#(the first would be my little sister's treatment failing at the same time and both of them going at once)

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

many thoughts, head full. will resume goofy tumblr activities whenever i feel like it (which is probably now/soon/today) despite that

[ganjies]

HELLO!!! before i start i just gotta say i absolutely LOVE your writtings!!! they bought me smile into myface whenever i read them

okay back to the topic, i hope you see this and if you do can you make a reverse comfort? basically they had a nightmare at a sleepover and woke up in the middle of the night only to find you were awake for whatever reasons. They are absolutely flabbergasted, embarrassed about the fact that their s/o is seeing them crying over a dumb nightmare.

This promt with Teru, Kou, Akane, and Yashiro please! or if it was too much you can hust write Teru :)

have a nice day!!<3

JDHHDJQ IM HAPPY PPL LIKE MY WRITING SM I SWEAR I WILL IMPROVE MORE !!

" this is so embarrassing .. "

; yashiro :

being in contact with so many supernatural entities can lead to feeling a little paranoid. She asked you to have a sleepover mainly because of her nightmares , maybe if she slept with someone who brings her peace all the nightmares would stop , that's what she thought.

So there she is , sleeping on the futon next to your bed , though unfortunately the nightmares kept going ; she was moving and whimpering under the blankets , seeing all her loved ones under the grasp of the entities when suddendly she woke up sweating and trembling , she sitted trying to wipe her tears , when she turned her head to you and found you awake looking at her too

She was so embarassed she started smiling at you trying to pretend nothing happened " w- what are you doing awake at this hour [ name ] ..? " you looked at her with pity " i heard you moving around and i woke up " you said while getting closer to her " Nene did you have a nightmare ? " she was so embarassed about you seeing her cry , sure you've already seen her in despair but not her crying like that " me ? Crying ?? No way , why would you think that !! " obviously her attempt failed miserably " alright , i did have a nightmare ... but it was nothing , really ! "

You could see her being uncomfortable thinking about what she saw , so you didn't ask anything else ; you let her lay her head on your shoulder for comfort ; it ended up with both of you sleeping on eachother and Nene stopping having nightmares

; kou :

Kou invited you to have dinner at his house with his brother and sister , the weather got bad though so Teru suggested you to sleep with them , at first you suggested to sleep in the living room on the sofa but Kou asked you if you wanted to sleep in his room , and who are you to decline the invitation to sleep with your boyfriend. You are now sleeping on his bed and his sleeping on the floor ( he forced you to sleep on the bed )

Kou doesn't really happen to have bad dreams often , so it was really strange when he dreamed of you getting the same treatment that got Mitsuba from Tsukasa ; he was so scared of losing you too , the dream felt so real that he suddendly woke up with tears covering his eyes. He tried to search for you on the bed , just to find nobody on it ; he started freaking out when he saw you to the door walking in the room , but before you could do one step more he literally jumped on you , to your surprise ; he was touching your hair , arms , your back , he wanted to control if you were really you or if he was still dreaming " Kou ..? What happened to you ?? " you took his face in your hands just to find him quietly sobbing and with his eyes red from crying " what happened Kou , talk to me ! Did something happened while you were sleeping ? " he tried to recompose himself before talking " i - i had a bad dream .. you were there and .. and then he did something and s - sudde .. suddendly you were a supernatural .. i thought i would've lose you forever .. " you hugged him closely to you for about 5 minutes , before he calmed himself down.

you took his hand and guided him to the bed , you laid your head on his chest , his heartbeat was a lot calmer than before. You then woke up in the morning still in the same position you two were in

; teru :

You two dated long time ago , so you already knew his past , the fact that he's always been a good exorcist and he couldn't live his childhood like he wanted to. That's something it always upsetted him : being the strongest to protect the others while the live their happy lifes , not that he isn't happy tho ; he has 2 adorable siblings and a perfect s / o by his side

By now it was normal for you to sleep at the Minamotos house , its like a second family to you. It was night , everyone was sleeping , some dreaming something beautiful , others dreaming things not so amazing. It's rare for Teru to have any nightmares at all , or getting any sleep at night overall ; he has many duties to attend to and many thoughts in his head that sometimes even he can't control

Terrible scenarios were heading into his mind : people assaulted by supernaturals and he couldn't do anything about it , his siblings in danger , than you leaving him because he wasn't enough. Every little fear he has showing up in his dreams until he couldn't take it anymore. He woke sweating , he touched his cheeks that were stained with his tears , he felt so dumb for crying over a stupid nightmare

" Teru ? Is everything alright ?? " he looked up at you confused and shocked : he didn't noticed you weren't in bed with him and honestly he was embarassed you had to see him like that , he never showed his true colors to anyone and he didn't mean to show them to you like that " ah , nothing dear , i just noticed you weren't here and i woke up " of course he lied , he didn't want you to worry about him for such a meaningless dream " mhm .. then why are your eyes red ? Did you cry Teru ? You know you can tell me everything right .. " he patted the empty spot on the bed , you laid down and he guided your head to his chest , his arms on your back

" [ name ] .. i love you , you know that ? " you looked up at him surprised , it wasn't flirty or anything like that , it was sincere and pure " of course i do , and i love you too Teru " he smiled while you laid down to sleep. Maybe , just maybe , someday he'll show you his true self and his fears

; akane :

he really really loves when you ask to do a sleepover to his house , he couldn't be more happier to spend the entire day with you ; and he also loves when the night arrives and its time to go to bed , so that he can cuddle you to sleep all he wants

though tonight plans didn't go as planned , he didn't know why but this nightmares continued to torment him over and over again ; everytime he thought it was over it would start again : it was you and him being together as always , when suddendly something bad was about to happen to you but he couldn't stop the time ; he had to watch without the force to do anything , he felt useless , comparing to everyone , Teru or even the Honourable Number 7 , they are definitely better than him to fight

he woke up screaming to the time to stop , he felt that you weren't in bed with him and freaked out so bad. He calmed himself hearing your steps coming to the bedroom " is everything okay Akane !? " he started tearing up again and hugged you tightly " Akane ?? " " i really thought it was all real .. i couldn't stop the time and y - you ... you ... " you embraced him and stopped him before he could say anything else " shh ... it's okay my love , it was just a bad dream , im still here with you , and i'll always be " hearing you saying that calmed him down a lot " im sorry you had to see me like this , it was just a dumb nightmare and i couldn't help myself , its so embarrassing .. " he was so flustered it was so cute.

You two returned to bed , and if you thought he would've let you go in his sleep , you can be sure he wont now

i honestly got carried away with Teru and Akane but i love them so much , anyways this was really fun to write !!

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 25: SURGERY "It's for your own good."

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

Here's Day 24 of @whumptober 2024, still on catch up.

back to Nobody noticed, nobody cared? as Tristan tries to be a good person around Elijah who is still struggling.

-----

It was fascinating to watch someone experience Aurora’s sickness fresh, his sister had started trying to hide it before he had truly discovered the deepness and they had been so young a millennia later it was hard to remember the small bits Aurora had learned to hide from even.

It being Elijah Mikaelson who experienced it, added a level, he knew how rigid and controlled his sire was, how reserved he was even before he built centuries of walls and yet Elijah fell under this sickness of his sisters mind the same way. Was affected even more, Aurora had learned to handle it with human emotions first while Elijah had no warning before he experienced it heightened with vampire emotions.

It was a vicious cycle where Elijah's own paranoid fear of a manic episode and mistrust of his mind would trigger one. 

He had moved Elijah from the retreat he had set up for Aurora to a secured set of rooms at his main base of operations to better monitor as well as set a select few he trusted to watch over and assist him in new treatments. At least without the centuries of failed experiments Elijah was willing to accept and try them where Aurora, now refused.

Most of the time.

“You don’t understand,” Elijah told him as he tried to talk him into taking his newest attempt at a drug that work work on a vampire without simply knocking them out, the long braid he kept Aurora’s hair in swung as he twisted around. “it’s like buzzing under my skin, I I I need-” Elijah stuttered as his hand shook while attempting to straighten the journals on his desk.  “I I can't even catch my own thoughts, they're too fast.”

He was in the unique place to be able to describe the difference between a mind free of Aurora illness and one with it but that, while interesting, did little to help them manage it.

The rooms had no widows and cameras view covering every inch, it was a prison cell but better decorated and so, something he would never force his sister to endure if he had a better choice, Elijah on the other hand he enjoyed having under lock and key even with their truce.

Elijah was aware of why he and his sister hated it and owned up to it even assisting as long as his family remained unharmed and Aurora it seemed had grown attached enough that everyone was getting something out of this deal.

A breathless laugh followed and Tristan was pulled from his thoughts as he was pushed against a wall as Elijah smirked up at him before kissing him. He kissed back for a moment before moving his hand to push her back slightly, keeping hold of her arms.

Elijah cocked his head to the side looking at him with clear confusion and Tristan had to blink, when Elijah spoke it was easier to see the difference between them but sometimes he struggled to see pass Aurora’s body to Elijah.

“No.” he said firmly, making him frown, Tristan was relieved Elijah’s annoyed expression was somehow different from Aurora’s despite it being her face.

“You know you’ll enjoy it.” Elijah purred

“And you’ll feel worse afterwards” he replied, stepping forward and moving them both towards the bed.

Since they had gotten news of Kol Mikaelsons’ death Elijah's low episodes had managed to outdo any of Aurora's. Normally when the switch from high to low happened he would need to reassure her that she wasn't an annoyance, not a waste of his time, as if anything came before her to him.

With Elijah he has to deal with pure self-loathing, dragging Elijah from a boiling shower, pulling his hand away from where they had clawed at his arms. Part of it could be Elijah pre-existing issues made worse by their relationship, no matter how much they were moving towards a mutual respect, nothing would wipe away a past of betrayal and hatred completely, so he would do what he had to, to manage that part of it.

“I swear I won’t.” Elijah argued, attempting to kiss him again.

Tristan pushed him backward onto the bed and as he blinked at the sudden change in position, he used his vampire speed to cuff both his wrists.

“Tristan please!” the words came out in Aurora’s voice, Elijah’s accent vanished under the pleading that made Tristan smothered a wince, at the high and the lows of the episodes Elijah and Aurora where nearly identical, how much of his sister had been lost to this thing if it could reduce of the most stubborn willed man Tristan had met to the same breathless desperation. 

“It’s for your own good.” he echoed the words he had used to try to soothe his sister for centuries.

Like Aurora, they failed Elijah the same.

“I’ll worship you, you know you want-” Elijah applied until he noticed Tristan pull the syring from his breast pocket, “stop don’t,” Elijah started, he was familiar with the sedative they had created free Aurora to help her sleep away the worse of her episodes.

Tristan hadn’t let Aurora’s begging make him hesitate in centuries, he wouldn’t let Elijah’s as he injected it into his neck.

“Trista-” Elijah’s voice trailed off as his struggles faded.

“Hush,” he told him as he started to move Elijah’s now lax body into a more comfortable position, “I have you.”

“‘Lease.” Elijah muttered looking at him with barely open eyes, as Tristan careful removed strands of long red hair from his face.

“You know you’ll be thankful when you wake up.” he reminded him, ‘possibly’ he thought.

“Don’t leave me.” Elijah whispered, before he lost his fight to remain awake.

Tristan hummed as he sat on the bed beside him, that was something different from their first relationship. 

When he was human and had managed to work his way into Elijah's close layer of trust, before he had admittedly ruined it by using and attempting to manipulate him, Elijah had shared his fear of failing his family, his struggle for control and numerous other things but not abandonment. Now the forced vulnerability Aurora’s illness had dealt him had left it clear something in the centuries apart  had given Elijah a new terror of being abandoned, of being alone.

It would be an excellent thing to use in their end goal of making the Mikaelsons suffer, if that was still their goal, which Tristan was annoyed to acknowledge it may not be anymore.

He had enjoyed the reunion with his sire, when he was in control of himself, he had missed Elijah’s sharp wit, warmth and intelligence.

Besides once Elijah got past Kol’s second death and realised his family hadn’t noticed Aurora had taken his place for weeks and likely longer, that fear would become the truth.

And once the rest of the Mikaelson learn the truth the damage may not be fixable.

“Never.” he promised wiping a tear from his face.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @euryalex some days back to share a WIP ❤️

Moving onto a John x Sabrina chapter now that chapter 12 is finally posted.

The morning after his midnight run-in with Sabrina John left the ranch early, somehow successfully managing to avoid another risky encounter despite her irregular sleep schedule. He had spent as little time in the kitchen as he could, feeling on edge as he made himself a coffee, the sight of the spot where she had been sitting hours prior involuntarily dragging his thoughts back to her and how her hands had felt on his skin. He couldn't imagine having to deal with her if she was going to appear like she had the previous day, wearing a shirt that refused to stay in place, or how much willpower it would take him to not finish the challenge they had started. He knew it was necessary to keep at a distance, especially since he had been so close to giving into his urges the night before and that if she hadn't left the way she had, he no doubt would have lost himself in her completely upon the very first taste. A part of him whispered how if he had done that maybe, just maybe he'd emerge as the man he was before she had stepped a foot in his region. It won't work. Just how moving her into the ranch only made things worse.. All he could do was attempt to resist, to stay on the path chosen for him because no matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to put a stop to whatever was put in motion at the night of the arrest. I'm being tested, it's what Joseph would say. I won't give in. He wholeheartedly wished he had as little trouble as Sabrina seemed to have at reigning in the temptation. Mathias was waiting on him outside, wearing indistinctive clothes yet again just as he had ordered to ensure Savannah wouldn't get frightened by the presence of a "Peggie". He fought back a smile at the memory of her approaching Bennett with curiousity and how direct she always ended up being, asking whatever questions she had on her mind and pushing for answers with the same conviction her sister possessed.

"Good morning.", John could tell just by the man's face he was bearing what could only be considered unpleasant news and the sun hadn't even risen. "I'm listening, Mathias. You better not further ruin my already awful morning." "Boss. Joseph called, asked for update on the Sinner.", Mathias nodded towards the house. "Deputy Donovan.", the correction slipped from his lips, shocking both of them, John recovered quickly, refusing to think too much of why he didn't like Sabrina being called a Sinner, "I assume you followed my instructions." "Yes. I told him to talk directly to you." "Good. Anything else?" "I'm sure Wyatt would be more than capable to fill you in on the progress with Deputy Hartley. But… it's not looking good, boss. The Sinners find him inspiring." John wanted to laugh at that, at the idea that Calahan Hartley was making headway, turning people into fighters, but he knew there was something about the Sinner that drew everyone in, a reason why Sabrina valued him, to a point she risked getting caught to ensure he escapes. Only he still failed to see what everyone else did in him and why Joseph considered him worthy and pushed for the man's passage into the Project when all he symbolized was chaos and danger. To Eden. To their people. I'd find out what's so special about him when he's in my chair. "He's not going to destroy everything we've built, Mathias. I'm heading out.", he strode to his truck, calling out as he climbed in, "And be more welcoming towards the child. I hear again she's been upset by your treatment, there will be consequences." Mathias nodded, as John slammed the door shut and turned on the engine, the radio coming to life and reminding him of how Sabrina had switched it on on their way to her cabin. A smile broke free at how she had found his song amusing, that it had pulled out a genuine laughter out of her, followed by brazen remarks he would have considered as contempt, had they come from anyone else. He sneaked a final fleeting look at the ranch, eyes focusing on the drawn curtains of her room as he turned the truck around and headed to his Gate.

In minutes, he was parking in front of the bunker, his men greeting him, their smiles and cheerful address not quite reflected in their tired gazes. Morning greetings and "Praised be the Father, John." resonated on the way to his office. Wyatt was waiting for him by the door, coffee in hand, which he passed to John the second he neared him. The man was younger than Mathias and took on his role in the rare occasions when Bennett was too sick to perform his duties.

"Morning, brother." "Wyatt.", John replied as he headed into his office and took a seat at the desk, sipping his second coffee for the day. After Sabrina had left him completely hot and bothered in the kitchen in the same manner that any dream involving her did, not even the recommended by her "cold shower" had proven successful at getting rid of his desire and thanks to his refusal to cave in and have another repeat of his weak moment in her bathroom, he had ended up lying wide awake the whole night, knowing only trouble awaited him on the other side. Maybe I should give in once, it's impossible she'd ever compare to the wretched fantasies I'm being tested with. Certainly, the urges would die down then. But he couldn't, he shouldn't. It was the sin within him talking. "I wanted to ask, is brother Mathias alright? He's rarely been absent like this…" "He's just been tasked with something elsewhere. You're taking off his workload until then. That's all you need to know, Wyatt." "Understood.", the man gave him a strange look, like he was dreading a confrontation upon his next words. "Ask away, Wyatt." "What do you want me to do with the bloody uniform?", he pointed at the leather couch where Sabrina's clothes from the crash sat neatly folded, "Should I throw it away, it has sat there awhile…" "I will take care of it.", John narrowed his eyes in warning. "Understood." Wyatt was still standing by the door, looking on edge as he patted his unrully dark beard, so he gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, "Sit down, I was told you have a report for me. Let's hear it."

