#I think this idea is going to remain a pipe dream forever because I would look INSANEEEEEE

[sergle]

Might be worth trying a very temporary dye to test out having black hair? & then if you don't like it you can get rid of it without all the drama?

There is not a black dye on this EARTH that is ACTUALLY temporary and actually delivers results that look anywhere close to black. it's either staying forever, or it's going to come out greyish blue, or BOTH if ya nasty

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

[oldsmobile-hotdogs]

Willex + ⛵️💍💫

ohoho bestie i had fun with this (also it’s almost 2k oops lol)

it’s also available on ao3!

may i present to you:

Two Ghosts... Having a Date on a Stolen Boat... They Might Kiss...

Alex had to admit: even for Willie, this act of delinquency was a lot.

When he’d first floated the idea of joyriding a sailboat under cover of night to Alex, albeit somewhat casually and hypothetically as they strolled along the pier during a mild June afternoon, Alex had gone along jokingly in that way you do when a friend asks who’d be eaten first if the whole group were trapped on a desert island.

But then Willie had brought it up again on their next- Date? Outing? Meeting?

(Alex was vehemently avoiding putting labels on their spending time together, just in case Willie were to put a different one on it to the one he ascribed it.)

And then on their next, next… hanging-out session… Willie had mooted a date for the grand theft boat and didn’t phrase it much like a question. And then he’d gently pointed out when the sailing class stopped for the night on said date: a Sunday, no less, so it closed before the sun even got close to setting, meaning anyone inside the little shed where they stored the paperwork and lifejackets would certainly be gone by the evening.

This wasn’t accounting for how objectively shocked Alex had been to learn that Willie knew how to sail, of all things. He knew Willie knew how to skate, though that was hard to miss, and he knew Willie had mentioned he used to surf a little when he was alive, but as far as Alex was aware, and he was sorting through all of their conversations just to be sure that he was sure, Willie had never mentioned he could sail.

-

In retrospect, that could have largely been because he couldn’t, strictly speaking. Alex had watched on in a strange mix of awe and terror as Willie had untied a small sailboat that lent itself easily to being pitied, if he was honest- all chipping paint and scuffs on the body and sunbleached sails- from its docking, and then suddenly he'd been yanked onto the vessel by his arm and made to crouch just behind Willie, close enough for the wind kicking up to whip his hair occasionally in Alex's face, and then Willie had knelt behind the sails and done something, Alex couldn't be sure what, that meant they were off. It was pleasant at first, which had surprised him immensely. Initially they were travelling relatively slowly, but still smoothly, not too far out from the shore, and the longer the joyride had lasted at this pace, the closer Alex had been to letting himself relax.

But then it had very quickly become apparent that Willie was somewhat out of his element: not majorly- he'd probably taken a few classes in a summer, maybe- but enough that he had psyched himself out. And whenever Willie felt psyched out, he turned reckless. Well, more reckless.

Despite the fact that he was a ghost, which meant that even if they had capsized they would have both been able to breathe, and that even if they had crashed no one would have been hurt and it would be physically impossible for the crime to come back to them, Alex had found himself with a white-knuckled grip on either side of the boat as it had picked up speed almost exponentially and began coasting erratically from side to side, the sail changing direction so obviously and violently that even an absolute novice, which Alex was, could have seen that something was wrong.

'You alright up there?' Alex had asked, even though "up there" was about four inches from his face.

'Yeah, I'm just- hold on-' And then Willie had let go of the tiller, which had filled Alex with the fear of God for a good six seconds, before rolling his shoulders back, shaking out his hands, exhaling a quick breath through his mouth and grasping it again. Willie must have gotten himself out of his Beserker state in that time because the boat had then begun moving in a relatively straight line again and, after a little while, had eased itself back down to a manageable speed. Alex would have to ask about that coping mechanism when he got the chance.

After what felt like maybe ten more minutes of sailing lightly around, but may have been quite a bit more, spent mostly in comfortable silence, Willie had pulled clumsily back into where the boat had previously been docked and Alex had clambered out from the little space he had been guided to originally and had remained in the entire joyride, tying the rope back around the little wooden pole that tethered it to the beach. Sailors' knots Alex could do. He'd been so afraid of getting lost in the woods one spring when he was a child, although an opportunity had never presented itself for him to go into the woods, that he'd read a Boy Scouts handbook cover to cover to the point where, even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see the passage on how to sterilise river water laid out in front of him.

'When you're done come back onto the boat. I wanna sit here for a little bit.'

Alex had looked up from his handiwork to meet Willie's gaze. His eyes had been bright, filled with the leftover mischief from their escapade, and a soft smile which had made Alex wonder if Willie had something else up his sleeve had played on his lips.

'Okay, yeah, I'll be back in a second,' he had replied, leaning down one last time to tighten the knot in the right places.

-

Willie had genuinely expected Alex to tell him to stop at some point, but the more Alex had gone along with what was originally at least partially a joke, the more Willie had wanted to see if he could actualise what had previously only ever been a poorly planned pipe dream. When everything started more or less crashing down around them, however, and their outing previously slated as some dangerous, blockbuster-level adventure had fizzled out into the anticlimax of the season, Willie couldn't help but worry that he had done something to threaten what the two had going for them, which would be poor timing, considering.

Now sitting sideways on the boat together, ghost legs phasing into the shallow water below, hands in touching distance if one of them just worked up the courage to splay their pinky finger a little more, Willie was getting nervous. A little giddy, too, at the possibility of this going right, but mostly nervous.

'Alex?' he began, a little embarrassed, though he knew that was needlessly so, at how his voice hiked in pitch from the nerves.

'Yeah?' Alex responded, his eyes suddenly fixed on him. Willie felt his face grow warm at this, and hoped the relative darkness afforded him some ability to hide the blush he knew was developing.

An added problem was that now Willie had no idea what to say next. He was great at listening to people divulge their emotions, sure, but he always struggled a little with expressing his own, preferring to offer solutions to the other people in his life's struggles and pretend like his own feelings weren't always too close to overflowing for comfort. Willie was suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to backtrack as quickly as was humanly possible.

'No, never mind, actually. It's not important.' Willie attempted to sound casual, but was unsure of how successfully it actually came off.

'Well, see, now I definitely wanna hear what you had to say,' Alex retorted jokingly.

‘No, it’s stupid. Really.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Alex was now looking Willie pointedly in the eyes. ‘I don’t think you’ve said a stupid thing ever-’ Willie opened his mouth, ready to counter him- ‘Not when it counts.’

And it’s not like that admission of blind faith in Willie made the next words out of his mouth any easier, but they were now propelled from hiding by an added energy that wasn’t there before.

‘Okay, so I went to Tokyo a few weeks back-’

‘You- ...okay.’ It was obvious that this anecdote would have Alex wanting to throw himself into one of his crises about the afterlife and ghost powers and the limitations of poofing, but he was, so far, very valiantly, in Willie’s opinion, holding back. ‘You’ll have to tell me about that later.’

Willie couldn’t help but giggle at how resigned Alex sounded. ‘Oh, I will, hotdog, don’t worry.’

'Anyway,' Willie began again, more confident now that the conversation had taken on some humour. 'So I went to Tokyo, and I was walking down a street with a bunch of vendor stalls, and I saw this one stall and I, uh.' He paused a little, taking a few gentle breaths to build up the courage necessary to continue. 'I remembered my Mom telling me about these, uh, these rings.' Willie could almost feel Alex's eyes widen as he drew out the small, purple pouch that kept them safe from his hoodie pocket. He rushed to clarify. 'They're not- it's not a big thing in Japan. They're not like promise rings.' Alex audibly exhaled. 'Yeah, don't- I wouldn't... spring that on you.'

'No, yeah, I didn't... think you would.'

A silence came over them, uncharacteristicallly awkward, and Willie felt a little hopeless to save the moment.

Eventually, it was Alex who broke it. 'So, these rings?'

'Yeah,' Willie quickly responded. 'I stole them.' Alex chuckled under his breath. 'They're called couple rings, and people- well, couples- they buy them to mark the fact that they're- well, that they're couples.'

'Seems simple enough,' Alex joked, evidently warming to the idea.

'Oh yeah, very simple.' Willie could feel a smile spreading across his face. 'And there's no implication that you're gonna, like, do anything else later on either, which I like because, I mean, we're ghosts.' He gestured at how their legs became translucent where they dangled into the water. 'And that's probably already enough thinking about "forever" on its own, without the added pressure of any big promises.'

'Yeah, I agree.' Alex let out a sigh.

There was a beat of quiet before Willie continued.

'But obviously actually seeing them and putting them on is the main event, so I'm going to get them out of the pouch now, finally,' he joked, pulling open the hole in the top and lightly shaking two thin, silver bands out onto his hand. He then placed them gently onto the edge of the boat, and turned them so that Alex could see clearly what they looked like, or as clearly as was possible at this time of night.

'They've both got this line engraved in them almost the whole way 'round, and then one has a star stamped into it, and the other has a moon,' Willie explained, the nerves returning now that his gift was out in the open.

'I can see that,' Alex responded breathily, leaning a little closer to the rings. 'Willie, these are- they're beautiful. Thank you.'

'I thought you could be the star,' Willie suggested, the arm of his that was further away from Alex reaching up to rub at his neck, lightly avoiding how to respond to Alex's gratitude.

'Okay.'

Gingerly, Willie closed the gap between their hands and slipped the band onto Alex's ring finger, and then donned his own. Neither of them spoke for a little while, both stunned into silence and afraid to break this air of closeness they'd achieved. Once again, Alex was the first to move.

'So, this definitely means we're dating, right?'

Willie flung himself backwards into the hull of the ship, his hair somewhat cushioning his head as he landed, his legs sticking up over the top, now opaque. 'Ugh. Yes, hotdog, we're dating,' he called back up in fake annoyance.

'Cool, just checking,' Alex called back.

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 8

“Yes, suffer more!” A girl hiding behind a pillar said, watching her evil plan coming into motion. Emiyo watched from the sidelines expectantly, curious.

Emiyo waited and waited, but still, nobody screamed or howled in pain. She scanned around the packed food court and saw people going about their usual daily lives, laughing and having fun. Everything seemed normal, making Emiyo furrow her brow in confusion.

“Yes! Their suffering is so perfect!” The girl said again, her fairy partner smirking in satisfaction. The girl was a tiny thing, standing shorter than most pre-teen-aged girls. Her hair was bright pink, cut into a quick bob.

“Am I missing something?” Emiyo intensified her search, but found nothing but an average day at the mall.

“I don’t see anyone dead or unconscious.” Nyx flew around, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “It must be so subtle it’s invisible!”

“What, come on!” An annoyed teenage boy with pimples said behind a counter at a burger place. “I just filled that!”

“Hey, what gives? Where’s the ketchup? I’m in a hurry!” A customer said. “My movie starts in ten minutes!”

The boy winced. “Sorry, sir. I’ll get some right away.”

“Victory!” The girl said, her fist pumping upwards.

“Victory in what, exactly?” Emiyo asked behind the girl, who yelped in surprise.

“Emiyo, uh, hi! You aren’t usually out in the field.” Himari said, wearing a nervous grin on her face.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you!” Liam, her partner, gave a reassuring smile.

“You never answered my question.”

“You know, magical girl stuff!” Himari said. “Causing all the suffering I can.”

Emiyo gestured to the calm food court, her patience thin. “What suffering?”

“Lots of it! We stole all that store’s condiments.” Liam replied. “Remember how annoyed that man was? He might miss the beginning of his movie! Now that employee needs to refill the condiment stand! What a bother, right?”

Himari gave an emphatic nod. “Right! And that worker got yelled at! No one likes that!”

Emiyo fought the urge to rub her temple, feeling a headache coming on. “This is your idea of suffering? Really?! Suffering is having your body crushed and living in never-ending agony. Suffering is losing everyone you’ve ever loved and having nothing to live for. Suffering is living in a nuclear wasteland!”

“That boy seemed pretty miserable to me,” Himari muttered under her breath.

Himari coughed, regaining her confidence. “I think you’re a little confused. I’m actually playing the long game!”

Despite herself, this piqued Emiyo’s interest. Perhaps she’d misjudged the girl?

“Yeah, nuclear wastelands are great and all, but it’s tacky and too easy.” Himari puffed out her chest. “I’m destroying worlds with a thousand cuts!”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. I’m causing countless small instances of suffering so they’ll build into something greater and more explosive. People will bottle up their frustration until they burst and cause untold havoc!”

Emiyo’s eye twitched. “This is your brilliant plan, really?”

“Totally evil, right?” The girl and her partner gave an emphatic nod.

In her head, Emiyo’s headache intensified. “No wonder the suffering levels in your universes have only increased by .00000000001 percent.”

“I’m playing the long game.”

“For two hundred years?!”

“The very long game.”

You incompetent little! Emiyo wanted to throttle the girl but kept professional calm. An outburst would be unseemly. “If this is the caliber of sector 8’s magical girls, no wonder the suffering levels haven’t increased much.”

Of sector 8’s magical girls, Himari is one of the few remaining who still lived. Emiyo had found the others dead, killed by the rebel. Why didn’t she save Emiyo the trouble and kill Himari too? It’d be so easy!

“Look, I’m currently assessing the entirety of Sector 8. When I get back, your universes’ suffering better increase by at least twenty percent!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just accelerate my plans somewhat.” Himari pulled out a small vial, smirking. “I plan to put this into the water supply!”

Hope sparked in Emiyo’s heart. Poisoning water was an excellent way to spread fear and panic!

“It makes the water taste funny. Not horrible, but still unpleasant.” Himari said. “It will force people to buy bottled water instead! What a needless expense, right?”

Emiyo put her face into her hands and screamed.

---

Takako howled in pain as her opponent tossed her onto the padded mat.

“Are you okay?” Seina asked, concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” She said, rubbing her bruised arm. Even without her magical girl powers, Seina hit like a truck. Takako returned to her feet, determined to go again. Her pride refused to leave until she’d scored several points against her rival.

“Darn it.” Takako cursed as her back struck the padded floor once again. “I’m much quicker than you. Yet, you keep beating me!” Somehow, the girl seemed more like a wall than a person, deflecting back everything Takako threw against her.

“That’s because you aren’t sticking with what I’ve been teaching you.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “You always go for the dirty move rather than the practical one.”

“But it’s totally predictable and lame!” Takako waved a dismissive hand. “Not my style at all.”

Seina smiled. “I suppose, but you always leave yourself wide open. You aren’t working on your defense enough.”

Takako turned away. “Whatever. My genius is too brilliant for you to understand.”

Seina sighed, but a slight smile appeared on her lips. “Okay, Maeko. Fine. Want to go again?”

“Always, best out five?”

Despite her best efforts, Seina still won most exchanges, moving with lighting precision. Yet, Takako didn’t mind it. Instead, it only pushed her to work harder. She hadn’t been this excited in decades. Usually, she found her magical girl duties dull, but she enjoyed the challenge Seina presented. The fighting made her feel alive. It’d be a shame when Seina inevitably died in days ahead, but Takako would enjoy her company until then. They chatted as they walked across town, enjoying the scenery. People were working hard to rebuild, invigorated with a new purpose after the vampire’s fall. Despite herself, their grit and determination impressed Takako.

“Is that the new school?” Aiko looked down towards the skeleton of a building from their vantage point.

Seina flinched. “Yes, Lotus High School.”

“No way! The Prime Minister named a school after you?” Aiko beamed with pride.

“Yeah,” Seina replied, with little enthusiasm. “They wanted to call it Kamiyama High School, but I vetoed that idea. And the statue.”

Aiko rolled her eyes. “Please, you deserve some recognition! You saved the world!”

“I guess.” Seina said, still unhappy. Uncle Kenji is adamant I should attend it once it’s finished. Isn’t that the worst, going to a school named after you?”

“Don’t worry, I'll be by your side if anyone bugs you about it.” Aiko puffed out her chest. “Never thought I’d ever attend high school. I’m so looking forward to it. Do you think it’ll be anything like those mangas Maeko likes?”

“I hope so,” Seina said. “Clubs, romance, lunch on the roof, meeting with friends every day. It sounds nice.”

Takako rolled her eyes. The dullest, most ordinary things always infatuated Aiko and Seina. What next? Wanting to attend cram school too? Even thinking about it gave Takako bad memories.

“How about you, Maeko?” Aiko said. “What are you looking forward to in high school?” The two girls looked at her expectantly.

Shows what you know. I’m too old to care about things like high school! She paused, realizing, despite being several hundred years old, she’d never attended high school. Soon, both Seina and Aiko would have a much higher education level than her. Takako had run away from home long before high school age. Not that she cared, of course. Takako was smart enough without it.

“Eh, seems boring if you ask me,” Takako said, not impressed..

“How can you say that after the vampires basically starved us of any education?” Seina said, irritated. “I had to learn basic reading and math in secret! Uncle Kenji had to risk his life to teach me how to add!”

Takako took a step back, surprised by the usually meek girl’s angry outburst. “Okay, okay. Sorry,”

“I’m sorry too.” Seina said.” I lost my temper. It just frustrates me what basic things the vampires denied us. We were just things to them, not even people!”

“I know what you mean,” Aiko said, nodding. “But the vampires can’t stop us now! Humanity can’t be stopped!”

“Right! Oh, I can’t wait for high school to start!” Seina said dreamily. “Mr. Kiyojiro’s tutoring is great, but I want to learn from a real teacher! Uh, no offense, Mr. Kiyojiro.”

“I’m not offended.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, finally joining the conversation. “Teaching from random textbooks is awkward.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not a great teacher.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Any chance to learn!” Seina replied, trying to reassure her bodyguard and tutor. “You’re doing an excellent job teaching me Japanese. It’s my favorite subject. And I’m not too shabby at English either.”

“Private tutor, you’re lucky. I just wish I could understand half of my lessons.” Aiko rolled her eyes. “Ms. Inouye still hasn’t created a coherent study plan yet.”

“Hey, the adults are working hard to teach you youngsters.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “A few kinks in the plan aren’t unexpected. You’ve already lost too many years. How can you become proper adults without the proper education?”

“No argument here.” Aiko said, and Seina nodded.

“Sure, but being a proper adult means getting a job and paying taxes and rent.” Takako said, piping in.

Mr. Kiyojiro coughed into his fist. “Well, yes. But, that’s part of growing up. You can’t stay a child forever.”

“Except, Seina will stay a child forever,” Takako said, pointing out the flaw in the bodyguard’s logic.

“Not in my heart. I can get a job anyway!” Seina said, retorting the point.

“You actually want a job?” Takako asked in disbelief. It sounded like such a needless bother. “You’re a magical girl! There’s nothing stopping you from doing whatever you want.”

“Yes, actually,” Seina replied, puffing out her chest. “I’ll still be an adult, even if I appear ten!”

Colten’s eyes lit in awe. “You’re so responsible, Seina!”

Takako snorted. “Stupid if you ask me.”

“Trust me, Maeko,” Seina said. “Being a magical girl isn’t as appealing as it sounds.”

“Whatever. Well, I better get going.” After all that hard training, Takako wanted to gorge herself on shaved ice and watch some anime.

“Later!” Seina and Aiko waved as she left.

“You’re too comfortable with those two,” Lilha said from an alleyway. “You’d almost think you’d become friends.”

“Friends? Not likely.” Takako was too evil and hardhearted for such nonsense.

“Good,” Lilha replied. “Come. There are matters we need to discuss. It won’t be long until we’re ready.”

“You’re acting already? I’ve barely learned anything. Mr. Kiyojirois still teaching us the basics!”

Lilha raised an eyebrow. “Are we meant to wait years while you play with Seina?”

“We are both immortal.” For someone who was ageless, Lilha certainly was impatient. “Is it that important for you to return to your nightmare world?”

“We are vampires. We rule.”

“Okay, but why ban schools? Why make children work 70-hour weeks?” Takako couldn’t resist asking these questions any further.

“The humans needed to know their place. My husband was always adamant about grinding them down as much as possible.”

“Why? Aren’t these policies more likely to cause humanity’s extinction?”

“It wouldn’t get that far. We’d keep them alive. They are our pets.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why?”

“You’re a magical girl. It’s your job to make people suffer.” Lilha gave her a pointed look, making Takako hesitate. It was true. Why was she caring about this?

“Well?”

“Have you lost your nerve? Don’t you hate Siena as deeply as I do? I’ve seen how she humiliates you. Are you happy always being her inferior?”

Takako stood straighter. “I’m the strongest. Always will be. We will kill Seina.”

“Good. I see no further use in having you train with Seina. You’ve learned enough. I fear you’re getting too cozy with her. It’s time we enact our plan.” Lilha shone with excitement. “By tomorrow, Seina Kamiyama will be dead!”

Takako nodded, realizing her doubts were foolish. This was what they’d agreed upon. She glanced back, watching Seina talking and laughing with her friends without a care in the world. It left a strange bitterness in Takako’s heart. But no, for the sake of the magical girls and Starlight Dream, Seina’s death was necessary. After giving the girl a final look, Takako focused on the task at hand. No more useless doubts or distractions.

---

“A day out? Sounds great!” Seina said. Mr. Kiyojiro had given them the day off, and they were debating how to best spend it.

Aiko beamed. “I know this cute little place that’s becoming really popular. It’s super trendy!”

“Clothes shopping?” Colten sighed from his perch on Seina’s head. “Okay.”

Seina patted her fairy friend on the head. “It won’t be long, then we’ll get some ice cream.”

Colten perked up. “Really?”

Aiko snorted in amusement. “You spoil him too much. Yes, I promise it’ll be quick. I haven’t forgotten you, Colten. I have some activities planned for you too. There’s this street performer I heard about that might interest you. He does Kamishibai.”

