#I think the only other one that stuck with me that much is Lantern in the Snow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fluentmoviequoter · 10 months ago

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Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Part 2: Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids >

Picture from Pinterest

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You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!” you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true king, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

#hanna writes✯#bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #jlu!bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics x reader #fem!reader

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frannyzooey · 1 year ago

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Short Days, Long Nights: 13

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, lactation, grief)

A/N: Thank you endlessly for being so patient with me while I've been on hiatus ❤ I'm gonna stay off for another couple weeks, but I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. I appreciate every single person that has stuck with me on this! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @the-scandalorian for helping me with this one - you both are the biggest brains and the most wonderful writers and I am insanely lucky to have you on my team. Enjoy! ❤

Jackson.

The image of the map is burned into Joel’s mind, always present.

More concerned with your safety than anything, he knows you should leave, but as the weeks slip by, what picks at him more is that he didn’t have an answer to your question that day.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He should be one step ahead. He should be on top of the potential outcomes. He should have a plan, since that’s always been his role. Stepped up with one when he had Sarah, took care of Tommy before the Outbreak, and after, led their way in the QZ. After Tommy left, he still did it, even if he was going through the motions more than anything. Doing it has always been second nature, a means to survive.

You’d let his lack of answer drop because he knew you didn’t want to leave, and of course, he knew you shouldn’t. Not right now. But still - still - he should have had a plan for something he knew was bound to happen sometime. Blinded by the light of your fierce optimism and wanting so badly to believe in it, he simply…didn’t think about it. The first time that’s happened in decades.

You’re depending on him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t have an answer ready.

“Where are we gonna go?”

He doesn’t fucking know.

Wood dust floats to settle on the floorboards around his boots, and he runs a piece of sandpaper over the beam of rough lumber that rests across his lap. The rhythmic sweeps soothe his nerves, and he tries to focus on how good it feels to do something useful with wood again. Something familiar, the dry grain sliding against his palms. A task done because he wants to, instead of as a means to get by like so much else in his life.

This…this was for him, and for you.

The late afternoon sun streams through the window in the shed, not quite enough to dissipate the chill. Crisp air breezes in through the open door, the sweet smell of damp leaves blending with the wood and the tips of his fingers are cold enough to stop, but he doesn’t. He has to make the most of your nap times if he wants to get this done before next week.

Before Christmas - or the closest approximation to the date anyway, using your rudimentary calendar. Celebrating the holiday had been your idea, and like every other time when it came to something you asked for, he couldn’t say no. He said yes when you asked him to cut you a tree, nodded when you pointed to the one you wanted after a trek through the woods, helped you rip strips of red, moth bitten flannel that was worthless for clothing just to watch you tie bows to the end of the branches, as a means to decorate it.

He was impressed by your constant resourcefulness and ingenuity when it came to the things you’d been given, and at night, when the lantern shone on it and bathed the living room in a cozy glow, it almost did feel like Christmas time. The closest thing to it that he’s felt in years, anyway.

Placing the sandpaper on the floor and picking up a knife, his mind follows the trail marked on the map. Winding through woods and across open swathes of land, it passes right through your area and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone else follows the first. He knows that man can’t have been the only one with a map.

He frowns, gouging the wood a little more forcibly as he works through a knot, and he pictures the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your neck, the bright happiness in your eyes here. That Christmas tree, in the front room. Torn between the idea of the unknown being just as unsafe as being a sitting duck at the cabin, he is restless with the need to move. The urge to keep you tucked away and protected from the world spreads beneath his skin and grows stronger every day, along with your stomach.

It’s large enough that it strains against the shirts you’ve borrowed from him, and though you’ve started choosing large sweatshirts instead, it’s begun to push against those too. You’ve begun to sway when you stand in place, an unconscious rock as a means to relieve pressure on your lower back, and he pictures you doing the same with a baby in your arms as you stand next to the cradle that he’s been building.

When he thinks about leaving it behind only to gather dust as he drags you somewhere else, the image eats at him, reminding him too much of another room, left behind to rot.

Another life, upended by abrupt violence.

Guilt has always gnawed at him for so many things, and following the mental image of you holding a baby, he adds to the growing list: the idea of another child replacing the one he had.

He fixates on all the things he couldn’t do for her on that last day but also the things time has robbed from him: the image of her face, the sound of her laugh. The books she liked, the order in which she lost her teeth, the weight of her infant body in his arms. How much of that time he spent without her while trying to provide for her, and how here, he’s got all the time in the world for this new child. His new child.

More feelings; the knife gouging deeper. Looking forward to a holiday that can’t include her, nervously anticipating holding a baby that belongs to him, looking at you and what you’ve built together and being so fucking happy he missed his mark on that bleak day ten years ago.

Is it betrayal to feel joy?

He’s not replacing her. He knows that. He knows, and yet the guilt never stops and so neither do his hands nor his mind, both working on fixing other problems that can be fixed.

Jackson.

A bed for the baby.

–

“I know it would be cold, but I think I’d rather have snow.”

You look out at the sodden garden, the neat, large borders that surround it blending in with the damp landscape. The fence that Joel built the only visual marker of where it’s at, it’s prepped for winter, buried in a dense layer of leaves and compost. You absentmindedly finger the leaf of a plant you brought inside with you, sheets of rain sliding down the window.

“Not me,” he says. “Might look pretty, but it would be a whole lot more dangerous.”

The blurred, muted mash of colors outside all blend together, the world a canvas of dingy brown and bleak gray. Everything soggy and limp, everything saturated with wetness: at this very moment, you’d take danger over another day of this.

Turning away from the depressing sight, you watch him sort through a pile of loose screws and nails on the coffee table. His head bent in his task, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders as he hunches over and nudges each piece of metal with the tip of his finger, sorting them. Listening to the pleasant clink of them being dropped into glass jars, you go back to watering the plants.

After a process that had you pouring over the gardening book for days, you left what you could in the garden in order to have a good base for the spring, but took the rest inside, to see if you could keep growing anything through the winter.

Mismatched buckets and pots, an amalgamation of anything that would hold enough soil to plant a seed in, it was an experiment for sure. Enough was stored in the pantry to get you through the winter if you stayed lean enough about rations, and Joel had been pushing his portions upon you like there was no tomorrow, constantly assuring you that he had plenty.

“What is this?”

Stopping to stretch his back with a groan, he’s picked up a loose, shapeless scrap of fabric off the couch.

“Wait –” you protest, setting the watering can down.

He frowns at it, turning it in his hands, and when you make a hasty grab for it, he keeps it out of your reach with a chuckle.

“This my present, honey?” His facial expression still puzzled, he tries to work out what it is.

“It’s for the baby,” you explain. Coming to stand next to him, you turn it upright. “See? This is the neckhole, and the arms go here.”

“.......And the legs?”

“I’m not that good at sewing, okay?” you defend yourself with a laugh. “I thought maybe their legs could just hang out in this little…sack area.”

You make a self deprecating face, looking to him for a reaction, and he fingers the bottom of it.

“That ain’t bad. You should see if you can tie up the bottom, you know, for a draft or somethin’.”

“I used all the spare laces on the pants. I tried to make some, but of course I don’t have elastic and I don’t know how big to make them around the waist for a button, so I thought I could just cut two holes and make like, a little belt so that it would grow with the baby and...”

Your words taper off when you realize he’s staring up at you with an amused expression and you let your shoulders drop in defeat. “This kid is gonna look like they’re from the eighteen hundreds, aren’t they.”

“I guess you would know, with the books you’re always readin’,” he says with a grin, and the stack of historical fiction next to your side of the bed comes to mind.

“Oh God,” you moan quietly to yourself.

Standing with a soft grunt, he bends to press a kiss to the crown of your hair.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” he murmurs. “You about ready for bed? I’m gonna go do a final lap.”

Checking the perimeter of the cabin while you bank the wood stove for the night, he eventually joins you in the bedroom, bringing in the smell of cool night air with him. Already in bed, you’re propped against the headboard with your book in hand, and you admire him as he gets ready for bed himself: the edges of his curling locks catching the light in a glowing chestnut, the warmth held in his tanned skin as he peels off his shirt, the soft give of his still trim stomach as he pads over to bed. He climbs in, adjusting the covers around the two of you.

“What about Mae?” you ask absentmindedly, skimming the book in front of you.

He shrugs. “Not bad.”

You make a face at the reception. “What about….Lauren?”

Stretching out on his side to face you, he rests his hand on your bump, smoothing the fabric of your sleep shirt down. A small movement nudges underneath his palm, and the corner of his mouth lifts. An intimate, quiet moment, you keep reading while he chases the constant movements with his touch, his fingers splayed wide, searching.

“Always so squirrely at night,” he says, the words rounded with softness.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh.

You set your book to the side and slide down next to him as he reaches to turn off the lantern, and the two of you lay facing each other, your belly between the length of your bodies. His hand finds your stomach again, and you let yours rest over it, guiding his touch lower. Lower, until the tips of his fingers brush against the band of your underwear and also right where a set of feet (or hands) slide underneath your skin. The taut skin shifts with rapid movement, a sensation that never fails to mesmerize you, but it’s something else when he’s the one who gets to see it. Watching him experiencing it is your favorite.

“What about Margaret? I’ve always liked that name.”

He makes a face, telling you all you need to know. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be a girl?”

You shrug, lifting the hem of your shirt so you can feel his skin on yours, and his hand slides right back into place.

“Have you thought of any names?” you ask quietly.

“I, uh…I was sorta thinkin’ about June.” His dark eyes flit up to yours. “After June Carter Cash. Or Pearl, after –”

“You wanna name my baby after Pearl Jam?” your eyebrows raise. You’ve heard him humming “Future Days” while working outside, you know the band is a favorite of his.

He grins at your reaction. “That a no?”

“I should have guessed it would be music related,” you tease with a smile, scooting closer. “I like June. It’s pretty.”

The gentle exploration of his touch soothes you, and you close your eyes to savor it.

“What about boy names?” you ask. “I can’t really think of any. It’s actually what makes me think it’s a girl, like she’s trying to tell me something.”

“I haven’t thought of too many either. Thomas, for my brother, maybe?”

“That’s a good one.” You yawn, and sleep softly rounds the edges of your words. “Are you ready for next week?”

The preparation of his gift has your hands aching and grasping one with the other, you rub the tender knuckles, working some of the soreness out. Wordlessly, he reaches for your hand and takes it into his own, kneading the joints.

“I think so. S’kinda nice, havin’ a Christmas.” His touch lingers on the tips of your fingers, warming them. “Too cold in here? I can put another log on if you want.”

“No, it’s just…they ache. They're so swollen they get stiff sometimes. I don’t think the damp is helping.”

You hear it now, peppering the window in the dark. The steady drum of rain on the window, the sound makes the room all the more inviting: warm and safe, his body heat radiating underneath the quilt. He keeps rubbing your fingers, his own larger hands cradling your smaller one, and akin to someone rubbing your back to sleep, the touch lulls you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“This good?” His mouth brushes lightly against your knuckles, his lips pressing against your fingers before he breathes warm air on them.

“Mmmm, yea.” Silent for a moment, you speak. “Joel?”

He hums in acknowledgement of his name, and you voice the nightly request you started asking him weeks ago.

“Tell me what you know.”

A prompt he’s seemingly ready for, he shifts to get comfortable, letting out a sigh. The motion similar to someone getting ready to tell a bedtime story, your reaction to curl tight next to him is the same.

The first time you asked him this, he barely remembered anything. Other memories taking their place, the finer details of pregnancy and birth were buried deep, most of them forgotten. He remembered the doctor's visits but not the frequency. The general concept of birth but not the stages. The pain, but as someone who didn’t go through it, he couldn’t tell you what labor actually felt like.

All guesses and long ago recollections, you took them because they were better than nothing. Tonight, he tells you about the night feedings.

“Babies, they uh…” he begins in his gravely, lowered voice, trying to speak softly in the darkness. “You know they eat every couple of hours or so for a while after they’re born. Weeks of it.”

You nod against his shoulder, listening to his deep drawl.

“I don’t remember much because when you don’t get a lot of sleep it all tends to blur together, y’know? But I do remember some of them. Peaceful, sometimes. Everything is so quiet and still, and there ain’t nothin’ but you and them, sittin’ together.”

He stops, and you reach up to brush your fingers along the edge of his jaw, just enough to let him know you’re listening. He sighs, a heavy, contemplative thing.

“They are so small in your hands. So small it’s scary. I remember bein’ so careful, always feelin’ like I was gonna accidentally hurt her, or –” his breath hitches, and he swallows hard. He’s silent for a moment, and your breath slows and evens out. “Anyway, they don’t let you get any sleep, not for a few months, but sometimes….sometimes, you don’t mind.”

Your body loose and relaxed next to his, you’re on the edge of sleep when the words tumble softly out of your mouth.

“Joel?”

“Yea?”

“I’m scared.” The confession is whispered into his bare skin, and you breathe in his comforting, familiar smell, the steady drum of his heart beating underneath your cheek. His hand is a weighty drag down the line of your spine, the feeling of it steadying you.

The wind blows outside, rain pelting the glass.

“I know, honey,” he answers. “Me too.”

–

Long after you’ve fallen asleep, he stays awake, his mind lost in a memory.

Her tiny body rigid with deceiving strength, he struggles to force her arm into a small sleeve. His hand is huge compared to her fragile arm, her skin downy soft under his palm, and moonlight shines through the window in her bedroom just enough to light the features of her scrunched, upset face. A small wail pierces the darkness, and succeeding in dressing her, he lifts her up.

One hand cupping her entire bottom with the other covering her back, he makes low shushing sounds with his mouth to soothe her, inhaling the milky sweet smell that clings to her skin.

“Hey baby girl, shhh. I got you. I got you.”

Her tiny face burrows into his chest, her body squirming until she gets comfortable, and he keeps soothing with low hums, his hand rubbing a slow circle over her purple pajamas as she settles.

Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he sits down in the rocking chair and continues to hold her; the carpet plush under his bare foot that gently pushes off the floor. His sleep blurred eyes focus on the small turn of a glass butterfly that hangs from her window, the rounded curves catching the moonlight as she sleeps on his chest.

He lets the unearthed, vivid memory wash over him as his chest constricts, the pain suffocating. Finding himself in this position more and more since you started asking him about what he remembers, he closes his eyes and succumbs to the pain: worth it, to see her face again. To remember things he’d thought he’d forgotten.

The edges of the memory blur and crumble, his mind losing its focus on that purple room and on the cusp of sleep, he tries to grasp and hold on tight to the details until they fade away.

–

“Keep your eyes closed, okay? Wasn’t much to wrap with.”

Anticipation thrums through you, your features lax with fondness as you wait patiently on the living room floor with your eyes closed. A fire crackles in the wood stove next to you, shadows pooled in the corners of the living room where the light doesn’t reach, and you scoot a little closer to absorb more heat.

Never one to linger in bed, he’s been up since dawn, and when you awoke alone, there was a weighted, peaceful stillness in the air—a significance to the day that was at best, a guess. Still, you felt it all the same: through drinking tea with him on the back porch this morning, through reading on the couch this afternoon, through helping him prep the small feast you allowed yourselves for dinner.

You hear and feel a shift in the air when he comes to sit in front of you, setting your present at your feet.

“Okay, you can open ‘em.”

Laughter bubbles bright and loud when you see what it is.

“Joel Miller, you shouldn’t have.” Picking up the bottle of vinegar, you tilt it in the light to see how much is left: about half, which is a find indeed. “How long have you been hiding this?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with your reaction. “Not too long. I found it when I went to check out that last cabin. I know it’s not a lot, but I thought it would be useful.”

Vinegar means pickling, means cleaning, means acid for the soil of your plants that you moved inside for the winter, and even though the label is half peeled off and the contents might not be as potent as they once were, you have never been so happy to see a bottle of the stuff in your life.

“Thank you,” you say softly, leaning forward as much as you can, presenting your lips for a kiss. He gives you one, and you pull back, your mouth twisted in an apologetic pout. “This is a way better gift than what I got you.”

“That’s not true,” he argues. “You fixed my favorite jacket. Feels brand new.”

After snagging it on a tree branch while hunting, he had been so disappointed when he inspected the size of the rip when he came home. Handing it to you, he had declared it no good anymore and told you to use it for something else, but knowing it was his favorite, you’d been mending it in secret while he went out for the day. Textiles being a scarcity aside, that jacket was also your favorite: it’s the one he’s been wearing since you first started out; the sight of it comforting to you.

“I actually got you somethin’ else, but you’ll have to close your eyes again.”

You automatically squeeze your eyes shut, your hands playfully grabbing the air as you squirm on the floor, and the sound of his low chuckle makes you smile wider. Hearing the front door open and then close, you frown when the object he places at your feet sounds heavy.

“Okay, open em’ up.”

It’s immediate, the way your expression drops from delight into something more reverential. Your breath frozen in your lungs, you reach out and touch the smooth edges of the cradle. Tracing the perfectly fit together corners, you take in how small it is – so small - but perfect.

Your eyes lift to meet his, tears blurring your vision. “Did you make this?”

“Yea,” he replies softly. “I kept in the shed, workin’ on it when you were napping. I knew we needed somewhere to put her, so I thought –”

“Her?” Your fingers brushing along the neat edges, you look up at him with a small, watery smile, and he matches it with a soft one of his own.