"We're proceeding with the Cleansings as planned, things here have been quiet since the Sinners tried to breach their way in.", the man took a seat, his brown eyes hardened when he added, "The Deputy has been even more restless in the day you were away, two of our outposts are now in the hands of the Resistance. The bodies we've managed to recover… all seemed to have been through a carnage." "They've sacrificed their lives for Eden, Wyatt. We knew there will be a price to be paid, that not all of them would embrace what's coming or join us peacefully. Which strongholds did he take?" Hartley was running around claiming what was John's, trying to hinder their progress in the Reaping, yet Joseph expected him to accept the Sinner. To answer to his violence with love and patience. Wyatt winced, "Kellett Cattle Co and Sunrise Farm. He's clearly securing locations around Fall's end, expanding further each day. They've been successful at keeping us out of there so far." "You make sure the security around the other outposts is tight. Double the men if you have to, instruct them keep their guards up, even when they're peeing. Hartley steps a foot in, they make sure he's caught alive. Set up road checks, distribute his picture to every patrol, double the posters with his face if you have to. Whoever delivers him to me, can expect a raise in the ranks." John gripped the edge of the desk, keeping his temper in check as he took a deep breath, waiting for Matthias' subordinate to say more. He was dreading to hear what else Wyatt had to report, it seemed like since the Reaping had started everything that could go awry had or was about to. "The Sinner has been, uh, blowing up our silos, brother. Leaving notes addressed to you by the sites and on the bodies we've managed to recover from the capture parties…" "What notes?" "I'd rather not quote them, if you don't mind. They're not… good-natured." John gritted his teeth, "Do you have them?" Wyatt nodded, "But I think it might be best if you don't read-" "You bring them to me." "Understood." "What else, Wyatt?" "Joseph called this morning, right before Mathias left, he took care of the call." John drummed his fingers on the desk, close to pulling Sabrina's knife out. Holding it in his hands felt like he had her around, for the same reason he hadn't been able to throw away her uniform. The thoughts of her offered a distraction from the violent urges bubbling at the mentions of Hartley and the mess he was creating, "I will deal with my brother personally. You have any good news for me or just messes to address?" Wyatt smiled, "I do. As you know, we marked Rae-Rae for Reaping as instructed and we're waiting for your call to take control of her farm." "We gave her enough chances to turn over the land and that dog to us voluntarily. Tell the capture party they have the green light to proceed as planned. Rae-Rae is to be brought here just like all the others, her Confession has been postponed long enough." "And the dog?" "Upon capture, have it shipped to the Whitetails right away. Jacob would ensure it becomes an asset to our cause." "Understood." "Anything else?" Wyatt shook his head, "The first Sinner for the day would be waiting for their Confession when you're ready, brother." John waved him off, picking up his now cold coffee, "I will be right there. And Wyatt, the Sinner's notes, have them on my desk when I return."

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @clicheantagonist @josephseedismyfather @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @detectivelokis @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @vampireninjabunnies-blog @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @voidika @harmonyowl @v0idbuggy @strangefable @schoute @jacobsneed @strafethesesinners @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @nightwingshero @josephslittledeputy and anyone with something to share ❤️

[re-readingcomics]

Comics Read 07/01-15/2023

A little over a year ago I did a post about reading two comic book biographies of Artemisia Gentileschi back-to-back. I wrote some lines about how the inclusion of them in my collection helps makes the act of collecting semi-autobiographical. Consider this a sequel to that post.

Over the two weeks I am writing about I read Glass Town written and drawn by Isabel Greenberg and The Brontës Infernal Angria written by Craig Hurd-McKenney and art by Rick Geary. Different takes on the same subject, how the Brontë children had a shared alternate universe which they all wrote stories about. I have owned a copy ofThe Juvenilia of Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë from when I was a child, but I never read it. I probably should. The names of Angria and Gondal were familiar from reading about the Brontës. But because of not actually reading the Juvenilia, I first encountered Glass Town by name in Die, where it was treated as a proto-multi-player role playing game. Which, seems fair enough. Die wasn’t much interested in the subject of their writings, so this is all new to me.

Greenberg’s art in Glass Town is crude in the same way ND Stevenson’s and Gus Allen art work is. If anything it’s more childlike and inconsistent. I don’t love it, but I like how the lines work the limited pallet with a lot of dark, cool reds. It hints at the early industrial feel of their time period as well as the harsh climate of their surroundings. 

The narrative starts in the aftermath of the the eldest Brontë sisters, Elizabeth and Maria, deaths. The creation of Glass Town is an escape from the trauma of their final illnesses at a poorly kept boarding school.

Charlotte narrates her tale of Glass Town, to a minor character from her stories who appears as her imaginary friend. They talk through the plot she worked on, which as presented here seems more related to Wuthering Heights than Charlotte’s actual novels. The story includes how while the children started sharing Glass Town, they split with Charlotte and Bramwell writing about Angria while Emily and Anne created Gondor. (Less of Emily and Anne’s writing on Gondal survives to the modern day than Charlotte’s work on Angria, hence why less of it is included in either of these accounts.) Probably because of this shared fantasy world with her brother, Charlotte is shocked by his decent into alcoholism while Emily catches early warning signs. It’s a rumination on the building of escapist fantasy in the face of tragedy and the creation of art. I don’t think it entirely works, but it makes me want to get back to reading the Brontë’s and writing about them. 

Infernal Angria takes the shared fantasy world and creates an actual portal fantasy. The Brontës literally go between worlds and get used in political machinations in an alternate world’s monarchy. I hated it. The text is something of an apologia for Bramwell for being such a failure. He didn’t really fail, he was manipulated by much more mature people from a world he loved. Also it takes the “artists don’t die, they live through their art” to the extreme of the Brontës didn’t all die at shockingly young ages, they relocated to the other side of a portal. It’s silly and also unclear. It shouldn’t be both. The end had the author talking about his long love of the Brontës as well as a suggested reading list. Everyone in a while you find someone who has some shared enthusiasms but seem to take it in a direction that rubs you wrong.

At first glance, I would think that Geary’s art style is more my type than Greenberg's. But eventually I hated it because the shading was made with a crosshatching that got too easily confused with paterns used for fabrics or wood grains. It’s the shorter of these two books and the one that felt more like a chore to read. 

The contrasting treatments of the the worlds of Angria/Glass Town is pretty interesting. The character in both have essentially the same back story, but as presented in Infernal Angria I didn’t feel like the narrative came off as a rough draft of Wuthering Heights. Glass Town treats the alternate world as a reflection on contemporary colonialism, while Infernal Angria approaches it as a pastiche of Medieval fantasy. It makes me wish I had read the source material even more. 

Despite finding these books lacking, there will be more comic book takes on the Brontës in my reading future. 

[throatcoat]

//chapter 14// //the toilet, my alter//

when you are 25 years old and all anyone has to say about your weight is the fact that you need to gain a little bit, just to be healthy, how do you explain that the only thing you still see in the mirror is the fat 15 year old? somewhere in my heart, i feel like i have failed her by trying to get healthier.

the year everything happened, my mother got herself in the best shape of her life. she had always claimed that running, exercising for hours, the gym- it was her safe space, one that could not be interrupted. not even when i tried to bond by forcing myself to love gulping down air too, the way my legs cramped after the second mile, and her shitty diet drinks. for a long time, i did not understand what led my mother to her sudden change. i thought that maybe she wanted to get strong enough to have a backbone, or maybe she just wanted to be frail, but for whatever it was, for the first time in my life my mother was thinner than i was. not only was i the fat sister, now i was the fat daughter, the biggest in my family...and that would not do.

i never really understood why she claimed she needed that time alone, why the gym had been so sacred, why when i suddenly wanted to get in shape with her, too, like she always had comments about, it was an issue. now, i understand that her wanting to go alone was just another excuse to be fucked in the back of the car without interruption by her burdens in life. after everything came out, it would take me until my freshman year of college that i would be able to even step foot in a gym without needing to vomit in the parking lot after.

whilst my father lost himself in alcohol and wildfires and my mother lost herself in immaturity and wanting to be young again, i found myself with a new coping mechanism of my own, a safe place. the bathroom was the only place i ever felt in control. it was there that i began to put into practice the old family ritual that had been passed down generations on both sides. i discovered the magical button at the back of my throat, i found a way to have relief. the first time i fell in love with the vertigo that followed, i was 14 and had just eaten an entire box of cosmic brownies, four cans of full sugar coke, half a pint of mint chip ice cream, and one and a half bag of nacho doritos. my stomach felt so full, i thought it might burst. i need it out of me.

the only solution came to me from a memory of being 9 years old and watching my grandmother evacuate her own binges. it was pretty soon after she had moved in with my family that i learned the only damn thing she ever taught, and that was a physical representation of generational self-hatred. my clearest memory of my grandmother is me in front of the mirror, her standing behind me. she is grabbing my stomach, my arms, telling me i was getting fat like her damn daughters.

it would not do, and clearly my mother did not care enough to fix the problem of a fat child herself. so, she did the only thing she knew how to do, stood in front of the toilet, took two fingers and stuck them so far back, i thought she might choke to death. her other hand pressed against her big belly, and i watched as foul smelling salt water poured out until she was satisfied with the seal barks that followed after. never leave anything in, she said, it was the only way the calories did not stick. the way she gasped for air after scared me, but she said she felt heaven sent, like she was floating. she said i would feel angelic too, maybe look it if i tried hard enough.

it was not until i was 21 that i learned that she did the same with my father, with his twin brother, and my aunt, too. i am sure she did the same to some of my cousins, but family secrets stay buried for a reason, mostly out of shame. i was home finally after getting out of treatment, after i had finally gotten sick enough for it to matter. my father asked me to take a walk with him after dinner, and he told me a story that sounded too similar to my own. growing up, i never saw my dad eat more than a few bites of almonds and 5 cups of coffee, it had never occurred to me that maybe he struggled like i did, too. it did not occur to me that of course he would, my grandmother was his mother. my dad was not anorexic, he was bulimic, and suddenly all the moments of him talking about needing to get the food out of him from being too full made perfect sense to me.

i did not think i had a problem until i was 16 and sticking a toothbrush down my throat for the 12th time that day, only to pull it out after gagging on a mouthful of blood. i was so scared, my trembling body slid down the toilet, and i laid my head on the floor. my heart was pounding and it hurt, my legs would not stop shaking. the cuts on my thighs burned a little more than usual. the room was spinning and it took everything in me to pull out my phone and call my mother. she did not pick up and i did not try to call again.

instead, i curled up in a ball and waited for the sleep that always followed. vomiting left me exhausted and the cold floor felt nice on my sweaty skin. at the time, i did not comprehend how close i probably came to dying, at the time, making yourself vomit 12 times seemed like a low number. it was not until treatment that i learned how severe of a bulimic i had become. truth be told, i did not think it was even a problem to begin with. i had no idea how dangerous of a game it was that i loved to play, and even when i did, it just became another thing to avoid talking about but not daydreaming about.

what began as a desperate attempt to control my weight in the only ways i knew how- dip dieting and toilet bowls and laxatives, turned into a sick addiction to feeling my body float above me whenever i wanted to feel heaven sent. it never helped me lose weight, but it did help me lose myself. even now, at 25 years old, when i am upset, the burning in my stomach starts the same as my collarbones when i crave slicing open my skin to reveal the contents within. blades, vomit, bile, and browning blood were the paints i used to create my own self-portrait. the relief is instant, and the high that follows can only be compared to the best benzos swallowed down.

i stayed the fat one until i was turning 19 and i finally discovered the actual secret to losing the weight i put on with my binges, the calories the vomiting never burned. it was the first time i stepped into a gym as an adult, the first time my legs did not tremble with the memory of being 15, when i followed my mother to the gym secretly on my bike, when i first caught them and they never saw me, they never found out that i knew then and there. suddenly, the gym became my escape, too, but not from my family, mostly from myself and the way my brain felt like it was melting down from the core.

the first time anyone took notice, it was a mother who never liked me and wanted her son to get away from. i stood in their driveway, talking about starting university, and suddenly she said i looked slimmer. it felt like a consolation prize to never otherwise being enough.

the second time was when my mother suddenly saw my legs for the first time in years, and now my thighs no longer touched. she did not worry, but she was angry. part of me convinced myself it was jealousy.

the third time was when i passed out in that gym by my college apartment. i had been working out for almost 5 hours at the point and my legs trembled the same way they did that one afternoon at 16. he was embarrassed that our neighbors had to see me like that, how stupid could i be? instead of asking how my head felt, he accused me of trying to get skinny for other men. like the slut i was, disgusting. like my body was only necessary for how it made others want to devour me, he could not comprehend the beauty in finally having enough self control that i did not need to make myself vomit anymore. counting my ribs felt like i was finally doing something that could make my parents proud. praying on the elliptical until my feet bled made his cruelty towards me not matter. it numbed it.

the fourth time was at 22 and someone i knew from high school came into my work. i was working at a pizza shop and the first words from his mouth was that i was no longer chubby. the words stuck in my head for the rest of the day and i cried as i pulled dough and folded boxes. it felt like maybe losing myself whilst losing weight was worth it.

i started losing track after. for the first time in my life, people were worried about me. like the thought of me not being around was actually real for once, and it scared them. for the first time in my life, as i pulled into a hospital parking lot, i felt like my mother loved me. i felt like i had purpose, i found the one thing i was really good at.

self-destruction in search of self-preservation.

when you are 25 years old and now no one remembers the fat child, how do you tell people how scared you are of being healthy? no one really grasps how abnormal it all feels, to be in recovery, to gain weight or eat a full meal without throwing up after, to not run for half a day and suddenly you feel so fucking lazy it hurts, how my entire family is sick in the same exact way but for some reason, when it is me, it is a problem and i am the selfish one. the only life i know is one filled with harming oneself.

how do you tell anyone anything?

[sleepingdeath-light]

reading the crossover headcanons for TOH was amazing!

i wanted to request a crossover with TOH and Steven Universe if possible! (also with Hunter x Reader) You can decide between reader being half-gem, like Steven, or fully gem! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay! Aand I really love your headcanons! You make them long and detailed! It's truly amazing.

Crossover Headcanons | SU x TOH [Hunter x Gem//Hybrid!Reader]

thank you for requesting, anon

These are written with a gender neutral reader in mind and have a general chronology from the reader’s last moments in little homeworld until they end up with Hunter, so apologies if this gets long!

Note : this is the first time I’ve written for the SU canon, so I’m not as experienced with that universe. Also my portrayal of these characters is still pretty rocky, so I may rework this in the future.

The first few months you spent in Little Homeworld had felt almost like a dream come to life; freedom to be yourself and explore a world full of organic life without the restrictions placed on you by the diamonds? It was fantastic! However, that feeling of unrestricted feeling soon started to grow stale as you realise that the growth of the small colony had already started to stagnate—and that not all humans were welcoming of intergalactic immigrants like your kind.

So to ease your mind you opted to take the warp to the next star system over—craving that same sense of excitement that you had during the gem war

Simply standing on the warp again was enough to get your blood pumping with a reignited vigour for exploration

A feeling so palpable that you failed to notice the array of spindly cracks that spanned the surface of the device, and the way that a sickly dull light pulsated beneath your feet (the sight accompanied by a warning hum far too low for you to notice)

Though you couldn’t ignore the way the warp didn’t immediately go off like usual, nor could you neglect the searing pain that spread through your veins and constricted your throat; leaving you in so much pain that you couldn’t even move or scream before your vision was engulfed in a glitching, sickeningly bright light

It must have been several hours later when you woke up, based on how high the sun was in the sky… was the sky that red before?