Colten’s eyes lit in excitement. It also piqued Seina’s interest. Since DVD players and working TVs were still rare, the art form had reemerged on Osaka’s streets to entertain people. Though because of her training, she hadn’t caught one yet. The art form used still pictures accompanied by the performer, who narrates the story. Her fairy partner bounced on her head, unable to contain his excitement, making Seina giggle.

“Kamishibai?” Maeko said, showing genuine interest. “I haven’t seen one of those in forever.” Mr. Kiyojiro nodded in agreement, also genuinely interested.

Seina blinked. “Really? How?” The vampires were strict about punishing anyone who dared defy their edicts. Even singing could get you killed. Maeko’s past was so bizarre. Did her taskmaster even do his job?

Maeko coughed into her fist. “When I was really young. You know, before the vampires.”

Seina nodded, embarrassed by her misunderstanding. Unfortunately, most of her memories before the darkness were scarce and blurry. Worse, they consisted of people she’d rather not consider. Their presence tainted her childhood worse than anything the vampires had done. It sent blazing furious hatred through her and almost brought tears to her eyes. Why had her parents’ betrayal hurt her so much? Despite trying to forget them, thoughts of them returned at random moments, hurting her all over again. Sensing his partner’s distress, Colten rubbed her back, calming her.

“Are you okay?” Maeko said, worried by Seina’s sudden change in mood.

“It’s fine.” Her parents didn’t matter anymore. Besides, she had a new family and they wouldn’t hurt her as they had.

“There’s this ramen stand that recently opened up. I’d like to try. Would you mind having lunch there?” Mr. Kiyojiro said.

“Sounds great. Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?” Seina felt guilty for dragging her bodyguard around town without his input. Was he as bored by girls shopping as Colten was? But Mr. Kiyojiro only waved his hand, indicating his wishes didn’t matter. After some consideration, Seina decided she’d at least allow him to pick where they’d eat supper too.

“I have a suggestion.” Maeko had been quiet throughout the entire conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Before going anywhere else, there’s this manga shop nearby I’d like to try. I heard it sells brand new manga. I’m curious if the rumors are true.”

“Sounds fun.” Aiko replied. “It will give Colten something to read while he’s waiting!”

Brand new manga? That sounded interesting. It brought a smile to Seina’s heart. Little by little, humanity was reclaiming their lives. The vampire’s reign was becoming a distant memory.

“Is this the right place?” Aiko glanced around, eying their surroundings with curiosity. They’d entered a part of Osaka that still remained mostly abandoned. The streets were empty, but Seina couldn’t help but feel she was being watched. Yet, when she looked, she spotted no one around. Odd.

“Just down this alley, and we’ll be there,” Maeko said, pointing towards a colorful sign that showed the shop’s name, Shinobu Manga Emporium. Seina peeked down the alley and saw an open door, seeing shelves of colorful manga ready for purchase.

A sense of wrongness overcame Seina, and she stopped her step. The feeling of being watched intensified, but she still couldn’t locate its source. Aiko picked on her anxiety.

“Is something the matter?” Aiko glaced around, a worried expression on her face.

Maeko snorted. “Nothing’s the matter. It’s just a manga shop.”

She gave her bodyguard a meaningful look, and he nodded in agreement. He’d also sensed the prevailing wrongness. “How about we go somewhere else? This place seems kinda sketchy.” Before Maeko could offer a retort, Seina jumped aside as a humongous axe flew towards where her head had been a moment earlier. It flew past and crashed into a nearby building leveling it with a resounding crash.

A large vampire emerged from literally nowhere, brandishing an axe almost larger than his body. “You got lucky. Next time I won't miss.” Several more muscular vampires emerged, surrounding them. Aiko screamed in terror and hid behind Seina.

Maeko rubbed her temple. “Jentin, you idiot! Your eagerness alerted her to the trap. Never mind. We do this the hard way instead!” Much to Seina’s shock, her friend pulled out a brooch similar to hers. “Change Change, Magical Love Genocide Dress Up!”

What the heck was happening? The veil of illusion disappeared, revealing a face she hadn’t expected. “Takako?”

The dark magical girl smirked. “Is it that shocking? Now be a good girl and die.” She pointed her black pistol point-blank towards Seina’s midsection and fired

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 39

*Two Years Later*

It's been a total of five years since the snap and half the universe turned to dust. Five long years that Steve, Nat, and the remaining avengers have been trying everything to fix what happened. The only one not invested in fixing things was Tony. I couldn't blame him though. He had everything he ever wanted. He had a nice quiet simple life with Pepper and their daughter. He hasn't lost what he loved most like some of us.

As much as Steve wanted me to keep faith in him it had slowly slipped away. I trust Steve with my life and my daughters life but I don't believe he can fix what happened. The people we lost in the snap are gone forever. Everyone just needs to accept that so the universe can try to move on.

"Uncle Stevie!" Sarah shouted as she ran through the complex.

I noticed it wasn't an entirely playful shout or run. She seemed to have an actual purpose. I got up and followed swiftly behind her into the office where Nat and Steve were clearly in the midst of something.

"Uncle Stevie!" Sarah shouted to get his attention.

"Yes little soldier" he sounded exhausted.

"Someone's here" she said matter of factly.

"What?" We all questioned her at the same time.

"Someone's here. I saw the van driving up the road." She said sweetly.

Just then the speaker crackled. The monitor lit up showing us a view of the front door. A man appeared on screen. He looked familiar but I couldn't place him.

"Oh! Hi! Hi! Is anyone home? This is Scott Lang! We met a few years ago! At the airport! Germany. Antman!" The man shouted towards the camera.

Nat, Steve, and I all shared a confused look. Steve took off towards the door while Nat and I stayed back with Sarah. Sarah tugged at my shirt until I looked down at her.

"Who's the funny man?" She asked.

"He's another friend of ours from work." I told her simply.

"Another superhero?" She asked perking up instantly.

"Yea, apparently he's Antman." I shrugged glancing at Nat.

We met up with Steve and Scott in the lab of the complex. The guy looked completely lost and kind of out of it. He mumbled to himself as he paced back and forth. Steve and I shared a confused look.

"Scott, are you okay?" Steve finally asked.

Scott rubbed his hands together as he turned to look at us. He looked completely freaked out.

"Yea" he rubbed his face.

"Have any of you guys ever studied quantum physics?" He asked suddenly serious.

"Only to make conversation." Nat answered.

"Okay, so, five years ago, right before, Thanos. I was in a place called the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she's my, uh, she was my, uh, she was suppose to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there." Scott explained

"I'm sorry that must have been a very long five years." Nat said softly.

"Yea, but that's just it. It wasn't. For me it was five hours. See the rules of the quantum realm aren't like they are out here. Everything is unpredictable. Is that anybody's sandwich?" Scott suddenly stepped over to the desk and grabbed the half of sandwich laying there.

"I'm starving" he added.

"Scott, what are you talking about?" Steve asked him.

"What I'm saying is, time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is, right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what is we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos? What if we could navigate it? What if there was a way that we could enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time then exit the quantum realm at another point in time? Like before Thanos." Scott explained quickly.

"Wait, are you talking about a time machine?" Steve asked.

"No, no, of course not. No not a time machine. It's more like, um, yea, like a time machine. I know it's crazy. It's crazy. But I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some- it's crazy." He stopped shaking his head like he was defeated.

"Scott, I get emails from a raccoon. So, nothing sounds crazy anymore." Nat said simply.

"So who do we talk to about this?" Scott asked.

“Tony?” I asked turning to Steve and Nat.

“Definitely” Steve nodded.

I gathered up Sarah to put her in the car. By the time I had her buckled in the others were coming out. Steve drove us to Tony’s cabin which he now called home with Pepper and their daughter Morgan. It would be nice for Sarah to get at least a few minutes with another kid.

When we pulled up Tony was stepping up onto the porch with Morgan in his arms. He turned around knowing who was here immediately. I unbuckled Sarah then stepped back letting her run over to Morgan.

“Sarah!” Morgan cheered happily.

The two girls collided in a hug and giggles.

“Why don’t you take Sarah inside and show her all your toys.” Tony told Morgan.

The two girls nodded then ran hand in hand into the cabin. We stepped up on the porch to talk to Tony. There was a moment of tense silence that was broken by Pepper bringing out a tray of glasses and a pitcher of what looked like tea. Once Pepper was inside Scott instantly started explaining the time travel scenario to Tony.

“We know what it sounds like.” Scott finished when he saw Tony’s face.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve asked.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale which then triggers the Deutschland Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Thank asked as he poured a cup of tea.

He handed the cup to Steve.

“Thank you” Steve said softly.

“In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home.” Tony said flatly.

“I did” Scott pointed out.

“No. You accidentally survived. It’s a billion-to-one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull a.. What do you call it?” Tony asked Scott.

“A time heist?” Scott said as a question.

“Yea, a time heist. Of course. Why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable. Because it’s a pipe dream.” Tony said in disbelief as he sat in one of the wicker chairs.

“The stones are in the past. We could go back, we could get them.” Steve told him.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.” Nat told them.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony corrected.

“I don’t believe we would.” Steve said crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gotta say it. I sometimes miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won’t help if there’s no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome will be our collective demise.” Tony explained.

“This is ridiculous there has to be a way to do this.” I told Tony.

Scott turned to speak directly to Tony.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel. All right? It means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events.” Scott started to explain.

Tony put his hand up.

“I’m going to stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?” Tony asked him in disbelief.

“No” Scott said slowly.

I rolled my eyes. This is ridiculous.

“Good, you had me worried there. Cause that would be horseshit. That’s not how quantum physics works.” Tony told him like that was a fact everyone knew.

“Tony, we have to take a stand.” Nat told him.

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.” Tony told her.

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lotta people did.” Scott told him softly.

“Like a husband and father. You have no idea how hard it is to tell your child that her father was turned to dust trying to be a hero.” I said interrupting Scott.

“Now we have a chance to bring her and him back. To bring everyone back, and you’re telling me that you won’t even-“ Scott’s voice started to rise.

Tony sat up instantly cutting Scott off.

“That’s right, Scott. I won’t even. I can’t.” Tony told him sternly.

I heard the door open and close followed by two sets of tiny feet. Morgan ran to Tony jumping into his lap. Sarah came to sand next to me.

“Mommy told me to come and save you.” Morgan told her dad.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony said then hugged her.

He stood from his seat holding Morgan in his arms.

“I wish you were coming here to ask me something else. Anything else. I’m honestly happy to see you guys, I just, oh, look, the table’s set for eight.” Tony said softly.

“Tony, I get it. And I’m happy for you. I really am. But this is a second chance.” Steve glanced at me.

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can’t roll the dice on it. If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” Tony said then walked into the cabin.

We all sighed collectively then slowly went back to the car.

“He’s scared” Nat said.

“He’s not wrong.” Steve admitted.

“Yeah, but, I mean, what are we gonna do? We need him. What, are we gonna stop?” Scott asked in disbelief.

“No, I wanna do it right. We’re gonna need a really big brain.” Steve said with a small smile.

“Bigger than his?” Scott asked clearly confused.

I patted his shoulder.

“We know a guy.” I told him.

—

[anghraine]

“we also are daughters of the great” - chapter two

I wrote the first chapter as a one-shot promptfic, but ... idk, I got moved to continue it, so here’s some Merry and Fíriel/f!Faramir (among others).

Last chapter:

As she walked away, Éowyn called out,

“Lady Fíriel!”

Fíriel paused, and glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

Do not leave me alone here, Éowyn thought.

This chapter:

“You have already done a great deal for my people, Meriadoc—more than we could ever repay. But I would ask something still further.”

He would not have said that he’d do anything for her, the way Pippin had. But Pip seemed right enough that she was a creature of the heights. Not so high as Aragorn could be, but with a more constant and immediate force of personality alongside her gentleness. It made for an agreeable but very odd impression.

chapters: one

-

For Éowyn, the remaining hours of the day passed gradually. Her thoughts dwelt on her uncle and her brother and Aragorn, and whatever doom awaited them, then skittered nearer, to her own fate, and her useless present. Her arm ached; though she could endure pain, she knew it would have made her an easy target on a battlefield—even if she could have escaped the city, caught up with the army, and fought among them. She must have seemed ridiculous to Lady Fíriel.

Éowyn shifted her weight from one leg to another. The idea sat uncomfortably with her. Although they had only just met, and spoken briefly, she disliked the idea of appearing childish or silly to her. Fíriel had betrayed admiration rather than disdain, but that might arise from pity as well, whatever she said. Éowyn did not wish to seem weak to anyone, and certainly not a gentle, composed lady of Gondor—and the last of Cirion’s line, no less.

At least Fíriel had been true to her word; not long after their conversation, two healers appeared to lead Éowyn to her new, east-facing chambers. So she stood there at the window, gazing at Mordor and worrying, while the minutes crawled slowly by.

For Merry, however, everything seemed very fast indeed. 

One minute he had been watching Gandalf defend Théoden even as the terrible Ringwraith king descended, throwing all but Gandalf himself from their horses. Dernhelm rose, still defiant, and Merry’s horrified gaze fixed on him—her—Éowyn? Éowyn, so fair and valiant! Gandalf or no Gandalf, he had known suddenly what he must do. He stabbed his dagger into the wraith’s knee, and Éowyn drove her sword into the wraith until it shattered.

The Lord of the Nazgûl disappeared into nothing—Éowyn collapsed—Théoden was weeping over her, and Merry too, while a chill numbed his right hand and crept up his arm. It was Gandalf who insisted Éowyn was alive, and ordered her and Merry carried in a rush to the Houses of Healing. Everything grew colder yet, and hazy, until he could scarcely move and scarcely see. Before he quite knew what had happened, he fell asleep.

His sleep was unpleasant: cold and grey, filled with terrible voices that whispered of the dead he had not saved. Some of the voices sounded like the king of the Ringwraiths and he kept stabbing at it, then remembering that the Barrow-dagger had broken. They were all dead, Pippin and Éowyn and Théoden and, somehow, Gandalf and Strider. But no—that didn’t make sense—he couldn’t quite remember—

Another voice joined in, and even in that icy dream, it surprised him.

“Awake,” said Strider, in the commanding way he had sometimes. 

He sounded very far away. Merry couldn’t see through the mists, or pinpoint the source of the call.

“Awake,” Strider repeated, even more firmly, and Merry felt a growing warmth, driving the cold off. Even his hand no longer felt numb, and he couldn’t hear any voice but Strider’s.

“Merry.”

Merry opened his eyes. Strider stood nearest him, pulling his hand back from Merry’s head, but Pippin was there, too, alive and well but for his anxious face, and Gandalf just behind him. A mildly sweet fragrance filled the air about him. Just the smell of it made him feel better. And starving.

“I am hungry,” he announced. “What is the time?”

“Past supper-time now, though I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me,” said Pippin, his voice a little unsteady. Now Merry could see that Pippin had acquired armour, too: a chainmail hauberk made of some black metal, and a black surcoat over it, embroidered with the symbol of a white tree. He had never looked more like the Thain he would be someday.

“They will indeed,” said Gandalf. “And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in Minas Tirith, where his name is in honour.”

Well, that sounded very nice.

“Good!” Merry said. “Then I would like supper first, and after that, a pipe, if Strider will provide what is needed.”

“Oh?” said Strider.

“I had some of Saruman’s best in my pack,” said Merry, “but what became of it in the battle, I am sure I don’t know.”

Strider looked sternly down at him. Really, he was bigger than anyone had a right to be. Maybe he’d drunk Ent-draughts at some time or another—though Éomer was nearly as tall, like Boromir had been, and Merry couldn’t imagine either of them doing it at all. 

“Master Meriadoc,” Strider said, in his severest tones, “if you think that I have passed through the mountains and the realm of Gondor with fire and sword to bring herbs to a careless soldier who throws away his gear, you are mistaken. If your pack has not been found, then you must send for the herb-master of this House. And he will tell you that he did not know that the herb you desire had any virtues, but that it is called westmansweed by the vulgar, and galenas by the noble, and other names in other tongues more learned, and after adding a few half-forgotten rhymes that he does not understand, he will regretfully inform you that there is none in the House, and he will leave you to reflect on the history of tongues.”

Merry blinked.

“And,” Strider added, “so now must I. For I have not slept in such a bed as this, since I rode from Dunharrow, nor eaten since the dark before dawn.”

Guilt jolted through Merry and he seized Strider’s hand, kissing it. 

“I am frightfully sorry. Go at once!” he said. “Ever since that night at Bree, we have been a nuisance to you. But it is the way of my people to use light words at such times and say less than they mean. We fear to say too much. It robs us of the right words when a jest is out of place.”

Strider’s scowl dissolved into one of his rare smiles. He said, “I know that well, or I would not deal with you in the same way. May the Shire live forever unwithered!”

With that, he bent down to kiss the top of Merry’s head, then left with Gandalf. As soon as they were gone, Pippin started to laugh.

“Was there ever anyone like him? Except Gandalf, of course. I think they must be related.” 

Now entirely perplexed, Merry just stared at him.

“My dear ass,” said Pippin, “your pack is lying by your bed. He saw it all the time, of course. And anyway, I have some stuff of my own. Come on now! Longbottom Leaf it is. Fill up while I run and see about some food. And then let’s be easy for a bit. Dear me! We Tooks and Brandybucks, we can’t live long on the heights.”

Merry thought about it—about Great Smials and Brandy Hall, and Meduseld and this monumental city, about their families back home, and Boromir and Éowyn and Strider. Aragorn.

“No,” he agreed. “I can’t. Not yet, at any rate. But at least, Pippin, we can now see them, and honour them. It is best to love first what you are fitted to love, I suppose: you must start somewhere and have some roots, and the soil of the Shire is deep. Still there are things deeper and higher; and not a gaffer could tend his garden in what he calls peace but for them, whether he knows about them or not. I am glad that I know about them, a little.” Then he shook his head, clearing it. “But I don’t know why I am talking like this. Where is that leaf?”

Pippin’s armour clinked as he climbed off his stool and produced the pipe and leaves. Merry almost laughed, himself, at the sight of him, looking as near a fine soldier as any hobbit could be, but with a pipe in one hand and a little pouch of Longbottom Leaf in the other. His face must have spoken for him; Pippin wrinkled his nose and ran off to get some food.

By the time that he returned, Merry was truly ravenous, enough that he didn’t think to ask much of anything until he’d swallowed half of the meal in front of him. Then he slowed, new thoughts jabbing into his mind.

“Lady Éowyn,” he said. “Do you know what happened to her? Is she—”

“Alive,” said Pippin. “Strider brought her back, just like you. She is resting not far from here. The king and Éomer are seeing to their people, I believe.”

Merry relaxed, but Pippin had hardly spoken when his brows drew together.

“What is it?” Merry asked. 

“I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” he said slowly, “but I wish he—Strider, I mean—Aragorn—I wish he could have gotten here just a little earlier.”

Merry chewed, then swallowed. “Why is that?”

“So he could have saved Lord Denethor,” said Pippin, his face clouding over. “I swore myself to his service, in return for Boromir, and … well, because I wanted to. He fell leading the retreat against the Black Riders; he and the Prince were the only ones who could hold the soldiers together, and he got pierced by an arrow. The healers kept him alive for awhile, but not long enough. He died just after they brought you and Lady Éowyn here.”

“Oh,” said Merry, feeling rather blank. He knew of the Steward dimly, through Boromir’s proud accounts of his father, and through the message sent with the Red Arrow, which had struck him as courteous. But he thought of Théoden, and felt a burst of sympathy. “I am sorry, Pip. Was he kind to you?”

Pippin nodded, then shook his head, then just deepened his frown, looking bewildered as much as anything.

“He was strange,” he said. “More like Gandalf and Aragorn than Boromir, though not as powerful as Gandalf, I think. But the same sort of person, if that makes sense. Gandalf said Denethor could see people’s thoughts, even people far away.”

All right, not like Théoden.

“I think it was true,” Pippin added. “You’d understand if you met him.” He grew solemn again. “Not that you can. He’s gone, like Boromir. There’s only Fíriel left now.”

“Is that Boromir’s sister?” said Merry. He had even less of an idea of her, beyond a vague impression of her existence and Boromir’s affection for her. But he felt sorry for the unknown lady, nevertheless—all the more when he thought of how her brother had died. Despite everything that had happened since then, his throat tightened.

“Yes,” Pippin said, and thankfully, his smile returned. “I like her.” 

The words would have been tepid enough on paper, but Pippin pronounced them with so much fervour that Merry’s brows rose. 

“What is she like?” he asked.

Pippin tilted his head, thinking about it. In fact, he thought about it for so long that Merry might have poked him, if not for the chainmail.

“A bit Elvish,” he said at last. “She belongs to the heights, right enough—but isn’t so far-off, if you understand me. It’s hard to explain. You can talk to her, and at the same time, she … you can’t help feeling that you would do anything for her.”

He flushed a little as he spoke. Merry hid a smile. 

“Did you ask for a strand of her hair?” he said.

Pippin turned redder. “No! Don’t be absurd, Merry. It’s not like that. You’ll meet her sooner or later, and then you’ll see.”

Merry just laughed, more amused to see Pippin admiring a daughter of Men than he would have thought he could be by anything, a few hours ago.

Regardless, it seemed that he’d scarcely finished talking and smoking with Pippin when Legolas and Gimli came to see them, and they all walked and talked until he grew tired, and they told him of their (terrible!) adventures coming to Gondor. It was a pleasant way to spend an hour—but before long, the rest were all riding out to confront Sauron himself, in Mordor. 

Merry watched sadly, feeling very alone, and fearful of what might happen to them all. Pippin’s young friend led him back to the Houses of Healing, saying something meant to be reassuring, but Merry barely heard it. And in the Houses, the hours rushed inexorably on, while Merry tried to calculate the army’s progress in his head, for no messengers came, and nobody seemed to know anything about what was happening out there. But the more the time passed, the closer they had to be getting—and here he was, doing nothing.