“Sure, why not. You’ve convinced me.” Affection is open and obvious on his face, the lines that normally crease his forehead softened as he watches you look it over.

“This is…so much, Joel. It’s beautiful. I don’t even know how…I was thinking we’d have to put her in a dresser drawer or something, and I –” Overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, you’re at a loss for words. “Thank you,” you eventually settle on, hoping the sincereness in your words expresses everything you feel.

“You look so surprised,” he says, teasing laced in his tone. “Did you really think I would get you just a half bottle of vinegar for Christmas?”

“I don’t know!” you laugh, a hitch in your breathing as you settle your emotions. “We can’t exactly go Christmas shopping, so I figured you did the best you could.”

He reaches to swipe a tear from the round of your cheek, and you chase the heat of his palm, leaning into it. “It’s been so long since I gave anyone a Christmas present. Glad I’m not totally out of practice.”

Gently sliding the cradle out of the way, you rise to your knees to give him a kiss.

“I love it.”

You kiss him again, his lips tinted red from the wine at dinner, and the bitterness sweeps through your mouth when he gifts you a slow slide of his tongue. The tentative heat held in his response passes to you, and swallowing his hunger, it spreads through your limbs to pool between your legs. Pressing forward, your hand reaches out for his shirt, and you deepen the kiss.

You hope it conveys everything you want to put into words but can’t: appreciation, love, gratitude. Keeping your mouth on his, you slip your hand around the back of his neck and threading your fingers up through his locks, you hold him in place, his hand grasping your elbow to steady you as a soft sound rumbles from his throat.

“I guess you really liked it.”

You just nod, pulling him in for another kiss, his familiar taste and scent filling your senses as he presses himself closer, and when you let out the catch of a moan in your throat, he pulls back just far enough for you to see hooded want in his eyes.

“We done with the gift exchange?” He presses a kiss to your your throat, his lips warm and delicate over the skin he finds and you nod, letting him taste.

“Here,” he asks, his mouth moving just below your ear, “or in the bedroom?”

“Here,” you breathe, cupping his whiskered cheeks to pull his mouth back to yours. Your hand slips between his thighs, finding him half hard under his jeans, and groaning into your mouth, he shifts on the floor to kneel in front of you. Your fingers work the buttons of his flannel open, pushing it from his shoulders at the same time he grabs the hem of your shirt to work it over your head and off. Undoing your bra, you fling it onto the floor as his hand reaches back to tug his t-shirt off in a smooth, overhand motion, and your hands drop to his belt buckle, tugging it open.

The back of your knuckles swipe through the line of coarse hair that leads under the waistband of his jeans, a slight shakiness to your movements betraying the need you feel, and it’s something he sees and rewards with another consuming kiss.

The rest of your clothes tugged off in a rush, he rests his back against the couch and guides you onto his lap, the soft inside of your thighs straddling the outside of his firmer ones. One of the only comfortable positions you’ve got left, it’s been your favorite because it gives him unfettered access to your breasts and when he palms them in appreciation, anticipation sends a warm thrill up your spine.

Using both his hands, he cups the sides of your jaw to draw you in, holding you in place while he opens your mouth with his, his tongue sliding smoothly against yours. His fingertips dig into the nape of your neck, one hand dropping to palm the plush weight of your breast, and you kiss him back even harder while he delicately teases your nipple with his thumb.

The calloused pad skims over the top of it, the contrast between the tender touch and the fierceness of his kisses making your head swim with arousal, and pulling back, he takes in your kiss-swollen mouth only for a moment before bending his attention to your breast.

Using the cradle of his hold, he pushes it up to draw the peak of it into his mouth, and your head tips back, a broken cry coming from your throat.

“Please. Please.”

He would give you anything – anything – you ask for, and this is no different. He laves his tongue over the peaked bud, dragging firm pressure over it as he draws it into his mouth, and when you dig your fingers into his hair and pull with a moan of pleasure, his hand cups the underside of your breast to push more in. Frenzied, rough, desperate for more, a deep groan slides out of his throat at the same moment you feel a strange, tingling sensation on your nipple.

Surprise shows in his brown eyes when they flick up to yours, and pulling back, you both stop.

“Was that –” you ask, and he looks down at your breast, his thumb dragging delicately along the peak.

“Yea, I think it was,” he answers, slightly mesmerized.

A drop of milky liquid hangs from the tip of your breast, and he wipes it away, smearing it on your soft skin. Another one takes its place, and his eyes flicker with interest.

“Holy shit.”

The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and the corresponding lift of his eyebrows makes you laugh, his own deeper chuckle joining your lighter one. He pulls you in for a kiss right as you’re leaning down for one, and you find there was no hunger lost while the moment was broken; instead it comes back even stronger as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he holds onto your back with a splayed grip so fierce it makes you squirm.

Unsure of when you started grinding your hips against his, you work them slightly faster. Spread and wet on his lap, you’re so achingly empty right over where you can feel the heft of him pressing between your bodies, and fire lights under your skin with how much you want him to just take.

He’s been so careful with you, so considerate in his handling of your body these last few weeks. Always taking care of every need that you have, he’s done so with no less attentiveness, but you can tell that he’s been holding back—a telling rigidness to his muscles when he moves above you, a tightness to his strokes every time he fucks you as if he’s keeping his body in check to make sure he doesn’t lose himself. Missing the sharp edges to his love, you kiss him harder, and he groans as if in pain, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth. His beard rubs your chin raw, the pressure of his response forcing your body to tip back slightly in his hold.

“Fuck me,” you whine, the words breathless against his lips, and he groans again, breaking your kiss.

“Christ, honey, turn around.”

Desperate to follow anything he tells you to do, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself as you turn yourself around, your back to his front. His mouth is an immediate brush against the nape of your neck, a heady sensation that has you melting back into him, and his hands travel up your sides to cup your breasts, pulling at the peaks.

Your ass grinds in his lap, the thick, stiff line of his cock trapped between your bodies, and when you arch your back and lean forward in a silent invitation, he reaches down to line himself up. Easing yourself back down, the stretch is delicious but so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“Goddamn,” he groans over your breathless whine.

Wrapping your smaller hands around his thick wrists for purchase, you pull at your bottom lip with your teeth as you sink all the way down to the base, and when he’s fully seated inside you, he bands his arms just under your breasts in a tight hold, keeping you in place. You can feel how hard he’s breathing between your shoulder blades, his beard rubbing against your skin, and squirming in his lap with a soft sound, you start to roll your hips.

He’s so deep this way, so much deeper than he’s been in weeks, and taking a moment to get used to it with a couple of slick strokes down, you chase the thick, filling stretch of his cock. Leaning forward, you brace your hands on his knees, and the deep groan you hear from behind you makes you wetter; your body physically reacting to his wordless praise.

“You feel so fucking good, honey. So good.”

His hands traverse your back—one splayed wide to drag heavily down your spine, the other curled around your hip to guide your movements–and when you bend forward as much as your stomach allows, his hand drops to your ass, spreading you from behind.

“I wish you could see how wet my cock is. I want you to see how you’re soakin’ it.”

“I can feel it,” you moan, your hips working faster.

You can: every down stroke is smooth and audible, the tight walls of your cunt stretching around him to take him perfect and fluid every single time, and when you start to pull him deeper, he sits forward with a cinch, pulling you back towards his body. The solid, warm wall of his chest cages you in, his arm looping around your hip so his hand can reach your clit, and when he finds it, everything spreads warm and thick from your center outwards, your head tipping back to rest against his shoulder.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles when your body drapes pliant and loose against his, your hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. Forward into his touch and backwards onto his cock, you can hear him breathing heavy and low into your ear and your hands find his forearms to hold on tight, your nails digging into the thick muscles as you work yourself faster.

He rubs your clit in quicker, more precise circles, just right with the firm slip of two calloused fingers, and your thighs tighten in their tremble, your release a bright, shining edge that beckons.

When it happens, it breaks you – clamping tight around him as you’re suspended in a state of strained rapture, his hand comes up to cradle the base of your throat in a possessive hold while his other hand keeps working, and a second wave takes you by surprise, washing over your skin as you cry out. You can feel the wetness that soaks his fingers when he reaches down to feel where you’re stretched around him, letting out a groan against your skin.

His hand smears damply across your hip as he lifts you from his lap, slipping out as he guides you on to your hands and knees, and loose and pliant, you let him position you anyway he wants.

“Just a little more, honey. Just a little longer,” he coaxes.

Resting your cheek on the floor, you arch your back to put yourself on display for him as you catch your breath, but it’s stolen just as quickly when he gives you a rough, open mouthed kiss to your cunt. He eats you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue flattening against you as he keeps you open with his hands splayed on your ass, and a deep rumbled groan is felt against the inside of your thighs when you reach back to tug on his hair.

His tongue dips deep inside you for a taste, and just when he pulls back, he goes in for more, like he’s changed his mind because he can’t get enough. Harder this time, more forceful, the action pushing your hips forward, and when you cry out, he’s dragging himself back, pulling away to position himself.

The heat of his body radiates along the back of your thighs, the thick tip of his cock notched against the slick dip of your entrance only for the barest of moments before he pushes himself in with a stroke of his hips, and you hear a hiss behind you, one you almost don’t catch over the low moan that spills out of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips fitting neatly along your ass. He slides out and then back in, giving you time to adjust to his size. “I want – Christ – I want…can you take it harder for me?”

“Yes. God yes. Please.”

He answers with a rougher slide in, an audible muted pound of his hips against your skin. “You tell me if it’s too much, honey, okay?”

After turning your head and nodding so he can see you, he gives you another rough, smooth stroke in and then another one, each one filling you until the air feels like it’s being pushed from your lungs, and then he picks up his pace, letting out a low, heavy breath for every thrust. It sounds obscene: his rumbled, low groans and grunts, but you can barely focus on it for how sensitive you are to his thickness. Everything tighter, the fit is a snug, slick slide in every time, and you squeeze around him, earning you another hiss of appreciation.

“This pussy is gonna kill me,” he groans and then holds nothing back: his hips snapping against you with his hand resting flat on your tailbone, every jolt rocking your body forward.

Exactly what you asked for and what you’ve been missing, you let him know.

“It feels…it feels so good. God I’ve missed this.”

“Yea?” The word is a breathless growl, and you clench down on him again. “What about this? Did you miss this too?”

His hands wrapping around the inside of your elbows, he tugs you back and up until your back is arched with your ass in his lap and then he’s pounding into you.

“Joel!”

Faster and harder, his hips work ceaselessly behind you for a dozen strokes and when he comes, his fingers dig tight into your skin, your arms aching as he holds you in place to take every last drop. Panting behind you, his strokes slow into a rhythmic grind and sliding out, he eases you gently down onto the floor where you slump, your cheek resting on the fold of your arms.

Dazed and loose, with a content smile on your lips, you lay down on your side and he joins you, dropping to the floor. His arm slung over his eyes, you watch his pulse pound in his neck as he tries to catch his breath.

“So…was that also a Christmas present, or….?” you tease, the question coming out slow and saturated with contentment, and he laughs, a breathless thing that’s carefree and deep.

“Sure,” he answers, rolling onto his side. “Merry Christmas.”

The light of the flames dancing across your bare body, shadows slide over his tanned skin and the bluntness of his reply makes you laugh.

The two of you look at each other for a moment, his hand coming up to brush away an errant lock of hair from your temple. His hand glides down the length of your torso, coming to rest on the swell of your stomach and leaning in, his mouth meets yours.

Still smiling, you cup his cheek and with a slick slide leaking between your thighs, pull him closer to deepen the kiss.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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lostgirlmuseum · 2 years ago

Text

Give Me A Sign

Made with photos from Pinterest ^

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Warnings: HUGE WARNING, please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable! Heavy suicidal ideation, but happy ending. Please be very careful in considering if this is triggering for you. It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t read, your mental health and safety comes first.

A/N: I’m really sorry if this isn’t great, I wanted to do more but I kept getting stuck, and tbh I just want to post it as is instead of stress about it.

(Dividers from @saradika)

The air was unusually crisp the night Bucky snuck into the gardens of Cornelia Park. He had a faint memory of visiting once, in another century, with Steve. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Steve is dead. Bucky feels the weight of his entire history on his scarred shoulders. He feels out of place in such a green and flourishing area of flora. It’s wrong for him to be among such a place of peace and beauty, he finds it almost funny. Almost.

He followed the path of lavenders into the private area of the park, surrounded by tall hedges. At the center stood an old stone statue, one he remembered from the last time he visited. Only now it looked much more worn and weathered. The statue was of an angel, a woman with wings. Her eyes were kind, her features soft, despite the stone. She held her arms out, one hand holding a lantern, the other beckoning him to hold. Instead, Bucky sat on the bench in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, apologizing for his very presence. He dropped his head into his hands.

And then he started crying. And his cries evolved to sobbing. He let himself cry, a privilege he rarely allowed himself. He let the tears flow, and they didn’t stop for what felt like hours. After forcing himself to pull himself together, he wiped his final tears from his cheeks and looked up to the black sky.

“Give me a sign, God.” His voice wavered.

“If you’re real, give me a sign to keep going. I’ve been at this a really long time. Just gimme— gimme a sign to keep going. That it will be worth it. Because life feels pretty damn bleak. And I know I should keep going, but I…”

The words wouldn’t come.

“I… fuck.” He looked back down at his hands. He thought about how much he hated those hands. He thought about how he wished he could wash the memories from his head like he does the blood from his palms, and how he wished he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He thought about how he wished he had died at the bottom of that cliff, and how everyone would be better off if—

“Hello?”

A small voice shook him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard someone approach. But there you were, standing in the entrance of the hedge garden.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, once you saw him. At least he thinks you smiled. It was hard for him to see you in the shadows.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized, once he realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He had just stared. He looked away from you and back at his lap.

“No need to be sorry,” you said, walking up to the bench he sat on, “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. He too thought he was the only person there.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” You kindly asked, wrapping your white cardigan a bit tighter.

That was when he looked up and saw your face in the light of the lantern for the first time. The first thing he thought was that you looked like you belonged there in the garden, unlike him. You could replace the angel statue, and its meaning would stay the same.

“Go ahead,” he simply said. Although what he really thought was to warn you. Are you sure you want to sit next to him?

You took your place on the bench silently. Neither of you spoke for the first couple minutes. Bucky tried to focus on the sound of crickets, and the lack of traffic.

He wasn’t sure why he stayed. If anything, his first thought should be to get up, walk away, escape. But he didn’t.

“My name is Y/N.” You softly said.

Stunned by your confession, he let his guard down.

“Bucky.” He half whispered back.

You simply hummed in response.

He could sense your gaze on him. It wasn’t malicious or judgemental; it felt curious and gentle.

“Are you okay?”

His throat started to constrict again. He didn’t like that question, because he didn’t like the answer. He knows he’s not okay. But he doesn’t know how to say it. After struggling for a response for many seconds, he conceded to shaking his head softly. No.

“I hope it gets easier soon.”

He felt the dam begin to break again.

“It will get better someday,” you continued, “maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, or month, but someday it will get better.”

“How can you be so sure?” He choked.

“Life is like a pendulum, have you ever heard that before?”

“No.”

“Well, it is. Right now you’re swinging into the bad, but eventually you’re gonna swing right back into the good. It’s just physics. And it sucks in a way, because what’s the point of swinging into the light if it’s just gonna cast that shadow you’ll fall back into? But it’s also comforting to me, because I know as long as I keep pushing, I’ll end up on the other side.”

Bucky let your words ring in his ears. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to open up to you, but he did.

“I just keep asking myself why should I stay?”

“The trick is to find a new reason when you can. I think of one everyday.”

“What’s yours?”

“Today?” You sighed and looked up at the stars. “I want to see the next snow.”

“That won’t be for months,” he said.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then.” You gave a knowing smile.

“What should mine be?”

He knew there should be a million things, but they were all just out of reach of his mind.

“That’s up to you.”

Bucky didn’t say it, but he quickly came up with his reason to stay.

You.

He told himself that he had to see you again.

Bucky went back the next night. And the next. And he kept going back, because you met him every night for a week until you finally asked him if he wanted to meet you for lunch. That was the start of your relationship. Soon enough Sam started asking where Bucky had gone so often. He wasn’t in his room all day anymore, and he seemed lighter. He wasn’t ‘fixed’, obviously, but he was better. It started to get easier to breathe.

The pendulum had begun to swing in Bucky’s favor, and it stayed that way for months. He still had his days, as did you, but you were happy together. You supported each other.

And then came a very tough week.

The anniversary of Steve’s death.

The wound had reopened, and Bucky spiraled. He was a mess, a total mess, and you were there to comfort him.

But your kindness reminded him of Steve, and how he wasn’t enough for him. If Bucky was good enough for Steve, he wouldn’t have left, right?

Although Bucky knew you wouldn’t leave him. That was the problem. He was an anchor, and you held on.

For your own good, he convinced himself he had to let go, if you wouldn’t.

The absence of warmth next to you woke you up.

“Bucky?” You whispered. The clock blinked 4:13 A.M.

No reply. You figured maybe he was sleeping on the couch, so you carefully sat up and waited a couple seconds before letting your bare feet touch the cold ground. Pulling your robe on from where it had fallen on the floor, you wiped the sleep from your eyes and padded over to the living room.

