#Ignore the fact I’ve posted more today than I have in the past 6 months

[octopath-archivist]

yeah I know “Harvey killed Osvald’s family bla bla bla” but I can tell you from the bottom of my heart SOMETHING was going on between those two at some point in their relationship.

[foilfreak]

4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas

Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:

First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.

1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!

2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.

3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.

4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little

4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.

4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.

4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.

5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life

5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?

6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.

Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3

[wicked-mind]

Betrayed: Chapter Three

Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Word count: 5.2k

Warning: A bit of violence, talk of kidnapping and torture, talk of surgery, a hint of PTSD

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

NOTE: I would like to thank everybody for your support. As I previously said, this is the first time posting any sort of creative writing on any platform. As a thank you, I'll be releasing two chapters today (3/19/21). Again, any feedback is appreciated. Enjoy (:

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CHAPTER THREE- The Truth

It had been about 6 months since Y/N arrived at at the facility. She liked it here. She was able to get to know who her brother was now, hearing about his stories. He was careful to try and leave Bucky out of it as much as possible, but sometimes he would come up. The more Steve talked about Bucky, the less Y/N would flinch at his name. It’s like Steve was replacing that bad memory of him taking her with new ones about how Bucky had redeemed himself, sacrificing everything to help protect the universe from Thanos.

“I always imagined you like this, Steve.” Y/N had said to him one day, gesturing at him as she listened to his stories, “Even though you were five foot, four inches and weighed nothing, I always knew this was the real you.” She smiled, at him, to which Steve laughed and replied, “I’m glad someone saw passed my height.”

Y/N trained with Clint and Wanda. Although Y/N and Clint had a bit of a rough start with the arrow thing as well as calling her a vampire, they became friends quickly. Joking at one another often, especially during training. He had nicknamed her ‘Little Vampire’. Her abilities began to hone in, and she hadn’t had an outburst of violence since the night she arrived. Besides her brother, Wanda was the person Y/N was closest with. They even shared a bedroom now, and others in the neighboring bedrooms often heard laughing throughout the night coming from the bedroom. They did almost everything together. Train, eat, watch movies, occasionally go shopping. Wanda even taught Y/N how to drive, testing out the fast cars on the long stretch of road leading to the facility.

There was still one problem though. Bucky. Y/N couldn’t be in the same room as Bucky, which everybody noticed. For the first few months, when Bucky entered a room that Y/N was in or vice versa, the room would get quiet. It was like there was a stare down between the two. Y/N would tense up, her red eyes locking on Bucky. Out of respect and guilt, Bucky always left the room, even if he was there first. He caused her enough pain for a lifetime, he didn’t want to be a constant reminder of the worst time of her life. He owed her that much. At least he could hear her laugh with Wanda. Sometimes he would stay awake at night, either laying in his bed or standing outside her door and listening to her laugh. He missed Y/N’s laugh so much. He used to hear it almost everyday growing up, watching her smile. Her joy was always infections to others, especially him. He often wondered when the last time she laughed was. He was sure she didn’t laugh until she came here and met Wanda. The first time he heard her laugh while Y/N has been here, he smiled, standing around a corner as he listened to Wanda and Y/N watch the cheesy Captain America movie. Bucky wished more than anything he could join in the laughter. He wanted to feel the warmth that Y/N always brought him, but knew he wasn’t what she needed or wanted right now.

After about 4 months, they were able to be in the same room. Bucky had been sitting at the kitchen bar, talking to Steve about how he could fix things and help Y/N. When speak of the devil, she walked in alone. Usually her and Wanda were always together, but this time she was alone. She paused when she entered, staring at Bucky who was looking back to her. She then moved to the fridge, grabbing out some grape juice. Her favorite. Wanda made sure it was on the list every week just for her, and if she forgot to put it on the list, Bucky would scribble it down. She grabbed a glass out of a cupboard. She was facing Bucky, but not looking at him. She was focused on her task of getting juice. As she poured, her eyes flicker to meet his gaze. She quickly looked back down until her glass was full. She put the grape juice back in its spot in the fridge, picking up her glass. Her eyes flickered between Steve and Bucky. She gave a soft smile but it faded quickly as she left back the way she came, returning to her room.

Once Steve was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to Bucky, raising his eyebrows, “Progress.” He said with a smile. It was nothing compared to how much Bucky was grinning. This was the first time he had been able to get her to actually look at him, not stare him down or glare like he was her enemy. She even smiled a little bit, probably at Steve, but Bucky was taking it as a win. For the first time in the last four months, he felt hope in being able to be Y/N’s friend again. But he wouldn’t push it, he would wait for her.

Two months later, present time, it was time to answer the hard questions. Steve sat down on his sister’s bed beside her. Wanda had some idea of what happened, as Y/N talked about the trauma to her most. That and the fact Wanda could see inside her head, but only ever did it with Y/N’s permission.