As dreadful as he felt, it seemed like he’d only just turned around when he realized it’d been two whole days. They wouldn’t be in Mordor yet, but they’d be making progress, unless something else had gone wrong.

“Master Meriadoc! Master Meriadoc!” 

Merry turned to squint at a servant of the Houses. He’d mostly been left to his own devices, apart from the healers who insisted on examining him every day. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“If it is no inconvenience,” said the servant, “there is someone who would like to see you.”

“See me?” repeated Merry. He couldn’t imagine who would feel the slightest interest in him, except perhaps Éowyn, and he gathered that she was still recovering. “Who wants to see me?”

The servant straightened, looking proud. “The Lady Fíriel, master. She is waiting here in the Houses now, if it pleases you to speak with her.”

Merry didn’t know whether to take this as real concern for what pleased him or not, or just part of the people of Gondor’s odd way of talking.

“Well—certainly,” he said, baffled but curious. 

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, anyway, and he didn’t want to be impolite, particularly not to Boromir’s sister. He trotted after the servant towards a wall overlooking the gardens, where a few healers and recovering soldiers were walking to and fro. He didn’t see Éowyn among them, but he did see a woman standing at the wall. He couldn’t make out much of her beyond black skirts and black hair that hung loosely down her back; still, he felt sure that she was indeed Fíriel of Gondor.

“My lady,” the servant began, and the lady turned around.

She had a pretty face, but Merry was struck less by this than by how much it resembled Boromir’s. And Aragorn’s, in some odd way that he couldn’t immediately identify—more of an air than any particular feature. 

“You must be Meriadoc,” she said.

Merry bowed, a little awkwardly; he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“I am,” he said.

Fíriel swiftly walked over, and held out her hand, which Merry took in some confusion. She shook his in the manner of the Shire, her face lighting with a pleasant smile that only deepened her resemblance to her brother. Merry appreciated this, even while feeling a little unsettled. She was tall like Boromir, too—very tall. The Men of Gondor generally stood higher than the Rohirrim, to be sure, but though no man, she must be taller than many if not all of the Riders. Certainly more than any woman he’d seen except Lady Galadriel.

“I am Fíriel, daughter of Denethor,” she said in a low voice. “Thank you for coming.”

The servant quietly withdrew, leaving Merry and Fíriel all but alone, her gaze fixed on him. He repressed the impulse to dust off his borrowed clothes, unable to escape the feeling that her clear grey eyes saw everything there was to see about him. That, perhaps, was what reminded him of Aragorn: both the colour and a keen, intelligent attention. 

“You are, er, welcome,” he said. Even to himself, his tone seemed flat and strange.

“Perhaps you would walk with me, unless the exertion is too much,” said Fíriel.

“Oh, no,” Merry said, then flushed. “I mean, it isn’t.”

She gestured towards the steps that led down to the gardens, a certain gentle command in the gesture, and they walked together on the greensward, among the early foliage. After a minute or so of silence, she said,

“You have already done a great deal for my people, Meriadoc—more than we could ever repay. But I would ask something still further.”

He would not have said that he’d do anything for her, the way Pippin had. But Pip seemed right enough that she was a creature of the heights. Not so high as Aragorn could be, but with a more constant and immediate force of personality alongside her gentleness. It made for an agreeable but very odd impression.

“What is it, my lady?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound rude.

“I am a healer, of sorts,” said Fíriel, which did not at all surprise him. “I have often worked in these Houses, and I wish to help those whom I can. I just met with one of these people, a person recovering in body but not in spirit, and I hoped you might be able to assist me.”

More puzzled than ever, Merry said, “Well—if I can help—but I don’t quite see how.”

“You accompanied the Lady Éowyn to Minas Tirith, I believe,” she replied. 

All at once, his confusion cleared. “Oh! Yes. Is she the one you’re trying to help?”

Fíriel nodded.

“I would like to help her,” he said frankly, “but I still don’t see how.”

“I know very little of her,” Fíriel told him. “I thought you might tell me more, so that I might better understand her malady, if you can without breaking her confidence.”

Merry was already nodding, now eager to comply. Despite how little he knew or understood Fíriel, he felt a sudden conviction that this gracious lady might indeed be able to help, if anyone could. 

“I don’t think there were any confidences,” he said, thinking it over. “Except as Dernhelm, of course, though she still didn’t tell me.”

“Dernhelm?” said Fíriel.

“That was the name she gave when she brought me with her,” said Merry, realizing how little Fíriel—or anyone here—would know of the story. Nothing, really.

So he took a deep breath, and told her everything.

---------

Notes (LOTS OF NOTES)

1) One minute he had been watching Gandalf defend Théoden: One of the underlying ideas of the verse is that canon Faramir wouldn’t be there to exercise his vaguely supernatural command over “men and beasts” in the retreat across the Pelennor, which has multiple consequences, but one of them is that there’s no pyre preventing Gandalf from joining the battle. He suggests in LOTR that he would have been able to save people in the battle if not for the pyre.

2) “I am hungry,” he announced: much of this scene is taken from the book, but of course without Merry’s mourning of Théoden.

3) a chainmail hauberk made of some black metal, and a black surcoat over it, embroidered with the symbol of a white tree: taken from the earlier description in the book.

4) Éomer was nearly as tall, like Boromir had been: UT says Éomer was of like height with Aragorn, inheriting the trait from his Gondorian grandmother, while Boromir is described in Fellowship as only a little shorter than Aragorn. In another note, Tolkien says that Aragorn would be at least 6′6″ (so potentially even taller!) and Boromir, “of high Númenórean lineage,” 6′4″. Very tall indeed to a hobbit :)

5) he bent down to kiss the top of Merry’s head: in the book, he does kiss Merry before he goes!

6) he and the Prince were the only ones who could hold the soldiers together: one of the other consequences of no canon!Faramir to do it. The fic assumes that Denethor’s avoidance of battle wouldn’t extend to a situation where he’s probably the only person who can lead against the Witch-king/Ringwraiths (with Imrahil needed for the sortie). 

7) But the same sort of person, if that makes sense: while Denethor is obviously not a Maia, we do hear in ROTK that “Pippin saw a likeness between the two,” and also that Denethor is more reminiscent of Aragorn than Boromir. 

8) I like her: Pippin’s instant love for Faramir in the book is carried over to Fíriel here.

9) A bit Elvish: in ROTK, Faramir is described as “one of the Kings of Men born into a later time, but touched with the wisdom and sadness of the Elder Race”

10) you can’t help feeling that you would do anything for her: genderbent version of “he knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.”

11) “Did you ask for a strand of her hair?” he said: one of the things that’s always entertained me about this verse is that Pippin’s love for Faramir basically becomes a scaled-down version of Gimli’s for Galadriel.

12) they told him of their (terrible!) adventures coming to Gondor: I didn’t feel like replicating the fairly extensive conversation they have about it in the book.

13) Pippin’s young friend: Bergil does lead Merry away in the book.

14) there is someone who would like to see you: in the book, we only hear that the Warden tells Faramir that Merry would know more of Éowyn and accordingly, “Merry was sent to Faramir” and “they talked long together.”

15) She had a pretty face: Faramir is described as having a “fair face.”

16) how much it resembled Boromir’s: from ROTK—“Pippin gazing at him saw how closely he resembled his brother Boromir.”

17) She shook his in the manner of the Shire: since Fíriel isn’t in battle, I imagine that she spent a bit more time with Pippin and picked this up.

18) a pleasant smile that only deepened her resemblance to her brother: Frodo describes Boromir’s face as “fair and pleasant” in FOTR.

19) She was tall ... very tall: Faramir is described as “very tall” in TTT and elsewhere said to strikingly resemble Denethor, who was “very tall and in appearance looked like an ancient Númenorean.” Fíriel isn’t quite as towering as Faramir (who has to stoop to kiss the forehead of the tall Éowyn), but she’s still over six feet.

20) The Men of Gondor generally stood higher than the Rohirrim: this is according to UT.

21) a keen, intelligent attention: TTT—“a keen wit lay behind his searching glance.”

22) unable to escape the feeling that her clear grey eyes saw everything there was to see about him: Faramir is generally portrayed this way, but ROTK specifically says that Faramir picks up more than Merry actually says in this scene.

23) a certain gentle command in the gesture: Faramir is described as “commanding” in TTT, but also gentle throughout.

24) Not so high as Aragorn could be, but with a more constant and immediate force of personality: ROTK says Faramir has an air “such as Aragorn at times revealed, less high perhaps, yet also less incalculable and remote.”

25) “I am a healer, of sorts”: this is necessary for Fíriel to be present at all, but I also thought that a Faramir who couldn’t be a warrior would be, in some ways, freer to follow his(her) temperamental inclinations, so it seemed pretty natural for Fíriel to be a scholar/healer. It’s “of sorts” because she does have Númenórean gifts, but they’re very different from Aragorn’s kingly healing.

26) this gracious lady: Denethor accuses of Faramir of always trying to appear lordly, generous, gracious, and gentle; my interpretation is that he (and therefore Fíriel) really is those things.

[purplellamanator]

Soooooo if it's no trouble for you, Shinran for Arranged Marriage AU Modern?

A/N~ Of course it's no trouble!!! And I am so sorry! I know you sent this in like forever ago and have likely forgotten about it! I hope you enjoy though!

Modern~ Person A's family is in debt. Person B is the debt collector but asks for marriage instead.

oOo

This was definitely not how Ran envisioned getting engaged. She'd argue that every girl daydreamed about their wedding at least once in their life and Ran was no different.

She always thought she'd go off to college and meet some nice boy. They would start out as friends first and then they'd slowly move on to actual dates. Ran would bring him to meet her parents and her father would actually approve of him. Her mother would be best friends with her boyfriend's. And then said boyfriend would propose and they'd have a gigantic wedding with a huge cake, big dress, and every relative she could think of would be in attendance.

Sadly, those were all just dreams. Things she imagined when she had a crush or ideas that spurred when she was engrossed in an especially romantic novel. Of course as she grew older her expectations sort of mellowed out. She definitely still wanted the traditionally grand ceremony but she had to add a tad of reality to it.

Standing in a soft pink dress that could barely even be considered business casual as she watched her fiance sign his name on the marriage certificate, Ran took the time to let her gaze wander. Taking in the blandly colored walls of the courtroom was as far as she could get without wanting to cry. That and her fiance was already straightening before angling the pen to her expectantly.

She hesitated. She knew he saw it but Ran couldn't help it. Just like she couldn't conceal the small look of disdain she gave the pen he was trying to hand to her. Her movements slow, she accepted the offering. Her fiance's shoulders sagging in what looked like relief made her think he half expected her to refuse to sign.

It was tempting. But she already argued it was time to face reality. And staring at the paper on the stand before her, she paused again. Ran hoped it appeared like she was just reading over the document but really, she was just trying to delay the inevitable. Her eyes remained unseeingly on the still blank line where her signature was supposed to go.

Ran thought she'd be sick. She didn't think she could do this. There wouldn't be any turning back once she put her name on that paper. Not only was it the contract of their marriage, it would also serve as the contract for the agreement they had come to.

If she signed this certificate, her father's debt would be repaid. If she did this her parents would at least have a chance at restarting their life. Granted she wouldn't be apart of it as much but the point was that they'd have it.

But still, Ran couldn't help but hesitate. She could play it off and lie to herself. She could put the blame on the fact she was scared. It was not much to go on but she was by no means the first arranged marriage. And they very rarely ended happily. The documentaries that were borderline like horror stories to her that she used to always watch on crime shows, were evidence of that. And again, even if that was a very plausible excuse, she knew it wasn't the truthful one. The real one wasn't even because she was disappointed in Kudou-san's looks. Selfishly, her mind flickered to the three tiered cake and the gorgeous chapel.

Swallowing hard she knew she'd have to let go. She'd have to let go of that daydream. She had to come to terms that this was her reality.

So silencing her screaming thoughts as best she could, Ran signed her name.

oOo

Ran didn't know exactly what her expectations had been one she moved in with her . . husband? She didn't really like referring to him like that though. It felt odd to call him anything else but his surname. Especially when he didn't even treat her like she was his wife. Again, Ran didn't really know what to expect but having her own bedroom wasn't one of them.

Of course she wasn't complaining. It was just. . . a surprise. . Ran may of never dated before but she had heard of wifely duties before. Not that she liked to call them that but that was honestly what it would be. There was no benefit to this marriage for her specifically and logically she had to assume that would be one of the things Kudou-san asked of her.

None of the talks she had with her mother the night before all of this would've ever prepared her for what did happen. And that was nothing. Nothing happened. They arrived at what he liked to call a house but to her and the average citizen, was a mansion. He helped her carry her one bag into the house while giving her a brief explanation of where everything was. And then he had shown her to her room and promptly turned around and walked out the door- her door.

Not wanting to lower her guard too soon, she half expected him to come into her room at night. Which he didn't. He didn't do anything with her. He didn't really talk to her in general and as the days passed by she realized he never was. And Ran didn't know what to do with that. She couldn't fathom why he would ask for her hand in marriage if he didn't even want that from her. This had all been his idea after all and to just completely ignore her, Ran didn't understand what exactly her purpose was in all of this.

The house- it frightened her quite a bit in the beginning. It was so massive and felt so empty. It was so quiet that sometimes all she could hear were the pipes in the walls and the house settling. Sometimes when it felt like it was so still that her ears would start ringing, she'd have to plug in her headphones. It was only when she finally gained the courage to leave her bedroom that she realized just why it was so quiet.

Kudou-san was hardly ever in the house. The first few days she was still paranoid and would outright look for him. She didn't want to be startled by him suddenly reprimanding her for wandering around wherever she pleased. But after she had the bright idea to just check for his car in the driveway, more often than not, it was not there. With that, she also learned when to expect him. The sound of his front gate opening would alert her most of the time after she had already eaten dinner. And like the coward she was, she'd take that as her cue it was time for bed.

So it was safe to say that her husband was a very busy person and honestly, she didn't feel the need to find out what for. It was probably for the better that he was more occupied with work rather than her. She didn't like being alone and missed her friends and family terribly. But here in this new home with her. . husband, she didn't know what the alternative would be if she disrupted this set routine with him. Besides, he didn't sound like he wanted anything to do with her anyway. And since he was the one that asked for this engagement, she'd argue that it was up to him to reach out first. And since that never happened one could probably imagine how much time she had on her hands.

It wasn't long before she finally took it upon herself to make a list of duties that she needed to do. If she sat in this house all day and did absolutely nothing but listen to music and read, she'd lose her mind. So she swept the floors and mopped them. She wiped down all of the windows and cleaned out his fridge. She even dusted his entire library which was ridiculous because who even had a library in their house? Still, ignoring that, she did it.

The chores she gave herself were boring and tedious. They were often long jobs that were unusually strenuous but honestly, that's what she preferred. Anything to take her mind off her current situation- or lack there of. Everyday she would come up with something new though. His 'house' was massive and really, she was cleaning a different room on each day. That's how she discovered where most things were anyway. Admittedly he had told her briefly when he was helping her move in but she'd also admit she hadn't been paying attention. Ran hadn't been expecting her marriage to be so . . . quiet. At the time she had been preparing herself for the worst mentally.

Now, and though she wasn't necessarily at ease, she was calm enough to actually breathe properly. This was how she discovered his library. She found the laundry room so she could finally do a load of clothes. Ran even discovered he had an office. It looked like he usually spent his time in there though she quickly left. She highly doubted he would be pleased if he found her in there. Likely he'd assume she was snooping.

Since Kudou-san was rarely home however, it was difficult to guess what areas of his house were off limits. His room of course would've been a given. But everything looked so untouched; like the house was barely lived in.

That was the excuse she would give when explaining how she mistakenly stumbled in there. She was being honest when she said it wasn't for a good few minutes till she realized where she was at. The room was massive like everything in this house. But much like the guest rooms, the walls were barren. There weren't pictures on the walls or items on the shelves. It didn't look lived in to say the least. It wasn't till she finally set her eyes on the bed and took notice of how the sheets were thrown to the side and unkempt.

Like someone had been sleeping there.

Feeling her heart lodge in throat, she quickly took some steps back before going to leave. And stumbling over herself she ran right into something. From her surprise and shock, her hands had come up to brace her fall. That was when she really realized what she ran into.

It was a chest. A beating, warm, and very firm chest.

Hands jerking back to her sides, she quickly moved a pace away from him to give both of them some space. She knew before looking that it was Kudou-san. They were the only two that lived here after all. She was usually pretty good at sneaking back to her room before he came home but it honestly wasn't that late into the day yet. He was earlier than usual.

"Did you-?"

Before he could even finish his sentence she was cutting him off.

"I'm sorry!" she said hurriedly holding her hands up defensively. "I didn't realize this was your room until I saw the bed! I was only trying to clean up a little!" Ran prayed that her words sounded believable. The last thing she wanted was for her husband to think she was digging through his things. It was such an invasion of privacy already and she hoped he could tell how apologetic she was.  

Kudou-san didn't appear to be angry though. If anything, he looked a little confused. "You know this is your house too. . . . right?" he asked her slowly while giving her a pointed look. A look that she understood now was asking why she was apologizing. When her eyes suddenly watered a bit, he suddenly looked frustrated. Shaking his head, he turned around and went to leave his own room. "You can go wherever you'd like," he threw over his shoulder and some of that irritation leaked into his voice.    

It was only once he left that she realized she was actually shaking. She knew she had been nervous well before her eyes began to fill with tears. But she hadn't noticed just how scared she actually was of his response. Kudou-san didn't look like the violent type but looks could be deceiving. And though they were married she didn't really know him or what he was capable of. Hand coming to rest over her heart in attempt to soothe it, she took deep breaths.

Maybe he noticed her reaction before she did herself. He seemed angrier about that than her standing in his bedroom without permission.

oOo

Though she actually had his permission to go wherever she pleased, it didn't mean Ran took advantage of it. Going into his bedroom had been an accident. She didn't want it to seem like it had been anything but that.

But she did try to come out of her room more often. She stopped hiding out any time she saw his car pull through the gate out front. She stopped trying to plan her sporadic dashes to the kitchen when he was home. Ran stopped trying to dance around him.

They still didn't really talk. He at least acknowledged her which arguably, if she had come out sooner he would've done that before. And the mansion didn't feel like a home to her yet by any means, but at least she could actually walk around without her veins thrumming with adrenaline as if she were in some horror movie.

She finally started cooking again. It was something she had to do when living with her parents but had soon turned into a hobby for her. Ran was often told she was good at it and it made her feel better, so she enjoyed it. And though he never asked her to, she always made enough for him. Pulling the trash as part of her chores she took upon herself, it was impossible for her not to notice all the takeout bins. She was pretty sure that was what he ate all the time and she couldn't help but be appalled. Fast food was fine and all occasionally- occasionally being the key word.

Technically even though it didn't feel like it, she was his wife. Wasn't it normal to cook food for your husband? That and he erased her father's debt- but she liked the first excuse better. Ran didn't really know much about the reasoning circling around her father's debt. She had only been given an offer to get rid of it so of course she accepted wholeheartedly. And she would never want Kudou-san to go back on his word.

So she made him dinner. It wasn't like she left a mess. She always cleaned up after herself and would simply leave it in a rubber-maid container on the kitchen island for him to notice right away. That and she left him a note. It didn't say anything extensive. All she did was write his name so that he knew it was in fact for him. She didn't want him to think she left it out by mistake.

The first time she did it for him though, her mind had immediately regretted it. It wasn't till she was sitting in her room that first night that she took the time to think about how forward of her that was. She had no idea what Kudou-san liked to eat anyway. He very well could just throw it out. And what was she thinking leaving him a note like that? That was something she had seen her mother do for her father on the rare occasion that the woman attempted to prepare anything for him. But those notes were usually tagged with a heart. Something far more intimate than what she had in mind.

Suddenly her anxiety hit the roof. The implication of what she just did had her face engulfed in heat. Just when her second thoughts were getting the best of her she was going to put the food away herself, she noticed the headlights of his car as it pulled into the gate. It had been too late and like the coward she was, she she didn't dare to leave her room again for the rest of night. She even turned off her lights and got into bed on the off chance that Kudou-san did come looking for her.

He didn't. He hadn't even come anywhere near her door. He had them on the same floor but on completely opposite sides of the house, she had learned the other day from her little accident. It relieved her that he didn't come knocking though. Ran had been preparing an excuse for why she made him dinner until it became glaringly obvious that he wasn't going to ask. More at ease now, that's what began her routine of making him his afternoon meal. And he never had a word that was gratitude nor a complaint to give. At that point she expected him to forget about it.

Upon waking up to get breakfast a few days later however, she noticed that Kudou-san obviously hadn't forgotten it. There was a box on the kitchen island, on the spot she generally left his dinner. As she got closer she realized it was a cell phone still in it's packaging. And like what she had left him, it came with a note on the top only saying her name.

At first Ran didn't know what to do with it. She was mostly shocked by the obvious gift Kudou-san had left her. The obviously expensive gift. But even more obvious from why she married him, she knew that buying a brand new phone wouldn't even make a dent in his finances. Still, normally Ran would've been uncomfortable accepting such a gift. But she also recognized this as a way for him to pay her back for making him his meals. To not accept it would be incredibly rude and she knew she'd offend him.

The first person she called was her mother. Admittedly she wanted to speak with her father instead but apparently he had been out. Still she was ecstatic to get a hello from anybody and her mom was just as thankful to finally hear from her. Leaving out why exactly her husband bought her the phone, she explained that it was Kudou-san who had given it to her. And though it was a talk she didn't really want to revisit with her mother, she knew the woman would be concerned if she didn't bring it up.

"Kudou-san is. . . kind," she finally settled on that. They rarely interacted but off the sparse times they did, that's the impression she got from him.