It was dark, and your eyes were still adjusting, but you could tell that he wasn’t there. You felt the rise of panic in your chest just before you spotted him standing on the balcony.

He didn’t turn around to look at you as the door slid open and shut. He remained staring over the ledge at some unknown point.

“Hey, honey,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, as you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, giving him a big hug.

You hear his whimper before you feel his body shake.

“Y/N, I—”

“What’s wrong honey?” You quickly let go, turning him to face you. You notice his puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. His cheeks were rosy; you could tell he had been crying for a while.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” He starts. “I’m too much. I don’t deserve you, you deserve someone easier. Someone better, someone— someone good.”

“But I love you, and you are good. Bucky, where is this coming from?” The concern was thick in your voice. Sure, he had been a little down lately, but nothing alerted you to this level of distress.

“Sweetheart, all I do is bring hardship into your life. You deserve to live,” he looks into your eyes earnestly, “I know I shackle you to me. I know you give up things to be with me. But you don’t have to anymore. I’m letting you free.”

You hold back a shiver.

“What are you talking about? I want to be with you. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not fair that I’ve lived this long, and it’s not fair that I’m dragging you down with me. I’m a fucking burden, Y/N. At first to Steve, then Sam, and now you. I can’t keep adding to the list of lives I ruin.”

“Honey, listen to me. I need you to take a deep breath.” You place your hand on his bicep, and try to speak with an appropriate mix of confidence and compassion.

“I’m doing it now!” He shakes his head vigorously, wiping away his tears as if evidence that he’s stopped crying will convince you to go. “You should be sleeping, please go back to sleep. You shouldn’t have to watch over me and make me feel better.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” You whisper, fearing that if you spoke any louder your voice would break with your heart.

He took a while to answer, biting his lip and looking around before finally responding.

“Do you remember when we first met? In the garden?” He looks at you, eyebrows drawn. As if you could actually forget. You nod.

“I wanted to—” his voice breaks and he looks down— “I went… I was thinking about—” it cracks again, and his throat is constricting itself around the words he can’t say. “I was thinking I was really going to do it. I had basically decided. And then right as I was asking God for one more chance, one reason to stay alive—you appeared. I thought God sent me an Angel. A real Angel.” His eyes sparkle before dimming again. “I tarnish you. You waste your goodness on me, and the world needs it more.”

You don’t like where this is going. You know you need to reel him back in, and fast.

“Look at me, Bucky Barnes. Look at me.” You grab his face firmly and make sure he’s seeing you.

“I’m a burden.” He crumbles.

“Then be my burden!” You cry. “I want you to be my burden. Maybe without you, my life would be ‘easier.’ But I don’t want it to be if it means a life without you.” You search his blue watery eyes, wiping a tear that starts to leak from one. “I don’t fucking choose ‘easier.’ I choose you, Bucky. My choice is to be with the love of my life. And if that means skipping a couple hours of sleep to comfort you, and staying in on weekends, and crying with you, that doesn’t change the fact that I am the luckiest person on Earth. This is my choice too, Bucky. Do you hear me?” You place your hands on both of his arms.

He closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and nods.

“I choose you.”

He nods again, and bites his bottom lip.

“I choose you.” You repeat, not once looking away from him.

He whimpers.

“Say it. Can you say it, please?” You don’t want to push him, but you need to know that your point has been made clear.

“You choose me.” He whispers, before falling into your embrace, and tucking his head into your neck.

“I do. I really do.” You say, holding back your own tears as you rub his back.

“I’m sorry.”

You know telling him he has nothing to be sorry for won’t work, so you instead answer by agreeing.

“Me too. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way. I’m sorry you struggle to see how much I need you, too. But we are going to be okay, okay?”

He sobs harder, holding you tighter. You feel his warm tears start to stain your shirt under the thin robe. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you hum.

“Don’t leave me,”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promise, bringing one hand up to the nape of his neck and start gently playing with his hair. “Are you ready to go back inside? Do you want to lay down with me?”

Without pulling away from you, he nods. You wait for him to let go of you before going to grab his hand and leading him to the bed, but he stops you. Instead of letting you show him the way, he decides to pick you up bridal style and carry you to your room, knowing he couldn’t wait until laying down to have your body pressed against his.

Once you were both settled under the cozy blankets, your bodies facing each other, his head on your chest and your hand rubbing his back in circular motions, he spoke drowsily, exhausted from his breakdown.

“I love you.” He mumbled.

“And I love you,” You cooed, placing a small kiss on his forehead before drifting off into your dreamless sleeps.

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I know life can be a fucking shit show, but please stay alive. If you know someone who is struggling, consider reaching out to them. And if you yourself are struggling, please reach out to someone. And if you feel like there is no one to talk to, my asks/dms are open. You are not alone.

I don’t want anyone to read this fic and their takeaway is that if they have no partner, they are on their own. I choose you. Do you hear me? I choose you, and I implore you to choose yourself. Stay alive for yourself. Be spiteful against your depression. And if you’re one of those people who can’t help but say “I hate you,” to the mirror, and feel like you mean it, know that there is hope for you too. Because I was once that person. And with help, and time, I am able to say that I don’t hate myself. I can look in the mirror and appreciate who I am. Of course I still have my moments, but my point is that if you told me when I was at my lowest, that I’d one day be able to say “I love you” to the mirror without bursting out in tears, I’d call you a liar.

(Sorry for making this A/N so long, hopefully someone can find comfort in it. I’m still here. And you should be too.)

#bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n

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xoblondie · 4 months ago

Text

Little Dove

Dark! Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary:

TW: this part is mainly story building and there will be a few parts. (I’m thinking 3ish?) Smut in next parts though ;)

A lantern flame illuminated your face as you shuffled between pages of old parchments.

Stuck behind a makeshift desk on a dingy ministry basement floor, the leaking of old pipes was the only thing keeping you company. You had applied to work as reporter for the Daily Prophet, always having a passion for writing, but yet you found yourself as an intern. Your job had you filing others articles, as you sat alone in a secluded office in the corner of hundreds of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

The sound of wings startle you from your work as an owl swoops between the lines of wooden shelves. Dropping a note on your desk and swooping back around the shelves out of site, leaving you alone yet again. Picking up the scribbled parchment you read it and almost jump with joy. The note from your boss giving you an excuse to escape your mildew prison.

Meet me in my office.

- R. Skeeter

You almost trip as you pull yourself out of your desk, not wanting to keep her waiting long. Smoothing your skirt and tucking back your frizzy hair with a scrunchie, you walk through the maze before you to the other side of the room. Before you the golden elevator Gate appears and you step in, taking the enchanted elevator up to Rita’s private office. When you get to her door, you to move your knuckles up to the large wooden door but with a swift motion, you are pulled within.

“No need dear, I knew you were here.” Her mewling voice chimed as she peered up from her green frames. Her bright blonde hair glittered in its pinned curls, accentuating the crimson lipstick she wore. Behind her, her magical quill was scribbling down your every move hastily, as to not miss a single movement you made. She smiles at you as she sets down her own papers and a chair appears with a quick flick of her wand, opposite from her.

“Now have a seat.” You sit down across from her at the chair she conjured, crossing your ankles to appear more mature.

“From what i remember you were a slytherin correct?”

“Yes, most of family is, but we do have some Ravenclaws.” You confirm her statement.

“So I expect you’re quite smart then too?” Rita says with a playful smile. And you sheepishly nod.

“So you may remember Mattheo Riddle? He’s about your age is he not?” You feel your face flush with colour at the mention of your Hogwarts upperclassman, who had been on the front page of the Prophet many times since his time in Hogwarts. The Son of the dark lord and his right hand man. A total opposite image of the older boy you had known at Hogwarts.

“We kind of knew eachother, but he graduated before me and we didn’t talk much.”

Rita gets up and walks over to a shelf picking up a journal and bringing it back over to the desk.

“Oh dear, you’re perfect!” She almost squealed. “I just knew you would be the one for the job.”

“What job?” You shift in your seat, smoothing your skirt again.

“There’s been rumours that lavish death eater parties have been happening, but I think there is more to that story. And obviously they wont let me in. It’s all very hush-hush but you, my Dear, would be the perfect little messenger bird to send in! It’s been the talk of the town for the last week and I MUST be the first person to get my hands on the details!” Rita slides the journal over to you and you open it, skimming through her pages of notes filed with gossip of these events. You can feel her excitement buzzing off of her body. She was like a teen gossiping about her crush with you, rather than your boss.

“It’s been so tight kept that not even a, let’s say a beetle, could get into them without being detected. I can’t even polyjuice myself with the security spells they have! That’s why I need you! Slytherin family, fresh out of Hogwarts, and quite pretty! It’s the perfect mix.” You put her journal down and look up at her as she rambled on. Her hands expressing her words as she paints you her picture.

“So you want me to sneak into a couple parties and tell you what’s happening? That’s it?” Rita stops and thinks for a moment, her emerald dress sparkling in the sunlight of her office.

“Well I am asking you to go into a Death Eater party where any of them could figure out what you’re up to. I mean there is a reason no one knows what happens there Darling.” She eased back into her chair, her red lips curling up again.

“And if I say yes, what’s in it for me?” You cross your arms, waiting to hear out your options. On one hand it wouldn’t be too hard of a task to complete. But on the other, what if you were caught by the Death Eaters. She ponders for a moment, before her eyes sparkle with an idea.

“I’ll publish your work and you can become my own personal assistant.” You feel your jaw drop, failing to hide your temptation. If you were her personal assistant, you could get out of the dingy basement and write your own pieces. Without a second thought you reach your hand over to her and she takes it within her own.

“Deal.” You shake her hand and she jumps out of her seat again.

“Perfect. Let’s get you ready, you have lots to learn before the next one!”

If you had told yourself a month ago that you would be standing in front of the Riddle Manor, you would have checked yourself into St. Mungos immediately. The black dress that had been delivered to your office earlier that morning had somehow hugged you like it had been sewn on your body. An alteration done by Rita, no doubt. But what it had in beauty it lacked in concealing your shivers as the menacing estate welcomed you into its jaws.

On the arm of a man from the ministry, you head towards the doors with the rest of the crowd, fleeing from the cold night. He was your ticket in, a pure blood with family ties to the Dark Lord, earning himself entry. All it took was a little wing manning from Rita and he was wrapped around your finger.

Inside the decor was lavish and dark, creating a powerful ambiance around each of the death eaters and their company. Your family was not pure blood, and had never followed the dark lord like other wizarding family’s so this type of glamour made you feel like a fraud. Stuck on your dates arm, you did your best to note down everything, knowing Rita would want every detail.

As per your plan, he introduced you to others and you played up being his ditzy date.

As the night progressed you noticed high ranked Death Eaters slip away into the halls of the manor. You knew they were up to whatever Rita thought they were and knew this was your ticket to getting you big scoop. Your date had long over drank and was sitting amongst his old school friends. You sat off to the side, with the other girls who had no interest in their dates drunken states. You spot another Death eater slipping out and you decide to follow them out, telling your date you were going for some fresh air.

You watch as the man saunters down the hall, not even bothering to check behind them. When they turn the corner, you pull out your enchanted note pad and start mentally taking notes as you scurry down the hall to follow him. Your note pad starts filling up pages with the scribbles of your thoughts as you note everything you saw in the ballroom.

You follow him down a few hallways and he slips around another hallway, as you go deeper in the Labyrinth of the Manor. However as you round the corner, you are met with a dead end. A hallway where the doors had no light peeking through and no sign that anyone had been down there at all. You walk to the end, where the wall stopped your tracks and tried to inspect for any hidden doors. Anything that might lead you to find where he went and what he was doing.

As you take a step back defeated, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You softly whisper the spell to hid your notepad and you feel someone’s hand slink its way around your waist. Startling you but stopping you from turning to see who had made contact with you.

“Who let you in here, darling.” A cold hand covers your mouth, pulling your back against his body with both hands. A muffled shout escapes your lips as you try to pull yourself away. You could feel his body language shift as he grips you tighter.

“Seems like a little birdy got out of her cage.” You could feel his hot breath against your ear. You were a mouse caught in a trap as his arms pulled you into on of the unoccupied rooms you had just passed.

As you are dragged into the room, his hand leaves your face. Turning you and pushing you against the door, your eyes make contact with Mattheo’s hardened features. This was not the boy you remembered, but a grown up and dangerous man.

“Hello little dove.”

A/N: sorry for the mini hiatus with my fics (didn’t stop me whining on my blog though haha) my life literally went to pieces with midterms, being sick and breaking up with my BF. Anyways I haven’t started on part 2 yet but I’ll definitely start that soon. As for my Theo fic, I’m stuck with the smut so that’s awkward lol.

#xoblondie #slytherin boys #x reader #dark!mattheoriddle #dark!mattheo riddle #I love dark matty #dark matty is the only thing keeping me going rn #harry potter #smut #I’ll be his little dove

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vienssunshine · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on soft dom noritoshi kamo?

I’m a sucker for him and it’s like no one else relates AHH

author’s note: He does not get enough love!! I remember seeing him in the anime and being like, wait, why is no one obsessed with him?

Noritoshi is incredibly picky about his lover. His spouse needs to be perfect if he’s going to become the head of the Kamo clan. There’s been many women of other distinguished clans his family has tried to set him up with, but no one stuck out to him. No one ever has. That is, until you transferred to Kyoto’s Jujutsu High.

You’re a new student that’s old enough to be a third-year like him, but you’ve been bumped down to a second-year as your sorcery powers awakened a little later than usual.

In hopes of not getting you killed on your first mission, Utahime assigns a student to mentor you. She chooses the most responsible and level-headed of the young sorcerers: Noritoshi Kamo.

He’s a student she can trust, someone she knows will be able to help you navigate the confusing world of Jujutsu and blossom into a formidable sorcerer. Only, she hasn’t accounted for one thing: Noritoshi has developed a crush on you.

That little fact makes it hard for Noritoshi to spend so much alone time with you, which it feels like is all he does. He studies with you, eats with you, reads with you. Training with you is the worst of it all, he has trouble remembering to check your form rather than check out your body when you try out a new move for him.

It was especially terrible when you asked him to go on a walk during the sunset, to discuss the new concepts you’ve been learning with him, of course. Though, all he could think of was how much he wanted to do this with you every evening for the rest of his life.

He’s noticed that you seem to enjoy his company, too. You have a habit of tugging on the draping fabric of his uniform’s sleeves when you’re trying to convince him to do something with you, which is pretty much all the time.

It’s what you’re doing now, looking up at him with your pretty eyes and trying to get him to follow you.

“C’mon,” you whine, “I have a question about a cursed tool I saw.”

He has some time before his next class starts, and also finds it difficult to deny a pretty girl like yourself, so he agrees and follows you to the weapons room.

Though, when you arrive, you close the door behind you, leaning against it and watching him with a heavy gaze.

Noritoshi looks around the dark room with walls of blades and blunt objects. “Is there something you wanted me to help you with?” he asks, like the good mentor he is.

“Yes, there is,” you respond, voice silken. You tug at your uniform, allowing the top of your shirt to come loose and expose your skin to the light of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

It takes him a second, but Noritoshi steps forward. He wants to make sure that he’s not confusing his dreams with reality or misunderstanding what you’re saying. “Tell me how I can help,” he says.

You give him a bashful smile, playing with the opened collar of your uniform. “I want you to touch me, Noritoshi.”

“So clear with your words,” he says, bringing a hand up to your warm face, stroking your cheek, “I’ve been teaching you well.”

You nod, a tingly feeling sparking in your stomach.

“I could teach you more, y’know,” he says, tilting his head and leaning forward so his lips ghost the shell of your ear, “but you would have to be a really good listener. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm,” you say, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

“Alright,” he says, hands unbuttoning your top further, “Then I’m going to teach you how it feels to be fucked by a Kamo.”

#jjk smut #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi smut #noritoshi x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk noritoshi

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annwrites · 3 months ago

Text

⸻ corsets & clockwork one-shot collection. ⸻

· pairing: assassin!jacaerys x fem!reader · type: one-shot (collection) · summary: to get out of the group apartment for the night, you go onto the rooftop, but jace of course follows you up. · word count: 677

Zepplins and airships soar along slowly through the cool night air.

You sit perched atop the ledge of the brick rooftop of the apartment complex, watching them idly.

You then look down and study the faraway cobblestone streets below, watching as gas lanterns flicker, warding away the looming dark that engulfs narrow alleys and alcoves people skulk through and tread along. The occasional clop of hooves echoes as wooden and metal wheels roll along, taking passengers to their destinations for the evening.

It being this time of night, however—the large clock in the town square near to tolling midnight—there are only few places they could be headed to.

Casinos, perhaps. Or brothels. Or, to the docks to do business which would otherwise be deemed unseemly were it to take place in the light of day instead. If not illegal, most likely.

You're interrupted from your assumptions by the soft scuff of boots, but don't bother with turning your head.

You've everyone's gaits down-pat now, including his.

Especially his, maybe.

You ignore that fact.

"Get down."

You roll your eyes. "Why?"

He takes a few steps closer. "Because I told you to. You don't need more reason than that."

You snort quietly and slowly swing your legs to and fro while leaning back, pressing your palms to the hard brick beneath you. "I'm perfectly comfortable where I am."

He lets out a low curse, which instils within you a small sense of satisfaction.