“Y/N, tell us everything you remember.” Steve said, looking at his sister. He needed to know what was done to her, where, and if there were any remaining Hydra agents. He needed to know if there were anymore enhanced humans Hydra could have made.

Y/N looked at her brother, then to Wanda, then to the floor letting out a sigh. She had been dreading. She put her face in her hands, then slowly ran them up through her blonde hair. She hated talking about it, but knew Steve had given her enough time to process her new home.

“Bucky sent me a letter, saying he was coming home from deployment. He set up a date and where to meet. I was so excited to keep our promise.” Y/N swallowed hard, “When we met, he greeted me. He smiled, but there was no emotion in his eyes. I figured it was from the war, you know, needing to adjust. I was just happy he was safe. We talked for a moment, before walking down the street. It was dark, the street lamps were out which I thought was odd. Then suddenly, he grabbed me, pulling me into the trunk of a car. I was in that trunk for what felt like days,” She paused, pushing past the pain it was causing her, “Then, we were outside this bunker. It was snowing, cold. I didn’t know where we were. He took my hood off, holding my arm as he lead me through the doors. I was watched by all these men, wearing a red octopus with a skull on their uniforms. He handed me to them, practically throwing me into their grasp. I looked back at him, pleading for help. He ignored me and followed as the men took me to this medical chamber and strapped me down on a cold table. I could see the medical instruments on a tray. They had these syringes filled with red liquid. I screamed for Bucky to help me, for anybody to help me. Nobody did.. They gagged me and began. I couldn’t tell you what they did, I closed my eyes until I passed out from pain, after seeing Bucky leave the room. I do remember though before I passed out, up in the gallery that overlooked the room, red eyes staring at me.” Y/N said softly, looking at Steve.

“The rest of it is a little blurry. I think I’ve blocked it out of my mind after I was made into this, knowing I wouldn’t want to remember. Then, after a few years, something happened. I remember I was called back to that bunker. There were two others with red eyes. They put us in these steel coffin type things.” Y/N paused, before chuckling a little bit which shocked Steve, “Don’t tell Clint that, it’ll just make the vampire thing a little too real for him.” She joked for a moment, but not hearing any laughter she sighed and continued, “They put us to sleep. When I woke up, seven months ago, it took days of punching that steel coffin until I was able to get it open.” She traced the silver scars on her knuckles, remembering blood, although there wasn’t much pain, “But that wasn’t the end of the it. Wherever they put me, I was buried. I had to claw my way through dirt, grass, and two feet of snow until I saw grey skies. It was snowing. I fled to the nearest city, hiding in an abandoned building. I could feel something in my brain, trying to tell me to go back and sleep. I itched at the spot until I could feel my skull and stole a drill from a nearby family. I drilled out the spot of my skull, then pried the chip out with my fingers. I left it in that building.” Y/N was now staring at the wall as she spoke, her face emotionless. She knew Wanda was watching her memories vividly, wincing as she watched the process of taking the chip out, “It didn’t take long after that for me to see your face everywhere, and the face of the Avengers. I had to find you and I did. You know the rest from there.”

It was silent in the room for a minute. Steve was holding back some tears hearing about his sister’s torture with Hydra, not wanting her to see. Wanda had the saddest look on her face, feeling like she was there herself through Y/N’s memories. Steve broke the silence, “Thank you for telling me,” He said, putting a hand on his sister’s back. He didn’t want to make her relive this, but he got the information him and the team needed. There were more of these red-eyes buried somewhere, just waiting to escape.

What they didn’t know, is Bucky was outside the door, listening to every word Y/N said. He felt nauseous hearing her stories. The sweet woman he knew.. She had been taken and forced into this traumatic life. Taken by his own hand. A tear ran down his cheek which he quickly wiped away. When she was done talking, he stood up and went back to his own room before they could catch him eavesdropping. He felt full of rage at Hydra but more importantly at himself. No wonder she tried to kill him. Half of him wishes she did, he deserved it and maybe it would’ve brought her more peace. But the other half of him was glad she did save him, wanting to prove himself to her that he wasn’t that person and that he was the same Bucky Y/N remembered from watching their sunrise.

After Steve had shared the information for the team, they decided to mobilize and search out this base. It would be at most a week they were gone. Everybody was going, besides Y/N, Bucky, and Clint who had promised his family not to go into any more dangerous missions unless absolutely necessary. Y/N pleaded with Steve not to go, or at least leave Wanda behind with her. But Steve had told his sister they needed to go, make sure everything was safe, and Wanda needed to go as well as she had seen the bunker and its layout in her head. Reluctantly, Y/N agreed.

Two days into the longest week of her life since she had been back, Y/N sat on her bed, missing her friends and her brother. She had skipped training with Clint, mostly staying in her room and listening to music Wanda had showed her. It made her happy listening to music. Sometimes Wanda and Y/N would blast the music in their room, dancing together and laughing. They were some of her happiest moments since she’s been at the facility.