"Ran." Her mother's tone was sharp and warning and it had her tensing in her seat. "People like him never give something for nothing; not when they can put a price on everything. Never forget that."

Ran knew what her mom was trying to tell her then. To get her head out of the clouds and come back to that reality she was always trying to escape. That eventually Kudou-san would expect something from her in return. And though she still wanted to stand by her comment that her husband wasn't really all that bad, she couldn't argue. Because her mother was right. The gift that had seemed so generous only came to her because she had done something kind in return. It was a response to her.

But still, and thinking back, she was reminded of his response when she had been terrified of being caught in his bedroom. He had been irritated, yes- but only because she clearly expected that. And that told her enough. That he didn't want her to have an ill opinion of him. And if he cared about what she thought of him, then that must've meant- to some extent, that he cared about her.

[sloanerisette]

Jyoumi Challenge Day #29: Time Travel

Ok, so, two things:

a) this is time travel in a more nebulous sense

b) major spoilers for Last Evolution Kizuna, so I won’t talk more about what this piece entails, and will put the whole thing under a read more.

This is one of the ones I was waiting to get to for a while, and I hope you all enjoy it!

For a few moments, it seemed as if the air in the Digital World had a light fog spread across it all. Not enough to obscure his view, but enough to cause a knot to tighten up in the pit of Joe’s stomach and give him the feeling that something was suddenly wrong. His thoughts had been focused on that (as best as they could be right now, given how fuzzy his mind felt, too) until he felt Gomamon’s flipper knock on his head.

“Joe! Are you even awake?” his Digimon partner asked, to which Joe quickly blinked a few times, looking up to the seal.

“Huh?”

At that point he heard the giggling of Mimi and Palmon, the sounds quickly bringing Joe’s gaze to the two of them, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the girl.

“You’ve been zoning out! It feels like we’ve been talking to you forever and you haven’t been saying anything! How else am I going to try out all my new jokes?” Gomamon added, hopping off of Joe’s shoulder in front of him, looking up at his friend, who started to look around.

“Oh, uh… sorry. I guess I just felt like I was in a fog or something,” he said, now looking up into the sky.

“Weird, I was feeling kind of like that a few minutes ago…” Mimi said, tapping her chin.

“Are you ok, Mimi?” Palmon asked as a worried expression came over her face.

“Oh, yeah! Now I am! I just think it’s because we’ve been walking for a while!” Mimi chirped, offering her own Digimon partner a reassuring smile.

What neither of them could tell, past the fog that Joe could currently see and the fog that Mimi had seen not too long ago, was that the fog wasn’t just some weired weather occurrence of the Digital World, but a way to dull and distract their minds. To lead them to believe that it wasn’t currently 2010, but that they were back in 1999, within their second trip into the Digital World.

What Mimi and Joe didn’t know was that just past the bright blue sky they were looking up at was Never World, trapped within one of its infinite islands, and with Tai and Matt just outside fighting for their freedom— as well as the freedom of every other DigiDestined who had their consciousness stolen by Eosmon. The two adults were trapped in their own memories, to a blissful (if scary) time when they were just kids. Kids who had their whole lives ahead. Kids who didn’t know they would lose their partners soon enough.

Kids who would remain in the best times of their lives and would never have to worry about anything bad. In the world Menoa had set up, they would never even have to worry about the Dark Masters. Just Joe, Mimi, their partners, and a life together forever.

Even with the situation they believed to be at hand, one the two kids knew to be dangerous with massive risks to their lives, they couldn’t help but be happy for some reason, smiles on their faces as they walked along the mountain path.

“We’ll stop the Dark Masters, right?” Mimi asked, the three others looking over at her.

“Of course we will. I mean, there’s still three left, but once we get some reinforcements, it’ll be no problem,” Joe nodded.

“Yeah Mimi! Plus you got all of us! I think once we start taking them down one by one, it’ll be no sweat!” Palmon said, throwing her arms in the air.

“You’re right!” Mimi said, smiling wide, “And we got Joe and Gomamon, too!”

Joe blushed, but Gomamon flexed a flipper, “She’s right, Joe! Make me Zudomon, have Palmon become Lillymon, and we’ll trounce them all!” he said, causing the group to laugh thanks to the Digimon’s bravado.

“That’s the spirit!” Mimi chirped happily.

Joe was still a soft red, but he laughed along with the others, “Yeah, you’re right! I don’t think we have anything to worry about!”

“We won’t ever have anything to worry about,” Mimi said suddenly, the words tumbling from her tongue as if on instinct. They had her freeze suddenly, stopping in place, Joe bumping into her, nearly causing the two to fall over.

“Mimi! Are you ok?” he asked, holding onto her and steadying himself so they didn’t tumble. He looked at her with furrowed brows, worry lines etching onto his forehead.

“Mimi?”

“What?” she asked, head suddenly whipping to face him, hair flying.

“Are you ok?” he asked again, peering at her curiously and carefully.

“Oh, yeah… my head just sort of… felt foggy for a second,” she said, Joe bringing up a hand to her forehead.

“Do you want to sit down for a moment? We have been walking for a while…” he said with a frown. Mimi nodded, and Joe led her to a nearby grassy patch under a big, shady tree, the group of four sitting down, Mimi leaning against Joe.

“Thanks… I’m not sure, its like when I said that, my head felt weird,” she sighed.

“I mean… you are right, though, everything is going to be fine. We have each other,” Joe assured her.

And within the real world, they had said that to each other plenty of times throughout the years: if they had each other, things would be fine. It was a realization that came to them in their teenage years, after all they’d been through and after getting through it all together, both the big and small.

So when Joe said that, both of them went deathly silent, staring off into the distance. The feeling of familiarity lingered in the air around the two kids, though a cold chill compared to the warmth that it would bring in most other cases.

“You guys are moping way too much!” Gomamon huffed, “You keep acting like something is wrong, and the only thing wrong is that we haven’t stopped the Dark Masters yet!”

“Yeah! And then we can go back to having fun!” Palmon chimed in.

“Yeah… it would be nice to just… have fun here. We haven’t had a chance to actually do much of that since we got here,” Joe said.

“Either time,” Mimi added.

They looked at each other with smiles, the idea of being able to not have to worry about saving the Digital World, but instead relax in it, sounding perfect. All of them able to stay there until summer ended.

Maybe even longer.

The shouts from their friends made in hopes of reaching out to all the DigiDestined weren’t heard, and Joe and Mimi remained in their little dream world, stuck in those blissful memories still.

“We can still stay here for a little while longer, right?” Mimi asked the Digimon, who looked at each other, then nodded simply, Palmon moving to sit next to Mimi, leaning into her like her partner was doing to Joe, and Gomamon hopped onto Joe’s lap to flop out and enjoy the shade and cool air.

“Do you think we’ll be able to defeat the rest of the Dark Masters?” Joe asked, voice quiet and filled with a fear that wasn’t present in him just moments earlier.

“We have to, yeah. We will,” Mimi said, swallowing hard, “We’ll get all our old friends from the Digital World together, we’ll team up, and we’ll beat those nasty Dark Masters.”

Joe nodded slowly, a small smile gracing his features, “Yeah, yeah you’re right.”

Mimi gently patted Palmon’s head, before holding the plant Digimon close, while Joe absently scratched at Gomamon’s stomach.

The silence was all that they needed, not to speak needlessly, but to have each other’s company and presence was perfect. And to be in a peaceful situation made it even better. Little did they know, there was, for once, no danger lurking behind every bush and under every rock.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Mimi finally said, breaking the long quiet that had taken hold of them, “It wouldn’t have been the same with anyone else.”

Her words were sudden, and Joe’s eyes went wide as he stared at her, jaw dropped, absolutely dumbfounded.

“R-R-Really?”

“Yeah. I just know I can trust you. I know you’re there for me.”

Butterflies swarmed deep in Joe’s stomach, the boy clearing his throat hard, trying to not seem too awkward when that was all he was feeling at the moment.

“Of course. I mean, you’ve become one of my closest friends,” he admitted shyly, unable to look at her. He wrung his hands together nervously, swallowing hard.

“Me, too,” she said with a smile.

Joe went quiet for a few moments, before smiling to himself, “Well, I’m glad we have each other, then.”

“Me, too,” she laughed. They had become close in such a short amount of time, that for each of them, their presence was like a comfort.

Before either could say more, though, there was a distant whistling sound, one that caused all four of them to look around in confusion.

“There aren’t cicadas in the Digital World, are there?” Joe asked, craning his neck around as he stood up.

“I don’t know what those are, so I don’t think so,” Gomamon said as he scaled Joe, settling on his shoulder to help look around.

“Aren’t those those loud annoying bugs that woke us up that one time, Mimi?” Palmon asked, Mimi nodding.

“Yeah! Ugh, if they’re in the Digital World, too, then we need to find somewhere else to hang out!” Mimi pouted.

The whistling became louder, all-encompassing, and soon it was all they could focus on.

“You don’t think its one of the Dark Masters, do you?” Mimi asked, voice filled with worry as she looked around frantically.

“I— I don’t know!”

Their Digimon soon stood in front of their partners, assuming fighting stances.

“We won’t let anything happen to you guys!” Palmon shouted.

“Yeah!” Gomamon piped up.

However, the whistling got even louder than before, as the Digital World around them started to turn into bright, stark white.

“Joe!”

“Gomamon!”

“Palmon!”

“Mimi!”

“Joe!”

“Mimi!”

Eventually, the light faded away, revealing the crystalline landscape around them, shallow water stretching out along the distance. The sounds of fighting, explosions, blasts being shot could all be heard. The two young adults slowly stood up, trying to adjust to the sudden headaches they were feeling.

All around them were different DigiDestined, from their friends to ones they had never seen or met before, in some strange place. Mimi looked down at herself to see herself in an outfit far different than her former signature pink dress. She turned to see Joe, not the young boy she had just been with, but the man she had spent so much of her life by his side, a sigh of relief falling from her lips.

“Mimi!”

That familiar voice flooded into her ears, as he frantically ran over towards her, Gomamon running along behind him. Joe held onto her shoulders, panting heavily, eyes wide as he looked at her.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I am,” she said quickly in hopes of reassuring him. “Are you?” she asked, relieved to see him nod.

“You were there too, right? We were both there? In the Digital World?” she asked, now bringing her hands to his shoulders, needing to keep hold of him for comfort and to help ground her.

“Yeah… I think it was those Eosmon that Tai told me about… They must have trapped us in that fake Digital World…” Joe explained.

The two looked around them, watching Tai, Matt, their Digimon, so many people now fighting the legion of Digimon that had kidnapped so many DigiDestined, then looked back towards each other.

They each pulled out their smartphones, both silently relieved Izzy had upgraded them so long ago, letting go of each other and facing forward, ready to fight. Their Digimon were already at the ready, starting to glow.

“Gomamon Digivolve to…!”

“Palmon Digivolve to…!”

“Ikkakumon!”

“Togemon!”

Their Digimon were already firing off attacks against the mass of crystalline Digimon, the expressions on Joe and Mimi’s faces nothing short of fear. Fear at the thought of losing such an important fight. Of failing the world.

However, even that looming thought couldn’t stop Joe from speaking.

“That… was nice, though. For a little bit.”

“It was. Getting to experience the old days,” she said, a soft, if sad smile on her face.

“Yeah. Hearing from each other that we were each other’s best friends was nice,” he nodded.

“I meant it then and I mean it now… or… also, then.”

“Me, too,” he told her, causing the both of them to smile. Right after, they turned to their Digimon.

“Go! Ikkakumon!”

“Kick their butts, Togemon!”

The time they got to spend in that little time capsule was nice, but the most important thing were all of those years they got to spend together since then, once they defeated these Eosmon, all the years they’d continue to have together.

[onceabluemoonwrites]

By the Power of the Moon

Title: By the Power of the Moon

Author: OnceABlueMoon 

Rating: G

Pairing: Sailor Moon & Sawada Tsunayoshi

Tags/Warnings: None

Prompt: Sun day: shocking reveals for @khrrarepairweek

Summary: Sailor Moon is in town! Too bad he has curly sideburns.

Inspired by zurre’s artwork on twitter!

AO3 link

The day is hot, the sun shining down in hot waves, the streets nearly deserted. Everybody’s hiding in the shade at home, sitting beside their fans in their workplaces, or, in the case of Namimori Chuu’s pupils, just leaving the school. The warmth makes them lazy and lethargic. Where there would normally be some natural chattering, there is now only silence.

And outcry breaks it.

‘’Sailor Moon is in town!’’

It’s Ryohei. He’s run to town and back already in the time that the others had put on their outside shoes. Tsuna sighs, and contemplates how he can slip into the crowd and avoid this whole debacle-to-be because he knows his friends. He sees an opening as the crowd starts to talk about the outburst, but Gokudera suddenly has an iron grip on his shoulder. ‘’Juudaime,’’ he hisses, ‘’Sailor Moon! That’s almost as cool as an UMA!’’

‘’Oni-chan!’’ Kyoko rushes forward, clutching her brother’s arm, her eyes sparkling. ‘’Really, Sailor Moon?’’

Hana reluctantly follows her, as Gokudera drags both Tsuna and Yamamoto closer to the happening.

‘’Uhuh!’’ Now the siblings are just enthusiastically nodding at each other.

Tsuna likes Kyoko-chan, he really does… But sometimes he wonders what her parents are like, to have produced two children like this, before he decides he really, really doesn’t want to know.

Hana raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘’Doesn’t Sailor Moon live in, like, Tokyo? That’s a long way from here, Sasagawa.’’

Gokudera clears his throat. ‘’Technically, we don’t know where Sailor Moon lives, but yes, she generally appears in the Tokyo area. Azabu-Juban has the most sightings.’’

Hana levelled with him a look. ‘’You follow a Sailor Moon sightings site too, now?’’

Gokudera turned red but kept his nose in the air. ‘’So what?!’’

Tsuna, refraining from pinching his nose bridge, gets between them before it can escalate. ‘’Guys, please. What do you even want to do about this?’’

Haru pops up behind the Sasagawa siblings, nearly giving Tsuna a heart attack. ‘’HIEEEEEE!’’ Clutching his chest, he tries to calm down. ‘’Where did YOU come from?’’

‘’Haru came from the gate, desu!’’

Gokudera narrowed his eyes at her. ‘’You, woman. I’m pretty sure you actually use some kind of teleportation, most likely tied to Sasagawa junior’s shadow.’’

Haru scowls. ‘’That’s not Haru’s point, desu! Haru thinks we should search for Sailor Moon! Haru wants to show her Haru’s Sailor Venus cosplay!’’

Hana, always seeing an opportunities to get rid of the people around her, immediately grabs Kyoko, shoves her under one arm and Haru under the other and says: ‘’Great idea! We’re pairing up and looking for her! I’m with Kyoko and Haru! Keep your phone on hand to call the rest of us if you find her!’’ And they’re gone.

Tsuna is honestly kind of jealous of her ability to just… nope out of everything around her.

Ryohei grabs a protesting Gokudera and is also off, leaving Tsuna with Yamamoto. All things considered, Yamamoto is probably the most fun person to do this with, because he’s not likely to take it seriously. At all.

On cue, Yamamoto starts to laugh and says: ‘’Let’s go then, Tsuna! We can’t let them beat us as the find-Sailor-Moon game!’’

Tsuna can’t help but smile a little as they walk into town. His friends might be a crazy bunch, but they’re his crazy bunch.

~~

When Ryohei and Gokudera find Sailor Moon, they don’t text. They don’t call. No, instead Ryohei unearths a bellow from his gut, unearths it from somewhere so deep inside there, that they hear it on the other side of town. Gokudera’s cry is only a few decibels below that, but considerably more high-pitched.

Yamamoto, upon hearing it, immediately starts to run towards it, forever ready to be amused by Gokudera’s mercurial moods. Tsuna can’t help but laugh at the eager glint in his eyes, quickly following.

When they arrive at the scene of the crime, they find Gokudera fanning himself, sitting down and leaning against the fountain, Ryohei doing jumping jacks beside him.

‘’I am,’’ he says, sweat rolling down his face, ‘’EXTREMELY pumped up!’’

‘’We saw,’’ Gokudera pauses, face red, as if to build up suspense, ‘’SAILOR MOON!’’ He swoons a little.

‘’Woah!’’ Ryohei supports his back. ‘’Please don’t faint again, Octopus-head!’’

Gokudera glares up at him. ‘’It’s that I have this autograph from her here that I need to protect with my LIFE, or I would definitely punch you for that!’’

Ryohei gestures at him to come closer. ‘’Please do, Octopus-head! The boxing club can always use more members! Throw the best punch you have at me!’’

Gokudera scowls. ‘’Did you listen to a single word I just said that did not contain the word ‘’punch’’?’’

Ryohei just shadow boxes at him. Tsuna is about fifty per cent sure that he’s just doing it to wind Gokudera up at this point, but he’s not going to point that little factoid out. He’d like to be able to sleep tonight without having to put headphones on because there were explosions all around town as Gokudera kept pursuing Ryohei.

‘’So,’’ he says, because contrary to popular belief, he does have tricks to distract his friends, even if controlling his rambunctious bunch is a pipe dream. ‘’You guys saw Sailor Moon?’’

Gokudera nods. ‘’She was so beautiful. Like you wouldn’t believe, Juudaime! Her shiny blonde hair, her tiara, her keen sense of justice…’’ Then he frowns. ‘’She was a little smaller than I thought she’d be, but I suppose only seeing her on camera would do that…’’

Tsuna’s phone vibrates in his pocket, so while Yamamoto pokes fun at Gokudera, he checks his texts. ‘’Yamamoto, quit winding him up! If you want a chance to see Sailor Moon, Haru just texted me they found her three streets over! Apparently, she’s giving a concert!’’

‘’Hop on the Onii-chan express!’’ Ryohei bellows, before grabbing all three of them, and taking off. Gokudera, under his left arm, is cursing. On top of his shoulders, Yamamoto is laughing, madly and unholy, like the heathen he is. Tsuna, under his right arm, is pretty much crying. Why are they like this?!

As they get closer, they can actually hear Sailor Moon’s voice. It’s very high and slightly squeaky. Vaguely familiar, too, but Tsuna’s seen her on tv enough that that’s probably just because she’s on the news so frequently. Everybody loves a magical girl, after all. Tsuna’s own mom is still pretty disappointed that he wasn’t a girl with magical girl potential. No, Tsuna got the magic mafia powers. God damn it.

Ah, there they are. Sailor Moon is on top of a building, singing her heart out to a J-pop song. The crowd below her is waving their hands along with it. There seems to be a spotlight on her. Tsuna has no idea where she got that, nor how it is even effective on such a bright sunny day. He spots Haru, Kyoko and Hana in the crowd, swaying along, arms entwined. Even Hana has a big smile on her face. The sight of it makes something inside Tsuna’s chest soften, slowly warming up his whole body.

Smiling, he looks up at Sailor Moon. She is indeed smaller than she looks on television, but that’s probably because she’s standing on a building and they are standing in the street below it. Her blonde hair does gleam in her weird, unnatural spotlights, and Tsuna’s eyes glide up over her popular sailor suit to her green tiara with eyes.

Wait- what?! Green tiara with eyes?! It couldn’t be- no, Leon wouldn’t.

Tsuna clenches his fists. Oh no. Whenever one thinks ‘’Leon wouldn’t,’’ they always, always have to take into account that Reborn would. Stomach filled with dread, he forces himself to look at the side of Sailor Moon’s face, and yes, there they are. The curly sideburns.

The entirety of Namimori came out into the sweltering summer heat to see Reborn perform in Sailor Moon cosplay. He facepalms. Maybe he could sink into the floor or something and Reborn wouldn’t notice? Maybe he could pretend not to know him or something.

‘’Wow!’’ Ryohei shouts. ‘’A TV crew! Extremely awesome! We might be on TV along with Sailor Moon!’’

No, Tsuna starts crying. His shame will be immortalized.

~~

‘’Hey, that’s not me!’’ Staring at the TV in her living room back in Tokyo, Tsukino Usagi gapes.

‘Sailor Moon spotted in Namimori, giving a J-Pop concert!’ the headline below the footage reads.

Beside her on the couch, Luna meows. ‘’Duh! You don’t sing nearly that well.’’

Usagi’s offended screech is heard by exactly no one, except her little brother, who is hiding in his room and pretending she does not exist out of sheer embarrassment.

Many, many miles away, Tsuna feels a strange kinship for someone he has never met, and probably never will meet.

It will remain a mystery, to all those below the moon, for many years to come.  

[nev3rfound]

lingering silence : b.b

brief summary: learning to accept how to move on after the events of IW

requested: nope, just a very sad idea I came up with at work word count: 1.6k warnings: spoilers for IW I guess if you’ve not seen it, and it’s kinda sad

(italics is previous events- just a heads up) 

part one / part two / part three 

* masterlist of sorts *

Smiling brightly you walk into the main space, seeing those left sat around without any words being exchanged. 

“Mornin’“ You call out and keep your smile on your face, trying not to take notice of the glares or confused expressions that cross you. 

“Hey,” Steve mumbles as he leans back against the sofa, somewhere he’s struggled to move for weeks now whilst Natasha sits in the corner of the room, tucked away in her thoughts. 

He was trying to not let it tear him apart on a daily basis, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. The world wasn’t ready for a defeat, hell, they weren’t. Yet, it happened, and half of the population is gone, trapped forever. 

However, when Steve looks at you it’s as if it’s not happened. You’re hiding it all or are blocking it out. Out of everyone here, you lost the most but no one would know. You’re still waking up in the morning to go out, buy flowers and come back with a bright smile. 

“Anyone want to go out later? I found this little spot down the road and it’s got a cute bike outside filled with flowers.” Turning your head the shade covers Natasha’s spiteful stare, but you ignore it knowing nothing ill is meant by it. “Or we could order food in? How about Chinese?” You’re becoming better at hiding the desperation in your tone, not that anyone can tell. 