Whenever you're both in the apartment at the same time—which isn't incredibly often—he always leers at you from across the room beneath furrowed brows, with a dark gaze, and a tightly clenched jaw, so you come up here to escape, and still he's displeased.

"You're making me nervous up there. If you fall—"

You stand suddenly and he clamps his mouth shut.

You level your arms on either side of you and begin to imitate a tightrope walker while placing one foot in front of the other—toe to heel, heel to toe—and Jace crosses his arms while a frown tugs at his lips.

"You must think yourself terribly clever, but you're only serving to ignite my ire."

You shrug slightly while smirking at him over your shoulder. "As if that's terribly difficult to achieve."

He grits his teeth.

"I came up here to be alone, you know?"

He steps closer. "Get down. I won't ask again."

You swing one leg over the edge and snicker. "Look—no hands and only one foot!"

He bares his teeth—a sign that his anger has finally reached its limit.

You giggle, strictly from nerves at the unsettling sight, and he quickly reaches out, takes hold of your hand, and pulls you suddenly from the ledge.

You lose your footing and scream in fright as your body lunges in the wrong direction, but he holds firm and you fall into his chest.

He catches you beneath your legs and cradles you against his body while you draw in ragged breaths, trying desperately to calm your pattering heart.

You stare into his dark eyes, half-hidden beneath curls that are of a similar shade, and the words you mean to say—so as to give him a piece of your mind—become stuck in your throat at the sight of him staring at your lips.

Your brows knit together momentarily, and then he practically tosses you down.

You land on your bottom, and a foul word slips from your lips in response to the pain that starts at your tailbone and radiates up your back.

"Ow, Jace! That hurt!"

He glances to the ledge, then back to you. "Imagine how much worse you'd feel had I not pulled you down."

You rise to your feet. "I came up here to get away from you, since all you seem in there is bothered by my presence!"

He rolls his eyes, but of course doesn't deign to reply as he turns and walks to the door.

He holds it open with an expectant look, and you sigh dramatically before going back inside, with him following closely behind.

#fic: hotd (jacaerys velaryon x reader)#jacaerys velaryon x y/n #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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mehiwilldoitlater · 4 months ago

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Black Cloud, Red Fire (Part 2)

(part 1) (part 3)

"It's there? We're close?"

"N-no...no, I don't think... I can sense something, but I think it's further up."

Since what happened at the bell site, you haven't spoken at all, which made the monkey stressed and worried for you. You kept on cradling your arm, trying to search for a sense of stability, maybe scared to share what was inside your mind. He couldn't comprehend what had happened—why wandering off like that? You said something was calling you, then he rang the bell, and... but what could he know? You didn't want to talk... Didn't you trust him enough?

In front of the both of you, the main gate of the temple blocked the road between its walls and the mosque itself. There was no other path; you needed to cross inside. Only the light of two lanterns welcomed you, but you felt anything but a welcoming aura. The monkey knew something was there, inside, waiting for you. He took your hand in his own, pointing to the gate with his staff.

"This time, don't wander off. We'll take a break. but we need to move forward, ok?"

You nodded, still shocked from what you saw and what you felt—that you still felt around you.

When you passed the main gate, you noticed another one, leading to the backyard. Around you, structures with statues of the Bodhisavta Guanyin, all made for the worshipper and the monks, but who could come to a place like this to pray? At the center, a tree grew in all its mightyness, and you noticed a small figure.

"Shhh!" the keeper spoke. "Keep quiet! You don't want to set off that beast!"

He kept on holding your hand, giving a small squeeze when he felt it tremble in his grasp. Another enemy, and be the look of the Keeper, a hard one.

"In the backyard is Black Wind Guai's ally. Calls itself Lingxuzi."

"Lingxuzi...i think i heard of him..." the monkey spoke "Wasn't he the wolf Guai that was friends with the Black Bear?"

"Yes and no! This one is merely a successor, but trust me when I say that it's far beyond your abilities! Now, considering your strength, I'd suggest you: "

Before he could finish, a howl that frozen your blood in your veins reached the three of you. Instantly, both of your attentions have been caught at the entrance of the backyard.

"Get away while you can, little ones!"

The Keeper disappeared in fear, leaving you both again in a place that now was so silent that it reminded you of a graveyard more than a temple. You felt your limbs tremble, your eyes stuck on that gate, afraid to see what was beyond that. There was no other way to cross, and as much as you wanted to run, you felt like you needed to go there.

The monkey sensed that uncertainty as much as your hand trembled, stronger than before. He diverted his gaze from the gate to you, ignoring what was supposed to be face for one moment.

"You don't have to follow me. You can wait here; I can handle it!"

"You...you want me to wait here?" You look at him holding your hand on your chest. "No! I can't just stay here and wait for something to happen! I... want to help somehow."

"But you're scared. I can feel it; you're not okay."

"I... I know, but... but I still know that it won't be right to just sit and wait for the worst to pass. Even if I'm afraid, I still want to follow."

Despite his worries for you, he smiled. You weren't that nobody that you kept saying; you were more. You both started to take the stairs; the backyard is now in sight.

"Once you pass that gate," said the keeper around you, "there's no turning back!"

"We've already passed that point." You sighed, while the grip on your hand became tighter.

You didn't have enough time to inspect the backyard because the one thing that was able to emit that scary sound in the area was already there. Walking on the roof of the structure in front of you, that wolf was so big that it was a mystery how it could hold him, its red eyes pointing to both of you, his shining white teeth glaring malevolent. A soft growl came from it. That was the beast; that was what even the wolves were scared of.

The monkey was fast enough to push you and sent you to a safer distance while he was ready to counterattack the charge of the wolf.

The backyard was encircled by smaller structures, which were always avoided by the same wolf during the fight. Lucky for you, his connection was completely on the monkey, or at least your companion was always fast enough to get in the line and avoid any chance for the monster to get a glimpse of you while you were moving around, trying to get to the other side.

The fight was terrying; if it weren't for the rumbles that he provoked that made you fall to the ground, those howls forced you to cover your ears for how strong and painful they echoed through your brain. More than once you tried to look at the monkey, and every time his fiery eyes sent you a message loud and clear.

Don't stop; just move.

At some point, you just need a few meters and one more sprint to get on those stairs, and you would be completely out of that monster radar! You were ready for one last run, but you needed to look, did you?

You cast another look at the scene of the fight, and you saw the scene: with one paw, the wolf was able to lift the monkey in the air like he was some rag doll, and, reaching him with a jump, he struck him down on the ground. You were able to hear the sound of his grunts of pain and coffs after all the air in his lungs for the shock. Before he could get back up, the wolf had already got his claws on him, stranding him on the ground with his full weight in his chest. The monkey tried to get free with his own claw, but the skin of that monster was so thick that it didn't budge a little. His maw opened, ready to take the head of the monkey that had decided to disrupt its mountain.

You looked back and forward; he could have handled it!

Thos teeth...he would never survive an attack like that!

Maybe the juice would cure him?!

There was even enough of that to do that?

Maybe you could... maybe he could...

"Oh, fuck it!"

You sprinted behind, looking around the small space between the main gate and the second building. Anything, everything was good in that case! You looked around before you just spotted, for a second, a bell! If funny to be in need of ring, what causes now major of the problems, eh?!

You searched on the ground for something hard and light enough to be held, and so you desperately grabbed a rock, and with all the strength that you possessed at that moment, you started to hit the rock so hard that you sensed it crambling between the impact on the metal.

Before those jaws could close on his head, the wolf's attention was caught by another sound—a strong ring of something near. He looked at the direction of the sound, and it seemed uneasy, especially noticing the origin of the sound. He soon left his first prey behind, leading to what was far too near his treasure.

When you heard his paws crashing the ground, you knew you were done for. You saw those bloody red eyes watching you and his massive tongue licking his razor teeth, savoring your flesh and bone. You didn't dare to move, too scared to provoke it! With your eyes, you looked at the wooden wall of the main building—a crack in the wood—it was big enough.

In the instant you sprinted to the wall, he was already tearing to pieces the bell. You squeezed so hard to get inside, hurting your arm and scratching it deeply in one piece of wood that pointed inside. He then realized your escaped attempt, and he launched itself to the crack, trying to tear it open and reach you. You squished yourself on the other side, trying to avoid that paw that, not once but many times, was so near to drag you out. You closed your eyes, ready to say your prayers. It was a nice life—a really nice one!

Then you heard a scream and the sound of the head of the wolf cracking in two by one blow. His body slowly faded to ashes, leaving you alone in that small spot. Only one shadow emerged, blocking the now dim light from the outside.

Using his staff as a support, panting and clearing in need of some more medicines. The monkey looked at you, visibly angry.

"I told you to move!"

You just stayed there, your breath stuck in your throat and your eyes wide open for what had just happened.

"I couldn't... let it kill you."

Those were the only words that came out of you. He still looked angry, but then sighed and reached for your hand. You grasp it immediately; now this act is becoming more natural than it was before.

"...Thank you."

A small smile appeared on his face; you still needed to know what had just happened.

An heartfelt laugh suggested to move around your heads; the Keeper must have been watching you bith from the beinning!

"You've surprised me! Now that's it's dead, you might—"

"Hey, wait a second!" The monkey voice sounded annoyed now, looking around with his tail moving for the nervousness.

"You know how dangerous it was, and you let Y/n follow me there! You could have helped her...us!"

"Little monkey," a nickname that made the face of your companion contort in discomfort. "As much as I would love to help you and your friend, I cannot! You are not the first Destined One and Bián huá that has been led here, and, by experience, my help can do so little."

His tone was apologetic—heartbroken at least. Where are you really the first one that was able to go this far? How many tried before you two... Maybe the old man did want to help but didn't know how. Maybe the relic was part of that small thing he could do.

"If we succeed, your power will be whole again, right?" You voiced, with a little more of a security, "Then we just have one way to do it... no?"

You looked at the monkey with a small smile. If you know that taking the relic could mean helping not only the monkeys but that old Keeper, then it was necessary to take it away! The monkey looked at you surprised and pleased. He liked that confidence. He hoped to see it more.

"I'm looking forward to it, child," the keeper kept going on. "As I was saying, you might as well take a good look around. A great pill the Black Wind Guai had gifted the wolf. Finding it would be a deserving reward for that fight!"

A pill? That was interesting. Even that big, ugly thing needed a little help. Good to know for both of you. You both started to look around, searching in it the various structures, and, funny enough, it was in the one that held you refuge when you caught its attention!

"HAHA!" you laugh, pointing at the small orb in front of both of you.

"Why are you reading now? Got hit in your head?"

"No! I...well...this thing was supposed to help it, and...well to avoid me knowing about it, it killed him!"

The monkey needed a little moment to think about your words, and, after a pause, he started laughing too. Such irony.

///

"How long do you think it will take?"

"Umm..i really don't know..you said is above us, so...higher on the mountain?"

You sighed, taking a seat on the nearby rock. You were exhausted, your footsteps started to get sloppy and slow, and you both haven't taken a break in hours, and this started to get a hold on both of you. Monkey looked at you, worried that at this rate the situation could only get worse, and he heard your stomach growling.

"Oh gosh..I'm sorry."

And then his stomach started to make the same sound. Well, it was late, and you needed to eat something...

He looked around; it wasn't a really bad place to stop, but you could have been spotted by the wolves, and a fire could only make it easier for them to catch you. You needed a nice hideaway, but you were exhausted. He looked at you, dead serious.

"Listen, we need to find a shelter. Now right now, I can't let you take another step, and I can't take you on my back. I need you to stay here, stay put, and wait for me."

"W-Wait?! Alone?!"

"It'll be just for a few minutes! I swear, as soon as I find a good place, I'll be back! And you have the keeper to watch you!"

You really didn't want to be alone in a place like this; hell, who knows what kind of new enemy that place could hold! But he was right, you were slowing him down now... and the idea of sitting and just realx was oh so tempting. You sighed, massaging your arm that he had bandages after the fight.

"Promise me to not take long."

"I swear..not a sound all right?"

"Yes. Come back soon."

He glanced you a nervous smile, showing that even if he had asked you this, he himself wasn't so sure about his own decision. Despite that, at that time, it seemed like the most reasonable solution, and so he disappeared in the woods.

Minutes passed,maybe more ,and you started to wonder if something could have happened to him. Well, it could happen to you too, but thinking of what was ready to cook you, like some meatloaf, wasn't a helper. Despite the small sense of paranoia, your strength started to come back every minute, giving you the time to start to focus around. Your monkey killed the wolves boss...would they be angry? Well, maybe they were, but he provoked you...sort of. Then there was still that hideous matter of the vision that you had—the bear that you saw must have been the Black Wind Guai, but why helping the boy? Yaoguais surely were stranges.

Deep in your thought, you wake up to the sound of rustling and laugh. You rose from your seat, especting to find the monkey, proud of himself after finding the place; instead, you met two big black eyes, a set of sharp teeth, and a not so nice canine muse.

"The human...little rascal! I finally found you!"

You gulped, taking a few steps back.

"You dared to disrupt our mountain! I'll stuff you like a roasted goose and get you eated by our master!"

"WAIT! D-Do not... STAY AWAY!"

He didn't follow your order; instead, holding his sword, he marched on you, ready to slash you up. You dodged by miracle, starting to run away from that guai and his malevolent intent.

"COME BACK! YOU INSIGNIFICANT HUMAN! WAIT TILL I'LL CATCH YOU!"

You tried to run, but you weren't still in full shape, and, to make things worse, your foot found itself anchoring to roots that grooved too high for your liking, making you fall on the ground, face flat on the dirt. The wolf, far more used to the obstacles, was on you in a few big steps, with his sword up in the air.

"NO NO, PLEASE! Leave Me Alone! AH!"

You try to cover yourself with your arm, screaming. The blow never came; instead, when you opened your eyes, the Wolf body was reduced to a gale of ashes, and a simian figure that you knew was there, painting after a run. Alerted by your screams, he had followed your scent and your voice and acted as fast as he could.

"Y/N! Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?!"

He held you by your shoulders, shaking you, trying to get one word from you.He was visibly worried—no, he was aprehensive; he knew for...how long? Ten minutes? And you were found already by one of your enemies, your face scratched by the fall, and...were you frozen up by fear?! Why you didn't respond?!

You kept silence for a few seconds, then your lips trembled, your mouth opened, and...you cried.

This was... how many times some of them tried to hurt you or kill you? How many of them were ready to cook you and eat you? You were tired, you were hungry, you were scared, and... and you couldn't handle it any more. You just started weeping while he was panicking.

This was the first time he ever saw you cry. He didn't know what to do! You seemed fine, then why were you crying?! He kept looking at you, loss of words, afraid to be sad too much or less, or what it could make things worse...

He didn't know what to do! This was completely out of his comprehension and what he learned! You were crying, but you seemed fine!

...Wait...he saw this happen before, between his younger siblings, when they were scared by something or someone...were you this scared that you just wanted to cry?

Then you felt his arms circling you, hugging you.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have left you there alone. It's my fault; please forgive me."

You didn't say anything, just weeping all of what you had inside out. You could just let your face fall on his chest while his hands caressing your back, trying to bring some comfort. He wanted to tell you that he had found a place, but now he preferred taking you in his arms and leading you there directely.

The road was silent, except for your hiccups, and you weren't so attentive on the road this time. You understood that he had found a cavern when the light of the sun disappeared. While sniffing, you heard a sound of something shifting, like something big.

"So that's the girl you were talking about?"

When you reached the cavern, you almost fell from his arms when you met the giant in that cavern. It was a horse—a big damn horse. With those hands, he could easily rip off your head from your body, and you weren't in the mood for another fight. But before you could panic again, the monkey was ready to calm you down.

"He's not an enemy, Y/N. He's a nice Yaoguai; you don't have to be afraid."

He gently putted you down, but you refused to leave his hand, still waiting for the moment that the horse could attack you both. Instead, the giant shifted on his spot, looking with his big brown eyes at your smaller figure that trembled at his gaze. He seemed moved by your poor trembling state; who knows how many perils you had to face with so little knowledge about how to fight?

"I'm not like those fools, little one. My honor refuses to harm innocents like you. There's nothing to be afraid of." He had a nice voice—calming, warm. His eyes too, despite his mighty look, seemed to be quite the gentle giant.

"I'll prepare something; you can take a rest, all right?"

The monkey reluctantly left your hand while starting to prepare a small fire at the edge of the cave. A stream up ahead founded a hole in the ceiling of the cave, creating a small waterfall and a pond. The horse sat in front of it, creating a scene that could have been put in a frame.

"Come closer; let us talk, little one."

You looked at him, still unsure, but after having noticed that there was no evil intent in his voice and action, a small gesture with his mighty hand, you took a few steps ahead. You took a seat on a fallen rock pillar, still looking at the giant horse for whatever possible danger he could pose to you and the monkey, even if, each every minute, this creature seemed the most docile one that you ever met on this journey.

"Tell me, what's your name?"

"...Y/n, sir..."

"Ma Tianba, little one, i'm no one's sir...He said you were here for an important matter... but you look out of water here; did something happen?"

"....Something happen? ...Everything is happening!" You opened your arms in an exaggerated gesture. "I was in my world! Bored and normal! Now I'm here, and I had to deal with...monsters, demons, and old monkeys made of stone! Monster wants to eat me, or to just kill me, and I'm losing my mind! I'M AT MY LIMIT!"