On the third night, Y/N went out into the kitchen to have herself some leftover soup. She waited as it heated in the microwave, freezing when she heard another person enter the room. She slowly turned, only to lock eyes with blue eyes she had hated for so long. Bucky stopped and looked at her, before speaking softly to break the silence, “Sorry.. I’ll come back later.” He said, turning to leave, breaking their eye contact. Then a miracle happened.

“It’s fine, I’m almost done..” Y/N said softly, turning back to watch the timer on the microwave. Bucky stood there staring at her. This is the first thing she had said to him since she healed the bite on his neck. His heart leaped in his chest, hearing her acknowledge him. It was just adding to the hope that one day they could be back to friends again. Her voice was like soft music to his ears, so sweet. He didn’t approach her, just took a seat. He didn’t want to get too close to her and make her uncomfortable and take back this progress of her speaking to him. He thought of her like a scared animal. If he moved the progress too fast then she would run. He watched as she grabbed the bowl from the microwave, a spoon, and a napkin. Then Y/N retreated back to her room, not saying another word. She shut the door behind her.

Bucky smiled to himself, “Progress.” He said softly, making himself a sandwich and heading back to his room. He felt accomplished. She had actually spoken to him, directly to him. Alone. She didn’t run, or attack him. Bucky viewed this as a big step towards reaching his goal of having Y/N trust him again.

In the early morning hours, Y/N had a nightmare. A bad one. She was seeing the faces of those she hurt, those she killed. Then it changed to her punching herself out of that metal coffin, screaming to be free, digging through the rough earth trying to find air. She tossed and turned, sweating, before letting out a scream. The scream woke Clint and Bucky up, who now stood outside her door in the hallway looking at each other as they heard her whimpering and screaming from the other side.

“Okay, you go in.” Clint said, looking at Bucky.

Bucky looked at Clint in disbelief, “Are you kidding? She hates me. Well, I think we are one level down from hate because she talked to me, but still. At least she likes you, you go in.” He countered

Clint shook his head, “Nope. Nu-uh. After hearing about the coffin thing, I’m still not convinced she isn’t a vampire.” He whispered softly, “Vampire beats human every time. You got the superhuman stuff, if she bites you at least we know what happens. If she bites me, I may die quicker than she’s willing to give me her blood.” He said, “Plus you're stronger and she scares me a little.”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by another muffled scream. He glared at Clint before opening the door. If this took back the new progress he had just made with Y/N, he wouldn’t know what to do. He peeked in her room, seeing Y/N laying on the bed, clutching her pillow so hard that it starting spitting feathers out of the seams. It pained him to see her like this. He could see tears down her visible cheek, the pain on her face.

“Y/N?” He asked softly, not wanting to touch her yet, just wanting to wake her gently. It didn’t work though, she didn’t wake. Bucky slowly moved to the side of her bed, sitting at the edge next to her. He slowly reached his hand out to touch her and paused, wondering if he should. But then he heard Y/N whimper again, letting out a half sob half scream. His instincts took over and he grabbed her quickly, pulling her into his chest and holding her tight. She gripped onto his shirt, her nails ripping through and digging into his chest. Bucky winced, but it was worth it to hold her, trying to calm her, “I got you, Y/N. You’re safe… It’s all over, I got you.” He whispered towards her ear, noting the scar behind her left ear. He knew exactly what it was from. The sobbing stopped, as did the screaming. He looked down at her face to see the red eyes staring at him. He paused, wondering what was going to happen. Would she attack him? Push him away? He wouldn’t blame her for either of those options. He just wanted to be there for Y/N, let her know she was safe.

Y/N stayed silent for quite a while, just staring at Bucky’s eyes. The way he looked at her was familiar. His eyes weren’t emotionless. She saw his sadness, worry, guilt.

“Bucky..” She whispered finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky’s heart melted, listening to her say his name without rage in her voice. She said his name like she did before he left for deployment, but with a little more sadness in her voice. Then she curled into him more, which made his heart melt again. He willingly pulled her closer, “I got you, Doll,” He said as he ran his hand through her hair, “You’re safe. You never have to do those things again.” He knew exactly what she was dreaming about when it came to the faces. He had the same nightmares for a long time, unable to sleep for months because of it. He held her until she was asleep, gently placing her back into bed and pulling the covers over her body. He sat on Wanda’s bed, watching her all night. Every couple hours, Y/N would wake up and look over at him as if to make sure Bucky was still there, before going back to sleep, pressing her face into her pillow.

In the morning, Clint called Bucky into the briefing room to get an update from the rest of the team. They had to break down the steel doors to the bunker to get in, but didn’t find any evidence of any survivors or the remaining red-eyes. They were going to search the area a little more before heading back home. They also wanted to try and find the chip that Y/N had clawed out of her brain seven months ago to try and see if they could get any information off that.

As the sun hit her face, Y/N’s eyes opened slowly, looking around the room. She was alone. She started to wonder if it was all just a dream that Bucky was there, holding her, keeping an eye on her. It had felt too real to be a dream. She sat up slowly, noticing the feathers on her sheets. Definitely not a dream, she concluded. She dragged herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to shower.