“Can you just stop?” Natasha slices through the shade as she rises to her feet as the blanket falls from her shoulders. “Everyone we care about is gone and you’re here wanting to go out? What the fuck is wrong with you?” She harshly asks before walking away, leaving you sat still fiddling with your nails. 

Steve remains quiet, unsure what is the best thing to say. “How about you Cap?” You pipe up, nudging him lightly in hope of seeing a smile, something you needed to see so badly for comfort. 

But he shakes his head. “Not today, Y/n.” He mutters before walking away leaving you on your own once more. 

Once the room was empty you brought your legs closer to your chest, letting the tears fall you’ve been trying to hold back for so long. “I, I can’t do this alone, Buck.” You whisper into the atmosphere as you bury your head in your lap. “I need you back. Please,” Unable to finish your sentence you throw your head back and wipe your eyes before inhaling deeply. “ugh, get it together.” You tell yourself as you walk out of the room, heading out for some fresh air in hope to stop the tears, to stop the blotchiness forming in your face. 

*

Walking into the gym Steve watches as Tony works with Natasha. Usually, you’d be here, working out for at least two hours, but you were nowhere to be seen. 

Shrugging it off Steve walks over to the two as they come to a halt upon his arrival. “You seen Y/n?” Natasha asks and Steve slowly shakes his head. 

His fear rises as he watches the way Tony looks to him, concern growing in his expression. “She didn’t come back last night after she headed out around 6pm.” Tony lowers his head before pulling out his phone. 

Steve takes the phone in his hand, watching the footage of you leaving the compound with a bunch of flowers in your grip. “And, and she didn’t come back afterwards? Not even late?” He questions and Tony shakes his head. 

Letting out a heavy sigh Steve backs away. He’s let his best friend down, even if he’s not here to tell him so he just knows. “It’s all my fault.” Natasha mutters quietly as Tony places his arm around her, but she shrugs him off. “No, it is. I told her to stop trying so hard, and maybe she has.” 

“That’s not Y/n, ‘Tasha.” Steve states as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll find her.” He backs out of the gym and starts running, hoping his memory might serve him well in finding her at one of the many potential spots Bucky always spoke of. 

“There’s this small stream, downtown. She loves seeing the stars reflectin’ in the water.” Bucky smiles at the thought as he reminisces on one of his first dates with you as his best friend listens. “I love watching her smile like that, so, so full of life.” 

“You think you love her?” Steve questions, nudging Bucky who doesn’t falter before nodding. 

“Yeah,” He laughs softly before turning his head, his smile still evident on his face. “I think I do.” 

“Y/n?” Steve calls out as he slows down along the stream filled with flower petals that run along the stream. “Y/n?” His tone softens as he follows the array of petals towards discarded flowers. 

And then he sees it. A wide selection of flowers covering a small patch underneath a large oak tree. He lets out a sigh of relief as he spots you lying down with a blanket over your body. 

“She fell asleep on my chest last night as we sat under that tree.” Bucky glances down, still feeling her touch against his skin. “I whispered it, Steve.” He tries to hide his excitement, but Steve can just tell he’s bursting to tell him. “I told her I love her.” 

Steve pats Bucky’s back. “And?” 

“She let out a yawn and told me she loved me back.” He laughed wholeheartedly. “Who’d of thought it? Y/n and me?” 

Watching closely Steve sees your hand clutching onto more flowers as dying ones surround you. He steps closer, seeing something else besides the flowers. “Oh, Y/n.” His face drops as he realises what this is. 

A small photograph of Bucky smiling sits underneath the tree, hanging by a nail you must’ve hammered into it. His old dog tag hangs along with a small ring, your engagement ring. 

This is your grave for Bucky, your way of saying goodbye since you never had the chance to properly. “Hey, Y/n?” Steve crouches down, touching your arm lightly feeling how cold your skin is against his touch.

The sudden movement causes you to open your eyes and you press a knife against his throat. “Oh,” Lowering the knife you relax, realising it’s only Steve. “sorry, force of habit.” You mutter before shuffling to sit cross-legged, the blanket still covering your frozen body. 

“Is this where Bucky talked about?” Steve sits down opposite you and he finally notices the stains on your skin.

Usually, you’d be so bright, distracting them from what was happening to you beneath the surface. Now that you’re not smiling he can see it, the true pain rising that you hid so well from everyone else. 

Lifting your head you glanced over your shoulder, remembering all the memories made here. “Yeah, this is,” Sighing you turn back to face Steve. “was our spot.” 

Steve can easily picture the two of you here, separate from everyone and everything for a short while, a true escape. He learnt all of the significant events that happened under this tree, no wonder you chose here to make this his grave. 

“I’m sorry we’ve been rude to you, Y/n.” Steve quietly states but he watches as you shake your head.

“It’s not your fault, Steve.” He looks down, seeing your hand on top of his. “None of it was.” Realising what you mean he nods, but you keep your hand still. “I don’t think I’ve come to terms with it just yet, what this all means.” You explain as your eyes focus behind Steve, picturing Bucky walking towards you after a long day of training. “That, that he’s gone and isn’t,” You can feel your lower lip quivering, but you swallow the watery sob back. “isn’t coming back.” 

“We don’t know that,” Steve interrupts, but you scoff lightly.

“Like shit we don’t.” You bluntly state. “Bucky isn’t coming back. None of them are coming back because they’re dead!” Yelling the words you’ve held back for so long, hiding them behind your smile and the pain in your eyes you scream before collapsing into Steve. 

He holds you close, your limp body finally coming to terms with the exhaustion. “I know, Y/n.” He soothes as you sob against him. “I miss him too.” 

“I just need him, Steve. I, I don’t think I can do this alone.” You whisper and Steve pulls away, raising an eyebrow to you in confusion. 

“What’d you mean?” He asks and you glance behind you, picking up something hidden behind Bucky’s photograph and place it in Steve’s hand. 

His eyes widen at the sight before tears fall down his face as he stares at you. “I don’t want her growing up without knowing him, Steve.” You sob as you place your hand on your stomach and Steve holds you close as he lets the tears fall. 

Bucky will never get to see this, the fact that he won’t get to be the Dad he dreamed of being or the Husband to the first girl to truly love and understand him. He’s gone, and it is something you still cannot process. 

“Come on,” Steve mutters as he bends down, picking up the blanket and you. “it’s best you get some rest.” 

You simply lie in his arms as you look back at the small sight. The flowers surrounding his photo, that bright smile you couldn’t take your eyes off when it would make an appearance. 

“I love you James,” You place your hand on his cheek, watching as his smile grows against your touch and the sound of those words being said back. “never forget that, okay?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll never forget that, doll, ever.” 

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 6: Aftermath

As the plane exploded before them, David held his wife tightly and she looked up at him.

"What does this mean?" she asked. But he didn't have any answers.

"I...I don't know, my darling," he answered. Soon enough, fire trucks arrived, as did several government SUV's.

"Here we go…" Emma warned, as the NSA agents descended upon the passengers that were present.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please follow me. We have some questions for all of you," Vance announced. They found themselves waiting for hours, but were never more anxious during the whole time than when Emma was called in for questioning before them.

"I feel like this is my fault," Margaret fretted, as she sat in her husband's lap and rested her head against his. There were plenty of chairs around and they were getting looks, as usual, but per normal, they didn't care.

"None of this is your fault. I got the stupid feeling," he told her.

"Yes...but I feel like I pushed you to follow it," she argued.

"No...you were right. This doesn't seem like something that would like being ignored," he admonished.

"I have to be the luckiest person here though," he added.

"Why?" she asked.

"Do you see any other spouses here? This isn't something that most are going to be understanding of," he replied.

"I mean...I came back to your open arms. I doubt that happened for many others. And even for those that it did...I doubt their spouses reacted like you did. Most would think voices in their heads are a crazy thing. But not you," he continued.

"So...you're saying that I'm the one that sees the crazy and jumps right in," she teased. He chuckled.

"No...I'm trying to say that you're amazing. Maybe I should just shut up and show you instead," he replied and her eyes fluttered closed, as he kissed her tenderly.

"Ugh...get a room," an agitated redhead complained, as she walked past them on her way out of the interview room.

"Mr. Nolan...we'd like to speak to you next," Vance said, as Emma came out. He nodded and stood up, as he joined hands with his wife.

"Uh...just you, Mr. Nolan. We'll question your wife after you," he said.

"No...you won't," Margaret protested.

"David didn't do any of this. Trust me, he doesn't know why the plane was gone for so long, because I know he would have never chosen to be separated from me and our children," she argued.

"Mrs. Nolan...I appreciate your protectiveness over your husband, but our questions are routine and he may have had nothing to do with it, but the fact remains that twenty passengers showed up to the hanger and then the plane exploded. It's more than a little suspicious," Vance argued in return. The raven haired beauty looked as though she was going to launch into another tirade against the NSA director when Gold interjected.

"Perhaps we should conduct a joint interview with Mr. and Mrs. Nolan," he suggested.

"That's not how we do things," Vance refuted.

"Under normal circumstances...no, but then these are hardly those. Besides...everyone else that showed up was a passenger, except Mrs. Nolan. She is the only spouse that came. It would seem foolish to split up such a team," Gold advised. Vance looked irritated, but relented, as they followed them in. Emma chuckled and shook her head at her sister-in-law. When it came to David and her kids, no one said could say no to Mary Margaret Nolan, not even the damn NSA.

"Please sit," Gold offered, as they did so and were both served coffee.

"Can you tell me why you showed up here last night to the hanger, Mr. Nolan?" Vance questioned. He shook his head.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. We were asleep and I just woke up. I had this feeling that I needed to be somewhere," he explained.

"A feeling...sounds familiar," Vance said skeptically. He shrugged.

"I'm not sure how else to describe it," David replied.

"Instead of following it directly though, like others, you stopped to wake your wife," he said.

"Oh no...I woke up on my own and he told me about the feeling. It was my idea that we follow it," Margaret informed him.

"Why?" Vance questioned with scrutiny.

"Are you married, Mr. Vance?" she asked.

"I am," he responded.

"Then I assume you believe in love," she stated.

"I would say so," he agreed.

"Even so...what I'm about to say will probably make you think I'm crazy, but something out there brought my David back to me," she said.

"We don't know what it was, but it was definitely something beyond all of us. Many are fearful of the passengers and skeptical of them. Some probably even think this is some conspiracy or that the passengers are somehow in on it. Some may even think they aren't even real people anymore and probably a million other insane things," she continued.

"But I don't care about any of it. I just care that something brought the love of my life back to me and if that means it asks things of us...then I will not ignore it. Whatever is out there that did this...it brought him back to me," she implored.

"It also took him away," Vance countered, but she was ready for that question.

"You're right...I thought about that and I was angry about that at first. I lived without half my heart for five and a half years, but it's a sacrifice David and I have decided we would make again, because our son would have died long ago if he hadn't disappeared with the plane," she explained.

"Yes...terminal cancer," Vance recalled, as he flipped through their file.

"Yes...and now he is receiving a life-saving treatment that didn't exist five years ago. It's going to save him and this is our second chance," she implored.

"I fail to see what a plane exploding has to do with seconds chances, Mrs. Nolan. The only outcome of that was the destruction of vital evidence," he countered.

"Perhaps, but none of us have the answers you seek," she argued.

"So it would seem. You both are excused for now," Vance said, as they watched them get up and leave with arms around each other.

"Interesting couple," Vance commented.

"Oh, they are fascinating for sure," Gold agreed.

"Hey…" Emma said, as they sat back down.

"Just the routine questions?" she asked. David smirked.

"Mostly, except he asked why MM was the only non-passenger to show up and she told them it was her idea to come," he replied.

"Which I'm not sure I like. I don't want them focusing on you," he added. But she pecked him on the lips.

"They already are and we might as well tell the truth. We have nothing to hide and we didn't do anything wrong," she reminded him. He sighed.

"Yeah...I guess staying under the radar is a pipe dream at this point," he agreed.

"You're right...so time to pull the cop card," Emma said, as she stood up just as Vance came out.

"How much longer are you going to keep us here?" she asked, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"As long as we need to, Ms. Nolan," he answered. But she shook her head.

"No...it's been hours now so unless you're going to charge us, you have to cut us loose. I'm NYPD. I know the drill," she refuted. Vance sighed and relented.

"Barring any further developments, you are all free to go...for now," he announced, as they all stood up and started making their way toward the exit.

"Great...you could have played the cop card hours ago," a disgruntled woman complained, as she brushed past them.

"You're welcome," Emma called sarcastically, as they made their way out.

"I'm starved…" the blonde complained.

"Me to...we can whip up something when we get home," David said.

"Can't...I have my psych evaluation today. I need to go...I'll just grab something out of the vending machine if you'll drop me at the precinct," Emma replied.

"Emma...you are not living off vending machine fair or the pop-tarts you've probably already stashed in your desk," Margaret admonished. David chuckled.

"Yes Mom," she teased, as they got into the car. They failed to notice the older man begging for someone to help him find his son.

~*~

Emma polished off the second pop-tart in the package and took another swig of her hot chocolate she picked up on the way. Margaret would be giving her all kinds of crap for the sugar overhaul while her brother laughed, but she was nervous and needed the sugar high to get through what was coming.

"Miss Nolan?" a woman called, as she stepped into the lobby. Emma nodded and walked into her office.

"I'm Cleo Fox, the psychiatrist hired by the department to conduct your evaluation," she said. Emma nodded and sat down.

"So...tell me how you're feeling," Cleo began. Emma rolled her eyes.

"I'm...taking it one day at a time," Emma answered.

"It must be an awkward situation," she prompted.

"And one that no one is trained to deal with, because people that disappear on planes don't just reappear after five and a half years, right?" Emma asked. Cleo managed a thin smile and wrote something down, irritating Emma further.

"Look...I know that I'm supposed to sit here and spill my guts about how I'm feeling, but that's just not me," the blonde said.

"You have to talk, Emma. I can't clear you for duty if I think you're bottling your feelings and anxiety," Cleo admonished.

"Let's start with home," she prompted.

"Home is great, actually. My brother and sister-in-law would be content if I lived there forever with them," Emma admitted. Cleo smiled.

"They like taking care of you and you like it too," she said. Emma shrugged.

"Your brother practically raised you, because of your father's drinking problem," Cleo added.

"Uh yeah...MM was there too. She and David were the weird kids on the playground that were holding hands at ten. I tease her and call her Mom all the time when she's mothering me, which is a lot," she said.

"And you love that," Cleo replied.

"Is that bad?" Emma asked.

"Not at all. You lost your real mother at a very young age. I'm glad you have such a loving family," Cleo replied.

"I do," Emma agreed.

"Your brother seems like he has someone special. How about you?" Cleo asked. Emma wanted to groan, even though she knew this question was coming.

"I'm a single woman," Emma said.

"Before the plane disappeared though, your boyfriend asked you to marry him," Cleo replied.

"Uh yeah...so what?" Emma deflected.

"Emma...it had to be heart wrenching to come back to find the man you might have married had moved on and married someone else," Cleo admonished. She shrugged.

"It's been over five years...I could never and would never expect him not to move on," she replied.

"But your sister-in-law didn't," Cleo mentioned.

"Killian and I are not my brother and his wife," Emma snapped and then deflated.

"And that upsets you," Cleo said.

"Okay fine! Yeah...it sucks, okay! Is that what you want to hear?" Emma asked.

"I just want to hear the truth from you, Emma...that's all," Cleo promised.

"The whole thing is so messed up and yeah, I'm anxious, sometimes angry, and I don't know how or why this happened," she said.

"But what I do know is that I'm good at my job and being a cop is one thing that I'm really good at. So you can either clear me and let me do something good...or you can bench me for something that happened to me for which I had no control over," Emma said. Cleo smiled.

"All right...I'm going to clear you for now. But I want to keep seeing you," she agreed. The blonde nodded and took her papers, before leaving the office.

~*~

Olive came down that morning to find her parents in the kitchen together, cooking them breakfast. She smiled, feeling a sense of Deja Vu.

"Dad made pancakes, Ollie," Henry called and she smiled at him.

"I can see that. There's syrup all over your cheeks," she teased.

"So...where were you guys last night?" Olive asked. They exchanged a glance and Margaret nodded. She knew how much he wanted to protect the kids from this, but they had talked on the way home and came to the agreement that keeping them close to the situation might be a better way to protect them than not telling them.

"Uh well...it's going to sound a little crazy, but your Aunt Emma and I had a feeling that we should go see the plane in the middle of the night," he explained.

"And since these feelings that your Dad and Aunt Emma have now might be part of the reason they were brought back to us...I told them we should follow that feeling," Margaret added. Olive shook her head.

"You two and your need for adventure," she teased. They smiled at her and then each other.

"Who says it was an adventure?" David asked.

"Sorry Dad...but the exploding plane and the twenty passengers that were there when it happened is viral news this morning," Olive said, as she showed them her tablet. David sighed.

"Oh yeah...this is going to make job hunting a blast today," he complained, but she kissed his cheek.

"You're an amazing educator and the Universities should be scrambling to hire you," she said. He smirked.

"Thanks love, but we both know that this will be an uphill battle," he replied.

"Maybe...but we're doing fine. The house is paid off and we still have quite a bit of your mother's money left. We'll be okay for a while," she promised.

"I know...and I'm going to put out feelers with the Universities, but in the meantime, I might need to find something that I'm highly overqualified for while I'm waiting," David said. She kissed his cheek.

"If you think you need to, but don't sell yourself short. Any employer will be lucky to have you," she gushed. He smiled at her.

"Thanks, but I think you're biased," he teased. She smiled back.

"With you? Always," she agreed, as they finished breakfast and sat down to eat with their kids. At that moment, he heard violin music playing.

"Do you hear that music?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I don't think so," Margaret replied.

"Maybe it's Alexa," Olive mentioned.

"Whose Alexa?" he asked. Margaret giggled.

"Oh, you are so cute...I'll show you later," she teased, as they ate and he turned his attention to their daughter.

"So I was thinking...I could pick you up after school and we can hang out," David suggested to his daughter.

"I...I can't. I have a rock climbing session," Olive said, with a wince.

"Wow...rock climbing? That's amazing," he said, as Olive quickly got up and put her dishes in the sink, before hurrying off.

"Was it something I said?" he asked. She sighed.

"No...it's just that a couple years ago, she started going to this big brother/sister program. I actually encouraged it. I think she feels guilty for wanting to still hang out with her big brother," Margaret explained.

"Oh...well she shouldn't. I mean, I'm glad she had somewhere there for her when I couldn't be," he replied.

"I know...but there's more. I had him over for dinner a few times in the last couple years, a couple times a week, for her benefit. I think they both would have liked something to happen between us...but it didn't," she said, as she squeezed his hand.

"I think she just feels guilty, but I'll talk to her. Just give her time," she added. He nodded.

"So...he was interested in you?" David asked.

"Yes...but I was never ready and knew that I probably never would have been. You're all there is for me, baby," she promised, as she pecked him on the lips and took some dishes to the sink. He smiled and helped her clean up quickly, before they were off for the day. Margaret was off to work and he was dropping Henry off with his Dad so he could go job hunting.

~*~

Gold entered the room, walking in with his cane. The meeting was well underway and the government officials were nearly up in arms about the plane explosion.

"Director Vance...can you please explain to me why you let the twenty passengers that were at the hanger last night go?" one asked.

"What would you have me do? Lock them up without cause?" Vance questioned.

"This is a matter of National Security...so I think in this instance, it would have been warranted," the woman argued.

"I disagree…" Gold interjected, as he entered.

"Mr. Gold...this is a classified meeting. We called on you to participate from a consultant aspect and you are not cleared to be here," a man said.

"It's okay...I cleared him. He has a different strategy that he thinks will better serve us," Vance said.

"And what strategy is that? Because twenty potential threats just walked out our door this morning," the woman spat.

"The passengers cannot tell you what they do not know. I sat in on all twenty interviews and none of them know exactly why they came to that hanger. None of them know what happened in the sky. Obviously...there is something bigger going on here, whether you believe it to be scientific or otherworldly," Gold said.

"And I believe the only way to figure any of this out is to let it play out within the lives of these passengers," he continued.

"If they are different and simply do not know or cannot remember what happened on that plane...I think letting them live their lives may reveal those answers to us all. Over time," he deduced.

"That is a big risk and we cannot risk National Security," the woman refuted.

"We don't have much of a choice. This story isn't going away in the media. Some would cheer if we did lock all the passengers up, but for most it would be very unpopular," Vance reasoned.

"This could end in disaster," another man argued.

"Or it could end giving us all the answers we need if we are patient," Gold countered.

"You had better hope you are right, Mr. Gold...or the consequences could be life altering," she warned. Gold simply smirked.

"Oh, I'm counting on it...dearies,"

[shitposting-extraordinaire]

College was a terrible time for me. And Animal Crossing was my savior. Throughout all the turmoil, it gave me this cozy reprieve from the madness.

As with any open-ended game of the sort, I made a project for myself. Making a story town for the dream suite - not a horror town, as many people try, a mystery. And reexploring my town after so long yielded so many details I’d totally forgotten, and some that still rang clear as day. And now that everyone's moved on from New Leaf, I think it would be fun to explore that old story.

So if you’re in for a long story about a forgotten passion project, click read below.

(Dream code is, sadly, now inactive)

For atmosphere, I suggest you listen to the town theme that would have been playing when you visited. The dream-town was accessed at 1am, so this song below would be playing softly over the tragic town of Opalvale. As this was early april, I invite you to imagine the cherry blossom petals that would slowly drift across the whole town.

My town was lovingly landscaped - and coated in flowers. This is what you’d open up to, with the two empty spaces being where the dream suite bed would lie. If you put on the four pieces of clothes provided, you’d get...