You were ready to start crying again, but you composed yourself with the thought that the monkey would just be more worried. Ma Tianba listened calmly, caressing his muse with his hand, surprised at first by your outburst, but it seemed almost normal to act like this when you're facing all this turmoil. It was clear that, even if alongside a proud wife as the monkey, you were still...human. Frail, scared, and confused of your surroundings.

"Then...why don't just leave?"

"I can't just leave! I need to find a way back! And the worst of all is that I'm just here acting useless when the monkey fights everything with his life on the life!"

"Umm..useless, you say, uh? " He pondered a little at your words, remembering the small talk that he had shared with the simian before he could hear your scream in the forest. "... But your friends said that without you he could have never found this place. "

You massaged your face, looking at the horse between your still wet lashes. Wait...did the monkey tell him that?

"And he said that you saved him from a terrible foe...That doesn't sound useless."

"N-no, but he still gave his all for this mission."

"And so do you...you don't look like you had never faced something like an Yaoguais, and yet here you are. You could run; instead, you're staying."

You didn't know how to respond...you could have turned back; there was not one but many chances before...and yet you followed the monkey. And even with that, the same destiny could have just left you behind, like the weight that you thought you were. He really did trust you so much to the point of not even seeing what was clear to you.

"From what he said, you're strong and kind. He said you would like to help the Keeper of this Mountain. It's a hard quest, but you put your heart into it, didn't you?"

"But I can barely fight..."

"Fight ask for learning, and learning needs time. You'll have all the time; what you have now will be enough."

What a strange guy he was. He didn't eat humans; at least he didn't want to eat you. His composure reminded you of an old warrior, and he was exceptionally kind and wise. He showed compassion and patience over your outburst, maybe because, at his age, he can come to terms with the fact that it's helping to just be able to talk and having someone to hear about someone else's problems.

"You know... I do know the struggle of feeling helpless. I could have given up on my rage, and yet I decided another path. An act of kindness changes my life...even in that there's strength, so I see no uselessness in you."

You stayed silent, looking in the direction of the monkey. Did he hear it all? Of course he did! Now you felt shameful to force that horse to listen to you and embarrassed because your outburst happened just in front of the monkey, who was preparing porridge, of course.

"Ask this yourself; if he can accept you whole, why don't do it for yourself?"

Once again, he was right... You stood up, reaching the monkey, and putted a small piece of wood on the fire. He stirred the porridge calmly, with a satisfied smile on his face.

"...Thank you to keep it up with me."

"Thank you for being you then."

"...Can we share our food with him?"

"The more, the merrier."

///

After leaving Ma Tianba, it seemed like he had other plans, such as sleaving the Black Wind Guai territory, so you continued your journey. After a long path that required even getting wet a little, you both found yourself on another step of rock stairs. Now, around you, the tree started to get less and less thick, now giving way to what was the bamboo grove.

The air was colder than before; not a single ray of sun was able to filter between the leaves before, but now it was just so dark. A small mist covered the area, giving it a more suggestive atmosphere. Just when you started to ascend the stares, the two of you heard a voice, a chanting one.

"Long bound by a worldy cage,

now free in nature's sage."

"Uh?"

"It's a poem." The monkey spoke, "Someone is making some verser up here."

Strange place to make some poetry, you said to yourself. A small part of you thought that it might be another guai, maybe one that wanted to attack both of you by luring you in with some poetry, but when you reached the place, a huge space adorned by rocks and fires, what you found was a man with long white hair and a giant gord on his back.

He was standing, brushing in his hand, composing on a piece of paper and painting that he was making. He didn't even look at you; he just kept on painting.

"Have you seen those nameless souls adrift on your path?"

"I'm sorry?" You asked, and he finally turned around, gifting you a small smile.

"Their will float aloft, never to fade." He shook his head, worried for... whatever he was talking about. "Shame, your gourd serves little purpose, and mine answers solely to me."

He scratched his head with his brush; this matter must have been quite important to him.

"There's...something we can do about it?" The monkey questioned, his eyebrows high. The man seemed pleased with the pek of interest by the two of you—almost like he had already the solution all along.

"I know a way to guide the souls, mend their paths, and set them free. It will aid you."

And, with one move of his hand, he snatched magically the gourd from the monkey side, causing a shocked reaction between the both of you.

"HEY!" You screamed, "What the-"

"Ah ah." The man shushed you, moving his hand, and with the same brush, he started to write something with some light erupting from the same object. After this strange stunt, he chickled, observing his work.

"Now, this is better." He launched the gourd back in your direction; the monkey catched it. "This gourd, though humble, may save the lost, banish their obsession, and guide them."

You look at each other confused. He tried to move the gourd, trying to shake it, noticing a strange sound coming from it—a jingle?

"Um...mister...whoever you are...we're not sure to know what had just happened."

"Yes and writing on goards without permission is not very nice."

The man just laughed at your words; now back to his work on his painting.

"Would you leave a gift as mine? When time calls, every small help can be a gift from heaven. Especially when someone is destined as the two of you. From now on, there's no turning back."

"We were aware of that..."

"We are like tumbleweed, drifting through life, with destiny beyond our grasp. Both of you must follow what has been prepared for you. And, since the road had already claimed you, now you must see it through. Your heart will guide you further. We shall meet again."

...What a strange man...and he was supposed to meet you again? Such certain in someone that you had barely known. The monkey looked at you. shrugged his shoulder in your direction with a small grimn. He hasn't told you anything that you didn't know—even if you wondered what he was trying to do.

Before you could leave the space, an old hand grasped your hand, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He didn't put any force in it, and he was just holding you a piece of paper, the one that he was painting before.

"When you find what is inside the crack... remember to follow your heart...you'll find more that you need."

///

"This humble's one name is Guangmou. Should my demise come by your hands, please pass this message to my master: "

The blueish creature kept tapping his hand with his closed fan, looking visciously at both of you.

"Searching for deaity, mortals do aspire. Craving immortality, Yaoguais surely will conspire!"

And, with the movement of the same fan, the fight began.

Why did you have to face another opponent? During your tracks, everything seems fine, aside from the fact that now wolves were completely gone and what populated the area were... snakes. A lot of snakes...snakes everywhere. And the best part? Even dead snakes! It didn't make sense, but what was making it?

What you knew was that, in the middle of a small talk with your companion, you felt it again. The pulling in your stomach, something calling you. The stagnant water asked again to be moved, and you needed to do that. You really wanted to ignore this and keep going on, but you simply couldn't, could you?

So you followed that feeling, with the monkey now at your side, aware of the danger. And you found it: a blueish creature that could move the wind itself and was helped by other snakes.

In the fight, he talked strange; he seemed resentful of someone yet accepting his own death. When the monkey took the form of the wolf that he had already fought near the bell, he seemed almost happy to know that he was taking that body to finish him.

Once again, the monkey was able to conquer the guai with his power, which was growing and growing every time. While turning to ashes, something came from his mouth.

"My master is possession-obsessed... You are just like him..."

What he said was... pretty ambiguous. You wondered if he was referring to the monkey or...someone else that the creature remembered in his past. Monkey stood there, watching that body vanish in the air, just like the others that he had already vanquished. Then , his attention was initially on you, worried that you could collapse again on the ground, exhausted by whatever was happening in your head.

"How do you feel?" He asked aprehensively, putting a hand on your shoulder, saying that you were still fine...sort of. He clearly meant that sensation in your body. Somehow it became stronger than before, indicating that the defeat of this Yaoguai was necessary for...something that you didn't know.

You touched your forehead, frowning, trying to perceive what was moving around you that was trying to call you upon something—maybe another bell? It felt like water, a stream that was slowly pushing you around in a certain direction.

"I don't know... I'm fine, but... umm." You still were trying to remember something—maybe a detail.

Last time,. when he fought that old wolf, you weren't sure of who he was—yet, he spoke of a master—maybe the bear.

"Listen," you asked to the monkey. "That old wolf...back at the bell, do you think you know who could have been?"

The monkey started thinking about it, trying to search in his head about wolves and such, which were a lot in the journey. After thinking about a wolf that played the part of the monk, he remembered a name.

"Well, if that one was Guangmou, and he seemed to know the form of the wolf, maybe he was Guangzhi?"

"Guangmou? Guangzhi? I remember now!" The keeper's voice resonated again. Those names must have clicked in the memory of the monkey too; he started to move around, caressing his chin, remembering the passages of the story.

"They were... in the Guanyin temple as disciples... right?"

"Yes!" The keeper kept it on. "The evil monks abetted Elder Jinchi to burn the Great Sage and Tang Monk alive...That's these two! ...I thought they were already turned into ashes by that fire. Who would have thought that they had turned into yaoguais?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" You moved your hand in the hair. "They were dead, right? Then how did they -"

"It's not possible." The monkey stopped you. "There's nothing that can bring back someone that is dead—nothing in this world at least."

"It's so confusing. Even if someone can do that, why? Why bring them back?"

Your companion kept on piundering...then noticed the road that was going on, deep between the bamboo plants. He painted it with his staff, looking at you with a small smile.

"Your strange feeling could help us in this, i suppose."

It felt strange; even with this abnormality, he kept on trusting you, even encouraging you to follow it. You smiled with him, looking at the road ahead of you. Deep down, you wondered if following it was a good idea, if it wasn't just a terrible joke of your mind or a sickness of some sort, but in any case it wasn't like you had a by-choice.

It was a voice calling to you to bring something that no one else could. Like asking to finish a story kept untold.

And, as before, the monkey led you his hand, following you somewhere deep in the mountain.

The walk was long but awfully easy; there were no obstacles or strange encounters. It was so strange to find no enemy on your path, but at least this didn't distract you on this small mission on you. At the end of a path, inside a crazing in the mountain, you both found yourself on the other side; the forest kept on going on without the hope to end, the fog thicker than ever.

"It's here. I can sense it; something is around!"

"I don't see anything... Are you sure?" He stopped, noticing a small glow on the end of a small stair made of rock. There ,it was there.

Like the last time, you found a bell identical to the first one that you had already found. A dizziness came to you; you couldn't stop looking at that damn thing without the desire of ringing it. He felt that desire of yours; his hand grasped the rope of the trunk connected to the bell. And yet he esitaded, remembering your state at the first one.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on with you, but please, "he pleaded," talk to me. I need you to trust me and tell me everything."

Even now, he asked you to believe in him, but how could you if you even couldn't trust your own feelings? Were those instincts true? Being taken to another world was enough, but start seeing visions?

But his decision, his strength, his faith in you... You nodded, your hand on the iron surface of it.

"I'll tell you everything. I'm ready. Go."

He answered your request; the roar of the instrument shocked you from your core, and then you saw it again.

The boy becomes a man, a trusted and renowned monk between his peers and elders. His words could reach hearts, and yet something was amiss. His heart longed for something so trivial, so simple...robes?

When you came back to your senses, his arms were holding you, moving you to try to take you back on his earth.

"Y/n! Y/n ! Please stay with me!"

His voice called you several times, and you tried to shake your head, feeling heaviness on your shoulder. Was supposed to be this painful every time?!

"Old Kepper! Y/n...It's happening again!"

"I have an ominous feeling..." The keeper had reached you once again, stating that there was in fact something off there. "Child...what do you feel?"

The monkey helped you sit on the ground, holding you by your shoulder, looking at you worried that you could just get worse than before.

"It's like...there's someone that wants me to know something...and I feel this...pain, this rage...everytime the bell rings, it's like when you open a window and the dust comes out."

"Ummm..after the bell rang, it seems as though the resentment in the depths of the mountain has grown."

"Is it... is it possible that is something that's forcing you to go through this? Why?!"

"Forget it," the keeper shush the monkey. "Overthinking won't help. Your presence has already messed up the mountain."

The monkey takes you in his arms, slowly moving towards where you came from. You held to him strongly, feeling the tenderness of his warmth around you. You sighed, wondering if it was your fault if everything was going to be more difficult than it wasn't already.

"Oh, came on! What are those elong faces?!" The keeper's voice had become a little more joyful. "Why not go ahead and take them out once and for all?"

"You mean finishing what we started?"

"Exactly, little monkey! You had done the impossible already; stopping now is just nonsense, don't you think?"

The monkey still mumbled, sighing about the nickname, but he had more important matters.

"Hey, about what I saw..."

"You don't have to tell me now if you're tired."

"How can I be tired on this thrilling adventure?"

You both laughed at your small retort. At least you didn't lose your funny bone.

"Alright...so there was a boy..."

You talked all the way on. It felt nicer this time, being able to express what you saw, your feelings, and the fact that the higher you were going, the deeper that resentment started to grow. You started to wonder, Where are those souls of the monks that were killed in the fire? The monkey explained to you that, in the story, everything was done by the hand of the Elder Jinchi, just because he wanted to obtain one of the treasures of the monk, a golden Kasaya.

"That explains why I saw those robes in my vision. It's such a shame; he seemed like a respected guy."

"Oh, he was. He could live a longer life than anyone," responded the monkey. "I guess that he just needed that push to lose himself."

"And the two encouraged him..."

"Yes, they did... and now they were back... I wonder if-" He stopped, hearing something in the distance. Between the cracking and the cry of the wooden bridges that you were crossing, someone was calling for help. At the edge of the wooden structure, between the branches of a tree, something fluffy and black was trying to avoid the spire of a Yaoguai that was trying to catch it, moving his limbs and launching several small sticks or pine cones. The guai, a snake, seemed interested in that thing that completely ignored your and your friend's presence. After having noticed that the black fuffy thing had a tail, you figured out, in surprise, what it was.

"It's a monkey!"

"Where?!"

"There! On that tree!" He took you down, careful not to drop you from his hands, and suddenly started to rush towards the other monkey that had spotted him in the distance.

"COME! COME! Help a big brother and give them a drubbing!"

The snake wasn't a match for your companion, and, as soon as it was taken for, the monkey jumped down from the branch. His fur and skin were pitch black, decorated with jaded pearls and other small gems, reminding of some beard decoration. His robes were old and raggy, just like a few parts of his furr; maybe this place wasn't that good for his life. Why was he there anyway?!

"These snake guai are nothing to fear!" said his chirping voice, but werem'ty himself the one that was hiding?!"Snake gall stepped kin drink, though, makes a fine tonic to flush malady!"

He started to walk inside the wall of the rock, showing a small grotto in the mountain.

"Here here, young friend! Be my guest inside!"

Another new encounter; surely this mountain was quite alive, the monkey thought. Hey, did he say malady?! He riushed towards you with a new idea—a good one even!

"So... I guess you don't know him, right?"

"Yup! But he may have something to help you with your strength! So....HERE!"

Without a second guess, he marched with you in the cave. The first thing that caught your attention was the strong and pointy smell of alcohol, which was quite unique in these parts, with some exception. There, on the other hand, was quite stronger. Around the jars that emitted that smell, maybe it was where the product was refined, but it was abnormal to find someone ready to prepare some wine here in a temple in the first place, right?

"Well well... I'd stake you're one more monkey from Mount Huaguo." He said, pointing to your friend. Then his eyes looked at your tired expression, "And you...another Bián huá, i presume... I've met many of you."

What a grave and sconsolated tone... He must have seen so many of his own kind around these parts, trying to recollect the relic, and who knows how many he had to bury. He looks so old, so old and tired...and a little drunk too, based on the smell.

"Who are you... um..."

"Shen, young friend. By rank of birth, you all ought to call me forefather... eh, but I'm just an old monkey banished to the mortal world."

"Banished?" that small information picked up your interest. "Why so?"

"Oh, stories as old as the world, little one... but what about her, young friend?"

"Oh," the monkey let you down from his arms; your legs kept bubbling here and there like a small dawn. "She... well, she has been through a lot."

"Ah, a small thing like you? Poor little one... " The old monkey, Shen, said with a pinch of tenderness. His long fingers caressed your forehead, moving away a few strands of hair from your face, constating that you were in fact quite pale. "I may have the right thing for you."

He then started to roam through his staff, a series of bottles scattered along with an old chest. It seemed like he had never taken care of those staff or, maybe, he once did but started to lose interest at some point.

"There...the tonic I told you about before, my friend! A gulp, and you'll be good as knew!" He chirped, holding to you the small bottle.

You observed the small coccon; the glass was thick and difficult to see isnide, but the color was similar to the tea as tones. You opened it, and suddenly, a rancid smell came to your nostrills; it was so bad—acid, almost irony. You had to cover your face to avoid any surprises.

"What...is this?!"

"Just a small tonic for your poor body, my dear! A big gulp, and you'll be better than ever!"

"Do I have to?"

The monkey looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Where are you really rejecting his gift? Soom, you felt a cape of cold over you, looking at that questoning face. Then you looked at the younger monkey. He motioned with his head to just do it.

The savor was... unique... a bad unique.

You tingle and throat were burning like fire; you started to cough so hard that your eyes started to weep; you wanted to bute the ofrefather's hand and use it to clean your tongue! He just stood there, satisfied with you and the younger one; that was more considered to avoid any comments about the event.

After a few minutes of you trying to breathe, you found yourself so much in strength... that you bunked the older monkey in his head with the small bottle of the tonic.

"Do you want me dead?!"

"Even if I would, you seem pretty alive!"

"THIS IS NOT THE CASE!"