Y/N stood still as the warm water hit her back. Her mind racing a million miles per hour as she thought about last night with Bucky. He came in to help her, and she accepted it. She shook her head, bringing her hands to her face. She couldn’t believe she did that. She let him in, giving him a chance. Her traumatic time with Hydra had made her hate him. But Y/N knew that somewhere, inside herself, she knew the truth that he was still the Bucky she remembered. She didn’t want to trust him, to let him in. It was easier if she didn’t because then he couldn’t betray her trust again. She sunk to the floor of the shower, pushing her back against the tile wall, and cried.

After about a half hour of crying in the shower, she finished washing her hair and herself and finally stepped out, wrapping the towel around herself. She stared at herself in the mirror as she ran the brush through her hair. Looking around the bathroom, she cursed under her breath as she realized she forgot a change of clothes. She would have to scurry back to her room with the towel wrapped around her.

She opened the door and started to walk back to her room, but stopped as she saw Bucky at the end of the hallway, looking at her with those damn blue eyes. Y/N looked down, turning and disappearing into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Bucky stood there, he had looked her over as she stood frozen for a moment. Noting all the small silver scars across her pale body that he could see. She had many on her shoulders and legs. Some of them looked like scars of bites, like someone had bit her over and over again. They were along her shoulders also ran up her legs until they disappeared under the towel secured around her body. It made him sad to see her like that. He remembered she only had a few scars when they were younger, from dumb instances like falling off a bike or falling when she ran to keep up with him. But now, she was covered in scars. He sighed as she left without a sound to him, wondering if the progress they had made disappeared.

The next few days, Y/N stayed in her room, only coming out to train with Clint and get food. The rest of the time she sat on her bed, reading or listening to music. The team were supposed to be back tomorrow and Y/N couldn’t wait to see Wanda and her brother. It felt like she hadn’t seen them in months. She had gotten so used to them being around all the time that she didn’t know she would miss them this much when they were gone on a mission. There weren’t many phone calls, just quick check-ins with Clint.

She finally pulled herself out of bed, throwing on some black leggings and a dark blue shirt. She brushed her hair and teeth in the bathroom, before making her way to the kitchen. She grabbed herself a bowl of cereal and moved to the living room, turning on the tv to watch some dumb reality show that filled the silence around her. She noticed Bucky and Clint walk into the kitchen, they must’ve been training. They were both discussing who won their sparring as they grabbed water bottles out of the fridge.

“I see you...”

The sound made Y/N jump. It sounded like it was right in her ear. She looked around, looked behind her to see Bucky and Clint still talking. She put her bowl on the coffee table, turning off the tv. She stood, looking around slowly, her forehead wrinkles in frustration and focus as she tried to figure out where the voice came from. She wondered around, looking down hallways.

“Y/N...”

The voice came again, singing her name in a soft whisper. Y/N jumped and turned, but nobody was there. She didn’t even notice Bucky and Clint were now watching her, confused by her movements.

The voice softly started humming, the sound felt like someone was right in her ears.

“Little Vampy, you okay?” Clint called from the kitchen, his brow furrowed as he watched what was unfolding. Both Clint and Bucky had started moving towards her.

“Little Vampy, huh?” The voice came again, whispering right in her ear. It was deep, a male’s voice. It almost sounded like it was teasing her, “Idiot.” It chuckled and resumed humming.

Y/N turned quickly again at the whisper only to find nobody standing there, her eyes confused but also panicked. She listened to the humming, slowly walking passed Bucky and Clint. She pushed passed Bucky, her arm brushing against his but she didn’t seem to notice. She stopped at a window, staring out it as the humming continued.

“Y/N.” Bucky said, breaking the silence, curious and concerned of what was going on with her. It was like she was almost in a trance.

Y/N silently looked out the window for a moment, the voice that was humming slowly disappearing. She turned and looked at Bucky, her red eyes panicked, “Somethings here..” She said softly, almost a whisper.

Bucky and Clint immediately went on the defense, pulling up motion trackers of the facility but finding nothing except themselves. They searched the whole facility, every nook and cranny, but found nothing. Y/N hid in her room, the curtains shut. The humming had gone away, and she was left with her own thoughts. She sat silently in the room, curled up in one of the corners behind a chair. It was like she was hiding from whatever she was hearing even though it was now gone.

Bucky and Clint entered her room, confused seeing nothing at first which made them panic a little. Bucky scanned the room, tense. Where had she gone? Was she taken? He shouldn’t have left her alone.. But then he saw the red eyes peer out from behind the chair at him and gave a sigh of relief.

“We couldn’t find anything, Y/N.” Clint said, folding his arms, “Why would you think something is here?” He questioned, confused on why him and Bucky just went on an empty scavenger hunt.

Y/N’s eyes flickered from Bucky to Clint as he spoke, not leaving the safety of the corner on the floor, “I heard him. He’s here.. somewhere.”