...your first hint something was up. Because most of the town was very traditionally pretty. With this being early April, the cherry blossoms would be in full bloom.

And some decidedly not so cute details.

Unsure if dream sutie villagers could tell you what nicknames they called the player, I had all of my villagers call my character “murderer.” But let’s get into the story proper. Not with the main character herself, but the house closest to where you would start. That would be the church.

One of three humans, Joan was the priestess of the village. If spoken to, she’d say, “Stay safe, my child.”

Inside was a traditional church setup, with pipe organs, mannequins as parishoners, and a few side rooms with no relevance to the plot.

But if you creeped behind the pipe organ, you could find a secluded room extremely relevant to the plot.

A memorial of some kind is in session. Black flowers for mourning surrounded by votive candles and offerings. The markings on the wall read “Tu Fui Ego Eris,” a traditional epitath. K.K. Lullaby tinks away on the gramophone, griddled with static reflecting the time passed. And in the middle, in a pure white frame is a photo of the villager Whitney. If you lingered enough, the lullaby would play a series of strange, disorienting triangle waves right at the end.

This would not be Whitney’s last appearance.

If you head up to Joan’s bedroom, there was one more detail - a map on her wall with a red X.

All that remains of this house is a basement room of no import. But related to the memorial room, at the top left corner of the town...

A small graveyard, with four graves, surrounded by fresh flowers. Three graves bear perfect fruit trees, and if you dig into the spot;

A grim detail. If you dig into the spot below the dead tree, where there is no gravestone, however;

A hat that, if worn, is revealed to be just a skull. Whitney’s presumably. But Whitney’s house is gone, she not among the villagers, you cannot investigate her house. But of the remaining two, one house is much closer.

Regina, the blue-haired DJ, and her home is full of details pertaining to Whitney.

The main room is a concert venue, with shirts on display showing various villagers at instruments. The mannequin is clearly Regina, but who are the other five shirts?

Most of the house is simply other rooms in the concert hall.

The basement is especially irrelevant, but looks neat.

The backroom, however;

This appears to be a writing room, with the whiteboard, some instruments around. There are four cushions around the room, meant to resemble documents. A fifth hangs on the wall, with the same pattern as the cushions;

“ＷＨＩＴ． ＰＡＹＯＵＴ“

Five insurance payouts, all in the band room. A band shown to have six members. And if you look at the photo in the memorial chamber, you can see Whitney is wearing a specific shirt that’s on display.

Whitney was on second guitar. Regina got one payout, leaving four to the other band members. To identify them, though, we’ll have to go to the final house.

This is Exie, and if you speak to her, she says in letters affected with accent marks and random capitalization, “I’m nOT aLloWEd tO sPeaK...” This is the village who, if the animals talk, will refer to as “murderer.”

Like her home exterior and outfit, Exie’s foyer is pontzy and extravegant. Exie’s home is the most interesting of the three for many reasons. The backroom is strikingly out of place.

To the right is a bar with melancholy music, to drown her woes.

And to the left, a study. If you rotate the camera, there’s a similar payout on the desk, only this one has been denied - by the killer, not allowed to talk.

Or is she?

The basement is barren, but most of the furniture inside is directly from Whitney’s default house design. Only now, there is money scattered around - wealth from both Whitney and Exie, presumably - as well as swords and skeletal models, foreboding symbols both. The fireplace crackles like static - perhaps it’s simply a memory for Exie? A look into her mind? And in her mind there are three mannequins.

One wears all the same clothes as Exie. One bears a wolf hood, Whitneys shirt, and white pants. Above these two is a scrolling sign with a heart pattern. Past lovers, now forever parter.

Curiously, there’s a third person in the room, wearing two things. A heart shirt - an unrequitted lover? - and an ever foreboding skull hood.

Exie loved Whitney. Someone else loved - Whether they loved Whitney and were furious as her lack of interest, or if they loved Exie and wanted Whitney gone, who can say. But it appears there was a third party in this crime. Despite the public opinion and denied life insurance payout, Exie was innocent. Perhaps the trauma led her to obsess over another - hence the shrine to Kevin - as a coping mechanism?

Upstairs in their twin bedroom is a chorus of singing lullaboids. And as you noticed, there’s tons of villager pictures around the room.

Using these pictures, you can see everyone’s default outfit, and figure out the rest of the band members who got insurance payouts.

Fang the wolf appears to be the vocalist. Klaus the bear was singer and lead guitar. Whitney on second guitar, Benjamin the dog on bass, Freckles the duck on drums, and Regina as a dj. Could one of them be the unrequited lover? A person furious at Whitney who also stood to gain financially?

Much of the town exterior is simply pretty. This extends to a well kept beach, with a curious arrangement of trees.

The same arrangement, in fact, as the map on the wall of the priestess’s room. If you dig in the hidden dig spot, you get;

...A secret of little relevance. Although, this can help in one small way. The graveyard is in the upper left corner of the town, bordering a small patch of land.

Barely a sliver of beach is inaccesable without a wetsuit, and from the cliff face you can see something has been buried. This is the only spot left in the town.

An outfuit, buried so long it’s gone to rot, a skeleton, and an axe. The skull without a body in the graveyard was disposed of here. You have discovered Whitney’s corpse, buried where no one could find it... save the preacher, who seems only tangential to the case.

If you noticed, there are five dig spots, one hidden behind the tree. The final clue, something left by the murderer... perhaps accidentally.

A single pink feather, small enough the killer missed it.

There is only one bird villager. A pink bird, in fact, who was a member of the band. Freckles, the pink bird who lives closest to the cemetary and body dump. The same color as the pink shirt representing the unrequitted lover. Who would have matched perfectly with the bright pink diving suit buried.

What happened exactly is meant to be for the player’s imagination. Freckles is the likeliest killer. But what of Joan? She knew the location of the diving suit buried. Did she simply bury it herself, perhaps at Freckles order? Or was the feather left to incriminate her?

Either way, the picture is far clearer than the simple idea that Exie killed her. Freckles and likely Priestess Joan were in some way involved.

Such is the story of Opalvale. What became of the band and it’s members, who can say. But the player, as the detective, has found the most important clues to the truth. The player can put the story to an end.

I don’t type this all because I’m boasting about a project I did years and years ago. It’s because this is a time capsule for me.

In the midsts of the lowest point of my life, New Leaf gave me sanity. To go back and discover this town was to discover that, at this point in my life, I still had a creative drive drilling away at my mind. Even in the mists of despair, I crafted a surprisingly intricate story in a game that was in no way made to house tales of murder and intrigue.

I share this as a thank you to the me of the past, who felt he had nothing to live for. This is a thank you to the me who found it in his heart to love this silly game and all his villagers, even as he swirled into chaos.

Even now, when I need a background town name in writing, I usually go for Opalvale. Perhaps with New Horizons, I’ll do something similar.

But that night is over. Opalvale will forever be the past. May the future be bright... and similarly decorated with wistful new Animal Crossing memories.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Witness : 22

Praise

moodboard created by @chuuulip

Character(s): dark!Bucky, dark!Steve, too

Masterlist

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

No warnings in this chapter.

Summary: The reader senses a change.

Notes: I’ll given a little time for everyone to recover here. The gears are starting to turn for our reader and this chapter is a bit shorter. I've started a few other series and I'm currently fleshing them out. There are three (including a dark!Thor, dark!Loki, and most recently I've concocted a dark!Steve idea), that I've written the first few chapters for. I think that these will be different from Witness in that I'll post them only weekly (sorry) but I'm hoping to have maybe two actively updating at a time. Anyways, let me know your thoughts on the chapter in the replies/reblogs and I'll see you there.

The night passed in a series of lucid moments and half-imagined dreams. You couldn’t say what had been real and what had been a figment of your drunken mind. You remembered when it ended, Bucky helped you dress. Or did he? Surely that had to be the whiskey. He helped you slip into your blouse, buttoning it as you pulled on your skirt crookedly and collected your shoes from the floor, your undergarments forgotten. The car ride was a daze and you remembered seeing your purse in a metal hand right before you fell head first into your mattress. Your vision rippled and turned black with the distant sound of your own snores, your body sore, your senses dulled and overwrought.

When you woke, you felt weak. Your arms were hollow and your stomach sour. A heaviness rested across your waist and your eyes fluttered open to the painful morning light streaming in through your curtains. You turned your head slowly, feeling uncomfortable full, finding Bucky facing you; eyes closed and breath slowed in sleep. You stared at him, finding it hard to comprehend his presence until it grew startling. He had never stayed the night before. He always left you there, like a toy forgotten. You grumbled as your head rattled and you reached up to touch your forehead.

“Mmm,” Bucky rolled onto his back, his vibranium arm sliding away from your stomach. He scratched his nose as he opened his eyes and yawned. “You must feel wonderful.”

“Gruh,” It was the only noise you could summon as you reached down and touched your tender bottom. “Oh my god,” You eyes widened as you felt an unusual texture rub between your cheeks. Your memories flooded back and you remembered the tearing pain, the lube easing the toy into you. “Is it still in me?”

“Ha,” He chuckled, as if recalling the night himself, “Whoops.” He sat up, “Go on, I’ll take it out.” He was naked, though your clothes remained, as messy as they were when you had pulled them on drunkenly. “Get up.” He motioned you off the bed and you stood unsteadily, he grabbed your hips and turned you around, tugging your skirt down. “Bend over.”

You listened if only to have it done with. He grabbed onto the ring and pulled slowly, easing it out as your asshole adjusted to its sudden emptiness. You groaned and stepped away, pulling up your skirt as the humiliation suffocated you . He placed the plug on your night table and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Ugh, can you start the shower?” He asked. It was the he first time he had asked you a genuine question.

“Sure,” You said quietly, agreeing just so that you didn’t need to sit there and dwell in your embarrassment. You lumbered into the washroom and turned the faucet, drawing closed the curtain as the stream roared from the pipes. Bucky entered just as you were turning to leave but he caught your arm. “You need to clean up too.”

He released you and stepped past you into the showed, the metals rings of the curtain chiming. You clenched your jaw, frustrated by his brusqueness. You were put off by his mercurial ways. Last night, he had been so enamoured with your body and afterwards he had slept beside you. When you awoke, he wasn’t necessarily affectionate but kinder than usual. Now he was ordering you around again.

You undressed and turned to look at the shadow of his figure through the curtain. You neared hesitantly, your ears ringing with your hangover. You suddenly felt grimy, the sweat and cum from the night before had dried on your skin. You stepped over the lip of the tub, pushing back the curtain to tiptoe in behind him. Bucky turned as you let the plastic curtain go limp and he carefully steered you to the other side of him, positioning you under the shower. He lathered up your loofah and began to scrub your skin as it dampened beneath the stream. You flinched at first but found his touch surprisingly calming.

“You were a good girl last night,” He said as he cleaned you, “I mean it, very good.” From the bottom of your vision, you saw a twitch. He was getting hard just thinking about it. “But...I really didn’t mean for you to get so drunk. Sometimes I forget that others have limits. Since the serum, I’m not really affected by alcohol so I...we shouldn’t have ordered you doubles.”

You blinked at him. Was he trying to apologize? You didn’t ponder the question very long as he held out the loofah for you to take. You grabbed it and took your turn dutifully, scrubbing clean his body as he watched, the same glimmer in his eyes as the night before. When you finished, he washed his hair with your lavender shampoo and offered you a dollop for your own. You were completely unsettled by how nice he was being. You’d rather he had you over his leg than wrestling with your own doubts. It had to be some trick.

He cranked the faucet off and held back the curtain for you. You grabbed your towel and hurried to fetch him his own. He took the linen and wrapped it around his waist. “There is one more thing we should talk about.” He touched your shoulder with his real hand; rarely did he lead with his right. “Last night happened because I allowed it. Steve knows it but I don’t trust him. You don’t do anything with him without my permission. Got it?”

There it was. The illusion finally cracked and the man who owned you was back. Even as his thumb was rubbing your shoulder and easing you into a false sense of comfort. You nodded, “Yes, sir.” You uttered.

“Good,” His hand edged over to the top of your towel along the top of your chest, “Damn, I think I might just have to get you dirty all over again.”

You sat staring out your apartment window, staring at the grey New York sky. Bucky had left hours ago but his presence loomed over you. Something had changed. Not the fact that you had been used by two men at once, that was surely a new experience. But something about the super soldier. After your shower, he hadn’t been what one would describe as gentle, but for him, it was close to. He had changed, he hadn’t told you what to do but instead gone about it with quiet determination; no questions, no orders. It had been pleasant enough and that unsettled you. You were growing passive; ambivalent to the trap you had become stuck in.

He left you with no warning or no foreboding promise. He just said goodbye. Did he regret sharing you with Steve? You cringed at the thought. Sharing? You were still a person, but that’s what had happened, isn’t it? And you had gone along with it. You could blame the alcohol but really it just made the decision easier. You were learning that you had a deep-seeded kink for murderous jerks.

You needed to do something. Sure you were nothing but a gnat buzzing around their heads should it come to physical resistance but that didn't mean you were helpless. You couldn't live this life forever and you didn't want to find out how it would end. You had to find a way out, but how? Your mind was blank, an escape seemed fantastical. A miracle if possible. You stepped away from window and crossed your arms at your living room.

Well, you could start by getting yourself a new car.

Tags:  Tags: @they-call-me-le @holylulusworld  @petit-funsize @alexakeyloveloki @ladyofmyst @kellyn1604 @thelostallycat

[devnny]

CHAPTER TWELVE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER!!!!! it’s 6k fucking words too, jeezus lord. at least its cute, and sad, and cute.

the events of my old ass drabble TOUCH. is mentioned briefly in this chapter too, should you have not read that and would care to :]c ANYWAY, ENJOY

[Dear Diary,

I had another dream about killing Devi.

They’ve become too vivid… I’m growing more and more worried that my mind will blur fantasy with reality, and I’ll attack her thinking it’s a dream. I don’t know why I would do that… I don’t want to attack her. I don’t want to hurt her, ever.

So, as a precaution, I’ve decided that I won’t be sleeping anymore. Staying awake is all that I can do combat these shitty nightmares.]

--

Johnny scratched the final letter of his latest diary entry firmly into the paper’s face, then closed the cover quietly. He tucked the book under his chair, careful to not alert Devi, who was painting a few feet away, that he was making any unusual movements.

He felt badly to keep these dreams a secret from her, since he was confident that Meat was interfering with his sleep somehow, but he buried those prickly feelings of guilt to the best of his ability. The only other reason for these reoccurring nightmares would be that he, in fact, was thinking them up all on his own, which was even worse as far as Johnny was concerned. Either way, he was terrified that if he mentioned it to Devi that she would again grow suspicious of him.

After regaining so much of her trust, it would kill him inside to see her hesitate to accept his company, or linger on her words or her decisions in what she allowed him to do with her, all because he wasn’t in control of his subconscience. Very few people were able to control their unconscious mind, but Johnny still felt immensely paranoid that Devi wouldn’t be understanding, regardless of if it would be because of actual resentment, or simply out of fear, even though she would still want to trust him. That might sting even worse, actually.

They had built such a comforting routine in her home; working away on creative endeavors together at all hours, and enjoying each other’s company over shared meals and television in their downtime. It was so soothing, bidding her ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ each day. Devi’s sleep schedule had returned to its atrociously inconsistent cycle since he moved in with her, so sometimes he would be saying ‘goodnight’ at 5PM, and other times saying ‘good morning’ at 5PM, but it was gratifying all the same. He didn’t know, after he was ‘better’ and was supposed to return to his own house, how he would go through each day without being able to offer her such daily pleasantries. Maybe he would be able to do so over the phone, he thought, but it wouldn’t be the same.

His eyes lifted from the scantily-worked-on page that was fastened to his drafting table and settled on Devi’s kneeling figure a short distance away. Johnny smiled to see the small smirk on her face while she blotted color across her canvas. She had been toiling away on this commissioned work for almost a week now, and she always seemed to enter some kind of frenzied state whenever she was nearing a piece’s completion. It was a large project, she had told him, and would offer her a very hefty paycheck once it was finished. Maybe it was the thought of money that pushed her into such an energetic fit of creation – Johnny could only speculate. She grinned and rubbed a bit of paint from her cheek as she stepped back to review her efforts.

His lips pursed into a longer smile; how could he even consider sullying her mood by bringing up useless things like night terrors? He couldn’t. He would handle this himself, and leave Devi to her work.

--

DAYS LATER:

Devi beamed, squiggling her brush down her canvas to the rhythm of the song she currently had blasting from the speakers of her art room. Nothing was more satisfying than going to the bank and depositing a nice, big, fucking check, and she could only express her delight by jumping right into a personal project as soon as she and Johnny had returned home. It felt so good to have enough money, for the time being, to indulge in painting what she wanted to for more than an hour.

“Hey!” Johnny’s voice piped up over the music, and Devi turned to see him pull his headphones off of one of his ears. His headphones were his only defense against her deafening taste in music, so it must be important. Devi searched the floor for the dinky little remote that controlled the speakers, and lowered the volume to a reasonable level.

“Yeah?” She grinned at him, and he met her smile with one of his own.

“Can you hold your arm out like ‘this’ for me?” Johnny stuck his arm out and twisted it downwards in a fist to give her an example. Devi scoffed, used to him asking her to pose for reference by now, and tried to mimic what he had requested.

“Like that?”

“Ummm, no, down a little more. Ehhh—” He wiggled his fist in her direction. “—put your shoulder up more, maybe? Give me… ‘intimidating’.”

Devi laughed.

“Shut the Hell up.” She huffed a few chuckles and brought her shoulder up as instructed.

“YES. HOLD THAT.” Johnny exclaimed and hurriedly resumed his sketching. Devi’s smile remained while she watched him work.

She had to admit she was proud of how far he had come since this whole thing started – he hardly ever devolved into a crying mess when his drawings weren’t progressing to his liking anymore. The last time Devi remembered him throwing a fit was shortly after the ‘leash and collar’ situation began, and she figured that that was more out of pent up frustration for that small bit of humiliation, and not so much because he was a creative loose-cannon.

The way his tongue poked out while he drew was a little more endearing suddenly, but Devi dismissed the thought, chalking it up to the current carefree feeling in the air. The evening was set to be lighthearted the moment she had gotten paid; the plan was to have whatever the fuck she wanted for dinner, and then binge-watch the entire movie series of The Beast What Licked Me, which was the main trilogy and all of its subsequent, horrible spinoff movies by less-than-admirable production studios. Devi smiled at the idea of having fun for once.

“You know, the lofty smile doesn’t really give me that ‘intimidating’ vibe.” Johnny spoke with a teasing laugh, earning a dismissive, blithe scoff from his model.

“Shut your mouth—aren’t you hungry yet?” Devi snorted, wriggling her shoulder to rib at him further. He stuck the end of his pencil into his lip curiously.

“Are you?”

“Sure, and I think my hand’s had enough painting for one day.” She straightened her posture with a widening grin. “You done?”

“Well, I am for now, if that’s alright with my, er, mentor…” Johnny replied with the question in his stare, and Devi snickered again.

“You are excused for the evening. Now, let’s order Chinese, for delivery. I don’t feel like leaving the house again today.” Devi mused while she walked out of the room. Johnny smiled giddily at the comment – one trip outside was enough for one day, he’d agree wholeheartedly!

--

FIFTEEN-MINUTES-OR-LESS LATER:

Johnny threw the wad of cash that Devi had so-entrusted him with directly into the delivery boy’s face, knocking him over with the force of the impact as he snatched the take-out bag from him. He slammed the door shut callously, and hummed in approval at the now familiar smell of Devi’s favorite Chinese restaurant.

He strode to the kitchen with it, and began laying out the bag’s drippy contents onto the counter. He jumped when he felt something jab into his side, but hardly had to turn his head before he recognized Devi’s head peeking into his peripheral. She gave him a cheeky grin, and he smiled back shyly.

“You’re already finished showering?”

“Yeah, heh, just needed to rinse off that outside-world smell.” She crossed her arms over one of his shoulders as she leaned to see what he was doing. “…Why’d you bother bringing the food in here?”

Johnny gesticulated his hands loosely around the counterspace as he attempted to explain, but it was difficult with Devi touching him.

“WELL, it’s—” Another swat of his hands. “…greasy!”

Devi snortled and slid off of his shoulder, giving his back an additional plap with her palm before moving to inspect tonight’s dinner. She popped open one of the containers and couldn’t help but jam a pair of chopsticks into it right away, scooping a pile of noodles into her mouth happily.

She exhaled contently through her nose while she chewed, then turned a curious eye to Johnny, who was picking at the fabric of his shirt where she had just been pressed against him. It was only for a second, but it was enough to take notice of before he tilted to look through the boxes and find which one was his entrée. Devi swallowed, and watched his thin fingers play with the lids while she thought.

When had she gotten so comfortable with touching him? It had been a long time since physical contact with anyone had been so nonchalant for her. If she could guess, it was probably due to the whole ‘close proximity of the leash’ thing, or maybe the whole ‘living together’ thing, but either way it was bizarre that she hadn’t realized how casual things had become until she noticed Johnny’s slight change in demeanor in response to it.

One wouldn’t have to ask Johnny ‘when’ the touching started; he could tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that it was the night that they went to pick up a few groceries from a nearby 24/7. Devi had approached him, and set a hand on his arm for an undiscernible amount of seconds while she spoke to him – undiscernible because his brain had just about exploded from the direct contact. He had returned the casual touching with a modest hand on her shoulder, and she hadn’t killed him for it. Johnny would probably remember that night for the rest of his existence.

But Devi was left to ponder at what point she had regrown enough trust for him to poke and prod at him without wanting to carve her own skin off afterward. He was a lot less horrible now, and she enjoyed his company again, so she supposed that said something, at least. She shrugged it off and stuffed a piece of chicken in her mouth.