And, under the face of a really amused and quite holding his laugh monkey, you kept on bickering about the strange substance that he had offered you, giving him in fact a nice and enjoyable day.

///

"Remember young friends: a sip makes one tipsy, many sips make one hammered!"

"AHAH! See you soon, Mr. Shen!"

You laughed, the last one after many in those hours that you spent alongside the old Shen Monkey. The younger one couldn't suppress the smile on his face seeing you all back in your cheerfulness. You seemed full of strength even. Maybe it was one more friendly encounter with a nice soul or the tonic, but whatever it was, you were now back in your tracks.

"So, feel better?"

"Yes! We can move on now!"

And so, the two of you started to move forward again, except that this time the area was...different. No more bamboo groves; even the tree seemed to have disappeared; now all around you was just water. You had passed a waterfall where you came from, but here the water was still as a lake.

It wasn't deep; in fact, when the monkey landed his first step in it, he could easily move without obstacles like mud or algae.

"It's a marsh... Here, the rocks stop the waters that came from the rainy season."

"A nice place for some snake to live,?" You retorded, trying to avoid the discomfort of moving with your boots soaked wet.

When you put your feet in the water, you felt like something was shjocking you. You almost tripped from the surprise, only to be supported by your friend.

"Hey! You're okay?!"

"I... umm...." you touched your forehead. "Someone is here."

"Frogs?"

"Neh, not those kinds of guais... something else."

You looked around; the fog around you was thicker than ever. Maybe this was the place where it originated from? But even if thick, it couldn't hide the silhouette of something in the distance.

"A temple?" you whispered, fearing to be heard by that someone.

The monkey looked at you and started to lead you to that place, knowing that following your strange power could only lead you both to your mission and more.

The closer you get, the more the structure starts to take on a more visible shape. What was left of a temple? It seemed still in good shape. Two fires were lit at the side of it, and a few old coloms of rock stood between the water and the plants, nature taking back and conquering.

A gentle breeze blowed, the swamp straw gently moving like feathers. It seems so magical; no sounds could be heard, only the croak of the frogs and some insects.

"Hailed bird, hailed bird!

What dimmed your shine?"

A voice started to sound in the swamp. The arm of your friend instantly shielded you.

"Past's grip, beyond our grasp.

The future, we may still clasp."

Another poem? This one was strange...future? A metal sound grasped your attention; something fast was moving towards you from the sky. The monkey suddenly grabbed you, jumping away while something collided with the water and the rocky ground of the swamp. A spear, its blade sinuous like a snake.

After having been freed from the ground, the owner of the same weapon called it back to him.

It was a man...or at least he seemed that, but his scaly blueish skin, yellow reptile eyes, and his fangs—he was a snake with human features? or a human with snake features?

"Late is the hour, young one..." he moved slowly towards the two of you, his voice calm and controlled. "In which you choose to stain my tranquil abode."

"We," you raised your hand, "didn't want to disturb you! WE just-"

"I know what it led you here, Bián huá..." You gasp, he... he knows who you were?! Shen monkey did know, because he was a monkey, but... this Guai...

"My question here... is for the destined one..so..." he rose his spear,pinting the blade towards him. "Pray tell, to what end do you seek?"

The clasp of their weapon echoed with the sound of the water that was moved in the fight. Despite being so near, that monster never ever laid his weapon at you. More than once, he had taken the rightfull distance to not let you fall under their clash, almost like he tried to avoid you harm.

And his talk... between some attacks, he kept on saying strange phrases...

"Bane and bliss, summoned by deeds...do you still not see it?!"

What in heaven name was he talking about?=! What deeds?! From the beginning, he was just a mysterious snake!....or...He was? Something seems so off with you; could the monkey feel it too? He was already different from the other snakes, not that Guangmou was very snake alike, but... you don't know, he had something that made him stand against the other...

The fight kept on and on; both of them were far too skilled, but eventually the monkey seemed to have prevailed against the snake. He fell to the ground, his hand gripping the rock at the bed of the swamp, clearly enraged by his defeat.

"You have forced my hand..."

He was planning something; he didn't disappear like the others! He slowly disappeared into the water, while his voice was still well received. His face is still visible between the surface of the water and the air.

"Now you shall face what I truly am!"

His body has changed; in a series of splashes he had remetrified, his legs completely fused into a lost spire, a long blue tail that you couldn't see the end of. His attacks now were more aggressive, swifter, and more frequent than before. The monkey had difficulty avoiding them, but every time was ready to come back to his own two feet.

"Denying fate means DEATH!"

Death?! Fate?! He meant the fact that he was the destined one?! You tried to stay out of the fight, but you noticed something. His hairs were tied in an elegant golden hair crown; warrior attire was now covering his body, and he was no longer the snake that you two had met but a man—a noble man...

"W-what..." The monkey kept fighting, the water still splashing. No, only you could see that? He had changed! You get close, a few steps, trying to see better that strange incantation, without noticing the water blade that the monkey was able to evade, and...you were in the trajectory!

"Y/n!" your friend's voice echoed; he launched towards you, but before he could act, a long tail sgrabbed you, throwing you away before you could get hurt. Your body collided with the water and the stone, but it was this or sliced in two by some very thin and strong water eject.

When you rose your head from the water, his eyes were back in those yellow creepy orbs, watching you intently. He didn't move, he didn't act—he knew what you saw.

In that instant, the staff of the monkey collided with him; the strike was lethal enough, and he was sent flying away. He was finished, but he still had enough strength to stand up.

"HALT!" he screamed, using his spear to rise up. "No ill will I bear! I'm only my brother's eyes and ears. I feign my loyalty to guard this path on the bear's order!"

"Feign?" the monkey steps closer, looking at him. "Who's your brother?! And why are you doing this?"

The snake smiled; the only response he gave was another poem.

"Your destiny's bleak and stark. In its grip, we share the mark."

"Enough riddles!" The monkey was clearly frustrated, but before he could lose his patience, your hand had reached his arm to clamp him down.

"He's not what we see! He's......he's not...."

The snake smiled, so you did see through... He stood up, looking back, to the path behind the temple.

"The Guanyin temple now lies in cinders, yet the Elder's soul endures..." He started to show some pain; he was reaching his limits.

Your eyes widened. The soul of the Elder? ...Elder Jinchi?! ...the man in your visions?! The malevolent feeling you felt, thaty weight...it was him?! His soul was still there, rotting in that place?!

"The root of greed ever fosters the storm of suffering. Better to forget the things you truly seek."

The last poems, before turning to ashes... but he hasn't stopped because his voice left one last message that both of you heard loud and clear.

"The three bells... Have you seen them all? Do you, too, desire that which they ceaselessly hold dear?"

"The bells?" The keeper's voice had finally come back.

"Uh? Do you... remembered something, old keeper?" You said, still quite shocked by what happened, while squeezing your casca from the water.

"Three bells were set in the mountain since the Black Wind Guai's return, "he said, "yet no one is allowed to go near them."

"Umm...this is...quite strange, even for a Yaoguais such as the Black Wind Bear," said the monkey, getting near you. "And every time we were close to one, you had the urge to find them."

"Maybe," the Keeper continued, "the bells have something to do with the temple's burning."

"Well, every time we rang them, I felt like something was moving—the restements you were talking about before the old one...but how did he know these things? And..." you looked where the path was taking on. "...should we trust what he said?"

"His words sound like truth to me, children. Stay sharp and keep a lookout!"

You two stayed in silence for a few seconds, then the monkey slapped your head.

"OUCH!" you screamed, holding it. "What's that for?!"

"It's less painful than being sliced in two! Why did you come so close to the fight?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! It just...something happened...he...changed?"

"Yeah, he became a long snake..."

"NOT THAT! He was...human..more human..and he saved me..did you see that?"

Of course he saw that, but admit that he was confused just as you couldn't help your actual situation.

///

After another walk in the water, you were able to finally spot the final bell. Art the top of a rock stairs, towered in the only dry area that you've found around there, but, beside the ominous feeling that kept cvraving down your skin, what really caught your eyes was the secrecy in front of the stairs: wolves, sitting down in reverence of the body of another wolf. His fur was white as snow, and his robes resembled the same color as himself, alongside some silver and blue decoration. Even as a corpse, his expression was not one of pain but despair and sorrow.

"What......is that?" You whispered, your eyes glued to that hanged figure. The wolves, with their sharp ears, heard your voice in the silence of the forest and were already armed to fight.

"I'll take care of that." and with that, the monkey was already into the fight.

This time, instead, you stepped in before he could harm the last wolf standing, one that holed a òlantern in his paw.

"Wait! Don't harm him! I have questions!" The monkey, alongside the wolf, looked at you clearly confused. The wolf, on the other hand, sighed in realief, depsite seeing his own comrade dissipate in the hair. You git closer, the monkey still near enough to strike the last blow to the wolf if anything was sketchy for him.

"I don't have anything to share with you, human!"

"I know...I'm sorry for your friends...but, please, I need to know! Why are you here?"

The wolf kept his mouth screaming until the pressure of the staff started to point to his head.

"We were here to pay respect to our fallen leader, Lingxuzi."

You both suddenly remembered the words of the old keeper. He did say about a successor that came after the old one, but the story said that he was beaten by Sun Wukong, not hanged! And the body was... fresh?

"But...his death happened a long time ago," the monkey said, pointing to the hanged one. "How can that be?"

"The bleack bear!" cried the wolf. "He had found it! The secret to take back the deceased from the land of the dead!"

"He did...what?!" You stepped in. "But if he was back to life, why was he killed?!"

"Human...he was not killed...he hanged himself, for the shame of the cost of the ritual!"

"What cost?" The monkey snarled between his teeth.

"Many lives...for one life... Many of my brothers take their lives for his comeback, but that wasn't what he wanted, I suppose."

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. You kept looking at what now was more like a desperate soul than a Yaoguai. He killed himself because he couldn't bear that kind of guilt for others to die for himself. It was painful. Did the bear know about this?! He just gave the name to another...did he even care?

Noticing your look full of grief, the monkey takes back his weapon.

"Leave," snarled the wolf. The other trotted away, more scared for his life to care for what was happening. A few moments of silence passed, and the monkey noticed how much these new informations started to form some answer to your questions AND WHATEVER WAS DRIVIGN YOU.

This feeling, this pain, and these resentments—all of this was the doing of the black bear. Resurrecting the dead, moving them like pawns...what was his game?!

He took your hand, snapping you out of your river of thought.

"It's the last one. Are you ready?"

"..." You nodded; you weren't, but now the desire to know was stronger than anything else.

And, so the bell once again echoed through the mountain and the forest, birds flying away scared from the wave provoked by them. You were ready to see... but you saw nothing. What you felt. Instead, it was like a pure mass coming towards you, like a valanche of nothing but hate and sorrow. You felt your hair being taken from you. And while you heard the voice of the Destined one calling for you, the light started to fade.

///

A smell of smoke was all around you; small, dead leaves scratched your face.

A light in the distance, everything was dark—that wasn't the sun...

Your eyes were wide open when you realized what was in the distance: a massive fire; everything was burning. People were screaming for help, to stop the fire, for pain. The silhouette of someone holding a long staff, resting peacefully on a tree, admiring from there the view of this terryging sight. You couldn't get his features, but... it had a tail.

"M...monkey?"

You trembled saying that name, but more when you heard him giggle.

"Eh...serve him right... wasn't so pious. After all, if the master is safe, then...nothing else matters."

His canine showed when he smirked; Golden eyes glowed in the dark.

///

"Y/N!! Y/N!!! CAME ONE, OPEN YOUR EYES!"

And suddenly, you were back. You started to cough. Your lungs were like engulfed with smoke from the fire that you saw. You needed a few moments to regail some fresh hair, but the smell of smoke was still around you like a ghost.

"Oh gods, are you okay?! You fainted all of a sudden!" You were, in fact, on the ground; he was supporting your shoulder with his arms, watching you try to breathe correctly.

"I... I think... I think I am? I'm...w...we...oh God..where are we?!"

Around you, the vibrant green of the forest was gone, such as the light of the sun. Around you, everything was dark, gray, and decaying. In front of you, a stair and the entrambe of... a temple? It seemed familiar...

"I don't know," the monkey said while helping you get up. "Everything is a blur. I only remember that we rang the bell and then we were here."

Yes, but...where here?

It was, in fact, a forest, but everything seems so dead, from the colors to the plants; even the rocks seemed out of life. In the distance, the howling of wolves intensified, yet it seemed more grim than it was already before. You still felt that horrible smell of smoke and burned around yourself, but for some reason the monkey seemed unfazed by it. Wait, could he even smell that?

It felt difficult to breathe already, but you needed to push on, at least until you two were able to understand where that strange bell decided to take you. In front of you, the gate of a very familiar temple was open, like to invite you in—a eerie welcome.

Holding each other hand, the two of you entered the temple, finding no other option available at the moment and...

"Wait, hold on...this is..."

"Yeah," responded the monkey. "I think this is... but it cannot be right?"

The structures at the side of the gate to the backyard, the big forecourt that opened in front of you, the small shrine in front of the tree—it was the Guanyin temple?! It was! But... it was like it was destroyed, and that tree seemed dead for a long time...

"This can't be right; it was in place when we left it!" You exclaimed, alarmed by the state of the place.

The monkey poundered a little. You were right—this couldn't be the right place! But everything seems the same, and... then an idea crossed his mind.

"We're... back in time?"

"What?!"

"We're back. We're back after the Kasaya accident! After the defeat of the black wind, Guai!"

"Oh, please!" you scoffed and coffed again. "How is this even possible?!"

"Well, it wasn't possible to resurrect the dead, and here we are!"

"All right, even so, why did the bells decide to take us here?!

The monkey couldn't respond, but his eyes were glued to the door of the backyard, shut close. You understood; the only option was to go forward.

When the two of you reached the closed door, you noticed a small sound coming from there—it seemed like someone was rustling or moving around.

"Do you heard that?"

"The monkey's face was serious. He looked at you, his iron grip on your hand, ready to put you to safety.

You two needed to push the door to make just one of the two open, and when you were finally able to understand the object of those noises, you two were in shock.

You met that thing before, but you were so tired that you weren't sure, but the monkey knew that thing. It was roaming the mountain...but this couldn't be the same one, right?

His proportions were quite messy, a head far too big for his body, even in his massiveness.

and a red robe that maybe once had seen better days. What really caught your attention was not his statue, but the fact that he was completely covered in gold—no, he was made of gold!

Despite that, his face was shattered by darklines that reminded him of cracks, from his head, covered in strange needles, to his face. His eyes were shut closed, but when the two of you entered the backyard, his attention was immediately towards you.

"Oh! Thank Amitabha! Ah ah, Oh, finally then, the three bells sang!"

Your coughing increased again, and the smell of smoke got stronger than before. The monkey grips became stronger, fearing to know who was that creature in front of him.

"Disciples come!" He started moving around, calling for... no one? "I hear travelers approaching my temple! Carrying new treasures!"

"New...treasures?" You whispered, afraid to know what was going to happen. The monkey realized who he was by his words—that bear was really a despicable one.

"That man... that thing... is the Elder Jinchi."

"T-The elder? He was...bringed back?!"

"I'm afraid that what the bear had brought back is the worst of that man."

The Elder joyfukll movements stopped; he started to sniff around, maybe called by one of your scents.

"I cannot see you... but I recognize your odor! And...oh...oooh..." His expression...seemes like infatuated "something new...something precious...but...it cannot be you?" As the monkey stepped closer, the monster stepped back, afraid of who was in front of him. "You are back?! And...with you, the monk?! No, no, it cannot be! Burn, he must have had burn!"

Wait...back? ... Did he mistake the monkey for the Great Sage?! How could he remember his scent from all these years?! And was he referring to you as something precious?! His expression changed again, now less frightened, more angry. He just remembered something.

"It must be you who took that kasaya! NOW GIVE IT BACK!"

Around you, from the ashes, bodies started to rise, emaciated as skeletons and without real life. The monks who died in the fire started to roam the backyard once the Elder started to attack the monkey. Your friend was fast enough to send you back; your poor body just started to contract for the amount of coughing. You couldn't beath! Everything was just smoke! You couldn't help in any case, even now!

Despite his giant stature, that creature was fast and swift, and his attacks were aways made to take the monkey out of his legs. Not to mention those corpses roaming around! Attacking and defending—he needed to do them at the same time! And those corpses hid more disadvantage for him when they started to explode in some kind of golden energy!

"Bring me his treasure! BRING IT TO ME!"

Treasure?! The elder started to float in the air. shrouded by a golden aura and the bodies

They seemed like in a trance, and...they were ignoring him?! He was there in front of them, and... he had seen them reaching the door, towards your pained body, still trying to catch some air in your lungs!

"Y/N!" He launched towards them, starting to beat them until nothing was left of them but dust.

"You need to move! THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU!"

You tried to rise, to move, but you had enough strength to do that. Why was that happening?! The monkey kept on fighting, but there were so many! You looked at him, trying to avoid more attacks and still defending you. No, this couldn't be the end!

"S..st...O..." You couldn't speak; you forced your lungs to work.

"Sto...p..." He was almost surrounded; that old monster savored what he was protecting!

"STOP!"

A folden aura appeared, like an aurora in the air, and...all of them stopped. The symbol of the immobilize spell...