“Heard him? Heard who?” Bucky asks, moving to sit on the edge of Y/N’s bed, trying to make her more comfortable by letting her know he was here for her.

“I don’t know who.” She said, staring Bucky in the eyes, “It was familiar, his voice. He said my name, was listening to your conversation in the kitchen. He knew where we were and what we were doing. He was right in my ears…” Y/N moved her hands back to grip the sides of her head, “Whispering…” She mutters, then looked up at Clint, “He called you an idiot.”

“Well, I already don’t like him.” He said, folding his arms, “We will keep an eye on the motion sensors, do checks of the facility throughout the day just to be sure. I’ll send an update to the rest of the team. They should be back soon with the chip.” Clint informed, leaving the room promptly.

Bucky stayed in the room, sitting there silently. He wanted to ask Y/N if there was anything she needed, but he was cautious. He didn’t want to get too close. He didn’t want to push Y/N. They sat there in silence for what felt like hours, but was really only one. Y/N picked herself up off the floor, looking at Bucky, then looking around the room as if to make sure it was safe. She could feel Bucky’s eyes on her, watching her closely to try and get a read on how she was doing.

“I’m fine, Bucky..” Y/N finally said, her eyes eyes locking with his, before exiting her own bedroom. She went back to grab her bowl of now soggy cereal from the coffee table. She took it to the sink, pouring it down the drain and turning the disposal on for a moment to shred the cereal. She washed her bowl and spoon, then set them on a towel to dry. Y/N placed her hands on the edge of the counter, staring at the granite. What was she hearing inside her head? Who was it and why did it sound so familiar? She had clawed that chip out of her brain over half a year ago, she shouldn’t be hearing the voices. She wondered if she was slowly going insane, if it was the voices of those she killed catching up to her.

“Y/N,” It was Bucky’s voice behind her, but she didn’t move from where she stood, still staring at the granite, “I know you would prefer to talk to Wanda or Steve…. but you can talk to me while they’re not here…” He said softly, wanting to understand what was going on in her head. He wanted to help her.

“I feel like I’m going insane…” Y/N said, eyes still studying the granite as she kept her back to him, “Or being haunted. I feel like my mind isn’t safe.”

Bucky nodded slowly, “It’s the guilt, Y/N. You were forced to do terrible things to people. It wasn’t you. You’d never do that.” He said, moving closer to her.

Y/N shook her head, scoffing at his words, “I would do that. I bit you. I threw Steve. I am capable of violence, I was trained for it.” Her hands gripped the edge of the counter harder, it was starting to crack under her strength. Pieces of fractured granite pierced into her palms, causing droplets of her blood to run down the cupboards to the floor.

Bucky quickly moved when he heard the splintering granite and seeing the blood, pulling Y/N away from the counter, forcing her to look him in the face as his arms held hers, “Y/N. You were trained, yes. You did awful things, yes. But it wasn’t you. You are Y/N Rogers. The girl who loves dancing, adores sunflowers, and hates coffee.” He reminded, “You are letting yourself feel the guilt for something you had no control over. You wouldn’t have done those things if you had a choice. You need to take all that sadness, frustration, and guilt and let it go.” He urged. He knew what she was going through. He dealt with the emotions for a long time, his ghosts haunting him ruthlessly. But he had come to accept the things he couldn’t change, and work to make up for his mistakes everyday.

Y/N stared at him, allowing him to hold her arms, listening to his words. He was the only one who knew what it was like to do the things she had done without having control of yourself. She finally spoke, sadness in her eyes, “I may still love the same things, but I don’t feel like the same person.” She told him, moving away from his grasp and retreating back to her bedroom.

Bucky cleaned up the blood and the splinters of granite on the floor for her after she was gone. He was hoping she would think about his words, accepting them eventually. She couldn’t keep torturing herself and needed to come to terms with what happened to her. She needed to accept and move on into a better life like he had. He had faith she could do it.

TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @the-ayo-lit @daddysfavoritesexkitten @springsoulofengland @tcc-gizmachine @taina-eny @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

If I left out anybody on the taglist, I’m sorry. Just send me a quick reminder and I’ll add you right away (:

[the-witty-pen-name]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Loki x Reader (f) 

Valentine’s Day with the God of Mischief 

Based on suggestion by: @squadleaderchase​

A/N: Thank you so much for the suggestion! I loved writing this, it was so much fun! 

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

There is also a gender neutral version of this fic, and will be posted shortly after this one! Read it here! 

I recommend to putting on Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis towards the end just for that finishing touch! 

Summary: When Loki learns about the traditions of Valentine’s Day, he asks you to be his Valentine- and reluctantly takes advice from Steve Rogers. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none; just fluff 

“Can’t Midgardians have a holiday that doesn’t involve such a grotesque display of… red?” Loki asks walking into the living room of the Avengers compound. Loki arrived at the compound a few weeks before Christmas and so far, he’s experienced two Earth holidays: Christmas and New Year’s. Of course, Tony had picked the theme for both parties to be elaborately red and gold- he claimed the fact that it matched his suit was merely a coincidence.