Your head was pounding and although your vision was blurry, yet you couldn’t ignore how different your surroundings were from the earth you were used to

The sky was a faint red and the ground beneath your feet was dusted with deep maroon grass—it was soft and warm under your fingertips but with how much organic matter there was you knew that this wasn’t a colony

Hell, you didn’t even arrive on a warp on this end, so either you had been transported to somewhere else because a malfunction (unusual, but likely) or someone had taken you from the receiving warp and dropped you off in the middle of a clearing (far less likely)

Suddenly struck with worry, you sat up and moved your clothes to get a good look at your gem, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw it undamaged (clearly you’d landed where you woke up as most organics would have tried to remove it from your body before dumping you)

Realising that you were mostly safe you slowly rose to your feet and decided to explore your new environment, hand hovering near your gem in case you needed to defend yourself from whatever creatures had made their home here—trying to make yourself appear as small, quiet and unnoticeable as possible as you went

However, your efforts seemed to be in vein as you were quickly greeted by an excitable and loud human girl who practically screamed her welcome to you

You were torn between fleeing and fighting her when she offered her hand and introduced herself as “Luz the human”, her demeanour quite closely mirroring what you’d heard about Steven when he was younger from his mothers—it was almost endearing how much she tried to hold in her joy at seeing another “human”. You almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth as she walked you back to her home.

You were accosted at the door by an organic tube with an owl’s face that quickly and gleefully introduced itself as Hooty—the creepy, but rather friendly, house demon

Luz made an effort to hastily brush him off and hurry you both inside where you met with the other two inhabitants of the home as well as Luz’s “awesome girlfriend”, Amity.

Eda, an older witch with grey hair that hardly suited her age, greeted you with muted suspicion, not even taking her eyes off of you as she addressed the human at your side—seemingly unsure of your motives but trusting herself to be stronger than you (if her grip on her staff was anything to go by)

King, however, was much more brazen and blatant in his distrust of you, stomping over and pointing an accusing claw up at you as he threatened you in every way he could muster (even if all that got him was a halfhearted coo from you that left the creature more frustrated and downtrodden than before)

The guest, Amity, meanwhile, looked over at you with disinterest before she caught a glimpse of your (colour) gem peeking out from your clothing—immediately pointing it out and questioning you about it, much to your chagrin

This inevitably led to a very long and semi-complicated conversation discussing the intricacies of your species and how, no, you’re technically not a human

No you weren’t trying to deceive Luz, either, you just felt too awkward to correct her

But when all was said and done (and you were all out of steam after a several hour session of intense questioning and frustration at miscommunications) they seemed much more relaxed around you—even willing to let you stay with them, at Luz’s request, so long as you pulled your weight around the house and helped to keep them safe

And, really, how hard could that be? You fought in an intergalactic war so taking out a few organics should be a piece of cake (as Steven would say)

After spending a few weeks in this strange new world you had come to realise one specific thing; it wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, the exact opposite.

If you had to bubble one more guard you were going to scream

What had they done to make this Emperor hate them so much?

It felt as though half of your time was spent bubbling, blocking or disabling people that had made their way to the Owl House—and the rest was spent painstakingly explaining your abilities and species to Amity, Lilith and Luz

Granted, that wasn’t the most stressful part of your stay

No

That was hands down the stresses that came with visits from Luz’s friends from Hexside: the endlessly kind and protective Willow and the ever-curious and annoyingly quick witted Gus

That being said, you did appreciate their enthusiasm to learn about and accommodate you—even if the look Willow gave you when you spoke about the empire’s treatment of organic life did leave you rather shaken

So what little free time you had was spent learning about the local culture and sharing your experiences with them

Training with Amity and Eda

Helping Willow with her plants in whatever way you can based on your gem

Creating gem clones to help Gus perfect his illusions even further

Teaching Lilith and Luz about your abilities as well as those of your fellow gems, even helping the latter learn to write using gem glyphs

It was heartwarming to see others so passionate about your home, even if their insistence on pushing you to your limits could be rather frustrating (especially early in the mornings when your patience ran thin)

However, the longer you spent there the more members of the Emperor’s Coven (amongst others) you ended up coming across. One particularly memorable instance occurred when you were escorting a fretting Amity through Bonesborough with the twins (who’s presence you had grown rather fond of as their visits became more frequent).

Ed had dragged Em back to the library a good few minutes ago, leaving you and Amity to your own decides as you weaved in and out of the foot traffic—only to stop completely when the youngest Blight suddenly froze before grabbing your hand and darting off to an adjacent alleyway

As you went to protest, she promptly clamped one hand over your mouth and gestured rather violently for you to stay quiet before nodding towards a figure just a bit away from you

From the golden mask and white cloak you knew they were a member of the Emperor’s Coven—but you’d seen them before, on the posters littered around the city, each exploring passersby to join their coven

Golden Guard

That was a definite threat

So you passed the girl a spare cloak and did what you could to mask your own appearance before carefully making your way back home, shopping be damned—one hand over your gem just in case he happened to notice you

Though thankfully he didn’t

Not that it stopped you from filing him away as someone to be wary of anyway; he was the emperor’s right hand man, after all, so there was no such thing as being “too cautious”

And for a while that’s exactly what it was, not that you saw much of him that is, but from what you’d been told about Luz and Amity’s run ins with him you were glad to have never seen him face-to-face. If you had, you were almost certain he wouldn’t come out unscathed—teenage protege or not.

So with all that in mind, the last that you were expecting to see on a relatively peaceful Saturday evening was the unmasked Golden Guard practically unconscious and leaning on Luz and Eda for support as they burst through the door

Completely ignoring Hooty as usual as they carefully laid him down on the seat beside you (after you’d hurriedly gotten up, that is)

He looked to be in an awful state, with his visible skin bloodied, bruised and scarred whilst his usually pristine uniform was tattered and caked in dirt and what seemed to be even more of his blood

Seeming to notice your distress, Eda briefly addressed you and her sister before sending you all off to gather supplies (or heal if your gem allowed it)

“The kid’s been through a lot, but he’s with us now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have carried him all this way if I had any doubts about it.”

And that was that

It took Hunter (as he introduced himself) over a week to even be able to get out of bed and walk around unassisted—and whilst he actively avoided speaking about what had happened to him, you had a feeling that Belos was somehow involved

Though things were still rather tense for a month or so after he arrived, no matter how hard Luz tried to integrate him (and no matter how polite and welcoming Willow and Gus tried to be)

And you didn’t even want to recall the shouting match that occurred when Amity saw him in the living room with Luz….

It seemed as though he was just more content to shut himself away with L’il Rascal and only interact with Luz and Eda; the former to learn from her and the latter because she wouldn’t let him get away with anything but

That wasn’t even mentioning the palpable tension between him and Lilith (she would only say that it was from their time in the coven—and Luz suspected he’d annoyed her a bit too much—but nothing else would come of it)

But the others were worried about him, so you were sent in as a neutral party to talk with him about… things. You weren’t really told what and you didn’t have the time to ask.

Initially he was incredibly closed off and would only address you briefly, barely even acknowledging your presence as he gave his full attention to the scattered papers on his desk, each depicting a different spell and each ever so slightly off

So, as gently as you could you took the quill from him and drew a simple glyph on a spare scalp of paper, carefully leading him through the motions before leaning back and activating the spell (and smiling at his much more openly interested expression)

That then sparked a deep conversation about different types of magic—specifically wild magic and glyphs—as you shared what you knew about the topic with one another, every so often breaking off into laughter or patient silence as he’d run across the room to show you his notes or books he’d found

Naturally this would lead to him asking you about where you came from and you discussing your origins with him

Homeworld

The Diamond Authority

The gem war

Colonies

Soldiers

Shattering

The Crystal Gems

Everything

He was incredibly easy to talk to as he listened with a genuine intensity to what you said, nodding along and even asking well thought out questions about your world where appropriate

Depending on how close you were, he may even ask to see your gem and ask about its purpose

If you let him touch it, he’d be so very gentle, almost treating you as though you were made of glass—maybe even sketching it down and noting down your abilities and weaknesses in his personal notebook and apologising if it was weird

This mutual interest in magic and your shared experiences of either having to conform to a specific role your whole life [full gem reader] or feeling out of place and weaker because of your shortcomings [half gem reader] would be the basis of your friendship turned relationship. The transition between the two would be so incredibly seamless and slow that you wouldn’t even notice it happening—one moment you two were best friends sparring and the next you were hiding your blushing face in his neck as he hugs you and apologises for hitting you a bit too hard with his magic.

Your relationship would be sweet and slow and genuine

Hunter is new to receiving any kind of affection, so you’d probably have to teach him a thing or two—but he’d learn quite quickly so don’t worry

He’d spend hours studying your culture and language just to write you notes or offer you affirmations in ways unique to your culture, even calling you “my (Y/n)” after a while

Likewise, the first time you called him “my Hunter” he was left red in the face for the rest of the day (he loved it, though, so don’t stop)

But the moment someone makes a teasing remark about how soft he’s gotten (usually one of the Blight siblings or his own younger sister figure, Luz), Hunter will partially revert to being cold in public (whilst still being affectionate and openly touch starved in private)

In short, your relationship with him would be built on a foundation of mutual trust, affection and understanding that sprouted from friendship and honest conversations about your passions and pasts

[ddarker-dreams]

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID THE TRUTH.

I admit that i enjoyed act 3 but it feels like really rushed i have so much complain with that.

The build up until act 2 was so good it give us so much premise but the final blow si meh. Sorry that i want to share thing long rant with you

1. Why the final talk is with yae, no offense to her but we need ei to explain not to mention she witness khaenriah downfall so she can give us more information, i feel like they do it for the plot armor so they can just keep dragging this

2. So many things that quite inconsistant, the shogun is show no mercy to anyone that even did a little thing outside what she think its right, how come she can still have a talk with signora, when sara is falling like that, and also there is no clarification about sara right now.

The traveler was so done at first they refuse to help thoma and ayaka at the beginning. But they seem so happy and forget everything how come they are not RAGE ( okay maybe this is to bias and personal) when this nation provide nothing about our siblings information and also why they are not mention anything about their problem in ei stroy quest. Its nonsense! She is right in front of youu, ask about your siblings, ask about khaenriah, ask about ukmown god!!. How come they can just forget like that. Also mihoyo really waste the potential about twin things i thing ei will give us so much help bcs of the sympathy that we both rn lost our twin but noooo.

3. Kokomi seem lost some brain cell, she make a very succesfull grand intro but she become meh in act 3, how come a great strategist like her let the sus sponsorship slip just bcs they are desperate, not to mention her screen time is really small and her role seem so unsignificant and it feels lile she is a plain npc.

4. The awesome world quest that we have done doesnt get any mention at all! Inazuma owe us so much with cleansing sakura, thunder sakura, tatarigami, obarashi quest. It has so much potential that yae or ei or anyone else aknowledge what traveler has been done but nooo.

cracks knuckles... i suppose it's time for my promised dissertation. interestingly enough, you touched on a lot of the main issues i had with chapter III.

i think that if i had to pin the main issue, it's a lack of overall cohesiveness? we were jumping all over the place without the chance to ever flesh things out. inazuma is a smaller cast, but i feel like we didn't get to see any of them shine. since i'm most interested in the genshin characters, i'll break down my problems by going over everyone and their (lack) of impact on the story.

was ayaka not questioned or placed under suspicion for being close to thoma before his escape? i wanted to see her broken up over her duties as they relate to the yashiro commission, paired with having someone she genuinely cares about in danger. it would've been an interesting struggle if she was forced to choose one or the other. instead she just kinda took a back seat.

speaking of thoma, i don't even have anything to say, because he just... was there? for .0001 seconds. said "lol this sucks ig" and that's about it. i know we're going to get a story for him in the future since he's a 5* but i'm not getting my hopes up 😭 then in the raiden shogun's character story, man is peachy keen! be upset with the raiden shogun! have some inner conflict! even if it's just using loaded language because he's under surveillance for going against the raiden shogun, that'd be so cool. saying something like,

"Traveler, what's with that expression? Oh please, there's nothing to worry about. We're under the Statue of the Omnipresent God's protection. Nothing bad has ever happened here." *wink*

i also don't know what to say about gorou. he was... there....... i think. what is he fighting for? what are the stakes for him? what makes him place so much trust into kokomi? i'm out of things to say about him because i don't remember anything he did or said.

kokomi... oh kokomi... i was so hyped. so excited. i thought that maybe we could see a foil to the raiden shogun. that she'd have a moment where she's forced to realize, just like her opponent, sacrifices must be made that will hurt people who will never understand why she made them. or maybe something to show her military prowess. but instead she just accepts a mysterious patron's help (?), sees her people aging like the grateful dead from JJBA, and goes oh well. that sucks. what can ya do. oh bye traveler i guess, good luck with that. ????????????? HUH... similar case to thoma where she's gonna get a character story but like. she won't be the leader of the resistance anymore. that was her whole shtick. they took her shtick away. also she forced me to interact with more NPCs whose names i've already forgotten so i'm tilted about that still.

KUJOU SARA... AN INJUSTICE. A DISGRACE. a slap to my woman loving face. the build up was there. yae miko's comments about sara probably knowing the tenryou commission is involved in shady dealings, but is choosing not to think about it. sara being forced to confront reality and challenge her adopted father with the truth. being able to blaze a new path for herself in the process. when she started running to the raiden shogun i was ultra hyped up. sara, a devotee to the shogun for so long, was about to see her god interacting with the same people who led inazuma to this awful state. how would she react? would she stay ignorant, like yae miko so coyly said, choosing to look away in favor of following her god's footsteps? or would she be forced to recognize the raiden shogun isn't as divine as she once thought, and challenge her belief system?

we open the door to see the raiden shogun. the loading screen ensues. the camera pans to the ominous room, clouded in darkness, hinting at the ominous confrontation that is to come. the music takes a serious timbre. and then...

well fuck that potential character arc i guess. (we still don't know what sara made of any of this since she poofed out of existence from the story at this point)

kazuha also was handed a similar treatment. we've been with him for a while longer now. he is our introduction into inazuma, the one who first gets us emotionally involved by regaling us with the bittersweet tale of friendship that led him to becoming a wanted criminal. a kind soul who loves nature yet was dealt a cruel hand by fate, forced to watch his home nation turn into a hostile place, where his dear friend ultimately perished as a result. we get the scene with his friend's vision lighting back up. he parries a block from the raiden shogun, in the same area where his friend was killed by her. the parallels. the drama. except this time, he wasn't too late. he protected the traveler where he "failed" to protect his friend in the past. did he feel redemption at this? or was it a bittersweet reminder of what could've been?

WELL i guess we'll never know because we didn't get to talk to him again 😭 idk who got a bait and switch worse, him or sara. jesus christ mihoyo.

then we have signora. why is the raiden shogun talking to her? does she know about the gnosis being taken, and if she doesn't, what was her plan to get it from the archon? what does she think about scaramouche? and oh, okay, we're fighting here now. good fight + god tier music. pog pog. okay, now we've beaten her up, and raiden shogun wyd— wait no not signora her lore is still on CUPS not YET raiden shogun and— ah she's dead. okay. non nerds who didn't read artifact lore are going to know nothing about her. signora has such an interesting story, and yet... well. ok.

then we get raiden shogun redemption (?) arc. i was hype for this as well, though at that point, idk why i bothered being hype. i knew they were gonna do a cute power of friendship something or another, and i'm good with that, so long as it's executed well. what i was envisioning was like seven different buffs to correspond with the seven different visions, the dreams of those whose ambitions were stolen serving as the spear to penetrate the raiden shogun's heart of stone. maybe a hydro vision giving us extra healing for a time, with the voice acting over it being like,

"Even if the rest of the world forgets us, let our will carry you through this one final time. Succeed where we couldn't, Traveler."

so on and so forth.

but instead we got— you get the idea at this point. why bother spelling it out anymore.

at that point i was surprised the raiden shogun didn't go "oopsie woopsie!! we made a fucky wucky!!!" because that was the vibe i was getting. i love ei, don't get me wrong, but i wanted to see her challenged with what she had done to inazuma in the past year. maybe meeting NPC #2345259 who lost her sister to the vision decree or something, reminding ei of the love she held for her sister... being forced to come to terms with the extent of what she's done in pursuit of eternity.

anyway. please for the love of god mihoyo hire better writers for the main story. that is all i ask. thank you.

[separatist-apologist]

You should do a one shot of Elain letting her inner fire out and yelling at the IC about using Elain to control Lucien AND going on and on about Lucien failing Feyre in Spring. (I mean we all know Tamlin abused Lucien both mentally and physically and its a bit hard to take care of someone else when you are being abused yourself. Ya feel me? HA)

This will be done more elegantly if you're reading I Know Places. I also can't help but feel like my Elucien reputation is becoming Night Court slander. This is my preface by saying I LIKE (most) of the IC, so this isn't dunking on any one person or being an anti.