“You ready to get this hideous marathon underway?” Devi asked while she chewed. Johnny carefully lifted the top off of the horrendously spicy dish he’d ordered.

“Yes!” He beamed at her eagerly, brandishing a spork as though it was a beacon for his well-equipped-ness for the evening.

--

FIVE MOVIES IN:

“Oouughh…” Devi vocalized her agony with her fingers pressed to her sore eyes.

“Yeah, that FX make-up is garbage. Worse than the one in Spawn of The Beast What Licked Me.” Johnny replied lazily from his side of the couch, half-melted into the cushion. Though his corneas burned just as badly, the pain didn’t register with him the same way.

“No,” Devi griped. “my eyes are killing me…”

A yawn punctuated her complaint, and Johnny lifted his head attentively. She was tired. He’d come to learn the signs of her exhaustion quite well, and despite his current feelings about sleep, rest appeared to do Devi some good.

“Are you going to go to bed?” He asked and reset his head onto the back cushion of the couch comfortably. Devi peeked at him from the armrest on the opposite side, where she had devolved into a lumpy ball as the night wore on. Her ear pressed into the cushy fabric, and she slanted her mouth in discontent.

She didn’t particularly want to go to sleep. There was only one more movie to go, and it felt weak as Hell to give up now when she was so close to the end of a movie binge. Devi lulled her head in the direction of the TV, and winced away in regret when the flashing light burned her eyes.

“Ugh.” She grunted in defeat. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We can finish these last two tomorrow.” Johnny offered to ease her frustration, and Devi smirked through her exhaustion.

“Yeah, okay.” She agreed and rolled into a seated position. She struggled to stand with her tired legs, but managed to force herself up.

One of her hands came down to point at Johnny as she passed him, her finger hovering just out of reach of his nose.

“—And don’t you dare watch ahead.” Devi smiled despite her threatening tone. “You turn that shit off, you don’t get to watch without me.”

Johnny grinned uneasily, half of him delighted at how she joked with him.

“Yes, of course.” He assured her, and Devi nodded appreciatively before hobbling off to bed. Johnny watched her door click shut, then searched for the remote and turned the TV off.

His body slumped against the couch, the satisfied feeling in his torso weighing him down into its pillows. He debated what he could do for the rest of the night with his lazy, fried brain. The dull feeling in his arms made drawing seem impossible, and he didn’t want to turn on the TV again until he was sure Devi was soundly asleep. So he laid on the couch and thought to pass the time.

It didn’t take long for his thoughts to turn to Devi, and he smiled comfortably as he reviewed the day’s events. Johnny laced his fingers over his chest and contemplated if their relationship would progress further than this, or if it had reached it’s peak at her not hating him and offering him passing physical contact. He was perfectly happy with how things were now, but he would have said the same thing about her begrudgingly tolerating his company two months ago. Now he couldn’t imagine going back to that time and being satisfied without her smile, or laughter, or rib jabbing.

A sigh slipped past his lips as he smooshed further into the couch at the memory of her forearms crossed over his shoulders early this evening. It was so nice. Everything was so nice now; he felt like he could exist like this forever. The impermanence of his situation was lost from his mind for the time being, and he nestled his brow into the cushion while he let his tender thoughts carry his brain away.

Without realizing, his eyes slowly began to settle closed, and he drifted into an impromptu nap.

--

Johnny reaffixed his grip on the handle of his knife, the tendons there further visible under the gaunt skin of his hand. He would usually wear gloves for something like this – it was so messy – but a kill such as this one, that was so personal and passionate in nature, had no room for measures of tidiness.

She deserved this so much; she was so mean. Cruel. She never treated him like this before, when they had their nice, engaging conversations at the bookstore. Everything was so pleasant then. He could still imagine her, with her short black hair and uniform apron, and her dark, painted lips that made his heart go berserk when they tilted up into a smile for him. Him, bringing a smile to someone else’s face. How abnormal.

His own mouth twitched upwards more, making his grin look more unhinged than it already did. The little spatters of blood on his cheeks and nose smeared under the creases it brought.

Devi lay below him – on the floor, if he wasn’t mistaken – looking up at him in fear. He’d only stabbed her a few times so far, but Johnny could tell by the terror in her eyes that she knew those wouldn’t be the only ones. He crouched over her form, as he had over so many others, and held her shoulder with his left hand while the right started its habitual swinging.

The blade plunged into her chest again, marring her shirt with another bloody hole. Then another, and another. He could feel the flexible bones of her ribcage bend under the base of his palm, compressed by the weight of his blows.

It felt so GOOD. She earned all of these! All of her stabbing, painful comments – she should have expected this outcome. This new, purple-haired, pigtailed Devi was not the one he cared so much for; she was a demon! A bastardized version of his Devi; one that smirked coolly at him as though she owned him; one that barraged him with pointless tests and berated him with cutting words when he failed.

“You deserve this!” Johnny breathed, digging the knife into her torso again. Devi did little to stop him, as she had so far, and only looked at him painfully. YES! She deserved this pain!

“You deserve this – you deserve this—!” He ranted, continuing to repeat the phrase over and over as he stabbed her. He watched her eyes – those pretty, green eyes – filled with hurt.

But it wasn’t the hurt that he had originally thought.

It wasn’t like the looks his other victims gave him, eyes filled with tears from the physical agony they were in. It wasn’t even the same as the horror he’d seen on her face before, when he had lunged at her in his home. Johnny’s smile slowly began to drop, seeing the unusual emotion in Devi’s eyes. She looked at him with so much betrayal – almost longingly, as if to ask “Why?”, or to say, “How could you?”.

Why wasn’t she fighting him? She should be able to get away. She’s always gotten away from him – always refused to be a victim to him. Why was she just LAYING there, letting him kill her?

That’s what he was doing. He was KILLING HER.

Devi seemed to acknowledge her impending death at the same time he had, and her expression grew wearier. Johnny felt anxiety rapidly mounting inside him, and only removed his fixation away from her face when he felt her hand gingerly grip at his fist. He looked down and watched her fingers, matted with blood, trying as best as they could to grasp onto him. He also realized that he was still holding the knife firmly in her sternum.

With a jolt of fear, he yanked the knife away, and Devi cried out for the first time that he could remember. It made him drop his weapon, and settle both hands onto her shoulders.

He yelped her name, as if that would do any good. What had he done? He had killed her – she was dying. He didn’t want to believe it, and the sound of her labored breathing brought him to tears. This shouldn’t be happening – Devi had helped him. She offered him so much of her; her time, her support, her home – and he had reduced her into a gored mass on her bedroom floor.

No, no, no. This wasn’t right. He wanted to scream and sob, but that would do nothing to fix this.

A sticky sensation on his cheek brought him out of his panic, and he realized after a moment that it was Devi’s hand, wet from her own blood. Despite the slippery, unpleasant feeling of the blood, Johnny was drawn to the delicate touch of her fingers, and tried to lean into them despite the weakness in her digits. He wanted her palm – he wanted it to cradle his cheek, and indulge in the forbade softness from her that he himself had ruined his chances of.

Johnny didn’t get what he wanted, of course. Devi’s hand slowly dropped away from his face, lingering until all the strength left her limbs, and her arm fell to her bloodied stomach. Johnny refused to take his eyes off of hers, and the anxiety he felt previously worked into a massive ball of dread as he saw the glint in Devi’s eyes begin to dull.

No, no, no, no—

--

Johnny almost gagged from the abrupt force of the gasp that brought him back to consciousness. His leg kicked out, knocking over some empty containers and cans that had been left on the coffee table, and he scampered away from the sound with startled fear. A hand came up to palm away the wet lines that streaked down his cheekbones, but cold tears were the least of his concerns with his lungs beating air out of him faster than he could bring it in. Johnny tried to gather himself and calm his breathing down, but his heart wouldn’t allow it, and continued pounding against the walls of its boney prison like a furious captive.

His eyes shook with anxiety as his pupils flashed from side to side, trying to use some amount of logic amongst his hysteria to convince himself everything was fine, and that his panic was just the result of another Godawful nightmare. Johnny noted the dark living room, the messy table, the quiet television set; nothing amiss or broken, nothing to indicate that anything in the apartment was any different from any other night, besides his quaking form bundled up on the sofa.

He turned his attention to Devi’s bedroom door, and his haggard breaths immediately stopped. Her door was ajar. He had never seen her door open when she was sleeping, ever.

A shaky inhale sucked down his throat, and he started shivering from his shoulders down his arms and to his stomach. There was a sudden, paralyzing feeling of nausea woven through his guts, and it was almost painful to make his knees lift him into a standing position, like forcing a rusted bolt to twist. He couldn’t get his back to straighten fully as he stood, so he crept with a nervous hunch in his shoulders toward Devi’s bedroom.

Johnny swallowed past the dry flesh of his mouth as he reached the threshold of the doorway. His breath trembled again; he was terrified that upon pushing open the door fully, he would find Devi’s lifeless body on the floor, right where he had ‘dreamed’ it was. He couldn’t bear the thought that his worst fear had come to fruition – that his crappy, broken mind failed to recognize reality from fantasy, and either it, or Meat, had tricked him into murdering Devi with a rage that he didn’t even have for her.

Despite his paralyzing fear, his hand settled onto the front of the door, and he creaked it open slowly. Johnny shakingly took a step inside, and even with the only light in the room being the dim reflection of a billboard outside, he could tell that there was nothing on the floor besides the usual scattered belongings. Certainly no bodies, and definitely not the one that belonged to Devi.

He brought his attention up to her bed, and his lips wibbled fearfully at the unidentifiable shape under the purple covers. He could see what would be assumed to be Devi’s head poking out of the lump, resting on a pillow, but that was all. Johnny gulped quietly again. His paranoia couldn’t let him leave it at that – he had to make sure that she was well, instead of just assuming she was sleeping peacefully.

He hurried to the side of the bed, and stared down with wide, fearful eyes at her neutral face that was tucked so snugly behind her curled hand. She wasn’t making any sounds, and he couldn’t tell with his own body shaking the way it was, if she was breathing or not. He continued staring, trying with all his might to determine if her body was rising and falling with lifegiving breath, and only grew more and more panicked the longer he couldn’t stop trembling and focus enough to confirm it.

With a renewed burst of anxiety, Johnny shot forward, jabbing a knee into the fluff of her comforter. He grabbed her by the shoulders to shake her awake with terrified urgency, unable to think of any other way to quell his fears fast enough. Devi’s eyes opened right away, rattling around in her aching head with confused alarm until she heard Johnny’s wailing.

“DEVI! DEVI, DEVI—!” His face pinched miserably as he saw her irises flicker into view and focus squarely on him. His fingers tightened onto her shoulders further as his began to shake again, and he drooped like a dejected, wilted flower against her collar. He continued calling her name, but his voice garbled as he deteriorated into sobs.

It took Devi a moment to register what the Hell was going on, but her shocked expression melted into a tired, exasperated one as she realized Johnny was just having a fit about something, again.

“Nny—Nny!” She tried to urge him out of his crying with a few shoves on the arm, but Johnny only continued blubbering. He was trying desperately to explain himself, Devi could gather that much, but he was completely incoherent. She sighed in exhaustion, desperate to calm him and go the fuck back to bed.

“Johnny,” She set a hand on his head, lazily leading it to lay flat on her mattress. “relax, please. Relax.”

Johnny, whose figure had been half-collapsed on her bed already, buckled from his distress, and he laid loosely at her side like a ragdoll.

“—you were dead, you were dead—!” He managed to blather out, and Devi sighed again. She assumed that this was the result of another nightmare he had, and papped his hair with as much sympathy as she was willing to muster in her fatigued state.

“I’m not dead, Nny. I’m fine… see…?” She mumbled with her eyes closed. Johnny stifled his crying as he tried to accept what she was telling him, but even with the affirmation that she was alive and well, he couldn’t stop his body’s pitiful reaction to fear. He hadn’t been so terrified in a long while – he couldn’t even remember what he would do to ease the feeling before.

A sudden sensation against his hairline startled him out of his grim thoughts, and he realized after a moment that it was Devi’s thumb idly brushing against his skin and into his hair. He stared at the sheets in surprise, unable to do much else besides focus on the strange scratching at his skull. Slowly, his eyelids lowered, but his somber expression remained. Johnny brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, hoping the pressure would help him relax.

Devi’s fingers stilled after a minute, and he felt her wrist settle loosely on his temple, then eventually slip lower until her forearm rested across the side of his neck. He sniffed, and bent his head down more, but instead of his forehead settling onto his kneecaps, it was obstructed by something warm and flat.

Johnny tilted his head up at an angle, and was surprised to see that what he’d bumped into was Devi’s collar – or rather, the area right below her collar. Her sternum; the bone that he had so viciously impaled with a knife several times in his newest dream. Guilt demanded that he pull his head away from where it rested, but as he turned his head, his ear pressed against her and he felt the light thumping of her heart tickle at his skin. Johnny froze, and his stillness offered him the full, uninterrupted rhythm of Devi’s heartbeat.

Even with his own heart pumping erratically, the sound of Devi’s heart was so audible and loud to the ear that was currently resting against her chest. It was just like any heartbeat, he supposed, but it was so calm and steady, much in contrast to his own which was still wild from coming down off of terror-induced adrenaline. The stable rhythm slowly began to calm him, and he took deep solace in the fact that as long as he could hear that drumming in his ear, it meant that she was alive. He curled further into himself, making sure that his temple was still pressed firmly against her collar.

Johnny chastised himself for a moment, trying to argue through his emotional exhaustion that this was, to some extent, inappropriate, and that now that he knew Devi was safe, he should leave her to rest. But he couldn’t resist the lure of Devi’s soft skin on his cheek, or her arm that was draped over his head, that made him feel oh-so cozy and secure. His eyes settled shut, and with a few lingering post-sobbing sniffs, slipped back into sleep.

--

THE FOLLOWING MORNING:

Devi mumbled in the back of her throat as she roused from slumber. There was still a dull ache in her brain, and she wasn’t currently at all fond of the idea of opening her eyes or waking up. Her lip twitched at a weird texture flittering against it, and she snorted to encourage whatever it was to fuck off. Her breathing started to slow again, but after a moment, the tickling feeling moved up to her nose, making it curl and huff in annoyance.

She brushed the unknown irritant away with her hand, and opened her eyes bitterly as she accepted that going back to sleep wasn’t going to happen now. She stretched her back out with a groaning sigh, and brought the same hand up to rub her face clear of any grogginess. As she did, the tuft of annoying, plumy things that had woken her up settled back against her mouth. Devi glared out at nothing in aggravation, then flicked her eyes down to finally see what it was.

Her eyes widened in confusion to be greeted with a pile of twisted, black hair. The confusion was short-lived as she realized that the hair was attached to Johnny, who was curled up in a ball beside her within the small space that her bent legs allowed, his head tucked comfortably under her chin. She blanched, and her cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment and disoriented, shocked anger.

With a jolt of ego-preserving violence, she shoved him away and off of the bed, leaving only his skinny legs splayed in awkward angles atop the mattress. Devi sat up and glared at his boots.

“Johnny, what the Hell!” She huffed, her cheeks still tinged with color. Johnny rebounded from the initial shock of hitting the floor rather quickly, scampering up into a kneel at the side of her bed.

“OH, UH, I—” His own face blushed in shame, and he looked up to Devi’s glowering face, hoping that she wouldn’t be too angry with him. “I uh, I guess I… I fell asleep, after, um…”

His fingers drummed awkwardly against the sheets as he looked around the room noncommittally. Devi’s expression dropped as she remembered, foggily, Johnny coming into her room during the night in absolute hysterics. She grunted and scowled with some acceptance that he’d ended up passing out beside her.

“You moron.” Was all she could say. Johnny raised his eyes to look at her dejectedly, and she scoffed. She threw her legs off the other side of the bed, and walked around it, and Johnny, to reach her bathroom.

Johnny’s lip stuck out curiously. He wondered if that was going to be the extent of his punishment for unwanted physical contact, but dared not ask. Instead, he pulled himself up to sit on the corner of her bed and waited patiently for her to return. He hoped she didn’t come back with anything to hit him with, like the good, old-fashioned, ‘bar of soap in a sock’ flail.

Devi only washed her face, then reentered her room to frown at him. She crossed her arms at the sight of him sitting on her bed, and Johnny held his hands between his knees, timidly avoiding what he assumed was a bitter glare from her. Devi rolled her eyes as she sighed, and joined him on the edge of her mattress.

“Another nightmare, Nny?” She asked. Johnny’s head lowered from the annoyance in her voice.

“Yes…” He mumbled, twiddling his thumbs nervously. He heard Devi scoff again, and he felt further guilt that she was unaware of the seriousness behind his night terrors. After her unintentionally warm comforting the night previous, he felt compelled to tell her the truth.

“Devi, uh, I actually… there’s something I must confess.” Johnny looked to her, and Devi’s mouth flattened in surprise. She hoped silently that this wasn’t something romantic, given the already ridiculous start to her day. Johnny swung his legs absentmindedly.

“Well, you see…” A sigh. “I’ve been having these… “nightmares”, for months.”

“All of them have been about, well, killing you.” Johnny grimaced as he said it, and Devi’s expression shifted to a different kind of surprise. Johnny continued. “Each time I fall asleep, they get worse; more vivid, more violent. Last night’s was the worst one to date. It was so real, Devi, I—I swore that I’d killed you. I was so certain…”

His hands gripped at the fabric of his pants nervously.

“…I think Meat’s behind it.” He said finally, and Devi took new, startled interest in his admission. They were quiet a moment before Devi replied.

“You really think the dreams are his doing?”

“I do.” He affirmed. “He doesn’t speak to me very often now that I live here, but I’m sure it’s him. I… I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I’m sure that he’s influencing them to be so gory and… awful… and you-related.”

Devi pondered this new development with a healthy amount of bitter suspicion. As far as she knew, Reverend Meat wanted Johnny to live, and had yet to try and influence him to kill anyone. What he wanted Johnny to do was engage in normal human-y things, and lose himself to his emotions, to his feelings. His feelings for her, in this case specifically. She slid her attention back to him with her suspicions hidden, as to not inadvertently express it to Johnny, and Meat, by extension.

“Did you have a nightmare after you fell asleep in my bed?” She asked.

Johnny blinked, having not bothered to even think about that until she mentioned it.

“Oh… no, I didn’t.” He replied. Devi pursed her mouth, convinced she knew the reason for Meat’s meddling this time.

He was trying to drive Johnny directly into her arms, like a bovine herder whacking his cattle with an electric rod. It boiled her blood to think of that shitty little parasite being so crafty. It would be easy for Meat to convince Johnny, without words, that he was urging him to commit violent acts, like Johnny’s previous voices, when in actuality, he was still just pushing this ‘physical longing’ crap.

“I’m sorry Devi…” Johnny’s head hung pathetically. “I know I should have told you. I was just so afraid… Afraid that you wouldn’t… trust me, again.”

He lifted his head.

“So much has changed since we, uh, ‘reunited’, if you’d want to call it that.” He mumbled. “I was scared that everything would regress back to the way it used to be. Everything is so nice now, I didn’t want to disturb it if I didn’t have to.”

Devi frowned at him in disbelief. She was still unused to any kind of heartfelt comments from anyone, especially him. For a moment, she debated whether or not to inform Johnny of the conclusion she’d just come to.

It could be beneficial to let him know, even if that would let Meat know as well, but then Johnny would probably go out of his way to avoid any touching, and maybe even hide his emotions more, just as a precaution to keep any and all feelings for her in check and not vulnerable to the Reverend, as futile as that would be. Devi hated to admit that she… didn’t want that. She liked bothering him, and it was nice to have such a casual friendship with someone after all these years of crappy people and self-made solitude.

She let her shoulders sag in defeat to her own wretched feelings.

“Yeah, things are nice now.” She smiled at him. Johnny was surprised that she would agree with him, and grinned shyly back at her.

“You still should have told me though, idiot.” Devi added with a meaner smirk, and Johnny shrugged in reply with a laugh. Devi pushed his shoulder.

“I’ll forgive you if you make me breakfast.” She offered, and Johnny jumped at the opportunity.

“Okay!” His smile grew wider, and he began slinking off toward the kitchen, lingering as though he was urging her to follow him.

Devi snorted a laugh and got up to join him. She would just keep these nightmares under close observation for now, until she was sure that she was correct about Meat’s intentions.

--

NEXT.

[blancheludis]

A/N: @stony-week, day 5: confessions

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Relationship: Tony Stark / Steve Rogers Tags: Family, Established Relationship, Kid Peter, Nightmares, H/C, Fluff

Summary: Peter has a nightmare. Since Tony is not there, it falls to Steve to make him feel safe. 

---

The bed is too empty with only Steve in it. It is late but he is never able to sleep well when Tony is not there. They have established a routine of going to bed together, even if Tony gets up again later to get in some more hours in the workshop. Those first hours of the night are theirs, just like they drink their first coffee of the day together. These small things make their life together sometimes seem too good to be true.

So Steve is reading in bed when a sudden sense of wrongness overcomes him. Looking up, he startles when he finds Peter standing in the door to their bedroom, eyes red-rimmed, his hand clenched around his teddy. He is wearing one of Tony’s shirts and absolutely swims in it.

Steve is immediately worried. He loves Peter but he does not know how to deal with children. Usually, Peter is happy and full of cheer, always ready to explore the world. He seldom needs entertainment and often seems older than he is, already so smart. The world still is too big at times, especially for a five-year-old.

“What’s up, buddy?” Steve asks in a gentle tone, sitting up in bed. He has to hold himself back from jumping right to his feet to look for danger. Panic will likely not make Peter any less upset. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Peter shuffles forward, just a small step. “Where’s Dad?” His voice sounds choked on tears and the kind of pure need that has Steve’s chest constricting.