“Just wait until next month,” you reply casually, your eyes not leaving the brief you were reading while you sat cozied up in one of the large armchairs. “I think you’ll like St. Patrick’s Day much more… color scheme wise at least.”

Loki looked up curiously at the hearts of all shades of red and pink Natasha had hung up to decorate the Avengers’ living quarters. She had gone to visit Clint’s family and his kids spent hours making Valentines and decorations out of construction paper and glitter. Loki looked almost puzzled at the lopsided hearts that hung from the ceiling on transparent line so they looked like they floated mid-air.

“Perhaps I might,” he mumbled to himself, the lovesick aura of his surroundings making him slightly disgusted. “Though I suppose I find your rituals as bizarre as you’d find on Asgard.”

“Mhmm,” you mumbled in response to his thinking out loud. It was rare that the compound would be this quiet. It was a Friday evening and in the middle of a team meeting earlier today, Tony declared exhaustedly that everyone needs to start the weekend early and dismissed everyone despite Steve’s protests. You weren’t sure where everyone else went and you didn’t particularly care- enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

You didn’t mind Loki’s company. He was a little aloof but overall, you found him more to be misunderstood than anything else. He wasn’t like Thor and sure, he had a very trouble ridden past to downplay it- but he’s confided in you all it wasn’t entirely his doing. Out of everyone living at the compound, he probably had grown the closest to you, or as close as Loki would allow himself to be to someone.

“What even is this holiday?” Loki asked, pulling his attention from the decorations to where you sat, binder in your lap. You looked up and closed the brief, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of where you sat.

“Sunday is Valentine’s Day,” you say looking back over to him, meeting his eyes. “I mean overtime the traditions and how we celebrate have changed but it’s originally the day meant to honor St. Valentine and commemorate his death. There’s a lot more to it than that and there’s all different of different origins, but now it’s more like a day where you celebrate love, because he was the patron Saint of Love.”

Loki nods, liking the idea of this holiday much more than New Years already. He didn’t mind Christmas, but the elaborate parties made everything not very appealing to him. You can’t blame the god for not having a good time at parties where every guest fears him or hates him. He walks over and takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs. He was intrigued enough to continue the conversation and ask you more questions. “What are the traditions?” He asks curiously.

“Traditionally, you would ask someone to be your Valentine, and that’s the person you want to spend the day with,” you answer with a small shrug, trying to explain a holiday you’ve never had to explain before. “Some people have it easy and they ask their significant other, and if you don’t have one, you ask someone you’re romantically interested in to be your Valentine. Then you give each other gifts, like chocolates or flowers, anything really that’s romantic and you go out on a date, like a nice dinner but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the basic gist.”

“Thank you, (y/n),” Loki said, mulling over your explanation. “You’ve been helpful, as always. Tell me, who’s your Valentine?”

“I don’t have one,” you answered honestly. The only time you really celebrated was when you had been with someone. You’d never really participated otherwise. You planned to just spend the night alone or with Nat if she also didn’t have plans and probably watch a movie- most definitely Pride and Prejudice.

“Shame,” Loki said with a tsk. “Perhaps, if you would be interested, you could be my Valentine?”

“Really?” you ask, honestly surprised.

“I actually like the idea of the day,” Loki shrugged. “And I don’t know many people, people seem to hate me on this planet- no idea as to why. You’ve always been kind to me, and you are the most tolerable person I’ve encountered on this planet.”

“That’s oddly very kind of you,” you say with a chuckle. “I appreciate the sentiments. Um, yes. I’d be happy to be your Valentine.”

“Excellent,” he grinned. He clapped his hands together and stood up. “Splendid. I’ll ask Thor to help me plan something.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smile, picking up your paperwork again as Loki heads off to find his brother.

***

“Brother,” Thor’s voice echoed in the training room. “Spar with me?”

“As much as I would love to,” Loki said sarcastically, “I need your help with something I need to plan.” Loki walked over to the side of the mat where Thor had been training with Captain Rogers.

“Plan what?” Captain Rogers asked curiously. It was an innocent enough question but Loki took it as Rogers insinuating his distrust in him. Of course, Loki can’t blame the man but it did rub him the wrong way.

“If you must know Captain Rogers, I’m making plans for this upcoming Valentine’s Day,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure since you have quite the active love life recently, your words of wisdom are probably of infinite value.”

“You can learn a thing or two from me,” Steve retorted as he put the punching bag beck into place. “But I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever manage without you,” Loki scoffed. He turned his attention back to his brother. “I need help to determine where I should take (y/n) and what I should get her.”

“(y/n) agreed to this?” Thor asks, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Rogers kept his mouth shut, deciding to see where this conversation will go before

“Yes, brother. I asked her to be my Valentine as stated by tradition and she said yes.”