Anyway don't send me hate if you don't like this (Send me Eris X Elain brotp prompts instead!!!)

Elain stomped through the city streets of Velaris, furious. Lucien was back in the city again, and yet he hadn’t come to visit. Things had been rocky, sure, but she thought they were doing better. They’d been exchanging letters weekly, she’d made him dinner—granted, at his apartment—and they’d even had that sweet kiss she still daydreamed about to the exclusion of all else. Yet, for the fourth time in six months, Lucien had come to Velaris, met with Rhysand, with Azriel, with Feyre, but not her. She’d been quietly polite about it the first time. He was a busy man, after all and probably had somewhere to be in the morning. She’d been quiet but less polite the second and third time, allowing her self-doubt and insecurity to creep in but now she was just mad.

If he didn’t want to see her, he should just say so.After four years of yearning and avoidance to get to where they were, which was practically no where given how far away he chose to occupy his time, he at least owed her an explanation.

She pounded on the blue front door that comprised his little town house. She heard scuffling and a muffled crash before the door flung open.

“Elain,” he breathed, clearly not prepared to see her, given how disheveled he looked. “To what do I—”

“Why are you avoiding me?” She demanded, crossing her arms over the silver cloak she wore. Frigid wind whistled around them, biting at her cheeks though she hardly felt the chill over her hurt and anger. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Ah…come inside,” he urged, stepping out of the way to let her in. Elain did as he asked, mostly to prevent making a visible scene she knew would work its way back to Rhysand and his inner circle.

“I understand if you’re too busy to spend time but not even a note?” She rounded on him once they were out of the foyer and in his living room. He reached for her cloak, ever the gentleman but Elain swatted his hand away.

“I do want to see you,” he replied softly, palms raised upwards in defense. Both eyes, one gold, one russet, watched her with apprehension, as though she were a bomb that might explode at any moment. She certainly felt like one.

“Then why don’t you?” She demanded, hands on her hips.

Lucien licked his lips. “It’s…complicated.”

Her stomach dropped. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What?!” He panicked, taking a hasty step towards her. “No, just you. Only you, I swear.”

“Then explain. I’m not stupid, I can follow whatever is keeping you. I don’t want secrets between us I want—” She stopped herself before she could admit that what she wanted was to be in the same place for longer than a night.

“I need permission to visit with you,” he told her, dropping his hands with a sigh. Elain looked at him sharply.

“What do you mean…permission?” She demanded.

Lucien gestured for her to sit but Elain shook her head, her mind whirring. Why would Lucien need permission to see her? He’d been nothing but polite, he’d give her distance…they always had a chaperone, she realized. Save for once, right before he left to find Vassa, Lucien and Elain always had an audience unless she snuck out of the house. It was why she’d begun writing him letters in the first place. That was the only way she could speak to him without someone else in the room.

Lucien was watching her shrewdly, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Do they think you’ll…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it. He laughed dryly.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Then why? No one cared about how much time Cassian spent with Nesta.”

“Well…I imagine it’s different when the High Lord trusts the mate in question.”

That didn’t make sense. She bit her bottom lip. “They trust you…you’re their Emissary…”

Lucien laughed again, plopping onto his cream-colored couch. “Emissary I may be, but trust me they do not.”

Elain frowned. “Because you’ll betray them?”

“Because I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, his every word condemnation. She could put it together now. Lucien was in Velaris for her, he’d left Spring for her, and he’d continue to be the Emissary on behalf of the Night Court for as long as Elain lived in Velaris.

“You don’t have to stay for me,” she assured him, crossing the wood floor to sit beside him. She took his hand and squeezed, looking up into his tanned, beautiful face. Lucien smiled at her sadly.

“If I quit, I’d never see you again.”

“Of course you would, we’re—”

“Do you imagine Rhysand or Feyre would just hand you over with my resignation? If that were the case, I would have taken you from here when we first met.”

“So I’m what? Bait?” She asked breathlessly. He didn’t respond but the steely look in his russet eye was answer enough. “Something to keep you in line?”

He shrugged but Elain was angry again. “I thought you were avoiding me,” she told him, pulling her hand from his. “I’ve been mad at you and all this time you were trying?”

“Elain—”

She spun on her heel and tore out of his apartment, well aware he was right behind her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t an object or a tool to be weaponized against her own mate, for cauldrons sake. She was tired of being treated like a pretty piece of furniture that couldn’t think for herself. She wanted the Nesta treatment, she decided, storming into the river house.

“You had no right!” She shrieked, storming into Rhys’ study. She’d meant to find Feyre first, but Rhys was there, sitting at his desk staring down at parchment. On the couch beside the fireplace, Azriel looked up, hazel eyes wide at the outburst.

“Hey Elain…Lucien…everything okay?” Cassian asked from a chair in the corner.

“No!” She continued, her chest heaving. If she didn’t say everything now, she’d chicken out; Elain hated confrontation. Rhys stood, his violet eyes glittering with emotion. A moment later Feyre skidded into the room, practically slamming into Lucien’s back.

“What’s wrong, Elain?” Feyre asked breathlessly, shoving past Lucien to touch Elain’s shoulder. “Did something happen, did—”

“Why does Lucien need permission to visit me?” She demanded, stepping out of Feyre’s grasp only to slam into the sold chest of her mate. “No one had a problem with Cassian breathing down Nesta’s neck, but Lucien needs advance written notice?”

“Whoa, that’s not how it went,” Cassian complained. “If anything, she was breathing down my neck—”

“Cassian,” Azriel murmured quietly, silencing his friend.

“You and Nesta are different,” Feyre tried but Elain didn’t want to hear it.

“So? I think Nesta could have healed perfectly fine without being…fucked—” she whispered the word, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Up against a wall.”

The mood of the room became immediately tense. Cassian stood; arm crossed over his broad chest.

“Elain,” Rhys warned. Lucien put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing his support. She didn’t have to do this. She could walk away, could tell them to shove it. She had to. Lucien didn’t understand, was good at sticking up for himself but she wasn’t. They needed to know.

“It’s shameful,” she told Rhys, looking him dead in the face.

“We just wanted to keep you safe,” Rhys told her, his voice very much implying she was on dangerous ground.

“From what? I thought Lucien was Feyre’s friend,” she challenged. “I thought he was your Emissary. How can you trust him with your politics but not his own mate? Why is it okay for Azriel to see me but not Lucien?”

Rhys’ took two steps forward, darkness rippling off his back. She’d overstepped, she’d openly challenged Rhys and, perhaps most damning, she’d done the one thing he’d ever asked her not to; discuss the almost events of Solstice. Azriel’s face paled for a moment as Cassian, Feyre, and Lucien all turned to look at him. “I’m not your political pawn,” she whispered, stepping closer to Lucien.

“You are my subject and you will sit down and stop talking.”

She felt the metallic tang of magic slam into her face, attempting to make her obey. Elain knew what Rhys didn’t, what she’d kept a careful secret until that moment. He couldn’t compel her; his magic had no effect. He wasn’t her subject. She never had been.

“Sit down,” he said again, his every word dripping in authority. She straightened her spine even as her hands trembled. “You can’t make me,” she replied, pressed as close to Lucien as she could get.

“Rhys,” Lucien warned, his own voice rich with that same magic. She shivered at the sound. Rhys glanced towards Feyre, exchanging some conversation silently between them.

“I want to leave,” she told them, her voice wobbling nervously.

“Elain…can we talk? Just me and you?” Feyre murmured, holding out her hand. “Please?”

Elain looked over her shoulder but Lucien was still staring at Azriel with a clenched jaw. “Fine.”

Feyre grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room. In the hall, Nesta had her back pressed to the wall. She followed behind Elain silently, spine straight, eyes cold. The three practically ran down marble floors, up the stairs, all the way to Feyre’s room. She locked the door behind her, as if that would keep anyone out.

“What happened with Azriel?” Nesta asked the second the door was shut.

“There are things you don’t understand,” Feyre interrupted, ignoring Nesta’s question. “You can’t leave.”

“Are you saying that as my sister, or High Lady?” Elain whispered.

“Where will you go, Elain?” Feyre prodded. “Spring—”

Her laughter was practically a shriek. “Did you know the last time Lucien came home from Spring he had bruises all over his ribs? Couldn’t look me in the eyes when I asked what happened? What do you think happened?” Elain demanded. Feyre flinched.

“How can you send him back there and stand here and tell me I don’t understand the situation?” Elain pressed. “He’s your friend.”

“I know, Elain, I’m sorry,” Feyre interrupted breathlessly. “I care about Lucien, too but he’s cunning and—”

“And what is Rhys?” Nesta interrupted with an imperious smile.

“You suddenly like Lucien?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips. Nesta scoffed.

“No, but I like watching Elain tell Rhys to fuck himself. And…and it meant a lot what you said about…”

Elain nodded.

“Don’t leave,” Feyre pressed, ignoring Nesta completely. “Move in with Lucien if you want just…just don’t go.”

“I want to do more than garden,” Elain whispered. “We’d still see each other…he’d still help you, if you asked because you’re his friend…and I’m your sister.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes glassy. Elain knew she was still talking to Rhys, trying to strike some sort of balance between the fight they’d just had and not making things worse. “Rhys is asking if Lucien will go to Day Court on his behalf…they have a lot of libraries…Vassa still is spelled and we haven’t been able to figure it out. Maybe you could go with him? If you want, I mean?”

Elain nodded her head. “I’d like to see the other Courts.”

“But you’ll come back?” Feyre asked, her voice small and Elain knew she needed to apologize to her sister. Feyre was trying…Feyre had been good for all those years, selfless even when she didn’t have to be. Guilt gnawed at Elain. She’d let her temper get the better of her. She crossed the room and hugged Feyre tightly.

“Of course I will. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Wrong again,” Nesta said dryly. “You should yell more often. Tell Helion if he tries anything—”

“Helion won’t try anything,” Feyre assured Nesta. “Trust me.”

Nesta frowned. “He’ll take one look at her face and fall in love just like everyone else. How can you say—” “Rhys is going to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Elain cajoled. “I can handleone High Lord calling me pretty.”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “It…it’s not appropriate, you have a mate—”

“I can handle it,” Elain said firmly, determined to do something for herself. “Promise.”

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Rhys and Lucien in the archway. They looked tense; neither looked at the other. Elain wondered what had been said. Rhys looked from his mate to Elain before raising his palms.

“We…we worked it out,” Rhys assured her. “Don’t kill me.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she told him, not sorry at all. She suspected he knew.

“Day Court?” Lucien asked, brows raised, his face very much. She smiled.

“Day Court.”

[verycherrymary]

Let me preface this by saying that I know nothing about Resident Evil and I probably won’t play any of the games but I was curious because it’s hard to ignore a tall, elegant, older woman. My curiosity was piqued and I decided to check it out. I watched playthroughs and cutscenes and sort of got the story but I can definitely (and probably) be missing things. I say this so you can take my opinion with a grain of salt. 

That being said, I think that switching the order of appearances between Heisenberg and Dimitrescu would have made the story better. 

SPOILERS BELOW

Now, I do not say this because I wanted Dimitrescu to live longer or anything. I say it based on what Heisenberg and Dimitrescu bring to the table and how, in my opinion, it could have been better utilized by the story. 

Let’s start with Heisenberg. He’s clever, so clever that he has figured Miranda’s plot which is something that the other three lords do not seem to have done. He’s also the newest member of this twisted family and so, he functions a lot like a bratty, youngest sibling who is the black sheep. But he’s also the favorite. Miranda awards him the honor of deciding what happens to Ethan. In her journals, Miranda seems to favor Heisenberg. And even as someone who watched the walkthroughs, Heisenberg is great. He’s funny and he seems the most “normal” out of the four lords (sans the whole killing thing, ya know.) 

He’s also extremely persuasive.

And it’s this persuasion that, in my opinion, was underutilized. By the time Ethan gets to Heisenberg, he has beaten three of the lords. Ethan discovers that Heisenberg pretty much figures out Miranda’s plot and wants to destroy her. He’s the only lord that expresses disdain towards Miranda and, for a moment, he tries to convince Ethan to help him. But obviously, by this point, Ethan has no reason to side with Heisenberg. 

But what if this happened at the beginning of the game? 

What if Heisenberg could have convinced Ethan to help him out? What if Heisenberg told Ethan that he hates the other lords and that he’s been wanting to get out of this family? What if Heisenberg was the one who told him about the four lords (and not the Duke). When I first saw the trailer and saw all the pictures in the background, I actually thought Heisenberg’s role was going to be one of a guide almost. Your first look into the mess that is the village. (Also, I thought the X out picture of Dimitrescu was because of his disdain for her.) And sure, he told Miranda he wanted to kill you, but maybe it was all for show. Maybe Heisenberg came up with the idea of a game to allow Ethan to escape his crazy family. Or maybe Heisenberg was just supremely impressed with Ethan and thought Ethan was the man for the job, to take down Miranda. 

This would have made Heisenberg live up to being “the most dangerous” as the Duke said. Heisenberg doesn’t care about the conventionalities of his little family and so, he has no restraints. He’s on his own mission and he’s going to use Ethan to get it. Until something happens that makes Ethan realize that Heisenberg is going to double cross him or maybe has double crossed him. 

Granted, I have not watched everything and there could be things that I am missing, but while the game kind of touches this idea of Heisenberg being a double crosser, it does so kind of weakly. And in my opinion, a lot of it has to do with the fact that it came so late in the game that it kind of lost its effect. Had Heisenberg been the first villain you encounter in this strange world, maybe it would have changed because he would have been your first source of information. And if you relied on Heisenberg’s tellings of what is happening, then you have an unreliable source and as a result, your information may be unreliable, perhaps to Ethan’s detriment. Again, adding to this “dangerousness.” 

So what about our lovely Lady Dimitrescu? Well, she has the makings of a closer. Lady Dimitrescu is like the character on the stage you can’t take your eyes off. Her design is a large part of it, but it’s also her attitude and personality. She’s a diva, from the way she talks to the way she walks to the way she conducts herself. In her mind, she’s the best and all of her other “siblings” are beneath her. 

And it’s this ego that is underutilized in my opinion. 

Leaving Lady Dimitrescu for the end would allow her ego to grow and ultimately be her downfall. In her mind, she’s the best. She’s the oldest, the most responsible, and the most dedicated to Mother Miranda. So if she saw Heisenberg fail, Beneviento fail, and Moreau fail, well that’s not a big deal because she’s Lady Dimitrescu and she’s too big to fail. Mother Miranda made a mistake in trusting Heisenberg because look what happened so of course, it’s up to big sister Lady Dimitrescu to clean the mess her siblings made. 

And that would be her downfall. 

Because then when Ethan Winters comes and starts killing her daughters, one by one, her ego gets plucked further and further as she becomes more unhinged. This is her house, her daughters but this man is storming through them. Now she’s failing too, just like the rest of her low life siblings. But she’s better than them so how is this possible? We already know from her journals that Lady Dimitrescu has the issue that every oldest sibling seems to have: this need of validation. And she was determined to get that validation by proving to Mother Miranda that she had made a mistake and by getting Ethan Winters. 

But now, she’s alone. Her daughters are killed. Mother Miranda will be so disappointed in her. And she too is failing, just like her siblings. She’s feeling an incredible amount of pain and loss.  It would be enough to send her in a rage, to devote herself completely to destroying Ethan Winters. 

And if this wasn’t an action game, I think that the best takedown for Lady Dimitrescu would be one of her own creation. One where all the tragedy, shame, and humiliation causes her to make a dumb mistake that allows Ethan to bring her down. At the end, she’s not so different from her siblings and she too falls. 

Karl Heisenberg and Lady Dimitrescu are the two ends of the same rope, each tugging at each other and believing they are superior than the other without realizing that they will both be hanged by that rope. They stand out because they have personality but it feels like their personalities were not used to the full potential. For me, that’s the most disappointing part of it. I don’t mind if they died, in fact, it’s to be expected. The issue is always the treatment of a character before they died and I just don’t feel like either character was used to their full potential. 

Like I said, I have no clue talking about and I’m not part of this fandom. I just hate seeing really interesting characters just kind of pushed aside. The other two lords have their own interesting parts, especially Donna. But Heisenberg and Dimitrescu really had the chance to be something more and it didn’t happen. 

But this is just my opinion and it’s uninformed and I don’t want hate, thanks.