Tony once confessed to Steve that he is terrified of being a bad father. From Steve’s point of view, that notion is ridiculous. Peter is everything to Tony. It does not matter how stressful things are at Stark Industries, how much work Tony has to do, how many deadlines he has to meet, he always takes time for Peter.

It has taken an eternity for Tony to leave Steve alone with Peter. Not necessarily out of distrust, but mostly because he did not want Peter to think he was getting tired of him, leaving him with strangers.

The more important it is for Steve to not mess things up now.

“Tony has to work tonight, remember?” Steve says, putting an emphasis on work. That is something Peter understands. No matter his young age, the workshop is already his favourite place. It is where the magic happens. “Aunt Pepper dragged him out earlier because he was trying to get out of it.”

Steve’s admittedly weak attempt at humour does not elicit as much as a twitch on Peter’s face. Instead, he crosses his arms in front of him, hugging his teddy close.

“I want my dad,” Peter exclaims unhappily.

Steve can practically hear new tears spring to the child’s eyes. With measures movements, Steve turns to put his feet on the ground. He does not get up yet, unsure whether he should perhaps wait for Peter to come to him.

“What happened?” Steve asks. When Tony left, Peter had already been sleeping soundly. Nothing particularly upsetting had happened this day either. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Peter hesitates before he nods his head. It seems like he avoids looking at Steve. Meanwhile, Steve is relieved. He remembers being terrified of sleeping when his ma was working the night shift, but she ultimately always came home. Nightmares are something they can deal with. Peter is not hurt or sick and that is all that matters.

“When’s Dad coming home?” Peter asks, sniffing quietly. He is still standing in the doorway, looking ready to run.

“Very soon,” Steve says, swallowing his I hope. He pulls the blanket back on Tony’s side of the bed. “Why don’t you come here and we’ll wait together.”

Steve does not expect Peter to jump at the opportunity and come running into his arms, but it is easy to admit that the way he remains frozen in place hurts a bit. Rationally, it is only logical. Steve is just the man Peter’s father brought home one night and introduced as someone who would stay with them. Forever is such a long time, especially for a child.

He tells himself to remain patient. If Peter wants to go back to his own room, they can work with that too. JARVIS is always there to watch over him, and Tony will be here within minutes if Steve tells him he is needed.

What feels like an eternity later, Peter comes into the room. The closer he comes to the bed, the more hurried his steps become. Deep down, Steve feels warm at having been deemed safe.

Steve helps Peter settle on the free side of the bed, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders once he is fully lying down. Despite never having imagined himself having children, the motions feel strangely familiar, comforting even.

Once they are both tucked in, Steve looks at Peter with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?”

Immediately, Peter’s face closes off. “You’re not my dad.”

Steve winces in sympathy. He remembers having such a close connection to a parent. “No,” he says, not letting that near-rejection discourage him, “but I sometimes have bad dreams too.”

This confession visibly surprises Peter. “You do?” The quiver is not quite gone from his voice, but some curiosity has returned to his eyes.

“Yes. And I know why you want your dad.” Perhaps Steve should try to leave Tony out of the conversation, lest he makes his absence even more glaringly obvious, but they can hardly bond over the nature of Steve’s nightmares. “Tony helps me feel better after a bad dream too.”

“Does he tell you stories?” Peter asks, glancing at the book Steve has abandoned.

“Sometimes.” Steve smiles. Tony has a talent of turning his voice into a light Steve can follow back to reality. It does not even matter what he is talking about as long as he does not stop. “Sometimes he just holds me.”

Peter nods seriously but does not make a move to ask for either of those things. Instead, he looks up shyly. “Can we call him?”

Pepper is going to murder them if they cause Tony to leave this function, since it took her weeks to convince Tony to come in the first place. If they prove now that Peter does not want to stay home with just Steve, she will have a hard time getting Tony out ever again.

Still, Steve knows there is only one right thing to do. “Of course,” he says. “JARVIS, would you be so kind?”

One dial tone is all it takes for Tony to pick up. “What happened?” He sounds slightly out of breath and like he is steeling himself for bad news, but the moment his voice fills the air, Peter relaxes. His lip trembles as if he is going to cry again, although tears of relief this time.

“We’re all right, honey,” Steve says quickly to ban the worst fears from Tony’s mind immediately. They do not need Tony speeding here recklessly. “But we’re missing you.”

Before Tony can answer, Peter pipes up, “When are you coming home, Daddy?”

The way Tony’s voice changes whenever he is talking to his son will never cease to amaze Steve. All at once, it goes soft, full of love. The very moment Steve first heard Tony talking like that dissipated all his worries about entering a relationship with the infamous billionaire. His mother used to talk to Steve like that. To him, it is a sign of a good person.

“You’re sounding upset, underoos,” Tony says, all his attention shifting towards his son. The background noise through the phone cuts off abruptly, meaning he has gone somewhere private and is ready to leave if he has to. “Did Steve try to cook dinner again?”

“No.” Something very close to a giggle escapes Peter’s mouth, causing some of the weight to be lifted from Steve’s chest. If it hurts this much for him to see Peter in distress, he cannot imagine how it must be for Tony. “I had a bad dream.”

“And you went to Steve. That’s a very good idea,” Tony answers at once in a praising tone. “He always cheers me up when I’m sad too.”

“He’s helping,” Peter says, smiling shyly up at Steve.

Not for the first time, Steve realizes that he would do anything for this kid. Not just now, when he looks small and young and afraid. Peter’s well-being has become as important as Tony’s to him.

Incredibly gentle, Tony asks, “Want to tell me about it?”

“I dreamt –” Peter hiccups, half-burying his face against the pillow. “I dreamt you weren’t coming home.”

Steve is not surprised. Peter has already lost his mother, who kissed him goodbye one morning and went on a plane that crashed barely an hour after take-off. Despite his age, Peter is already familiar with grief and the fear that comes from the mere thought of losing more.

“Of course, I’m coming home, Peter,” Tony promises. “I won’t ever leave you.” There is that determination to make the world a better place for Peter, a safe place. “Also we have Steve to protect us.”

Goosebumps rise on Steve’s arm as he hears his own name said in Tony’s soft voice. This is not just for Peter’s sake. Sometimes Tony looks at him with that same once-in-a-lifetime wonder that makes Steve question what he did to deserve something this good.

“He’s not there with you,” Peter argues stubbornly. It might be an instinctive response but he shifts a little closer towards Steve. Not yet close enough for Steve to deem it safe to offer comfort, but they are getting there.

“But Aunt Natasha is,” Tony says with a smile audible in his voice, “and she’s a lot stronger than Steve. She’ll get me home to you.”

Natasha had been Steve’s idea. No matter how much Tony resents the idea, he is a public figure and therefore a target. He is rather tight-lipped about how many close calls or actual kidnappings he has endured, but when Steve stopped an attempt made by a group of masked men after one of their dates, Tony showed himself more amenable to the idea of protection. All Steve had to do then was mention Peter, and now there is no social function or press release or even dinner where no one is watching over him.

“Promise?” Peter asks, sounding so very young.

“Always.” Tony’s answer comes so promptly and so sure that it seems impossible that, during some bad nights, he has clung to Steve, worrying that he will never do right by Peter. “Do you need me to come right now?”

The expression on Peter’s face makes it obvious that he wants to say yes, but hearing his dad’s voice has already helped so much that he hesitates. “Won’t Auntie Pepper be mad?”

Steve knows she will make a show of it because someone has to think of Stark Industries. In the end, though, she is just as protective of Peter as everyone else who knows him.

“Not if I need to leave for you.”

Steve recognizes the urgency in Tony’s tone. Peter’s answer will not change much, Tony is already on his way, no matter what investor or board member he is going to anger with it. Peter will always come first.

Smiling shakily, Peter says, “I can wait for you with Steve.” This time he moves intentionally closer, trusting that Steve will open his arms for him. When he settles against Steve, it feels like the world has become infinitely lighter and impossibly heavy at the same time.

“That’s good,” Tony says. In a cheerful tone, he adds, “Make him tell you a story about Uncle Clint’s circus days. He can shoot arrows with his feet, did you know that?”

Peter looks up at Steve with big eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “Love you, Dad.”

“Keep my bed warm until I’m home.”

Steve is not disappointed that Tony does not say anything to him. This was all about Peter, after all, and it will be only a matter of time until Tony is home. In fact, it is even a show of trust that Tony lets him deal with the situation on his own, without any last tips or orders.

Silence washes over them, making Steve acutely feel Tony’s sudden absence. He glances at Peter, trying to hide his worry. Only somewhat surprised, he sees that it was unfounded. Much less tense, Peter snuggles closer into Steve’s arms, then looks up at him with big eyes.

“Can Uncle Clint really do that?” he asks, his voice not as small anymore but finally curious again.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” Steve says eagerly. He sends a silent thank you to Tony for giving him something specific to entertain Peter with. If he had to come up with something on his own, he might have just made things worse again.

Steve launches into the story. Since Clint is the main protagonists, he does not even have to embellish much. The archer is just that crazy.

It does not take long for Peter to fall asleep with a small smile on his face. It feels like an accomplishment to have made him feel safe again, even if Tony did most of the work.

Only now that the excitement of the night is finally over, does Steve allow himself to analyse the tension knotting his shoulders. The weight of Peter is heavy in his arms, but it is not exactly unpleasant. It just comes with so much responsibility that Steve is not sure he is ready for. Tony says the same, though, and he is brilliant with his son. Being a parent seems to be all about tackling problems without ever being sure one is ready for them.

Steve is not Peter’s parent, of course. They have such a strange family, thrown together without regards to blood or sense that it does not matter much. Steve is here now, and he is here to stay. He is not Peter’s father, but he already loves him.

Half an hour later, Tony arrives slightly breathless in their bedroom. He stops short in the doorway, smiling at the picture presenting itself to him: Peter curled up against Steve’s side. Steve knows the softness he feels must be visible on his face. Tony’s expression dissipates his last worries of him overstepping.

Without much ceremony, Tony takes off his clothes. The expensive suit lands in a heap on the floor. For once, Steve does not have the heart to scold Tony for that. Every movement shows Tony’s impatience to be done with it and join his family.

He fishes a shirt and fresh boxers out of a drawer, manages to put both of them on inside-out, and comes to a halt before the bed. His face is so incredibly soft that Steve’s fingers itch for paper and coal to immortalize this expression.

“Thank you,” Tony says as he lays down, careful not to wake his son.

“Always,” Steve answers. He wonders how to thank Tony in return for giving him this, this family, this chance at happiness. In the ends, he decides no words are needed. He shifts slightly to put an arm over Peter to pull Tony closer until they are all three touching, keeping each other safe. This is everything. This is home.

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Weeks 7 + 8

Overall Plot

Sid and Ishani are about 10 minutes away from hardcore Love. And literally every single person knows and is rooting for it (including the security guards at Sanjivani/Ishani’s apartment complex!!!!!), except the two idiots themselves. Shashank is still dealing with the fallout of the thing with Juhi and the admin issues stemming from their unresolved issues, but small mercies, his relationship with Anjali seems to be looking up. Nurse Philo's daughter Jessica has been admitted mere days before her wedding and found to have a terminal illness and it's heartbreaking as fuck.

The Medical Stuff

Lol, does Ishani's "sickness" count? She's pretty convinced that she's dying of something serious, the way she was charting her symptoms and kept getting diagnostic test after diagnostic test, so I think it should. Glad she's finally gotten a diagnosis and the prognosis looks promising! Other than that, Nandini got operated on successfully by the Shashank-Juhi team, and the only active case we have is Jessica's Stage IV cancer. But I think that's going to focus more on the emotional side of things (getting her the dream wedding she wants), since it's at such an advanced stage that it wouldn't respond to treatment anyway.

The Acting

Thank the lord above, they have started giving Surbhi comedy to do, which is where she really shines as an actor. Namit is most excellent at heart eyes, and his crying has improved from the first few weeks; dialogue delivery still needs to be more polished though. Jason and Kunal are being used effectively by giving them hilarious, snarky scenes while they drill some sense into Ishani/Sid. Robin is still pretty much in the background other than to pop up and deliver the occasional wisecrack. Very sad to see Rashmi go, she'd really won my heart as Asha. The seniors got to ease up on the angsty scenes these weeks and I'm grateful for that; it's nice to see them loosen up a bit and smile and joke around. Special mention to Vedika Bhandari as Jessica, who's just ridiculously adorable and sooooooo likable, that I already am having trouble at the thought of letting her character go.

The Characters

Sid: MY DUDES, I DID NOT EXPECT TO FALL THIS HARD FOR SIDDHANT FUCKING MATHUR, BUT WELP, HERE WE ARE. I honestly cannot believe that this boy exists on Tellywood. Where to even start with him in these two weeks? How much younger than his years he seems when he was imploring his mom to stay to meet Shashank; his heart eyes when he wakes up to see Ishani first thing next morning (after waiting to see her the whole night!!!); his bashfulness at all the love he's getting from the whole hospital staff; his good-natured humoring of Ishani's weird behaviour... He's just so unassuming and Soft. I can't really recall seeing this lovable a male lead in tellywood in forever (all I can think of is Hussain K. characters in the early 2000s, in Krishna Arjun and Kumkum and all.) But by no means is Sid a pushover who tolerates any kind of BS. He rightfully rips Rishabh to shreds when he tries to discredit his relationship with Ishani, and understandably calls Ishani out on her nonsense when she's evading her duties, but in a decent way. There is some against-the-wall-caging (because Tellywood), but in a non-threatening manner; he maintains an appropriate distance, does not touch her, and while he does talk in a raised voice due to frustration, never does it veer into yelling that feels dangerous, and he repeatedly asks her if he said or did anything that's making her uncomfortable to be around him. I found it a little strange that he was so vehemently in denial of his feelings for Ishani in last week's episodes, because he seemed to readily accept after his conversation with Guddu Mama (“Halwa banaa ke leke jaaoon? Usko achcha lagega?" with the most hopeful smile; calling Ishani a "bohut hi pyaari si princess" to her face and specifying that he specifically made the halwa for her "pyaaaaar se", being open to the idea of marrying Ishani when Nurse Philo/Jessica jokingly suggest it....) but I guess it would be pretty incongruous for him to instantly fall hard for Ishani AND recognize it, with his past as a "player". So I like that they brought in one of his flings to contrast how different his feelings for Ishani are compared to the other girls he's dated; and subsequently how he's processing his many emotions about the situation. Most of all, I love that his feelings for Ishani don't hamper him from doing his job right; instead they just make him more sensitive to understanding her and making her feel good in any capacity that he can. He came all the way over to her house to apologize for making her cry, AND MADE HER PARATHAS!!!!!!! He slept over, but respectfully all scooched up on her tiny couch! What a goddamn Good Boi. Also, him crying over Jessica's diagnosis? Heart-fucking-breaking. We should all be so lucky to find a doctor who cares about his patients THIS much.

Ishani (or lol as Guddu Mama calls her, "Pareshaani"): I really was expecting the absolute worst with this "Ishani has Loveria" track. And it did not start out well; almost 3 whole episodes were just her puerile lovesick imagination waale music videos and that goddamn CGI titli and I was just like jfc whyyyyyyyyyy. BUT THEN!!!!!!! They finally started showing us the funny side of Ishani, and it's succeeded in making the character lovably kooky, instead of just unpleasant to be around. Her panic attack in the bathroom where she legit thinks she's having a stroke and tries to literally shake off the crush, making all the first year residents repeatedly do ECGs on her, her awkwardness around Sid, the rant where she bemoans falling in love with Sid of all people, her child-like crying to Asha when Sid finally gives her a dressing down for acting idiotic ("Mujhe ITNA daanta! ITNAAAA! Aur unprofessional bhi bola! *violently stabbing finger in the air* UNPROFESSIONAL!!!!!!!!"); all of it was just hilarious as fuck. We're finally seeing the endearing side of Ishani's addled personality. I'm also very glad she got the much-required wakeup call from Sid/Asha, that she's being very unprofessional by running away from her duties, and hopefully from here on, she'll be learn to focus on her job, even with Sid's distracting presence. She's also made quite a bit of progress when it comes to her germophobia; but realistically: it's only with Sid (and Asha) - the two people she's really close to; she's still seen being touch-averse with the rest, but slowly getting better; letting children touch her, offering to shake hands with Jessica and Jignesh, etc.

Asha & Aman: I'm super bummed that Rashmi is being replaced as Asha, because she was honestly so good in the role; cheerful and hilarious in most of her scenes, gentle and sensitive with Ishani, helping her out as much as she can with this inconvenient crush... It's not an easy role, with the accent and all. I hope this new actress is as competent as Rashmi, who always highlighted the humour but without making the accent the punchline; it was always the things she said and how she chooses to word it. It's an important distinction, to not make the regional background into a caricature.

Aman is Aman as usual, lol; vicariously getting kicks thanks to the shenanigans of everyone around. Also, to my surprise, Aman and Asha live together! They offer up their place for a party for Sid; when Ishani freaks out that the cake he ordered isn't Sid's favt. flavour, Aman just shrugs "Meri Asha ko butterscotch pasand hai." I still don't really know what his equation with Asha is, but whatever it is, I love it. Asha's a self-sufficient girl, but it's obvious that Aman feels really protective of her and wants to see her happy always. I really hope the new actress maintains this ambiguous chemistry with Robin too, till the writers decide what direction they wanna take this relationship in.

Dialogue of the Week: Asha [walking in on Ishani holding a sleeping Sid's hand]: Abbe! Humaare saamne toh badi "garma"phobic bani ghoomti hai, ab dekho Dr. Sid ke saath kaise touchy-wouchy ho rahi hai!!!!!!!!!!!

Rishabh: Fucking asshole. He Tried, but he's no match for the razor sharp wit of Sid, or Asha's jugaadu skills to relieve an overworked Ishani. Chal dafa ho, be! Manhoos kahinka.

Neil: He's really really enjoying Sid and Ishani's crushes on each other, taking the mick out of both of them at any given opportunity. I truly lmao-ed when he was seriously examining Ishani for an illness on her insistence and then eye-rollingly dismisses her with "Kuch nahi hua hai tumhe." Cutest snark bean.

Rahil: MY ACTUAL FAVE. Lmao, if Ishani’s got her little purple titli, then Rahil is Sid’s grownass plaid-shirt-wearing TITLA, who appears outta nowhere to serve up piping hot sass at his confused dumbassery. His acerbic, plain-speak snark seems to be the only language Sid understands (as opposed to the first years' gleeful teasing, or the good-natured ribbing of elders like Shashank and Philo and Guddu Mama), and him having to exasperatedly explain things to his boss-who-is-also-his-bff is just hilarious. I relish every single scene he appears in to the max! Also props to him for giving us the gem "same level ke ajeeb" as the OTP tag for SidIsha!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shashank: A much better fortnight for Dr. Shashank! Two of his idiot babies are very obviously in love (that scene of Ishani showing him her reports and describing the butterfly through pantomime though, lmao) and now his relationship with Anjali is defrosting (the exchange about the surgeon she was interested in and how he wants grandkids from her??? The cutest!!!!) Things still remain frosty with Juhi though, and I don't understand why he won't just address the issue and clarify things in a straightforward manner, instead of dragging it out like this and making it awkward with his COS/mentee. Anyway, good on him for getting that win on Vardhan, but I feel like he needs to stop being so damn stubborn on his issues without giving reasons. It’s not helping matters around here, personally or professionally.

Juhi: Literally the classiest female professional on TV??????? She hasn't stopped holding Shashank accountable for how he sabotaged her career, but I love that she has sorted it out enough to work with him, but also engages in minor acts of pettiness like gleefully scraping his car with hers, cheekily grinning and apologizing saying she needed to get out some of the angst before they operated on a patient together. For what it's worth, I was fully on her side during the argument with Shashank about the machines for the hospital; it sounded like a good deal, but of course, she should have had the foresight to know Vardhan would try to do some kinda fuckery. She’s right in not really trusting Shashank anymore, but needs to be a little more prudent with how she proceeds while making decisions for Sanjivani. In a way, it’s really sad how she doesn’t really have any allies at her level. Shashank was the only one she could really rely on, and he went and blew that relationship up, and now she’s kinda adrift in the organization. I hope Shashank does good by her and repairs the relationship.

Anjali: Phew, finally a good break for Anjali. I'm ecstatic. She's realized that Vardhan's manipulating her and broken free of his gaslighting nonsense. She's much smarter than both Shashank and Vardhan thought she was and yes sis, play them both!!!!!!! She got her COS post, but also isn't playing by Vardhan's rules. Ultimate winner! But does she also have some romantic feelz for V? Coz that last scene between them had very intimate vibes, from the way she walked into his office and knew where the booze was, to her pouring him a glass and casually lounging against the wall like a wife/girlfriend would. She wasn't even really fazed when he grabbed her; either she's a hella strong woman who cannot be trifled with, or she's familiar with this side of him. I really hope it's the former coz she deserves someone who's a grown up version of Sid (*cough* Atul Joshi *cough*) who's super good and healthy for her, not this deceitful fuckwad.

Vardhan: What is his deal? No honestly, does he have some kinda personal stake in saving Sanjivani from financial ruin? It seems so, with how overwrought and devastated he seemed at Shashank exposing the machine waala scam. Also, the way he manhandled Anjali? Unforgivable. Die in a fire, scum.

Rahul: Still haven't seen him but apparently he's hiding in that secret room in the luxury ward? What the everloving experimental fuck is he doing with pregnant women who look to be unable to afford medical care? Nothing ethical, that's for sure. I have a feeling this will maybe tie up to Ishani's parents waala plot, but for the meanwhile, jfc, just reveal yourself man, coz this shit is getting scary as fuck the longer you go unseen.

Overall Rating: 5/5