all those years ago.

“One sec,” Five said slowly, lifting a finger to silence his brother. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying, which was...a bad sign. The world had started swimming strangely around him, and adrenaline could only keep him upright for so long. But he needed to get them out of there.

He stumbled his way over towards the machine that the cable was hooked up to, hitting the button so that it shut off. Then he found the lever connected the chains that were keeping Diego strung up and pushed it down. The mechanism released, and Diego stumbled to the floor, hitting his hands and knees with a pained groan.

“Motherfucker,” Diego said, rolling his shoulders. He was still shuddering from the electric shock.

“I’ve got you,” Five said, trying to keep his voice steady. He made his way back over to Diego. The notion of collapsing beside him was tempting, but Five resisted the urge. “Come on, we gotta...we gotta go.”

“How-how’d you j-jump?” Diego asked. “I th-thought you were at your lim...your limit.”

“I was,” Five said. “Adrenaline. Hell of a drug.”

“What?” Diego arched an eyebrow. “D-dude, you like one-one of those moms that lifts a car when they see their kid is trap--” Diego had to stop and close his eyes for a moment. “Trapped?” he finished, more smoothly this time.

“No,” Five snapped. “That’s stupid. And it’s called hysterical strength.”

“Whatever,” Diego rolled his eyes, in a manner that clearly suggested that he didn’t believe Five but was too tired to push the matter any further. “Just d-don’t collapse on me, al...alright?”

“I don’t plan on it,” Five said wryly. And then his world listed off to the side. “Oh.”

He doubled over and threw up a mouthful of blood and bile.

“Shit,” Diego said, scrambling forward to steady Five as he sank to his knees.

“Shit,” Five echoed, and passed out.

***

He woke up in a hospital bed, a monitor of some sort beeping monotonously in the background.

Five sat bolt upright the moment his location registered. What the hell?

He wasn’t hooked up to much. There was just the IV sticking out of the back of his left hand, which was an unusual change of pace. Five turned and reached over to rip the IV out, only to see that his right hand was bandaged. Heavily.

Shit. He’d use his teeth then.

Five had just lifted his hand to his mouth when a bleary voice murmured: “Five...?”

He recognized that voice. Five blinked and looked up.

“Diego?” he asked. The burning panic in his chest extinguished, leaving only embarrassment in its wake.

This was clearly just...a normal hospital. Diego looked exhaustedly back at him from where he sat half-slumped in an uncomfortable-looking chair that had obviously been requisitioned from elsewhere and dragged over to Five’s bedside. He had an expression on his face like he wasn’t quite sure whether Five was losing his mind or not.

“What are you doing?” Diego said slowly.

Five hesitated a moment longer, then lowered his hand back down to his side. “What happened?” he countered, pretending like Diego hadn’t spoken.

Diego narrowed his eyes, but thankfully let Five’s evasiveness pass without comment. “Some Commission asshole kidnapped us. Spent some time making mincemeat out of us--mostly you--and then you warped so hard that you tore your stomach lining.”

Five did remember that, now that Diego mentioned it. Well, not the stomach lining bit, but that was presumably the explanation for the bloody vomit.

“Huh,” Five said. “Didn’t know I could do that.”

“Don’t fucking do it again,” Diego commanded, with all the presumptuousness of a child who thought they could get away with bossing around their elders.

“How long has it been?” Five turned narrowed eyes to Diego. “You should be in bed. You need to be monitored for cardiac arrhythmia.”

“It’s not--don’t worry about--”

“I fucking knew you were here,” hissed Ben from the doorway. Diego jumped.

“Ben,” Five said, relieved. Finally, someone with common sense. “Get this idiot out of here.”

Ben froze like a deer in the headlights, startled. His head jerked up to look at Five, and the irritation and concern clouding his expression evaporated as he broke into a relieved grin.

“You’re awake,” he said, soft and pleased. He stepped fully into the room.

“You can’t be serious,” Five said as Ben plopped down on the foot of the bed, gently pulling Five into a quick, tight embrace. “Both of you are ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Diego mocked. “How dare we be concerned.”