[lazarettta]

Misthios V

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (T)

Word Count (1.9k)

Warning (Language)

You spend your morning with Alcina and her daughters while Miranda deals with Karl and Village business.

By the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains you'd already made yourself at home on one of the balconies of the castle with a woven basket full of croissants and mason jar full of freshly squeezed orange juice. You'd been snooping in the kitchen looking for a snack when you found the partially hidden side door. It was shielded by produce crates and bags of potatoes—you guessed it was an old service door or something, and it was probably what the help around the castle used to sneak around the castle grounds while their Mistress sleeps.

You certainly did. You took a trip to town on a whim and you were bored. You didn't have anything on you in terms of currency but you weren't one to rely on some currency to get you by as there was always a favor or two to be traded. New era, same tricks and it never failed you once. Most of the village was still asleep when you strolled through but the few farmers you saw tending to their stocks gave you less than friendly looks but you didn't take any offense. You were new and places like this didn't take too kindly to a new face, especially a young new face.

Hell, the woman in the bakery shop by the church wasn't very fond of you either until you revealed that you understood every word that she said. She turned into a different person and suddenly you weren't much of a stranger anymore, by her standards anyway.

By the time you found your way back to castle Dimitrescu, you had bruised knuckles, a basket full of goodies you probably shouldn't be eating and a decent knife now warming the holster in your boot. It wasn't tactical or as balanced as you liked but you felt a hell of a lot better with it than you did a few hours ago without it.

You had no idea who's bedroom you'd invaded to get to the balcony though you didn't really care, you saw a plush chair that was only just covered in ice and the cushions were only just a little wet, shockingly.

And that is exactly how Alcina found you, and she wasn't alone. Trailing behind her bundled up even more than you with the hood pulled up over her blonde head was a young woman with eyes that matched Alcina's. Curious that she didn't get her mother's height though—she was probably around your height, give or take.

“You missed breakfast, dear.”

“Didn't think you'd send a hunting party for me,” you smiled but in truth you hadn't realized how much time had passed since you got back to the castle. Between stuffing your face full of bread you hadn't really had in years and well, yeah, you definitely lost track of time. Thankfully there were still a few pastries left in the basket for you to offer to Alcina and who you assumed to be one of her daughters.

The girl's eyes hadn't left you since she first saw you—you knew when you were being studied but for the moment, you were too tired to actually care but not tired enough to drop your guard with these people.

Alcina waved away your offering as she took a seat in the other chair, obviously as unbothered by it's less than ideal conditions as you were but her daughter graciously scooped up a buttered croissant before leaning against the rail, her back to the gorgeous view behind her. She was probably used to seeing it and you certainly weren't a stranger to such joys either but you never really grew bored of them.

“(Y/n), this is Bela, my eldest daughter. Also my successor should anything ever happen to me.”

“Mother, stop it. Nothing will ever happen to you.” You watched as Bela ducked her head, but she wasn't blushing, she turned to you, pushing the hood back from her face slightly but she didn't say anything.

Alcina pulled her cigar holder from somewhere on her dress she was currently wearing, and pointed down at the basket sitting on the small table between you three, “It's not safe to roam around on these roads at night.”

You shrugged, “I can take care of myself, Lady Dimitrescu. A few wolves don't really scare me.”

“There are far worse things out there than death, (Y/n).”

You scoffed, laughing a bit much to the dismay and surprise of the Lady and her daughter, “I've been around long enough to know how true and wise that statement is, but I'm far too old to be scared by it anymore.”

Bela looked at you curiously, “But you don't look a day over thirty, (Y/n).”

You bit back another laugh, picking at the pastry still sitting on the napkin on your thigh. Well. You weren't going to be getting any answers if you didn't give any yourself. “Who do you think Miranda got her skin care treatment from?”

You looked up when the other two balcony occupants were quiet for too long and you realized that they were both staring at you with equally unreadable but different expressions. Though Alcina's hat always made it impossible for you, or anyone else, to gauge her moods and reactions.

“What?”

“You're being serious?” Bela asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing beneath her loose hair.

“Yeah, seriously. I met Miranda back when she was ruling her first kingdom. She thought I was a fucking Viking for the longest time.” Miranda is going to murder you and find a way to make it permanent.

“You're joking. Mother, the mortal is joking...isn't she?”

“Mortal?” you finished your breakfast and wiped away the crumbs, “I haven't been called mortal for a very long time, but now that we've all established that no one on this balcony is of average stock...”

“We can really talk.” Alcina finished as you trailed off, taking a very long and heavy drag while giving you another once over, slower this time as if she was going to find the answers to whatever she was wanting to know. She glanced at her daughter and sighed when she saw her starting to tremble a bit.

“Bela go inside and get your sisters.” Alcina said softly but her tone still held no room for argument and you could tell that Bela wanted to protest against her mothers wishes, “Have tea prepared and brought to the study.”

“For everyone?”

Alcina smiled a bit, “Yes, dear, for everyone.”

When Bela was around the corner and well out of earshot, Alcina brought her attention back to you. And you looked back, waiting for her to ask or say what was on her mind.

“What era?”

“The Peloponnesian war. I'm the last living Spartan on Earth.”

Miranda neatly folded away the paper the moment she heard the ceremony doors opening. Miranda sighed heavily when she heard Karl’s mouth down the corridor—the man's need to chatter (and argue) never ceased and Miranda was positive she would be leaving this meeting with a migraine. She'd rather be doing something more productive with her time…working on her own research, cracking you like an egg or maybe even trying a new recipe for a change.

It wasn't long before Karl burst through the doors, his prized hammer resting on his shoulders and a cigar between his teeth and in his other hand was a satchel that was holding something it wasn't designed to carry. The grin he wore grew when his eyes landed on her and Miranda sighed inaudibly behind her mask.

“Well,” he purred, sitting on the bench he normally claimed and set his hammer down next to it, “If it isn't the woman of the hour! How kind of you to meet with me today.”

Miranda didn't care too much for his charming tone—his charisma was impressive but Miranda had never been a true fan of it, and Alcina outright hated him forcing Miranda to often play the role of a mediator every time there was a faction meeting which almost always ended in chaos and bloodshed. Thankfully it was only once or twice out of the month unless it was an emergency.

“Your message said that you have something of importance to show me, Lord Heisenberg, get on with it.”

“Oh, someone's testy today,” he mumbled under his breath but just loud enough for her to catch his words and Miranda's jaw clenched, “As requested, one head of a troublesome villager only searching for his beloved little girl. Maybe do your job and tell that supersized bitch to keep her brats on a leash next time.”

The satchel landed on the floor at Miranda's feet. Miranda's eyes narrowed in his direction, barely glancing at the satchel that narrowly missed touching her, and Karl felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise alarmingly fast, “Do not forget your place here, Heisenberg.”

Karl snarled but he quickly conceded—he's proved himself to be the biggest Alpha in the region time and time again but he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could challenge Miranda evenly. Miranda relented, accepting his surrender but she didn't buy it, she never did.

“All I'm sayin' is that we don't hunt in the village for this very reason—”

“I understand that, Heisenberg. And it's been taken care of. Lady Dimitrescu will see that it never happens again.”

Karl grumbled but thankfully he didn't push, this time, “There's something else too that I think you should know. There's a stranger in the village, probably owns that cute little camp my lycans tore apart a few miles outside of town.”

That caught Miranda's interest though she did not let it show—it wouldn't do to have a man like Karl have even the slightest bit of leverage over her. He was still too useful for her to kill.

“A stranger?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, relighting his cigar and taking a long pull, “Tall, real tall and quite a looker too...I'm here to officially claim her. If she's as tough as she looks, I'll—”

Miranda's wings fluttered when those words left his hairy lips, he didn't have to go into detail for her to know who he was talking about and Miranda felt the edges of her claws trying to grow beneath the veil of her dark wings.

“No.”

“No!?” he sat up quickly, setting both of his feet down on the ground, “What do you mean no?! Aren't those your laws for fresh meat?!”

“Yes, and that woman is off limits. Defy my word, it will not end well for you. If that is all Lord Heisenberg, I will see you this Friday at the faction meeting.”

“You gave her to that zombie in the castle didn't you!” he called after her when Miranda transformed into a flock of birds and left through the rafters.

Karl pulled his hammer to him as he jumped to his feet and he destroyed the bench he was previously sitting on but Miranda was already gone by the time the splinters where she had once stood, “I never get anything nice around here! Always scraps this and scraps that ever since that bitch took over!” he turned and threw his hammer, nearly slicing a pillar in half and he was half transformed before he caught himself.

Karl dusted himself off with one hand while the other brought another cigar from an inside pocket of his oil stained coat and picked up his hammer on the way out of the ceremony room, his temper simmering down. He took one last look at the damage he caused, and smirked.

“Have fun cleaning this up, mother. ” He didn't care what she said, the woman in the village he saw this morning was his game.

[marvels-bitch-boy]

FAN FIC IDEA FROM MY BRAINS MCU

okay so I've got -what I think to be- an amazing story idea, it is a Natasha x reader, Wanda x reader story that I came up with in my head

it's a male reader/masc reader story set after Age of Ultron and before Civil War

also, the SWORD outfit is the same as Monica after she gets pushed out of the HEX except R has a knife holder on his thigh and is wearing black tactical cargo pants (with the classic black combat boots)

heres kinda the summary of it: Pietro (yes Pietro is alive! i refuse to hurt my favourite speedy boi) makes his sister come with him to a party at a local college a few miles away from the compound, she only agrees once Pietro says she can bring her boyfriend vision, at the party vision leaves her alone for a few minutes to grab her a drink (its a very packed party so it takes him a while) and R goes and sits next to her he's like "i bet i can guess who you're here with" and she chuckles at it, but lets him guess, and he guesses correctly which makes Wanda laugh, they say their names (only their first names) and talk about miscellaneous things, Wanda asks if he is a student at the college, R says no he is a recent graduate (he doesn't specify from where), after that R notices something on the other side of the party so he says goodbye, Wanda Pietro and Vision leave the party soon after, then a month or two goes by and the new SHIELD agent trainees/recruits show up at the compound, but this time there is an exception for one Agent from...SWORD! (wow plot twist I know right)-basically SHIELD and SWORD have set up an alliance of somekind and so SHIELD allows for them to send one recruit to train at the avengers compound with the new SHIELD recruits--also monica is the one who drops you off at the compound and helps you get settled the first day (I thought it would be cool to have her brought in) Wanda sees the new recruit enter but his back is turned from her, but in the cafeteria (for agents) she over hears a few agents talking about the SWORD agent, a few months go by and wanda has yet to see his full face (anytime she sees him training he has a mask or blindfold on-don't question it-) but she has met him in the compound library late at night, they have spoken between the aisles but everytime wanda tries to see his face something blocks her view (I know super convienent right, like I'm totally not setting up for something) soon Steve calls a meeting with her and Natasha, he sends her on a 3 month long mission to gather intel with her little woogly woos and Natasha is sent to review the SWORD recruit because he requested a more advanced training partner -Nat makes a joke about how Wanda gets to go on a vacation while she has to babysit Steve reassures her "trust me, this isn't your normal recruit, he's something special Nat"- Natasha gets handed the Recruits file after Wanda leaves to pack and she sees his name: Y/N!!! (WHAT?!? I know complete shocker right? who would have guessed!?) -I'm gonna make a separate post about R's back story in case that's needed- at the beginning of the review you flirt with Nat a bit to test her boundaries, she flirts back to mess with you you defienetly didn't expect this but welcomed it none the less, she puts you through grueling tests-shooting capabilities, then swimming and then running around the compounds dirt track (she expects you to take a break between the two but you just jump out of the pool and grabbed your shoes off a rack and take off running as soon as she says its next-this surprises her) then she makes you spar with her-you two are well matched to some degree but she ultimately takes you down after about an hour, the way Nat tells you your finished for the day makes you think you failed but the next morning you get a note with your new training schedule but it doesn't say who is training you, you arrive at the training room to find Nat who chastises you for being late -you aren't she is just early-

skip ahead a week and you and nat are getting somewhat close considering Natasha's demeanor towards you -she still doesn't get what Steve meant about you not being a regular recruit-, then you make friends with Steve, and then after about two weeks, you make friends with Pietro! you guys become best friends super fast and get very close

Your Friendship with Pietro is different than with Steve and the other recruits because you have POWERS?!?! (WHAT???!! that's so crazy and so far fetched oh my god what?!?) -I'll add what the powers are in the backstory post- and so you both bond over that and pull pranks on the others at the compound

a week later you meet Clint, who for some reason is suspicious of your treatment to Natasha-who over the week seemed to become nicer to you-but after she pulls Clint into the training room for 30 mins walks out, and gives you a cheeky smile, he is a lot more relaxed around you after that

TIME SKIP OOOHHH------1 month later

Natasha and you have become a lot closer-she started calling you an acquaintance and brings you water in the morning before training- Pietro started to invite you to the avenger's movie nights and you happily joined in, you sat on the couch the first time and everyone stared at you with wide eyes and concern, Natasha entered the room and stared at the couch for a second before slightly shrugging and sitting next to you, then everyone's eyes went wide with confusion and they all looked at each other, Clint on the other hand just winked at Nat with a smug smile before facing the TV

you and Pietro became basically inseparable once you finished training for the day-sometimes he'd even join you for training (you never used your powers in front of other agents tho)

TIME SKIP OOOWWWWOOOOOAAH--- 2 months later

Wanda is returning from her mission and Pietro is so excited to see his sister again-he is also very excited for her to meet you- he is practically jumping off the walls and won't stop babbling about how awesome it will be to have the three of you hang out together.

You and Natasha have gotten WAYY closer...she started to bring you some snacks for after training, she'd even make you both coffee on your off days, she'd ask you to join her for breakfast a couple times a week and during movie nights she began to sit closer to you, close enough that her head would rest on your shoulder, you could have sworn you saw Clint wink at you a few times when natasha cuddled into you after falling asleep.

When Wanda returned Pietro ran around the compound looking for you and carried you to the landing pad, when you and Wanda made eye contact it felt like time froze for a minute, you were able to get a full picture of how beautiful she was, the way she smiled became ingrained into your mind, the way her emerald eyes studied yours for a second before she recognized you, but before you could say anything Pietro ran up and hugged her so hard she almost toppled over, he then let go and asked how the mission went after she answered his questions she looked back at you and Pietro immediately went to you and placed his arm over your shoulder and started to introduce you two...the moment that you realized she was the girl from the party was when she laughed at the way Pietro was talking about you-like you were the coolest person on earth (which to him you basically where, second of course behind Wanda) - and she informed her ecstatic brother that they had previously met, you received a text from Nat stating that she needed you to get into your uniform (it was your day off so you were in casual clothes) and meet her in the conference room, you showed up and were met with Nick Fury and Maria Rambeau the directors of SHIELD and SWORD, Director Rambeau gives you a small smile and Fury simple tells you "Congratulations" as he hands you a new ID badge and Director Rambeau hands you a file...your first mission as an agent

(that's as far as my idea has gone so far, also keep in mind Wanda still doesn't know we are an agent, and I did change the Natasha romance so its more of a slow burn -I feel like it would take her longer than just a few months to develop and recognize her feelings-)

ALSO, FEEL FREE TO USE THIS!! I know its long, I just kinda got very carried away, it would also be a series, not a one shot

Here is the Backstory of reader!

[thexreluctantxviscount]

SEASON TWO ◆ THE SEASON THUS FAR

Tolly keeps a running diary of his impressions of the other members of Society that is regularly updated. The Diary may be found on his page. [Diary]

Adelson Jacobs → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure. Current Impression: Very handsome young man.

Alexandre Mortier → First Meeting: Many years ago and in what feels like a world away. Current Impression: An affable, gregarious man of intellect and wit. Also quite handsome. 

Anthony ‘Tony’ Fraser → First Meeting: Overseas when we were perhaps both more in our element than this world we currently inhabit.  Current Impression: While a man of good spirits and fine intellect that I am pleased to count among my acquaintance, he also bears considerable grief. It is something I understand all too well and I would not wish such melancholy on anyone. 

Archibald Howard St. John → First Meeting: We met overseas as well when I assisted in a minor medical treatment for the man. He failed to charm.  Current Impression: Persistent and might be tolerable if he would just not be so... Effingham.

Atticus ‘Kit’ Thorne  →  First Impression: At the Derringford’s picnic where the young man was a frazzled mess.  Current Impression: Outside the hotbed of a Society event, he is excessively pleasant and intelligent. A fine companion and one I would be pleased to call a friend, although it would as of yet be presumptuous to apply such a label. I maintain my optimism. 