“Ah! Good for you, brother!” Thor exclaimed, happily. “I’m glad you’re immersing yourself in the Midgard culture.”

“Yes, yes,” Loki waved him off, “Now, please, tell me what I should do.”

“I’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day,” Thor says with a shrug and a sympathetic look. “I haven’t had much opportunity to explore the culture. Every time I’m on this planet I’m a little busy preventing its destruction. Perhaps Rogers can help you?”

Loki let out an exasperated sigh. He avoided Rogers as he knew the man had such a smug look on his face. Loki refused to give him the satisfaction. However, he realized that wouldn’t be fair to you. Rogers not only knew what to do, but he was also close friends with you. He quickly realized if he wanted to celebrate with you properly, he’d need to rely on the infamous super soldier.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said with a charismatic smile, turning back to the man. “I wholeheartedly apologize for my lack of… social niceties. If you’d be willing to help me, to ensure your dear friend enjoys her holiday, I would be sincerely grateful.”

“Only because of (y/n),” Rogers says skeptically, waving a finger at Loki. “She deserves to enjoy her time and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you screw up her evening.”

“What a loyal friend.”

Years later, the Avengers would still talk about the fact Loki cared about you so much, he sought out advice from Captain America and Thor. And as Captain America said, he helped Loki with every last detail and Steve never let Loki forget it.

***

Loki had told you that he’d come to your room to get you at 6 o’clock Sunday evening. He wore clothes he had picked out, black dress pants, a white button-down shirt and shiny, black dress shoes. He had kept the last button of the shirt unbuttoned and he had rolled the sleeves up, a styling tip he had gotten from Thor. He had his long hair gelled back and tamed, ignoring Captain Roger’s horrible suggestion for a haircut. He felt very weird not wearing any green, but he took the advice he was given on his ensemble.

You were just putting on your heels when he knocked at your door Sunday promptly at 6pm. Of course, Loki would be very punctual. You gave yourself one more quick once more in the mirror in your room before heading to answer the door.

You had on a pair of dark green heels that perfectly matched your dress. You also layered over the outfit a suede brown jacket, that complimented the jewel tone of the dress and shoes nicely. You kept your appearance simple, sticking to how you usually styled your hair. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly opened the door, your jacket and bag both in hand.

“Wow,” you say with a grin, when you take in Loki’s appearance. “You look very nice.”

“You look stunning,” Loki said, his eyes widening, taking in your appearance. The compliment made you have butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with false confidence. Underneath, you were a nervous wreck as you took the arm that he extended to you.

“So,” Loki began to walk down the hallway with you. “Apparently, this planet has something called reservations, and anyone who tries to get one a few days before Valentine’s Day is a “moron,” according to a very rude young man I had the pleasure of speaking with- the first time using a phone too on top of that. So, I hope you don’t mind if the evening is a little… makeshift.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you reassure him. You feel him relax slightly. You found how hard he was trying so endearing.

Where else did he bring you but just down the hall to the living room. At night with the lights dimmed, combined with Natasha’s homemade decorations, it actually looked quite beautiful. He had decorated with an eclectic array of candles as well that covered most surfaces of the room. It also looked like he had swiped every throw pillow in the whole compound and had them arranged the coffee table in the center of the room.

“Did you do all of this?” You ask in awe.

“Yes,” he replied, just watching you. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

“I had to make my own version of advice I received,” he disclosed to you. You sat opposite each other on either side of the coffee table, you kicked off your heels and he did the same with his shoes. “Captain Rogers said- and I’m trying my best to quote verbatim, ‘You need to show a girl a good time. You gotta take her to dinner and dancing.’” He even mimicked Steve’s voice perfectly. It made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you subjected yourself to Steve for me, I’m touched,” you smiled. “I mean I love Steve,” you continue, “But I can’t imagine you too being best friends anytime soon.”

“No, I suppose we probably won’t be,” Loki chuckles.

“I hate to point it out,” you continue, “but I think you missed both the dinner part and the dancing part of that plan.” Loki smirked and when you blinked, he transformed the whole room.

“Did I?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised. You gasp, looking around the room you were now in. You knew it was an illusion, but it felt very real. The atmosphere, the breeze coming in from the large bay windows that weren’t there before. The coffee table now a table now one of many dining tables in an incredibly high-end restaurant. The table had food, and a bottle of wine. You were stunned. There was a live band and other couples in other tables and out on the dancefloor.

“Loki?” You exclaimed, looking around at your new surroundings. It was amazing. You couldn’t believe the magic right before your eyes. Of course, you knew it was just one of his tricks, but it felt so incredibly real. You picked up your fork and took a bite of the food in front of you. It was incredible, you questioned if you were even eating.

“It’s real,” Loki said, like he could read your mind. Honestly, he had only just anticipated your next question. “I made it. Well, I made it with Friday’s supervision.”

“It’s fantastic! I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just for me.”

“Sweetheart, you are very much worth it- worth much more than this,” he responded casually, throwing in the term of endearment to see how you’d react. He caught the way it made you smile.