The monkey looked around; everything was still. They stopped. You made them stop? With the spell?!

He cleared every one of those monks until the Elder fell down from whatever kind of magic he was doing, shocked and afraid by what had just happened. The monkey needed to take care of that old monk when he could, using the result of your spell on the others to finish the fight!

He needed some more time but, at some point, the Elder stopped his attacks, looking around, dejected.

"Two hunderd...and seventy years spent..." he was crying. The monkey ran towards you, holding you in his arms, hearing you stop coughing, now lying still. "Kasayas collected...by the hundreds...still one short...without hi..."

He was...resented, maybe? By his action? His gold started to fade in fine dust, slowly erasing himself.

"No, no, no! Stop, stop, stop!" He started to panic again, looking around, searching for someone. "Guangzhi! Guangmou! That kasaya...leave it...just leave it! Stop the fire! Please stop..."

And, while calling his disciple for stopping the ootrageus act he had done, he fanisced in a fog made of golden dust.

///

In your dreams, you saw the old man. He loved that piece of cloth, gold like the sun and the fire. He wished for it deeply, unaware that the same cloth was his future demise.

Just for that, he accepted to do what no man should do, accepting the atrocities that the fire could do to the temple. He couldn't bear the pain, so he ended his life.

And while the fire consumed everything, someone watched in the distance, aware that his treasure was secure and protected.

When you woke up, the forest was back to life. Green was all around you; the smell of the near swamp too.

The smoke was gone, your lungs free. You were in the arms of the monkey that was massaging his own head.

"...What...happened?"

"You...you awake," he said, smiling. "Nothing much. I think we're just back."

He raised his eyes towards the hanging wolf; you followed them, admitting yourself that you both were in fact back at the present—your own present. As soon as he helped you to stand up, the body of the wolf disappeared in the hair, leaving something on the ground. You both jumped by that strange event, not like the others were normals, but the strange coincidence was scary enough. The monkey used his staff to move what the body had left. It seemed safe, so he took the small bundle in his hand.

A small piece of cloth, closed by a string of rope, the color was a deep red and, at the touch, was cold as metal.

"What a strange thing..."

"Do you know what it is?"

The monkey shaken his head, clearly confused as you. A gasp emerged from the depths of the forest.

"The fireproof mantle!" The Keeper was back again. "The Great Sage borrowed it from Virupaksa. How did it end up here?"

"Viru....who?"

"One of the Heavenly Kings" responded the monkey, "But still... I don't know. This mission is full of strange events that I can't comprehend."

You nodded, feeling your strength coming back. You were able to stand on your feet, still tumbling, but fine.

"I can breathe better now. I don't know what happened before, but I feel much better now."

"You must have freed that miserable soul, children... such is his end." He sighed, while you felt in fact that now the feeling of pressure, the darkness around you, and that block over your chest were now gone. By vanquishing him, the monkey was able to free him. It felt reasonable...

"A tragedy prologued by a single glance..." continued the Keepers, sighing, remembering how tragic was the edn of the monk and his disples, but, after all, wasn't that their own doing?

"It's getting late. Let's hurry up to the mountain!"

The monkey was ready to move on, but he saw you... perplexed... or more undecided about something that was roaming your mind.

"What you saw scared you so much?" He spooked. Look at you with kindness and comprehension.

You gulped. It wasn't about the Eòder that you were worried about, but about something else. Wukong could have stopped the Elder. He didn't do anything. He just watched.

"Listen...I saw... something about Sun Wukong...about the fire and..." You scratched your arm; how could you say that?! He wanted to resurrect him! Yes, the elder was bad, as were his disciples, but he wasn't anything different! He let them do it; he didn't stop them! How many lives could he have saved that night?!

The monkey noticed your worry; he stabbed his staff in the ground, putting his hand on his jips.

"What I mean,"" you continued, "is... he had done something horrible. Does he need to be revived?"

"I know your worries," he kept on going, "and...you're right, he had done something terrible to begin with... But he had changed."

"How can you be sure about it?"

"Well, we know that he repented, and he was punished for every act of violence that he did... but you don't have to forgive his action." He said again, holding your hands. "And besides, if he stays dead, how can you go back home?"

"You right," you smiled after hours. "But I'm going to kick his ass for every monk that died because of him!"

He just laughed again, but the small seed of curiosity now was planted in his head too.

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staytinyville · 1 year ago

Text

OUTLAW (21)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none, mentions of the previous chapters

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). Just know I am reading every single one of your comments and reblogs. I love them so much!

You kept an eye on Jongho, who stayed quiet the entire trip back to the boys. You were glancing at him every so often, sighing when he just stared ahead. He didn’t bother to look at you, which left you a mess.

It was way past the middle of the night by then, but the boys assured you it was not a problem. The one lantern they were using was enough to light the way. As you all pulled up to the camp, it was quiet until someone opened up their tent to take a look at what the noise was.

“What are y'all doing back?” Hongjoong asked, walking closer to the four of you.

“Plans changed.” Yunho sighed, pulling you off of his horse. As you walked into the camp, the others had moved to put their horses where the others were.

San had gotten out of his tent, looking around and finding you waiting. He took notice of your tired expression, walking closer to you.

“You alright, Darling?” He asked, placing his hands on your arms.

You tried to give him a smile, but you were too emotionally tired. “Yeah. I'm fine, San.” You told him.

“We're here if you need anything.” He continued, rubbing his hand along your sleeve.

“I know you are.” You whispered with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“You wanna go to sleep?” San perked up, pulling you along. “You can sleep in my tent. Let's get you into some other clothes.”

You had a tired smile the whole time the man spoke to you. You allowed him to drag you into his tent, quickly moving about to find a clean shirt to give you. When he found what he needed, he handed it to you before moving back out the tent without a word.

You were grateful for how gentlemanly they all were. They could tease you all they wanted, but they for sure knew how to respect others. It was something you found yourself admiring. They were not at all what one would dare consider criminals. At least not when you got to know them. It left a bubbly feeling in your chest to think about them at all.

When you had finished dressing, San walked back in, giving a closed eyed smile when he took you in. A blush was starting to settle on his cheeks as he enjoyed the sight of you in his clothing.

“Thanks for the shirt.” You spoke up, moving to sit down on his bedroll.

San watched as your shoulders dropped and you began to fidget with your fingers. He knew the tale-tell signs that you were stuck in your own head and it was making you emotional.

“Hey, please talk to me.” San spoke up, kneeling down in front of you. “I know something's bothering you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you tried not to cry in front of San. The man looked intimidating–seemed like he frightened just about anyone with how wide he looked. However, he was the sweetest man you had ever met. You knew he was someone who would listen to you.

“I had a fight with my parents.” You softly told him.

“Those sometimes happen.” San scooted closer, moving to your side.

Tears started to pool in your eyes once more, lips wobbling as you tried to speak. “Yeah, but not because they think you're a–a who-”

“You are not!” San stopped you from finishing. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, almost offended you dared to say that. “Don't ever think for one moment you are.” He shook his head.

Your mind wandered back to earlier in the day, trying your hardest to justify what you had done. You knew that there was something wrong with what you were thinking. You were even honest with Mingi after he had kissed you. Not only that, you didn’t know which one of them you liked in a romantic sense and it left you in a dilemma.

There was nothing wrong with liking multiple men, however in the end there was only one a woman could choose. But did you really want to pick just one of them? You were the kind of person who wanted to get to know someone before even thinking about them romantically. And you had spent enough time with some of the boys to know that you were starting to like them.

And because of that, it made you think that your parents were right about you. Who in their right minds liked multiple boys? Who would dare to even tell them that?

“But-I kisses Mingi-” You choked out.

“What does kissing Mingi have anything to do with what you are saying?” San frowned.

“Because I don't know what to do with my feelings for everything.” Everyone was what you wanted to tell him. However, that involved telling him that you liked them all.

“Do you like Mingi?” San asked, looking at you as he waited for your answer.

As you looked at him, everything seemed to flood in as you didn’t really know what to tell him. How were you supposed to answer him when he looked at you with kind eyes? He was a patient man who valued your words. You were a dead woman with how they all treated you.

“Yes? Maybe. I don't know.” You groaned. “It's complicated.” Your shoulders dropped as you thought about what to tell him. “After he saved me, I feel like things changed.”

“Good or bad?” He tilted his head.

There was a fine line between knowing what was good and what was bad. You had your very obvious ones that made you look stupid if you didn’t think about it before. However, when it came to the feelings a human has, there were a lot of troublesome details that fell into it.

Your feelings were your own, just as theirs were. In your head you knew it didn’t matter what others thought of it because it was what you wanted. They weren’t going to be the ones who supported you when things got tough. Perhaps your family was always going to be there, but if it was what made you happy, why would you give it up just to please them?

But they were still your family. They had taken care of you your entire life, up until that point, and will probably be the only people who knew better than anyone else. You cared deeply for their opinions, which left you with an aching heart over choosing your happiness or the safe route of staying at home.

“I can't answer that if I don't know.” You explained. “And the only reason I think that, is because I don't know if it's normal to think the way I do.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out.” San patted your knee, humming.

You’ll figure it out? Figure out exactly what? That you were being pulled in different directions and didn’t know which one to take? You didn’t ever think that liking a man would be so troublesome. But then again, the first time you would ever like one, it just had to be multiple men.

You had no idea what it was like to court someone, nor to have someone court you. You never really got past a first date with someone and didn’t get to experience the full thing of having someone listen to you, make you laugh, make you cry, save you. There was something about having someone do those kinds of things with you that made you regret not knowing about it sooner.

However, thinking about it, if you had someone already there, would you have ever met the boys? They left you breathless because of how they looked at you. They didn’t make you feel like you were insufferable. It made you feel like you were on top of the world.

The problem in everything, though, lies in the fact that while you weren’t going to fall in a hole, the others were going to. What happens if in the end you could only choose one and the others are left to their devices? Were you really going to come in between them like that? You were being selfish.

“What happens when I do, though?” You sighed to yourself. “Someone is gonna get hurt either way.”

“Why would they get hurt?”

“Because it's not normal-”

“Nobody will be normal, so long as one other person will think of you weird.” San frowned. “I still haven't found normal and honestly I wouldn't want to.” A soft smile crossed his features.

“That would mean finding what everyone else thinks I should and should not be doing. I love what I do. And the others make it all the more better.” San turned to you. “Darling, no matter what you want in the end, we'll respect it. We'll respect you. Nobody is rushing you to find out what you want.”

You could remember Mingi had said just about the same thing. It made you wonder if they truly knew what it was you were talking about. You weren’t being completely honest and talked around the real problem. But it seemed like they knew you more than you thought.

“Thank you, San.” You smiled, taking in his features.

“You're welcome.” His eyes closed as his lips pulled into a smile.

“Sweetheart, you're staying here?!” You and San turn to the entrance of the tent, watching Wooyoung pronounce into the space. “You look so adorable!” He cooed, eyes drifting over your body in San’s clothing.

“The others have gotten you for far too long and I want to stay with you.” He made himself comfortable on the bedroll, pulling you down to lay next to him. “Sannie, come lay down with us.” He spoke up, calling for his friend.

You started to giggle as Wooyoung’s hands tickled you lightly, squirming away from his touch. San chuckled, scooting himself closer to both of you. “Coming, Woo.”

San and Wooyoung whispered to each other as you laid between them. They both seemed to be bickering, which caused laughs to quietly fall from your lips. They were like a married couple. Wooyoung would say something and San would try to agree no matter how stupid the boy sounded. It left a smile on your face as you drifted off to dreamland in their arms.

You were baffled, though. There was so much you were missing in the picture–so much you didn’t know about them–that it made you worried about how much you cared about them. It was important to know the person you wanted to be with, even if in this time it wasn’t common. You knew that at one point you would need to separate yourself from them for fear of tearing them apart.

But you wanted to be selfish just a bit more.

Series Masterlist

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#kpop fanfic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #ateez hongjoong #ateez san #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #ateez seonghwa #fanfiction #choi san x reader #choi san x y/n #choi san x you

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gorogues · 5 months ago

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1. What’s the most accurate/canon depiction of The Rogues relationship with each other for both pre-New 52 and post-New 52 comics? (eg what Mark is to Lisa and vice versa, what Digger is to Sam and vice versa, Len and Mick, etc until you’re done listing how everyone’s relationship with everyone else is like)

You can add others (Owen, Axel, Evan, etc) if you want, but this question is mostly aimed at the main Rogues.

2. I swear I saw a post from someone on this platform, I don’t know if it was you or somebody else, but they basically said something along the lines of: “You’d think that it would be out of character for Barry to leave his villains in Iron Heights, knowing how unethical the prison is and all. But the more I thought about it, the more I agreed that no, it isn’t actually that out of character for Barry.”

That thought has been stuck in my head ever since, and as someone who doesn’t really know Barry’s characterisation all that much (a crying shame, I know), I just wanted your opinion.

Is this statement true? I’d like to hear your reasoning for if you agree or disagree.

I didn’t know if I should keep these two questions on separate asks or not, so I just combined them both onto one. Hope you don’t mind all that much. I know it will probably take awhile to answer my questions, if you decide you want to that is. If you do then no pressure, take as much time as you want. If you decide you won’t answer, that’s also completely fine with me. Either way, hope your happy and safe wherever you are and have a good day/night.

Buckle up, because this is a long ride. To start, I'm leaving out stuff like when a Rogue was mind-controlled into doing something, or when they weren't in control of their actions due to being puppeted by Neron or Nekron (although the Black Lanterns were speaking from their victims' memories and thus may have had relevant things to say. It wasn't that person committing evil acts, however). That stuff wasn't voluntary, though of course the people harmed by them during those periods might not see it that way.

--Pre-Flashpoint--

Lisa and Len: Their relationship has varied depending on the era. In the Bronze Age they were often indifferent and sometimes hostile to each other (she didn't seem upset about Len's purported death), but occasionally got along well. After Crisis they frequently worked together and were generally friendly, but tensions built and things turned bad -- originally, Lisa was intended to have murdered her brother for his cold gun, but that was nixed in favour of her just stealing it. By the Johns era she was dead and Len was overtly mourning her, and we'd see in retconned flashbacks that they were very close due to their shared traumatic upbringing. One flashback showed her saying she'd become a criminal to be like her big brother, although Bronze Age comics were quite clear that she did it to avenge her dead boyfriend.

Lisa and Mark: They didn't interact much (just a few issues), but she poisoned him in one story to get him to do her bidding. It doesn't seem like they were close.

Lisa and Digger: Again, they didn't interact much, but she poisoned him in one story to get him to do her bidding. After she died, the tabloids claimed that she and Digger had a secret love-child -- which wasn't true -- but maybe they had more interactions that we never saw. Or maybe the tabloids just assumed Lisa was the mother because she was the only female Rogue in those days.

Lisa and Sam: They never interacted with each other back in the day, but in a later retcon Lisa wanted to be introduced to him because he was "cute".

Lisa and Roscoe: They were dating, and were very close. Eventually death separated them several times and they didn't get back together for unknown reasons.

Lisa and Mick: She and Len once tried to kill Mick in the Bronze Age, but he doesn't seem to have held a grudge; the three of them got along fine after Crisis, and they worked and socialized together. In the Johns era we saw an early flashback of Mick being exceptionally rude to Len about Lisa, so maybe their early relations weren't always great.

Lisa and Hartley: They only appeared in a few stories together, and in one (Blue Devil #30) they didn't interact much but seemed friendly. In DC Retro-Active: The Flash: 1980s they got along quite well, and seemed to get along when the heroes were rescuing Wally from the Turtle Man. Overall they were civil and friendly with each other.

Lisa and James: They co-existed well enough at Len's party, but she later poisoned him to get him to do her bidding. And the relationship between James and the Rogues (including her) was rather sour in Blue Devil. They seemed terse with each other at best.

Len and Mark: Len's been kind and supportive to Mark over the years, especially since taking over the team's dad role, but interestingly he didn't list Mark amongst the Rogues he liked. (There was also a panel in which Len listed Mark amongst three Rogues who were his "real family", but that was right after saying he was glad Lisa was dead -- it was from Johns' first arc and he quickly retconned his own work). Mark seems to like him, and trusted him enough to confess to Clyde's killing. The two had a good relationship of mutual support in Rogues' Revenge, which was probably the best they've ever had and the closest they've been.

Len and Digger: In Len's spotlight issue, he claimed Digger was one of the few Rogues he liked. They did get along well, including working together outside of the Rogues/Central City, though Len didn't treat Digger very kindly near the end of his life. Len was also cool-to-hostile to him after he returned from the dead and wanted to rejoin the Rogues, and actually beat the shit out of him (admittedly Digger had just done something stupid). That said, Len wistfully said "what are friends for, eh, Digger?" when Digger was dead and told Owen that Digger "was one of…my friends", so it seems Len always did retain a soft spot for him even despite his growling. He was probably taking a tough-love approach, even if he was a jerk about it.

Len and Sam: They got along fine before Sam was killed, and even liked each other enough to work together outside of the Rogues/Central City. They didn't seem close or anything, but Sam was one of the few Rogues Len said he liked in his spotlight issue.