Aurelia Merchant  → First Impression: She spared me a trouncing in Vauxhall.  Current Impression: A delightful, witty and intelligent young lady whose company is a delight. Always sensible to maintain a friendship with a young lady who has already spared you a terrible indignity while never forfeiting her own grace and ready smile. I confess I do not care for her sister in law - she looks as if she has been pickled in vinegar too long, so sour is her expression and demeanour.

Caroline Hale → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure. Current Impression: None in particular, although she is a very pretty young lady.

Catherine Lockhart → First Meeting: We met at the market where we had a most pleasant conversation.  Current Impression: We travelled together on the same vessel to Margate and it was delightful to further our acquaintance. She is a woman of elegance and sweet charm. I understand her to be engaged to my dear friend Hastings and I am so very pleased for both of them. 

Conrad Mowbray → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure.  Current Impression: None in particular, although he is a handsome man. 

Dulcinea Hallivand 🦉 → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure.  Current Impression: None in particular. 

Diana Bartlett → First Meeting: We met some time ago during a leisurely morning stroll.  Current Impression: She is an absolutely delightful companion. She has a witty, cheerful manner and always something interesting to say. Her outlook on the world is tinged with such kindness that I always feel lighter after we have spoken. I wish her very well and look forward to furthering our friendship. She may have quite the lovely eyes I have ever seen. 

Emmeline Thorne → First Meeting: We met when caught in the rain and shared a hiding spot for a short while.  Current Impression: A young lady of beauty and sense. She spared me from foolishly tipping over a railing into the Thames. She has an interesting air. She is purported to be this Season’s Diamond and it is is easy to see how that label came to be applied to her. 

Frances Fitzroy → First Meeting: We met many years ago where she incurred a very modest debt with me.   Current Impression: She is a brilliant woman of strong opinion and forthright personality. I do hope she has at least a little affection for Halifax so that their marriage has a chance of being one of contentment and not merely obligation. 

Henry ‘Harry’ Cadogan → First Meeting: We met at the Derringford Picnic affair where he was a most affable addition to the crowd of gentlemen.  Current Impression: An extremely pleasant and energetic man. I feel quite exhausted in his presence. He seemed dreadfully young to me but perhaps that is my age revealing itself. He is very cheerful company.

Henrietta Fortescue → First Meeting:  I have yet to have had the pleasure.  Current Impression: None in particular, although she is a very pretty young lady. 

Hugh Howard → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure.  Current Impression: None in particular, although he is a handsome man. 

Jason Calloway → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure.  Current Impression: None in particular, although he is a handsome man. 

Jeremiah Ackerley → First Meeting: We met at the Derringford picnic affair where he appeared a little apprehensive about the event.  Current Impression: He does not trust me, which I suppose is fair enough, although impossible to build much of a friendship with someone who will not extend initial good opinion. I suppose it is unlikely we will meet often in future. I do wish him very well with his forthcoming (presumably) wedding to Lady Fitzroy. 

June Croft → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure. Current Impression: None in particular, although she is a very pretty young lady.

Lucy Herzog → First Meeting: I have yet to have had the pleasure. Current Impression: A princess worthy of the name. Dignified and beautiful. 

Margaret Mulgrave → First Meeting: We met at the Derringford picnic affair where she charmingly won my basket.  Current Impression: She makes me feel. Her smile is golden. A lady of wit, kindness and character. 

Nicholas Brooksbank → First Meeting: A recent meeting in Vauxhall where we shared a laugh over the similarity of his name and my title. Perhaps there is an old history there! A witty new acquaintance.  Current Impression: A very fine and handsome fellow I would be well pleased to know him further. 

Ophelia Vane → First Meeting: We met at a paritcularly enormous bookstore where she gave me excellent recommendations of books to pick up for the girls. An absolutely delightful and beautiful young lady.  Current Impression: I would be well pleased to consider her a friend and while we might not quite be there at this point, I believe in time we could be excellent friends who share good books and a charming conversation. 

Richard Harcourt → First Meeting: Met recently in Margate when we shared a brief swim in the North Sea. I do not believe he much enjoyed the swim. We share much in common, including our interest in a particular young lady. He made it quite clear he did not view me particularly as competition in the pursuit of such young lady, which I suppose is fair enough. He didn’t need to make it quite so plain however.  Current Impression: A handsome, intelligent man of good taste who quite obviously has no particularly positive opinion of me. I do wish him well however. And perhaps he should avoid swimming in the wild sea and stick to calm lakes. 

Sarah St. John → First Meeting: We met at Hatchards where I believed she and I shared a pleasant conversation.  Current Impression: At some point during our conversation I offended the lady, she demurred and left forthwith. We met again during the journey to Margate and once again was struck by her dislike for me. A true pity as I did quite like the young lady. 

Sebastian Herzog → First Meeting: We met at the Derringford Picnic Affair. We exchanged pleasant conversation.  Current Impression: I understand that he has recently left the country and I do understand how one’s responsibilities could take one far away but his presence is surely missed. I would have liked to know him further and wish him well. 

Sidney Wyatt → First Meeting: We shared a berth on the Lavender vessel to Margate. He is an excessively affable man.  Current Impression: I am not entirely certain I have ever met a man who held his liquor quite so well and given my history that is saying something. It was downright impressive. 

Sophia Weston → First Meeting: To be entirely fair, I have been hearing tales of the lovely lady for some time as she is friends with my dear sister, Viviana. We recently met and shared a quiet drink of lemonade.  Current Impression: My sister has sung her praises and once again my sister was proved to be entirely correct. She is a delightful young lady. Although she has no such knowledge of these things in my own life, we share a grief that may never be fully understood by someone who has not experienced it - of losing the one we love all too soon. 

Victoria Howard St. John → First Meeting: I have yet to have the pleasure Current Impression: She is so very lovely from impression alone that I do not know how Effingham has managed to entangle her but honestly, good for him. 

William Hastings → First Meeting: I met Hastings at the Derringford picnic where he was a man of clear wit and quiet command.  Current Impression: Despite some prickles with one another, I do believe I can safely count myself as his friend. He is recently engaged and I am terribly delighted for him. 

[theshipsfirstmate]

Black Widow Fic: No Time Left to Start Again

Post-BW, between the end and the post-credits. Yelena Belova faces life after The Snap.

No Time Left to Start Again (AO3 - wc: 4983)

She looks down to see her hands disintegrating -- fingers floating away like the wispy tufts of the dandelions that grew in their front yard in Ohio -- and Yelena thinks, Is this a cool way to die?

The question is still on her mind when she comes to, even though she’ll find out later that five years have passed since she started wondering. 

She puts the pieces together as fast as she can, even though each one only makes the picture more grim. She learns she was lucky to be in the Widows’ safe house in Istanbul when it happened, even if the rancid smell of the rotted fridge makes her gag and there’s a hole in the ceiling and straight through the floor from a bathtub left running. 

She learns that the best estimates say it was half of the population that floated away with her that day, and has now returned just as abruptly. The world wasn't ready for them to go, and it is even less prepared for them to return. Cities are plunged into chaos in an instant, governments and aid organizations just starting to steady themselves after half a decade of desolation get the rug pulled out from them once again.

She learns that her phone still works, even if internet service is shit, thanks to dwindling maintenance and overloaded servers. She learns that the Avengers are fighting a war for the fate of the universe (again), somewhere in upstate New York. And she learns, quickly, where she needs to go next.

“Малышка.”

Melina greets her at the gate with an unexpected softness -- so different than the last time -- and Yelena wonders if the woman has simply spent the last five years alone with her pigs, if they've felt any different than the twenty before. Then, Alexi steps out the door behind her, and she realizes that they have. 

“So, neither of you…” Yelena starts to ask as they let her in, though she doesn't really have to. She can see the years on them both, and for a moment, she's a child with a family once again.

My mother is going grey at her temples. My father's glasses are thicker than they used to be. 

They both have deeper crinkles at the corners of their eyes and Yelena finds herself hoping that it’s laughter that’s left them there.

“For five years we've been on our own,” Alexi answers, but he can't help himself a little smirk before he continues, “and moss grows fat on a rolling stone.”

He doesn't smell so bad this time, when he wraps her in a bear hug. Mercifully, he's shaved and taken to civilian clothes -- she decides to keep to herself how much she dislikes his new handlebar mustache.

“You did?” Melina guesses, and Yelena nods her agreement into Alexi’s chest before he relents and lets her go.

When she turns back to face the question, she finds herself on the receiving end of a look that feels equal parts discerning and maternal. That too, she remembers from her childhood.

“Are you alright?”

“I seem to be,” Yelena answers, gesturing down to her hands, tangible once more. There won't be an answer that satisfies the woman scientifically, she’ll have to be proof enough. “I don't remember any of it.”

What she truly doesn't expect from Melina is a hug, and it's even more surprising when it’s fiercer and longer than Alexi’s. A beat too long, Yelena realizes slowly. Alexi turns away when she tries to meet his eye, and her stomach turns over with dread.

Something else has happened. Something she doesn't know yet. Something worse.

“The report came over my comms just an hour or so before you got here,” Melina says softly, an arm reaching up to stroke the back of Yelena’s head, just like she did when she was a toddler. “It's over. The Avengers have won.”

There's the sound of splintering wood and both women step back sharply, turning to see Alexi clutching a handful of splinters that used to be the back of a dining room chair. He drops them to the ground and strides back out the door, pointedly not looking at either of them, and Yelena tastes bile in the back of her mouth. 

“What else?” She tries and fails to stop herself from asking the question. It comes out on a choked kind of half-breath.

“Tony Stark is dead.” Melina answers, dropping her eyes, an uncharacteristic waver in her voice. “And it's been... harder to confirm, but we are almost certain that Natasha is too.”

In the Red Room, after the treatments, there would be a buzzing in your ears for days, like static from an old radio. Widows in training were known to be disciplined after missing commands, and would do their best to shake it off as quickly as possible, but Yelena sometimes welcomed the fuzzy silences, the chance to try and focus inward, no matter how painful.

This is nothing like that.

This is a heartbreak in a cry, a desperate, wailing sound that builds and builds, cutting through the quiet isolation of the farm compound like a knife. It's only when it gets muffled by Melina wrapping her up in her arms once more, that Yelena realizes she's the one making it.

“Малышка,” her mother whispers again -- my baby -- and Yelena can’t tell if it’s meant for her or not.

They sit around the table again that night, but dinner consists only of vodka and memories and they all try -- and fail -- not to notice the empty chair closest to the windows, the one with the broken back. 

“Oh, I hated that blue hair!” Melina admits with a watery chuckle, paging through the photo album when their second bottle is nearly gone. “But she was so good at getting what she wanted.”

“You know, I begged her to dye mine too,” Yelena shares, recalling a long-forgotten memory that means something completely different now. “She said no, that she wouldn't let me be spoiled.”

Alexi interrupts the reverie before she goes too deep, laughter overtaking him as he pokes at Melina’s arm. “I remember the night she did it. You came to bed and you were so fed up, you cried! She made you cry!”

“And I punched you for laughing at me, do you remember that too?” Melina fires back, swatting his hand away.

When she was old enough to realize what had happened to her as a child, Yelena remembers scouring her memories for real moments, signs of genuine affection between the family she hadn’t known enough to question. It was difficult then, to believe any of it had been real. But sometimes now, it's not so hard.

“The only reason I was glad we left when we did, was because I knew I could never have handled her as a teenager,” Melina muses then, but there's little humor left in her voice. Yelena wonders if her face darkens in the same way as her mother’s when they think of that day on the airstrip.

It's quiet for a long moment, but Alexi never stops looking at Melina. Yelena's head is heavy from liquor and tears and she rests it on folded arms as she watches them. (Sometimes, it's not so hard to believe.)

“You didn't want to go,” her father says, low and mournful. “I should have listened.”

“You followed the orders,” her mother answers. “What was the alternative? They would have killed us and taken the girls back if we had made even one misstep.”

None of them had a way out, Yelena thinks, they never had. A super soldier and a Widow, weapons both, with daughters destined to follow in their footsteps. Maybe that's still true. Maybe there is no peace when all you've ever known is war.

But they'd had each other.

“It was real,” she murmurs, as her eyes drift closed. “Natasha said it was real.”

-----

A public memorial for Tony Stark is held on the National Mall. Steve Rogers is consecrated at the Smithsonian, again. But no one seems to know quite what to do about Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow, the female Avenger, the Russian-born assassin, only claimed by America, it seemed, when they wanted to accuse her of treason.

Still, Yelena flies to Washington DC, half-curious and half-desperate to burn off the fog she’s been wandering around in since Melina’s suspicions had been confirmed. 

Captain America, the new one, had announced the events on a world-wide broadcast -- making a point to mention Natasha by name, Yelena had noticed -- and so she heads to the museum first, though she's not entirely sure what she hopes to learn. The Avengers have saved the world several times over, but those conflicts are usually reduced to heroic platitudes when it comes to the public, and she expects this to be no different.

She's mostly right, but the exhibit is worth it for a few glimpses of Natasha fighting alongside the Captain, scattered throughout the pictures and video of the Avengers’ years together. That's how she finds herself in a darkened theater, watching a compilation of newsreel footage, broadcasts and shaky cell phone shots, the valiant timeline of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

She feels him sit down beside her, catches the glint of metal in the sleeve of his leather jacket before she can even clock his face. Her nerves are instinctively on edge, but if he came for combat, they’d already be in it, so she stays still and quiet, waiting to follow his lead.

“ты сестра?” he asks softly. You're the sister?

Yelena turns to face him, the question and answer on her lips. But the Winter Soldier speaks again before she does.

“She showed me the pictures once. From when you were kids.”

Yelena couldn't count them if she tried, the nights she spent in the Red Room, rubbing a finger along the torn seam of her photo strip, willing the thought that Natasha was out there somewhere, holding the other half, to be enough to comfort her enough to sleep.

She turns away before he can see the tears in her eyes, but it’s no use -- they’re there in her throat when she speaks.

“They didn't even know her.” She nods back to the crowded museum and hopes he can grasp her meaning. There’s no way Natasha can be properly memorialized by government officials, who knew her as little more than a recon file, or the adoring public, who only thought of her when the world was ending.

“She liked it that way.” He means it as a comfort, but still, it makes Yelena flinch.

He notices, and she knows he understands when he tries again. “They were never gonna do her justice.”

The world never would, never could, Yelena thinks. A spy. A sister. A survivor. A lost girl, who fought her whole life for the kind of peace she’d never allow herself. These are not the people who get parades in their honor, holidays in their name. 

“I will,” she says, and the stubborn tears win their battle, spilling down her cheeks. “I will do her justice.”

The Winter Soldier nods, with as much of a smile as he seems to allow himself. “I hope you will.”

Then he's gone, back the way he came, and Yelena thinks it's time to leave this city, with its buttoned-up bureaucracy and privatized secrets.

She doesn't care much about the Stark memorial, but skirts around the periphery on her way back to the airfield, catching a glimpse of the enormous photos and expensive-looking displays.

Natasha’s in these too, off to the side or just out of focus. It's starting to wear on her, the way these people seem to barely even notice the Black Widow, how quick they are to disregard one of their greatest heroes because she didn't fly or transform or wield some mystical weapon.

Shouldn’t that have made her even more impressive?

She's standing in front of a tribute to the Battle of New York just beside the bridge, weighing that unanswerable question, hands clenched unconsciously to fists, when Valentina finds her.

“I've been looking for you.” It sounds more like a taunt. I found you.

Yelena scoffs. “Probably a bad idea, if you know anything about me.”

“Oh, babe, believe me. I know plenty,” the woman answers, offering up that ridiculous name, a business card and a tone that's too familiar for Yelena's liking.

She's not to be trusted. That would be clear even to the Red Room’s youngest and most naive recruit. But it's this gleeful performance of espionage, or maybe villainy, that keeps Yelena from writing her off entirely. From the outfit to the attitude, she's either insane or untouchable. Or both.

And then: “So I have some… let's call it interesting information about your sister.”

Yelena clenches her fists tighter, digging her fingernails into her palm. “I don't believe you.”

Valentina seems to anticipate this, and is already reaching into her bag at the answer. She pulls out a thin, soft-bound book, printed with colorful block lettering: Parkside Elementary School, ‘95-’96.

Instantly, Yelena feels like someone's tightening a vice around her ribcage. “No.”

