ooc - Thank yous

I just want to say a (slightly belated) thank you to everyone who voted in the Tammy's. The nominations were all fantastic to receive and to know I'd been thought of and the wins were all glee-inducing in a time that's really stressful and not a lot of fun for me right now. They really brightened things up for me, and so I want to say thank you.

Also, many, many, many congratulations to all the other nominees and winners. I tried to hit all of them and say congrats, but then got busy at work there near the end and know I didn't get a chance to say something to everyone or even a personal thank you to everyone who congratulated me, so *HUGS* and thank you. :-)

( And mostly for me to remember when I'm feeling down... )

(no subject)

Sometimes I wonder why I bother.

[Mad] - Fate

Beyond the obvious animal cruelty issues, does anyone really care if the butterflies get stepped on? Really?

Because, in the end, if time is fluid and people are hopping all around in it anyway, then we're all already living in someone's past, and when we, using the whole "we" loosely here mind you, go bopping off to the future and see something dire and them come back here and decide we can't let that happen, well then, we annihilate those people's future.

What the hell is the difference with going back and changing the past? Because, oh dear god, we might change the present? And that's too horrible to contemplate, even if we might make it a better present, but we can change the future without any thought about the implications?

So, I ask you--are we really worried about the poor butterflies, or do we just want to selfishly preserve the status quo that best suits us, citing butterflies and hurricanes and dire and disastrous results of messing with "fate" and "destiny", but when it doesn't suit us, we decide we must change it and damn the butterflies and their right to not be stepped on?

No, honestly--I'm curious.

[EM] - January - Captivated

[ooc: Peter referred to is hadtobeahero and used with permission]

What it is that pulls him from the sleep he finally managed to fall into, Adam can't say. The fragment of a nightmare, of satin lining or cold eyes or the wheezing sound of a tube in a throat; or a creak as the house settles around them, shifting with age like the grandmother he barely remembers used to in the chair by the fire before everything went to Hell; or the first light of dawn slipping through the shutters and blinds to dance through the dust mites in the air that never go away even when you clean thoroughly. It could be one or all or none, but he shifts in a moment from sleep to waking, breath catching and aware that something is different.

His arms aren't empty. The bed isn't cold next to him. In the space of the heartbeat that realization hits, memory comes as well, and his lips curve in a small smile as he shifts slowly to steal a glance at the sleeping boy next to him. The shadows that have hung over him aren't apparent while he's sleeping. What he's been through, what they did to him...it could just be another nightmare in the peaceful dawn as his eyes roam over the lines of his face like he's never quite seen him before. To be honest, he never allowed himself the luxury of looking. He had a mission, a focus, a target, and Peter had a purpose in it and he couldn't allow long lashes and a crooked smile from lips he wanted to taste divert him from it. But now...

Now everything's different. They're different, both of them tried and tested with new scars no one can see. Peter's changed, and Adam knows he hasn't even scratched the surface of how deep the months have wounded him, or guessed how many pieces he might have broken into. But he's still beautiful, and now he can look his fill, Adam decides, shifting up on one elbow. Reaching out fingers he brushes them through Peter's hair, careful not to wake him, smiling at how rumpled he looks in his T-shirt, burrowed in the covers. He's still stunned that he stayed, knowing what he knows now, knowing the lies for what they were. He still came to him, and he stayed, and Adam can't quite wrap his mind around that.

He doesn't know if he can trust him, given who he is, but, then, he's fairly certain Peter feels the same, given what Adam's done. Arthur might be dead, but Angela's still out there, and while the threat isn't the same, she's still a potential force to be reckoned with, and Adam has no mind to see the inside of a cage again. Hiro could show up at any moment, if he found them, furious Adam ran off, and with Peter near-powerless, what could he do to stop him? He'd do far, far better to just fully disappear. Take a new name, learn Swedish, move to Stockholm--that almost makes him laugh for a moment--and wait out the next fifty years in peace. He gambled, he lost, he almost lost too much, but he's got his freedom...

And he's got a sleeping, broken boy curled up in his bed, who stayed when he asked him to stay, who's been turned on and betrayed by everyone else, who needs him, and, for some reason he cannot fathom, wants him, and, well, if there is one thing Adam thrives on it is being needed and wanted. Snuggling back down in the bed, he curls closer to Peter with a bit of a sigh, pressing close to the warmth of his sleeping form. He should run, but he can't, and he prays to anyone who might still be listening as he presses a kiss to his shoulder that he isn't setting them both up for another fall.