Len and Roscoe: They seemed to get along okay or were mostly indifferent to each other before Roscoe died, but after his death Len made it very clear he didn't miss him (although interestingly, Len seemed sad at his funeral). This may be because Roscoe had recently tried to kill the other Rogues if they messed with his plan after he'd died (which they did), but the fact that Roscoe dated Len's sister surely didn't help. By the Johns era the two of them hated each other, and Len opted not to treat Roscoe like he did most Rogues -- leaving him to languish in prison and not helping him when he clearly needed it. Things eventually devolved to Roscoe threatening to mind-control the other Rogues to make them fall in line, and Len killed him. Afterwards, we learned that at some point in earlier history Len had turned the other Rogues against Roscoe to become the group's leader, but unfortunately we don't know the details of what happened.

Len and Mick: A very complicated relationship, which goes from friendly to openly hostile and back again…sometimes within the same issue. Mick said he got along with all the Rogues but Len, which is basically true, and Len was a major reason Mick spent long periods estranged from the Rogues. In the Bronze Age, Len (and Lisa) tried to kill Mick, and previously Len had tried to traumatize Mick by manipulating him into killing an innocent person. Len's been openly insulting to Mick at times, who'd then retaliate in kind, but Len has also been supportive and helpful with Mick's many psychological issues. Sometimes Len watched out for his well-being in ways nobody else did. The end result is a complicated and not very healthy frenemy relationship between them, though they generally work well together with their complementary tech.

Len and Hartley: They seemed to get along okay until Hartley reformed (though there was a flashback to Len being callous to him in the early days), but Len's been low-key hostile to him ever since. There must be an underlying reason for it, because Len didn't really treat other reformed Rogues that way (even if he wasn't always thrilled with them) and I think he just doesn't like Hartley.

Len and James: In Len's spotlight issue, he said James was one of the few Rogues he liked. Which is interesting because I've never seen a particular bond between the two of them, but Len did accept James back quite readily after a long period of reform (which even involved fighting against the Rogues as part of the FBI). James doesn't seem to have much fondness for Len though, and has cheerfully tricked and pranked him a few times.

Mark and Sam: They seem to have gotten along okay, though they didn't interact much.

Mark and Digger: They were generally quite friendly to each other, though Mark didn't have the nicest things to say about Digger after he'd died. The Rogues can be like that with each other, however, so it might not really mean anything.

Mark and Mick: They didn't interact much but got along well when they were on the same side. However, the two of them have frequently been on opposing sides (or at least one was reformed and one wasn't), so there may have been ongoing tension between them from the time of Mick's first stint with reform. But things were fine between them when Mick rejoined the Rogues after that, so it seems like there was no lingering grudge.

Mark and Roscoe: They didn't interact much but seemed to get along okay. In Blackest Night, Roscoe's zombie (which wasn't actually him, but had his memories) spoke flatteringly to Mark and reminded him that at some unspecified point they'd once planned to take out Len and run the Rogues together, which was a bombshell never addressed again. They probably would have turned on each other if the plan ever came to fruition, but there was either mutual respect or some intended backstabbing going on there.

Mark and Hartley: They seemed to get along reasonably well back in the day, though many Rogues were frosty to Hartley after he reformed and Mark was probably no different. Hartley didn't seem as though he had fond feelings for Mark after reforming, as he was pretty apathetic when he saw Mark distressed in Iron Heights and potentially exposed to a lethal virus, and Hartley was as cold to the Rogues when he 'returned' undercover as they were to him. It's not clear whether Hartley knew Mark was part of the Rogues who'd killed his parents and framed him for it, or if he'd even blame Mark for that since Mark wasn't directly involved in the scheme. But it's fair to say that they didn't get along well from at least the Johns era until Flashpoint.

Mark and James: They got along well before Crisis, and socialized in a friendly manner up into the Waid era. But things had probably changed by the time James joined the FBI, in which he was working to take down the Rogues (including Mark). James rejoined the Rogues in the aftermath of Rogue War and interacted civilly with them, though he was openly contemptuous of their behaviour in Countdown and we later learned that he was there undercover. I think it's likely James didn't have particularly warm feelings for Mark or most of the others, and perhaps there was just too much bad blood before James was killed and the universe soon rebooted.

Roscoe and Mick: They didn't interact much but seemed to get along okay; they looked cheery when chatting during a flashback in Mick's spotlight issue. However, Mick's narration stated that he got along with Roscoe even though Roscoe talked over everyone's heads, so it seems probable that Mick tolerated him more than liked him.

Roscoe and Digger: They got along well before Crisis, but haven't been shown interacting since. Both have done personality 180s since Crisis, and I can't imagine either of their newer personalities would like or even tolerate the other, so they probably wouldn't get along and likely avoided each other. Roscoe did attend Digger's funeral, though.

Roscoe and James: In the Silver/Bronze Ages they never actually interacted with each other on panel, though they must have met behind the scenes because James was at Roscoe's funeral and complained about his sense of humour. (We've also seen a flashback of them together from a comic published later.) And James spoke dismissively of him after his death, calling him the least of the Rogues. It's difficult to say what their relationship was, though James clearly wasn't impressed by him, and probably wasn't thrilled with Roscoe when his mind-whammy was undone…and Roscoe died soon after, so they never spoke again before the universe was rebooted. It doesn't seem to have been a good relationship, but we've seen so little of their interactions.

Roscoe and Hartley: They seemed to get along okay before Roscoe died, but things took an ugly turn after he'd returned and Hartley had reformed. Roscoe tried to goad Hartley into killing a presidential candidate and then tried to frame him for it, and did so by being a homophobic asshole to him and Hartley understandably thought he was a monster. My opinion, based on what Roscoe said in the issue, is that he was trying to seriously rile up Hartley to accomplish his plan and might not have actually believed the stuff he said…but it doesn't change that he said and did it, and was in fact acting like a monster. What's interesting is that later (in the Johns era) Hartley was lamenting having no living family left, and Roscoe told him "You still have family. Me for one." Which was probably cold comfort and Hartley wouldn't agree, but it's still very interesting that Roscoe would say that.

Roscoe and Sam: Roscoe was generally quite friendly to Sam, but Sam tricked him into losing a million dollar bet and left him to die in a booby-trapped prison, so Roscoe resentfully helped Barry ruin Sam's plan. Roscoe secretly swore to get payback, but never seems to have acted on it and Sam screwed him over again by later stealing his loot. For whatever reason, Sam was the Rogue that Roscoe chose to inform of his death, though he also had a scheme to blow up the Rogues if they messed with his revenge plan (which they did). They had a weird relationship, but I think Roscoe liked Sam more than the other Rogues.

Sam and Digger: They were generally great pals, despite some hiccups here and there -- Digger was a dick to Sam in Gotham and then tried to hypnotize him into doing his dirty work. Sam was pissed enough that he tried to get a cop to shoot Digger dead. But otherwise they got along quite well and worked/socialized together even outside the Rogues and Central City, and after Sam died his costume and tech ended up in Digger's hands and he used them to commit incognito crimes. The other Rogues were furious (not knowing who was doing it), but Digger thought Sam would appreciate the joke, and he was probably right.

Sam and James: They mostly got along okay, although Sam robbed James of his loot once, and all the Rogues of the late Bronze Age tended to snarl at each other for some reason.

Sam and Hartley: Their relationship didn't seem particularly notable until Hartley was hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, and then Sam and Digger went in disguise to free him. Both were somewhat dismissive of Hartley, claiming he wasn't a great pal or anything, but the Rogues sometimes do that to downplay their feelings (perhaps to seem like tough guys?) and they went to a fair bit of effort to spring someone they didn't really care about. They obviously cared.

Sam and Mick: They seemed to get along well before Mick had a traumatic experience and left the Rogues. We don't know what Sam thought about Mick's reform.

Digger and James: They generally got along in a friendly jocular manner before Crisis, though one time Digger disapproved of James trying to unmask an apparently-deceased Flash and kicked him for it…they ended up squabbling and yelling at each other. After Crisis, Digger turned his back and suggested that the Rogues should let James fall to his death. Later, after Digger had been away from the Rogues a long time and James had reformed, Digger repeatedly begged him for money and James completely cut him off, calling him a "mooch". So perhaps relations soured after their time apart.

Digger and Hartley: As noted above, Digger and Sam went to some trouble to free Hartley from lock-up. That aside, they didn't have a good relationship; Digger criticized Hartley's battle tactics and Hartley thought poorly of Digger's intelligence even before Crisis, and we know that Digger made a lot of shitty comments/jokes about Hartley's sexuality. And Digger was openly hostile when he saw Hartley at Linda Park's funeral. Post-Crisis' Digger's personality is obnoxious enough that he'd definitely get on Hartley's nerves (and vice versa, to be honest), so it's no surprise they don't get along.

Digger and Mick: They seemed to get along well, though as noted above Mick could get along with almost everyone. Digger may not have appreciated Mick's stints of reform, but he still accepted the situation when Mick sometimes returned to hang out with the guys, so maybe it didn't even bother him. And Mick was willing to lend him money (likely knowing he wouldn't get it back) after James cut him off, with a bit of gentle chiding about getting his shit together. They appear to have had a good relationship.

James and Hartley: Best friends, at least when they're being written properly; we'll leave Countdown out of this because we all know how OOC it was. James was friendly with Hartley when they were both Rogues (it's not known whether he knew Hartley's sexuality then, but he might have), and he accepted Hartley once Hart had reformed and become a pariah to the Rogues and was openly gay. Later Hartley was accused of murdering his parents and James refused to help him when he was on the lam, but it's very possible that was due to the general mind control James was under, so it's debatable whether that was really his fault. Ditto for James basically press-ganging Hartley and Mick into the FBI. Either way, all those shenanigans aside, they're very good friends who like, accept, and trust each other. James also left his will and data for taking down the Rogues to Hartley, and told him that the information was hidden from everyone else by invisible ink.

James and Mick: They've never seemed particularly close, but later in life developed the commonality of reform or semi-reform and both are quite easy to get along with. As stated above, James drafted Mick and Hartley into the FBI and that may not have been their choice, but James was supportive of Mick's mental health and ensured he received plenty of psychological support…which was definitely necessary. He also encouraged Mick to train and remain physically healthy, so overall he was very considerate of his needs and well-being. They weren't close after the two of them went back to the Rogues, but that may have been because Mick sincerely wanted to return and James was (apparently) undercover. Overall they had a friendly and supportive relationship, despite some occasional bumps.

Hartley and Mick: Their relationship before Crisis wasn't particularly notable one way or another, but in the Johns era they were firm friends and allies during a time when most of the Rogues neither liked nor accepted Hartley. Hartley was a fugitive at the time, and Mick was the only person willing to help him with no questions asked. They later worked well together at the FBI, but weren't close when Mick rejoined the Rogues.

--Post-Flashpoint--

Digger and all other Rogues: Only Digger and Len have had significant interactions, and that story inexplicably depicted them as not knowing each other. However, a later issue showed Len offering Digger a place with the Rogues via text message.

Roscoe and all other Rogues: He's only interacted with them in passing, although Len tried to kill him again so it seems their relationship hasn't improved :>

James and all the other Rogues: He's only interacted with them in passing (aside from Axel), and he mind-controlled them into doing his bidding so there's probably no love between them and him. A past version of him also worked on the Legion of Zoom with the Snarts, but they were cool towards each other.

Lisa and Len: For a while she blamed and hated him for giving the Rogues metahuman powers, which left her seriously injured/ill and her boyfriend trapped in the Mirrorverse, but those problems are over now and the two are fairly close despite occasional differences. She opposed his regime during "Year of the Villain", but still cared about his safety and his conscience, and she broke him out of custody after his defeat. For his part, Len made a lot of mistakes during the New 52 and was selfish at times, but he went to great lengths to keep her safe and healthy during her illness.

Lisa and Sam: They almost got married and were very close through many struggles, but eventually broke up and she's been cool towards him since. He reacted by becoming a sullen hedonist, and their breakup is probably a big part of why he's not been with the Rogues for a while.

Lisa and Marco: He admired and respected her and wanted her to be team leader before seemingly falling back towards Len's leadership. They treat each other with mutual respect, though he put her life at risk in Rogues Rebellion when he'd had enough of the ongoing shenanigans. He later returned to do the right thing and help her and the others.

Lisa and Mick: He's frequently been surly towards her as he is with everyone else, but clearly cares about her and treats her with about as much respect as he has for anyone.

Lisa and Hartley: The first time they interacted on panel, Lisa got revenge on him for being a "traitor", but later that was forgotten and he went to a fair bit of trouble to keep her safe from danger. His narration stated that she'd supported him and helped him come out to the other Rogues before the New 52 began, indicating that they'd been good friends, so I don't know if they ever reconciled the 'traitor' thing or he simply let it go.

Len and Sam: They had/have something of an uneasy relationship because Sam was dating Len's sister, and Len was responsible for tearing them apart and nearly getting her killed…and after getting through all that, Lisa and Sam broke up and left Len somewhat in the middle. But Len has much better relations with Sam than he had with Roscoe before Flashpoint, and they mostly treat each other with friendliness and respect. But there's obviously anger and tension at times too.

Len and Mick: An extremely hostile relationship throughout most of the New 52, though Mick calmed down somewhat in Rebirth. All the meta Rogues were angry at Len, but Mick took it to another level of resentment and bitter violence. That's mostly behind them now, but Mick's still somewhat surly and it's probably a legacy of what happened to him. Len, on the other hand, didn't really take much responsibility for what he did to the other Rogues who weren't Lisa, and it's not surprising his relationship with Mick wasn't good. However, when the Sage Force was sorting out Mick's trauma it (or his mind) conjured up 'Len' to talk sense to him and calm him down, and by "Year of the Villain" Mick proclaimed that Len was his best friend, so obviously the situation significantly improved over time.

Len and Marco: They formerly had a terse relationship due to resentment about metahuman powers, though they seem to be on good terms now that it's behind them. Marco can be moody though, so that's probably a challenge at times.

Len and Hartley: They haven't interacted much, though Hartley saved Len from dying in an accident and Len seemed happy to see him -- but he also wanted Hartley to let him go, so maybe he was just buttering him up. Hartley was working as a hero at the time, so he wouldn't budge even for old times' sake.

Marco and Sam: Their relations have ranged from friendly to antagonistic during times of stress, but overall they treat each other with respect and have a brotherly relationship. They seem like actual friends.

Marco and Mick: Mick's intense anger issues and Marco's brooding moodiness was kind of a match made in hell and probably why they've never been close. They seem to get along okay now that Mick has mellowed a lot.

Marco and Hartley: They haven't interacted much.

Mick and Hartley: They haven't interacted much.

Mick and Sam: Mick was surly to everyone for most of the New 52, though his relationship with Sam in Rogues Rebellion was surprisingly positive and friendly. Sam tried to talk sense and the brotherhood of Rogues to Mick, who mostly dismissed him but still sacrificed himself to save the others, showing that Sam had gotten through to him. Mick later turned up alive, and was afterwards restored psychologically and physically by the Sage Force, which calmed him down significantly. But Sam turned into a jerk after he broke up with Lisa, and Mick yelled at him for it and finally got through to him somewhat, indicating that both of them listen to the other and are the better for it. Their relationship has never been warm and fuzzy, but it seems like there's enough respect to get the other guy to be better, and for both to accept advice.

Sam and Hartley: They were friendly during their interactions, which makes sense because Hartley was helping to save Lisa.

Question 2: I swear I saw a post from someone on this platform, I don’t know if it was you or somebody else, but they basically said something along the lines of: “You’d think that it would be out of character for Barry to leave his villains in Iron Heights, knowing how unethical the prison is and all. But the more I thought about it, the more I agreed that no, it isn’t actually that out of character for Barry.” That thought has been stuck in my head ever since, and as someone who doesn’t really know Barry’s characterisation all that much (a crying shame, I know), I just wanted your opinion. Is this statement true? I’d like to hear your reasoning for if you agree or disagree.

This is a bit of a tricky question, because Iron Heights was introduced and got most of its panel time when Barry was dead, so he wasn't around for the 'heyday' of its development when Ashley Zolomon and Wally West grappled with what was going on inside. We don't know what his position would have been before Flashpoint, though I don't think he would have liked it. Classic Barry was very much a law and order type (a cop, obviously), but that was in the days when prison brutality generally wasn't addressed in comics. We do know he was horrified by what was done to Clive Yorkin, which was an experimental and arguably cruel treatment of a prisoner.

But there's no question that Iron Heights has been around since Barry came back, that there's been abuse shown on-panel since then, and he hasn't really done anything about it. He was shocked by what happened to Axel in solitary and seemed like he was going to rescue him, but that just kind of petered out and it was Kristen Kramer and David Singh who did the work to stop Wolfe. I do think that's out of character….to a point. There's no question he's a cop and someone who follows the rules more often than, say, Wally. But that can also work both ways, and overt cruelty and harsh punishment isn't following the rule of law either. I think Barry wouldn't lose sleep if Wolfe took away prisoners' material comforts and privileges, even if we think that's wrong, but IMO he should find a beaten prisoner or a prisoner with his prosthetic arm removed unacceptable and take action. He's a person who has shown mercy towards reformed and even completely unrepentant villains before, and he's not perfect, but nobody is.

TL;DR I don't agree with how Barry's Iron Heights plot was handled.

#ucrh #Captain Cold #Golden Glider #Captain Boomerang #Mirror Master #Pied Piper #the Trickster #Weather Wizard #Heat Wave #the Top #the Flash #words #the more you know

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