The woman shrugs, with that haughty grin she's already starting to loathe. “See for yourself.” 

She flips it open, turning only a few pages to find the first grade classes, and there she is. Six years old. An innocent smile on her face and a fake last name beneath her picture. Orange juice spots on the collar of her shirt -- Melina had scolded her when they brought the photos home. 

“How did you get this?” Even if it's a fake, it was done by someone who knows far too much.

“Well, you don't trust me, so I won't bother telling you,” Valentina snaps, taking the book back before she can look for Natasha. “Let’s call it proof that I know a lot of people who have been keeping a lot of secrets.”

Yelena tries to look unimpressed, dropping her shaking hands to her sides when she realizes they're giving her away. “You and me both.” 

“Ha! No kidding,” Valentina replies. It's not actually a laugh. “That's exactly why we're gonna work so well together.”

Maybe it's the grief clouding her judgement or residual conditioning left over in her frontal lobe. Maybe it's the unspoken threat to the rest of her family. Or maybe she was just born for this -- a soldier like her father, an assassin like her mother. Whatever it is, Yelena can feel herself agreeing to Valentina’s “offer” before she's even made it explicit.

“We'll start you out small,” the woman assures, but she knows better than to be comforted. “How do you feel about some light arson? There’s some documents and hard drives at a warehouse in Bethesda that need disappearing.”

“Fine,” Yelena answers, ears already buzzing, as a small voice in her head sings along. Fire is the devil's only friend.

-----

When the money from her first job comes in, she buys an old Chevy C/K and drives to Akron, with a useless hope to disappear again. She's lucky enough to find a modest apartment with a kind neighbor who's always happy to dogsit, which becomes a blessing -- Valentina’s demands only increase as the corners of her fake smile tighten. 

But it's enough. Enough that when Yelena thinks about home, she can once again think of Ohio.

Not long after, Alexi and Melina keep a promise she’d asked them to make, and return for a few days. She picks them up at the airfield, and drives to the spot she and Fanny found on one of their long walks together -- under the trees that are just starting to blossom with pink flowers.

Alexi lifts the heavy gravestone from the back of the truck and places it at the end of a row, under a tree, where the ground can't be dug up anyway. 

“Toughest girls in the world,” Yelena hears him murmur as he runs his hand over the inscription.

Melina hasn't spoken much since they landed. Yelena thought at first that she didn't want to come back, but when she closes her eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath as they stand facing the grave marker, she understands that it isn't that at all.

“Big girl,” her mother begins with an uncharacteristic, watery softness, and Yelena is transported back to another lifetime once again. “I’m so sorry...”

There might be more to say, but the long, mournful silence is broken by the sound of another car pulling up. All three of them go on alert, until Yelena spots a familiar flash of metal from the driver's side.

“не волнуйся,” she says, still stepping defensively in front of her mother. “It’s OK.”

The Winter Soldier -- Sergeant Barnes, she reminds herself -- parks and exits quickly, moving to the rear of the car to help an elderly man step out and straighten himself.

He isn't what Yelena expected, but once he's at full posture, it's impossible not to recognize him. He's the man from the news, the internet, all the posters — give or take a few decades.

“Captain America.” Under normal circumstances, she might chuckle at Alexi’s awed whisper.

“Forgive us for interrupting,” the Captain says by way of a greeting. He sounds like him, too, so it must be true. “And, in advance, for not explaining. I just… I thought both of her families should be here.”

“If that's OK,” Barnes adds with a look, first at Captain Rogers, then back at the family.

Yelena nods her acceptance, but feels her heart sink a little when Melina turns back silently to face the gravestone. Only Alexi steps forward, extending his arm, first to the captain, then to his comrade.

“Alexi Shostakov,” he offers. “You probably don’t…”

“The Red Guardian,” Captain Rogers interrupts, and Yelena tries not to let her eyes go wide as they shake hands proudly. “The Soviet super soldier. Of course I know who you are.”

Alexi puffs his chest up for just a moment, and gives himself a pleased nod, before returning to Melina’s side. It's proof of his grief, Yelena thinks, that that's the end of it.

Then it's her turn. “You must be Yelena.”

“Captain.” She nods once and then twice, looking past him. “Sergeant.”

“Buck mentioned you two had run into each other in Washington,” the older man says with a well-worn, knowing smile.

“I would say we're glad to have you,” she offers as a reply, “but now I'm mostly worried that I'm not covering my tracks as well as I should.”

“Don't worry about that,” Captain Rogers replies, with a shake of his head. “I had to call in multiple favors to find you. Big ones, too.”

“Well then,” she sighs, “I guess I should say I'm sorry you went through all that trouble.”

Another small smile, and then the captain steps closer, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. It strikes her that, while he's likely still one of the most powerful men in the universe, there's nothing about him that feels threatening to her.

“I don't know if you've noticed,” he tells her, “but I'm getting up there in years. Why don't you save us both a lot of time from now on, and only bother saying what you mean.”

He means it as a kindness, Yelena can tell, but there's only one question she wants to ask, and it's screaming in her mind like a klaxon horn.

“Will you...” she begins, stopping to swallow when her throat turns to sandpaper. “Will you tell us what happened?”

“Yelena,” Melina says sharply, and she almost takes it back. But she knows the curiosity will eat her from the inside out if she doesn't take the chance now, when it's literally right in front of her.

“No, I want to know,” she tells her mother before turning back and steeling herself once again. “I want the truth.”

Captain Rogers purses his lips and tilts his head, like he's seeing something different in her now.

“You really are her sister, aren't you?” he muses.

She scoffs, almost reflexively. “There's no family resemblance, if that's what you mean.”

“Isn't there?” She hears Alexi chuckle softly behind her and makes a mental note to elbow him in the ribs later. One super soldier at a time.

“Please,” she asks again, and the twinkle leaves Captain Rogers' eye as he nods solemnly.

“Natasha sacrificed herself to retrieve the last of the Infinity Stones.” Yelena only understands part of that sentence, and she's not sure if it's the important part.

“The stones were the key to bringing everyone back, to defeating Thanos once and for all,” he explains. “We made a plan, as a team. We each had our assignments, but we didn't know the cost.”

The cost, it's evident now, had been Natasha, and it grates again at Yelena that all the other Avengers had returned from this mission for their final battle, while her sister’s sacrifice had merely been part of the unknowable set up. 

But Captain Rogers continues, and she finds consolation in the fact that at least he doesn't take Natasha's death lightly, not in the slightest. 

“I went back, after,” he reveals, sounding close to tears. “I tried-- I tried like hell to get her back. I never should have let her go.”

“You wouldn't have been able to stop her.” Melina’s voice comes out of nowhere; even she seems surprised to have spoken. But they all nod at the truth.

“Clint said he-- she wouldn't let him go in her place,” Rogers adds. He’s turning something over in his hands, but when Yelena looks closer, it seems to be just a simple pack of bubble gum. “She was just too…”

His eyes, cast towards the sky, return to their group, and he speaks first to Alexi, and then to Melina. Yelena reaches out for her mother's hand, and it's taken with a fierce squeeze.

“I'm not sure I ever really understood her until now,” the Captain says. “I thought her strength, her heart, who she was, was in spite of what she'd been through. But I know now, it was because of it.”

Yelena’s eyes have blurred with tears, but she can see him turn to her next. “We fought that war for her,” he adds. “And I think she fought it for you.”

It's the eulogy Natasha deserves, the one none of them could have hoped to give, and it feels both fitting and unfathomable that it comes from Captain America, of all people.

They sit in it for a moment, each thinking of Natasha in their own way, until the silence is broken by two people speaking in unison -- perhaps the two that understood her best.

“She would have hated this,” Yelena mumbles, only realizing after a moment that Barnes had said the same thing.

A reserved chuckle rumbles through the five of them, and then a deep, forgiving breath. It’s time to go. 

But Yelena drops Melina’s hand as the rest of them turn back for the road, suddenly unable to move. She can’t pull her eyes away from the grave, stuck staring at a legacy that makes her feel six years old again, a metaphorical pair of shoes she'll never be able to fill.

When she doesn't hear either car start, she expects maybe Captain Rogers or Alexi, but surprisingly, it's Barnes who returns to her side.

“I haven't… I didn't make a speech or anything,” she admits, gesturing at the stone with her sister’s name and titles, and willing him, once again, to understand the feelings she can’t put into words. “I don't know what to say to her.”

He's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks it's lower than she’s expecting, like he’s drawing the words from somewhere deep. “Nat never shared much with us,” he tells her. “I understood that. It's hard to talk about memories you don't think you deserve to miss.”

Yelena knows she’s felt that too, that kind of arrested nostalgia. And she’s seen it in the Widows she recovered before the snap. It's not a surprise that the Winter Soldier could understand it as well -- what it’s like to be freed from a prison in your own mind, but constantly aware of how easily that door could slam closed on you once again.

“She wouldn't care what you say here,” he continues. “She would care what you do out there.”

Suddenly, Yelena wonders if his heightened senses include a bullshit detector, if he can somehow see the marionette strings Valentina has looped around her conscience.

“I might have lied to you when we met,” she admits, telling him as much of the truth as she can muster. “I'm not sure I know how to do her justice.”

“I think you do,” he answers. “Even if it’s hard. Even if it takes a while.”

She turns to face him, and he’s staring at the gravestone like he can see something more than the paltry words they had paid someone to carve in Natasha’s memory.

“Nat was haunted by the red in her ledger, but she also thought it was what made her a good Avenger. She thought it made her fearless, unbreakable.” Yelena looks down and watches the metal of Barnes’ bionic hand curl into a fist, and then release. “But I'll take a wild guess that she was fearless before that, wasn't she?”

Through the years of mind control and conditioning, Yelena has never forgotten the feeling of Natasha’s arm wrapped around her back on that airstrip in Cuba, screaming and threatening men twice her size to try and keep them both safe.

“You may not know what to do now. You might feel like the things you've done, or the things you want to do, have set your future in stone,” Barnes continues, cutting through the haze of her memories.

“But there's gonna be a moment, maybe in the future, maybe soon, when you're faced with a choice. And in that moment, if you choose to be the person she thought you could be, that'll do her justice.”

Yelena looks up and Barnes’ eyes are there to meet now. Whatever he knows, it’s enough. 

“Thank you for coming,” she tells him. “Truly. And thank you for bringing the Captain.”

“Couldn't keep him away,��� the man admits, with his little half-smile. “The two of them...I think that was as close as they let themselves get to anybody. I know he’ll always blame himself, but I hope this helped.” 

Yelena nods her goodbye, thinking idly, mournfully, about the way Natasha never gave any thought to her future -- wondering if that’s something she and her teammates had shared. But as Barnes returns to his car, the back window rolls down and Captain Rogers flags her down with something dark and folded in his hand.

“I found this with her things on the quinjet,” he says as she approaches the window, and her throat is tightening with new tears before he can finish, before she can even reach out to touch the familiar fabric. “Thought maybe you might want it. It’s pretty nice, it’s got a lot of pockets.”

-----

When she returns Melina and Alexi to the airfield a few days later, it's the most Yelena has felt like a real person in a long time, maybe the whole of her adult life.

“You’ll come to visit, yes?” Alexi asks, but his raised eyebrow tells her it's more of an order than a request.

“I will.”

“Come for Christmas!” he booms as he climbs out of the truck. “I will tell Santa Claus where to find you.” 

Melina doesn't follow him out the passenger door right away, turning back to face her and looking for all the world like a typical worrisome mother.

“Yelena…”

“мама, I'll be fine,” she promises, trying not to hear how hollow it sounds.

“I know you will. But please, watch out for yourself.” Yelena’s stomach knots at the memory of Melina telling Natasha the very same. That was the last time they were all together, she recalls. It always will be. 

“And if you need us,” Melina adds, “just come home, where it’s safe. OK?”

It's something about the way she says it that steals Yelena's planned reply from her lips. She doesn't want to lie, not now.

So she ducks forward, pressing her head against her mother’s and willing them both a little bit of peace.

“You are the best of us. Strong like your father, smart like your mama,” Melina whispers. “And like Natasha, through everything, you’ve kept your heart.”

Yelena pulls back then, swiping at her eyes, unable to stop herself from asking. “You don’t think that’s a weakness?”

“Maybe, at one time,” Melina admits. “But now, I think it’s lucky. Because now, you have a place to carry her.”

She can do that, at least, Yelena promises herself, reaching down to tug instinctively at the hem of her vest. Natasha died for them, and so she can live for her. She can do her justice.

“Stay safe, Малышка,” Melina says again, kissing her on the cheek before climbing out and following Alexi towards the runway. They two of them turn back to wave before boarding their jet, and Yelena’s heart knocks in her chest to remind her. That’s my family.

She puts the truck in gear and is pulling out to the main road, brushing away a few stray tears, when she notices it. A cassette, half-ejected from her ancient tape deck, with a Post-it stuck to the end. 

She peels off the note and grins at the mismatched handwriting -- “Love, Mom. And Dad,” both in Cyrillic -- before pressing the tape in and starting to sing along.

“A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…”

[autisticzukka]

what is this hakoda zuko arranged marriage you speak of? i am intrigued

okay so the long story short is that it’s a slight rebuttal of a popular post that is very fun but i find like... unrealistic in a really intriguing way like, how would this ACTUALLY play out. I’ve talked about it at length in my server a few times, and it’s one of those AU’s -- like the genderbend zukka ATLA rewrite or the zukki fic that starts with sokka failing to assassinate zuko -- that lives rent free in my head and I’ve written a couple thousand words for.

tw for like VERY unrequited zuko in love with hakoda and the inherent comedy of sokka being in love with his fire nation stepmom.

so here’s hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, happily not-married to Bato. and here is a more balanced war, where the north and the south are actually  allies, rather than whatever the fuck they were in ATLA. Yue already has a fiance and the Northern chief refuses to remarry. that leaves hakoda responsible for biting the bullet and doing a political marriage even though, as he points out at length, he is an elected official and if he stops being elected it’s no longer a marriage with the chief of the south pole. intelligently but mostly selfishly motivated (yue’s fiance is his nephew, after all) pakku points out that its not like the fire nation knows... that. the fire nation is dumb. ozai’s stupid.

faced with such inarguable points hakoda stiffens his upper lip, pre-emptively ends things with bato on the understanding that if this is another kya situation they’ll get back together and that he’s still the most important person to him but the tribe comes first yada yada, and deals with katara throwing the mother of all tantrums. it is slightly softened by the fact that in return for him marrying the fire nation noble, a thing everyone can agree isn’t traditional, the north has finally agreed to train katara. she heads out before the wedding, in protest but also so as to not cause an international incident.

(on her way, she’ll find aang. with the war less dire, katara will be sympathetic towards his desire to live without committing violence, even if she deeply can’t relate. they’ll have a hot girl romcom summer of self discovery and coming to terms with the dichotomy between duty and love as they become master benders. at some point they pick up toph. they ARE a throuple.)

sokka meanwhile is like.. not cool with it.. but ? kind of relieved? like. he’s the eldest kid. he’s 18, and he’s been a man of the tribe as far as legalities for several years. it would have been entirely understandable if his dad had asked HIM to do it. he had his emotionally crushing romance with yue, and as much as he was like ‘im kind of a prince’, he finds he doesn’t actually want some of the responsibilities and demands that would bring. yue’s life sucks.

back in the fire nation, zuko never demanded a quest and never went on it. he’s spent years hardening into something that, while brittle, can survive the pressures of the court around him. he still has his scar. he still wants his father to love him, but he knows by now that it’s not something he’s capable of earning. he watches his sister, never the most stable person, start to have complete breakdowns of sanity once she hits puberty, and helps her cover for it and receive medical treatment on the down low. he’s the heir, but he lives knowing that if he was ever in a position to inherit his choices are to abdicate or have the baby sister who he raised kill him and destroy herself and the country in the process.

when he realizes the plan is to marry azula off rather than someone more reasonable-- mai is RIGHT there, for fucks sake-- he doesn’t realize ozai’s true intent is to fuck this up through malicious compliance and false shows of good faith. he panics, and does the zuko thing: he blurts out that this is unacceptable and immoral and she’s only 16 and Ozai sees the true opportunity for two birds with one stone. send zuko, let him piss someone off so badly he gets killed or divorced, and he gets rid of zuko from the line of succession permanently. there are those who are incredibly attached to teh idea of a firstborn for firelord, and it’s been a constant thorn in unpopular ozai’s side to nto be able to name azula his heir apparent without costly rebellion. but if he can taint him in the mind of the fire nation so much that birthright is easy to supercede-- yeah. this’ll work PERFECTLY.

so zuko is sent to marry hakoda, chief of the water tribe.

literally NO ONE was expecting it to be a member of Ozai’s immediate family. besides the fact that his oldest child is half hakoda’s age and his brother has 20 years on hakoda, it would have been sus as fuck - the treaty is not favorable enough to grant that kind of secession of interests. it becomes quickly apparent that this young man -- hakoda reminds himself of that repeatedly. not kid. not kid. young man. don’t think of him like a kid, it’s hard enough on both of us already. -- is not a horrible threat. he’s scared shitless and shakes with what he thinks is bravado. he’s desperate to make the marriage work. he’s desperate to not go home. he’s got a giant fucking scar on his face from where the fire lord punished him for some grievous but unstated offense.

zuko “daddy issues” fire nation sees his husband to be and, despite being scared shitless, immediately begins to soften a little. like... he’s not nearly as scary as he thought he’d be. his face can be stern, but it just as easily breaks into huge smiles, and his eyes are crinkled with laughter. he’s incredibly handsome. and his biceps are. his biceps. are. his hands are...

like. zuko thinks. okay. maybe. maybe his marriage duties. won’t be so horrible as he thought. maybe he’s ready for this. and he knows what to expect, Uncle had discreetly provided him the means and the contacts to acquire an intimate education in the whirlwind of activity that was the two months before leaving. and like, once he’d gotten past the nerves, it was often even... good? or at least... not bad? he thinks that even if hakoda isn’t a professional expert, he has a certain.... je ne sais quoi, if you will.

((DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF))

sokka sees his new stepfather and immediately falls in love because he’s that kind of dumb bitch. (the core of this au is that i cant breathe thinking about sokka falling in love with his hot young stepmom his age who his dad doesnt even want to fuck. like. i CANT. sokka masturbates to ‘hand caught in the washing tub’ fantasies which are even more absurd for requiring zuko to be DOING LAUNDRY. i find it so funny.)

bato watches them at the wedding feast while hakoda is very clearly trying to treat zuko as an Equal Adult Partner and mostly managing to seem like someone having a serious conversation with a seven year old about the game they’ve made up. zuko is clearly enamored with it, soaking up the attention, blushing and doing his best to Bravely Flirt, which at one point includes awkwardly attempting to feed Hakoda by hand. bato has to excuse himself to have a teary eyed giggle, hoping that Kya is in the spirit world looking down and laughing with him. he can’t resent the kid even a little bit, when hakoda is sitting there looking so incredibly fucking befuddled as to what he’s supposed to do with this star struck infant he’s legally wed to

anyways all of this... is very funny. their wedding night... is less so. zuko does not take the rejection from hakoda very well, especially because he’d been caught wanting. HE’S the one who should be rejecting hakoda. and he catastrophizes almost immediately about his potential value to the water tribe, his future treatment, that endless inescapable freezing cold loneliness is the good ending for him here... hakoda, meanwhile, drops zuko off at his home, reassuringly informs him that there’s NOTHING else expected of him and he will be well taken care of, and books it to bato’s. bato refuses to let him in on grounds of ‘you can’t sleep under the same shelter as me on your wedding night to that kid, have a fucking brain’, and he ends up crashing at sokka’s.

sokka, who had KNOWN that his dad wouldnt, but also upon seeing zuko and zuko’s awkward flirting was like... but how COULDNT he???? sokka is relieved.

the core of this fic is that i find it endlessly hilarious for zuko to try and seduce his husband while sokka simps around zuko and bato tries to be heartbroken or betrayed but mostly ends up with a giant case of hysterical schadenfreude. but the thing that CLINCHED it for me, like THE scene. several years after being married, settled into their life. they’re partners and they see each other as people. and zuko just fucking snaps one night

he just kisses him, desperate and clawing and climbing and maybe a little drunk. he knows hakoda is going to push him away, maybe even hit him, but he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. he can do anything he wants to him as long as he just-- finally does something. zuko is 21 and married to the surface of the sun and the surface of the sun jr is his best friend and clearly in love with him-- so clearly not even zuko can miss it-- and like. listen. listen. zuko is not a patient person. but he’s been patient for this. he waited and he matured and he is a fucking amazing husband and he wants this, he wants him. he wants to be wanted.

but hakoda doesn’t push him away. hakoda doesnt yell at him, or hit him. hakoda gentles the kiss into something soft and closed lipped. he pulls away slowly, and his eyes are so sad for zuko, so pitying. he strokes his cheek with the back of his hand so gently. he says, I’m sorry. I don’t want you.

and zuko daddy issues fire nation swallows

and he nods

and he leaves, even though its his own fucking house

and he knows he’s never going to be good enough

like FUUUCK i am OBSESSED WITH THAT

[tsarisfanfiction]

Stabbed

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Virgil, Gordon

Proofreading?  What’s proofreading?  This was a ventfic I started a while ago, and as my muse decided today - my one free day to properly write this week! - was the best day to go curl up in a corner and refuse to interact with me because some unwelcome stress appeared, I prodded a little more at this and maybe there’s enough to post.  Maybe.  It’s not a darkfic, but it is kinda whumpy so sorry, Scott.

I have nothing specifically planned for this, so chances are this is just going to remain like this forever more.  Sorry about that.

Scott gasped, staggering one step, two steps forward as something drove into his back.  Something solid, digging in painfully.

In front of him, crumbling away beneath the toes of his boots, was the crevasse he’d just climbed out of, the woman clinging to his back for dear life – uninjured, but shaken and unable to climb out herself.

Whatever it was was still lodged in his back, sending distress signals to his brain, but before Scott could unscramble it enough for a translation, there was a hand on his shoulder.  Steady but firm, heel of the palm dropped down over his shoulder blade.

“Sorry, hun,” the woman purred – was it the same women?  She’d been shaken but this woman wasn’t shaken at all – sounding entirely unapologetic.  “I appreciate the help, but I can’t have you blabbing.”

The pressure on – in – his back lessened abruptly, and the hand on his shoulder pushed.

Scott stumbled, earth gave way, and then he was falling, falling down into the darkness.  Instinct had him reaching for his grapple, but his back screamed at the movement and against his wishes his hands went numb, grazing the equipment but failing to grasp it.

Something went crunch inside his chest as his fall came to an abrupt end.  A rib or few, no doubt, but Scott had broken ribs before; a nuisance but as long as they didn’t poke holes anywhere they shouldn’t they’d be fine.  He was more concerned about his back, and the fact that he hadn’t landed at the bottom, but rather an outcropping of rock that wasn’t big enough for all of him. Already, he could feel blood rushing to his head as it dangled off the end, and the tingly feeling in his fingers that meant the blood flow to his extremities was compromised by the way they, too, were hanging.

Squinting, he could see his legs dangling as well, leaving his torso and abdomen the only thing actually caught by the outcrop.  If he shifted, his centre of balance would tip him off either forwards or backwards, and it was a long way down.

This was a problem. This was a big problem, and his screaming back just emphasised that.  His baldric was trapped between his chest and the outcrop, meaning that he couldn’t reach the comm in that, and his wrist comm…

He tried to twitch his tingling fingers without moving the rest of his arms.  It was not a successful move.  A second attempt was no better, and on his third he felt himself start to slip.

That was a major hint that he should stop moving.  Breathing didn’t help, either, his no doubt broken ribs sending stabs of pain through his chest to compliment the burning back.  He still didn’t know for certain what had happened, but he was starting to get a reluctant inkling.

There were only so many things that hurt specifically like this and Scott was unfortunately no stranger to things stabbing into him, as much as he tried hard not to think about it. He redirected his concern to the fact that whatever it was, it didn’t feel like it was there any more.

Suddenly the weird and uncomfortable position he was dangling in felt like a best case scenario, even if he could do without all the blood also rushing to his head.  But if it was pooling downwards, and the open wound was on the highest point of his body, maybe he wouldn’t bleed out quite so quickly.

He just had to hope one of his brothers realised something was wrong soon – but not so soon they also got attacked.

***

John telling him Scott had gone silent and wasn’t responding to hails had rushed Virgil into the fastest post-rescue clean up he’d ever done.  They weren’t far apart in distance – Scott had made the hop from this rescue to the trapped climber when the call had come in – but if John was worried, then Virgil was definitely worried.

Scott not picking up calls was unusual, especially multiple.  John had given them all enough earfuls about ignoring him that unless they had a really good reason, they always tried to respond immediately – the second eldest was not a brother to cross, and even Scott was wary enough of the consequences to at least agree to open comms.  Then again, open comms worked both ways and meant Scott could check up on them, too.

The added warning that it looked like his suit had taken some damage and he was partway down the crevasse and not moving was really just the icing on the cake.  Gordon had been slightly baleful at the snap to hurry up, until Virgil told him John thought Scott was in trouble, and then the aquanaut had jumped to work at a terrifyingly fast and efficient pace.

There was no room for slothfulness when a brother was in trouble.  Record time saw Thunderbird Two loaded and ready to go, and she roared into the sky at his touch, nose pointed in the direction her sister had headed earlier.

Thunderbird One had made the journey in five minutes.  Thunderbird Two made it in a shade under fifteen, going as fast as she could to minimise how long it took.  It was still twenty minutes since John had made the call, and Scott still wasn’t answering.  Scans and telemetry still put him down the crevasse, and Virgil didn’t bother to land.

Normally he’d keep control of Thunderbird Two and send Gordon down on the cable, but not this time. Not for Scott and the nagging sensation that he was needed.  Gordon didn’t argue when control was passed to him, and Virgil wasted no time in getting down to the module and rigging himself into a harness to be lowered.

It was a fair way down, not because Scott was far into the crevasse but because Thunderbird Two had to stay high so she didn’t dislodge anything with her VTOL.  They had no idea how secure or otherwise their brother’s position was, and if he fell from whatever was keeping him there, it was a very long way to the bottom.  A fatal fall.

Virgil couldn’t take any chances.

The familiar flash of blue uniform was the first thing he noticed.  The muddy crimson spreading across it was the second.

He accelerated his descent.

“Scott?”  His voice was drowned out by the VTOL of his ‘bird above. If Scott heard him, there was no reaction.  “Scott!”

Still nothing, and that red stain taunted him for the agonising seconds it took to draw level with the slumped form and properly get a look at his brother’s condition.

Bad was one way of putting it.  “John, find us a local hospital,” was another.

There was a ragged hole in the back of Scott’s uniform, the epicentre of the blood.  It barely missed the baldric, the margin looking painfully deliberate, but most concerning was the lack of an obvious case. Scott knew better than to take out foreign objects until it was time to be treated, and even if he’d mistakenly thought treatment was about to happen, there was no way he had reached whatever it was to extract it so cleanly.

Virgil felt cold at the implications.  “Gordon, anyone else nearby?”

He didn’t wait for the answer as he secured himself to the rock face with a grapple and yanked an emergency first aid kit out of his own baldric.  Scott hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as twitched, at his arrival, and with the quantity of blood he’d lost, if he wasn’t unconscious he might as well be.

“Negative, Virgil,” Gordon said, voice steady and threaded with something that sounded like the military had come to the fore.  “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”  Virgil didn’t have the mental capacity to spare on anything more than basic answers.  “I’m secure; put her on autopilot and get a blood transfusion set up in the medbay.”

“F.A.B.”  The line connecting him to his ‘bird wavered slightly at the change in piloting, but the grapple held him in place.  Confident that Thunderbird Two would be ready for them, he wadded gauze and pressed it firmly to the hole in Scott’s back.  There was no response, no indication that Scott was even subconsciously aware of their surroundings, and he strapped it down with medical tape.

A deployed med scanner told him that there were two broken ribs.  Neither had snagged anything vital, but one was too close to Scott’s right lung for Virgil’s comfort.  There was very little he could do about that hanging inside a crevasse, and the priority was to get him to medical treatment as fast as possible.

It was awkward, but Virgil was creative, and securing a harness over his limp ragdoll of a big brother to tie him firmly to the cable suspended from Thunderbird Two was not an option but a necessity.  The gauze was already starting to discolour as the blood kept leaking out of the wound, and Virgil kept a careful eye on it as he triple-checked the line was secure and eased Scott off of the outcrop he was slung over.

The fact that his face was red wasn’t a reassurance; instead, it told him that Scott had been hanging down for long enough for the blood still in his body to pool in places it shouldn’t.  There wasn’t much he could do about it without risking further blood flow out of his body, but as the harness took Scott’s weight and left him suspended next to him, Virgil reached out a hand and carefully tilted his head so it wasn’t hanging down.

Blue eyes stayed lightly closed, no sign of conscious or subconscious recognition at the touch, and Virgil’s fingers trembled.  With his other hand he gripped the belt of Scott’s baldric, before sending up a call for them to be reeled in.  Whether it was John, Gordon or EOS that did so he didn’t know.  Didn’t care, either, because as the red drained from Scott’s face as blood retreated from pooling in his head it left too-white skin in its wake, which was almost worse.

Gordon’s language was colourful as he met them in the module, instantly fetching the hoverstretcher so that Scott could be gently lowered onto it as Virgil freed him from the harness and whisking him to the medbay as he extracted himself from his own straps.

It didn’t take long, but it was long enough for Gordon to have slipped Scott’s glove and bracer off of one arm and sliced the uniform open from wrist to shoulder, exposing the bare skin ready for the transfusion.  No words were exchanged as Virgil took over, Gordon instead relocating to cut away the baldric and the uniform around the hole in his back, exposing the site in its entirely.

Beneath his feet, Thunderbird Two thrummed as Thunderbird Five directed her into movement.  Virgil didn’t look away from his unconscious big brother for a single moment.

“This was a knife.” Gordon broke the silence, his voice icy. Virgil finished hooking Scott up to the blood bag and let it start flowing before looking over.

The aquanaut had removed the hastily plastered gauze, now saturated red, and was wiping away the worst of the blood from around the wound.  It wasn’t free-flowing, but that didn’t reassure Virgil.  After at least twenty minutes, Scott didn’t have much blood left he could afford to lose.  With most of it currently pooled where he was lying on his front, there wasn’t much to continue leaking from his back.

Virgil didn’t question his diagnosis.  When it came to things like that, Gordon knew more than he did.  Instead, he reached for a clotting agent, determined to do everything in his power to lessen the amount of blood still trickling out, while Gordon applied a fresh gauze.

“Mind his ribs,” he warned as his younger brother pressed down firmly.  “Two are broken.”

“Lungs?”

“Intact.”  For now.  Virgil hoped they could keep them that way.

There was little else he could do; a stab wound that deep needed surgery, and Thunderbird Two wasn’t an operating theatre.  Virgil wasn’t a surgeon, either.  “How far out are we, John?”

“Ten minutes,” his brother replied instantly.  “I’ve passed on the results of the scan and they’re ready to take him straight in.”

“F.A.B.”

He didn’t want to let his brother out of his sight – not ever, and certainly not if he’d been stabbed – but Scott needed more treatment than he could give him.  That didn’t make it easier to hand him over, blood bag still attached and a second prepped as the first ran low – and watch unfamiliar people whisk him away.

“Kayo’s on her way,” John told him.  “Thunderbird One is locked down and secure.  EOS is reviewing the security footage now to see what happened.”

“Some sonofagun stabbed him in the back’s what happened,” Gordon snapped.  His fingers were curling and uncurling, never quite making a fist. They were also covered in blood. So were Virgil’s.

“To see who did it,” John clarified, not reacting to Gordon’s waspishness.  “Until we know what we’re dealing with, stay together. And be careful.”

Virgil nodded, his voice somewhere stuck inside his throat, or maybe taken with Scott into the operating theatre.  He should be trying to reassure Gordon, but Gordon had slipped into something less familiar, more sharp edges and dangerous, and Virgil trusted him to handle whatever was going on around them while he ran through everything in his head, double-checking that he’d done everything right, that he hadn’t missed anything in his initial treatment, that there was no mistake he'd made that might cost Scott’s life.

There was a hand on his arm. Amber eyes looked up at him, firm and steely.  “Let’s get washed up,” Gordon said, although it wasn’t a suggestion.  Dimly, Virgil knew it should be the other way around – he should be the one making the decisions – but Gordon oozed confidence and a knowledge that he’d be obeyed, and it felt safer just to follow.  “Then we’ll go inside and wait for news.”

Wait to know if Scott would live.  The words weren’t said, but Virgil heard them all the same.

He nodded numbly and let his younger brother guide him back inside his ‘bird.