Five rolled his eyes and spread his hands slightly, gesturing to the hospital room around them. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Diego said. “You look fantastic. Really, uh, in the peak of health right now, huh? Gonna go get up and run a marathon?”

Ben let out a little snort of amusement, and Five glared at them both, utterly betrayed.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Five couldn’t ever remember being as relentlessly young and foolish as his brothers--or ever needing this much minding, for that matter. At the skeptical noise Diego made in the back of his throat, Five tilted his head to the side and said, archly, “Which one of us is still in bed and which one snuck away from medical attention, Diego?”

“Ah, fair point,” Ben turned to Diego, still smiling.

“Oh yeah?” Diego said, sensing that the tide was turning against him and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And what were you doing when you were trying to rip your IV out with your teeth, again?”

Five straightened his back. “Diego,” he hissed, but it was too late.

Ben frowned, an expression full of worry and brotherly disappointment. “Five!” he said, clearly dismayed. Five wilted slightly. Was this how Klaus felt all the time? “Why would you do that?”

Five cast a sidelong glance at Diego. “I was just disoriented,” he said. “That’s all. And I’m better now, so it’s hardly worth getting riled up over.” It probably wouldn’t have taken him long to realize that he was just in a regular hospital once he made it out to the hallway.

Once he had...he probably would have gone stumbling off to look for Diego, Five could admit that much to himself. But he certainly didn’t need to tell his brothers that. No one could prove that he was lying.

“Just,” Five waved them both off. “Take Diego back to bed.”

“For fuck’s sake, Five,” Diego said. “I’m just worried.” Then, as if sensing that Five was not his best bet, he turned mournful eyes towards Ben. “Just a little longer, Ben. Then you can rat me out to the damn nurses.”

Ben’s lips twisted thoughtfully as he glanced between them. “A couple minutes,” he finally conceded with a sigh. “It’s not like you won’t just break out again anyways.”

“Ha!” Diego said, too loudly. Five winced, the noise aggravating the pulsing headache that Five hadn’t even realized he had. “...Whoops.”

Five glared.

“Sorry,” Diego’s voice was closer to a whisper now. He reached out, lacing a hand with Five’s and squeezing it apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Five said, ignoring the feeling of warmth that bloomed in his chest. “I’m not made of glass.”

“I’ll leave if you really want,” Diego offered. “We can let you get some rest.”

If he wanted. Ha. Five couldn’t pretend that getting some peace and quiet didn’t have an appeal, but...in it’s own sort of way, it was comforting to have family in the room. Irrefutable evidence that they were still living and breathing, so real that even all his years of knowing they were dead couldn’t override it. But Diego did need to go back to his hospital room; Five wouldn’t be the one to pull him from the care he needed. He refused. But for now...

Five sighed. “Fine,” he said, and squeezed Diego’s hand back. “Just for a few minutes.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #my writing #lONG #contemplating posting this on AO3 but. am uncertain.#also lmfao. me? recycling one-line villains from my unfinished TUA long fic #ITS MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK #anyways this is messy sorry about that #also i dont have a speech impediment! i did a little research but pls let me know if you see something about diego's stutter that can be #./should be better!

175 notes · View notes

suhyla · 3 years

Note

assalamualaikoom sisters.

can you help me find the answer to my confusion. Lately I’ve been read Aali-‘Imraan verse 38 which imo is that we must surrender to Allah even in forced conditions. What I'm confused about is does this mean that Islam is the most appropriate religion for all people, not just Muslims? And if I may ask you personally, why are you so proud and grateful to be a Muslim than a follower of another religion?

Thankyou sister, may Allah have mercy on you and guide me through your answer

Wa alaykum as salam sister,

Islam is the perfect religion, because it came from the One who created us all and to whom we will return.

Allah created all of humanity, so of course Islam is a message to all of mankind - not just Muslims.

If you think about it - the biggest reality that faces us as humans is this: we are in this world somehow, and some day we will be gone. It is this reality that forces many people to sit and wonder - well, why am I here anyway? How am I here? Where did I come from?

The nature of this world is that everything has a beginning point and an end point. So assuming that there was once "nothing" and suddenly, the world as we know it all came to be, it only makes sense that some entity outside of this world is what set everything in motion. An outside force acted, and because of that action, the world came to be.

Such a being had to be 2 things: All Knowing (He had to know what He was doing to craft such a complex and delicate world) All Powerful (He had to be powerful to craft such a huge, expansive universe).

Allah, the Creator, is the only God that could possibly have created this universe. Allah has no partners. If He did, He wouldn't be all powerful. And any religion that claims there are dark forces that "God" overcame or anything like that makes no sense. By definition, God must be a Being with power over all, and subject to none.

That is Allah. One God. He cannot have a partner. And with perfect knowledge and power, such that the world cannot function without Him.

There is no other god possible. Some believe in Jesus as god. If we think about it logically, how could a god be mortal? How could a god die? How could a god be born - so who was in control of the world before that god came into existence?

Some believe in polytheistic gods- a god of the sun, of life, or victory, etc. Then none of these gods by definition is all powerful or all knowing. They just have "specialties" and some degree of power, but never Total power. That's a weakness, and God cannot be weak. How could a god create the universe and then be weaker than something? How could a god be vulnerable to something? What makes such a god different from man? Could such a god even protect us truly from everything?

Ibrahim, our father and the father of all monotheistic religions, pondered over this question and the conclusion he reached was - God must be the One who created me and the whole world.

The creator is who I will worship.

That Creator is Allah.

Now - okay so we exist. We have a beginning point and our lives have an end point? Now what? What do we do in between?

Naturally, because Islam came from the One who created this life as we know it, it contains the guidelines for us to live our best lives. It tells us what we can and can't do, and most often, these guidelines are in place to protect us. Because the One who created us knows us inside and out. He knows our weaknesses.

To follow Islam means you believe in the guidelines that the Creator put in place. It literally means Submission. And in following these guidelines, we're acknowledging God is All Powerful (He created us, and everything around us, and has power over all things) and All Knowing (because He is the one who created everything, He has perfect knowledge of everything).

For example, He created us with a need for social coexistence. We're social creatures. So Islam advises humanity to be good to others, to share, to be curious about other cultures and learn from them and see them as evidence of Allah's creation. We're encouraged to be patient with people, rather than to secluded ourselves (even if we're secluding ourselves to worship Allah). Such curiosity and desire for cooperation is what helps humanity thrive. We stayed at home for a year and a half and look how bad it affected our mental health, our ability to cooperate and function. Islam didn't just order us to be good to one another because it's virtuous - we literally need each other. Our brains were wired this way.

Allah created us with the ability to procreate and included in us certain desires. But these desires are hard to resist, so Islam orders us not even to come close to Zina (adultery) and not to follow the footsteps of Shaytan. Allah could have just said "don't commit adultery". But that doesn't work, because as humans, the way many would understand it is - I'm just talking with him/her it's definitely not adultery. We're just holding hands. We're just hugging. Etc. etc. And before you know it, you realize you committed adultery. This damages your mental health and ability to form healthy bonds/trust people/feel safe with others because you're constantly forming bonds with people and then leaving them. It damages society because now people can act on their desires without committing. It's a relationship born purely out of our basic instincts, not any thought, love, or obligation toward each other. And of course, there's multiple implications of this on families and society in general. So Allah warns you from the beginning because He knows how we are. He said don't even come close to it, because our minds will constantly normalize step after step until we fall into it and it affects our mental and emotional health, our ability to form families, and the basis of society.

Islam has everything we need to live our lives because it comes from the Creator. Every single thing I've been told to do as a Muslim, I can do confidently knowing Allah told me to do this for a reason - because He knows me better than I know me.

And unlike other religions, Allah is the Most Powerful and All Knowing - but He is also the Most Kind. He is the Best Friend. We don't need to talk to a sheikh and ask him to pray for us. We don't need someone to ask forgiveness for us. We can talk to Allah directly, with no intermediary. He is closer to us than our jugular veins.

That is why I can confidently be Muslim and know without a doubt that this is the Truth that will allow me to live my best life, and to succeed in the world beyond this one.

#asks #religion

15 notes · View notes