You continued to talk for a little while, and shared stories. You were worried that compared to his life on Asgard, he’d find your stories incredibly boring and mundane. It seemed to be the opposite. His attention was only on you and he held on to every word you said. He created this elaborate setting just to keep you the center of his attention.

“Should we dance?” He asks suddenly, a glimmer in his eye. You looked down apprehensively.

“I’m not really a dancer,” you tried to insist.

“Do you actually not want to dance, darling? Because if so, I will not bring it up again,” he says earnestly, “But, if you’re saying no because you’re afraid I’m going to judge you, I honestly can promise you I would never dream of doing so.”

You give it another moment to ponder over his words. You were taken aback at how well he seemed to know how you were thinking. You let out a sigh of defeat, and smile. “I’d love to,” you reply.

He stands up and offers you his hand. His smile is enough to make you weak at the knees. You take his hand and he leads you over to the dancefloor as the band starts playing its next song. “Does that singer sound like Elvis?” You ask, the small glitch in the illusion throwing you off for only a moment.

“I don’t know who that is,” Loki says with a laugh. He pulls you in close and rests one hand on the small of your back and the other grasps your hand close. You wrap your other arm around his shoulder. You are both pressed up incredibly close to one another. You rest your head on his chest comfortably, and you can’t see how much the action makes his whole face go red. Guiding your movements together, it mostly just swaying in place. The steps were small, and with the music playing for the two of you.

“This place is incredible,” you sigh happily looking up at him. “But I think I liked the first place a little better.”

He nodded in agreement and you got to watch a green hue encompass the walls of the restaurant as they almost melted away, and everything around the two of you just fade away. The sconces on the walls, revealed themselves to be the candles that cluttered the living room and the couples evaporated with the green mist. The table you had both sat at, turned back to the coffee table but the empty plates remained. The elaborate statues that surrounded the room turned into the furniture you knew well, and then the live band faded away to reveal Steve’s record player indeed playing a 45 of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

When the room finished revealing its true appearance to you, you laid your head back on Loki’s chest and mumbled that now it was perfect. He smiled to himself, thinking about how without a doubt in his mind, Valentine’s Day is his absolute favorite holiday on Midgard. He now couldn’t believe this reality was real. If he wasn’t holding you, he’d pinch himself. You were here, with him, in his arms, dancing in the middle of the living room on this godforsaken planet.

“(y/n)?” he whispered softly as the song was coming to an end.

“Mhmm?” You responded, your eyes closed, really just basking in the feeling of being so close to him and the smell of his cologne.

“Will be mine?” He asks carefully, remembering the phrase from Captain Roger’s advice. That phrase apparently being very important if today went well and he wanted to ask you to “go steady.” You chuckled softly, hearing Steve’s influence in the phrase.

“I would love to,” you say with a shy smile looking back up to him. He beams, incredibly happy you said yes. Swept up in his emotions, he swiftly leans down and presses his lips to yours capturing them in a passionate first kiss.

“Oh gross!” You hear someone exclaim, making you both pull away. It’s Tony- who was currently holding his side in pain as Pepper elbowed him in the side.

“You really had to do that?” she chastised him, rolling her eyes and giving an apologetic look to you and Loki before pushing Tony down the hallway to give you both your moment back, as sullied as it had become thanks to Tony.

“I’m so sorry,” she said embarrassed by his outburst, ushering him out as quickly as possible.

Loki turns his head back to you, immediately after they are out of view. “Where were we, darling?” He smirks, pulling you in for another kiss.

[futurequeenofravka]

Good Enough - Sirius x Reader

Summary:

After a spat with a Slytherin girl in your year, you’ve start to doubt your relationship with Sirius Black. While you are wildly in love with him, you start to question why he chose you, a “mudblood.”

Warnings: None, I don’t think? Just a little angsty!

A/N: this is my first piece! it’s a lil test of a fic I’d like to write eventually, and it was prompted by mmfd so I decided to tweak the dialogue from the show a little to make it wizarding world esque hahah. But I hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading, this is the first time I’ve ever shared my creative writing online so please let me know what you think (also please send requests)! Also sorry if the formatting looks a lil weird, posting this from my phone made it kinda wonky.

Word count: 2.2k-ish words.

—

Pst. Psssst.

Sirius’s whisper grew louder until I looked over my shoulder to where he and James were sitting a few desks back from Lily and I. He tried to silently mouth a question as Professor Binns droned on about last night’s reading. James and Lily quietly laughed as they watched Sirius try to repeat himself a number of times before ultimately giving up. I shot him an apologetic look for my lip reading skills, or I guess lack thereof, as I watched him rip up a piece of parchment and scribble down a message. He waited for a spare moment in which Binns had his back turned to the class to write something on the chalkboard and then tossed the crumpled up piece of paper at me.

“What’s it say?” Lily asked as I unfolded the piece of parchment that Sirius had thrown my way.

“Blimey is he fucking annoying.” I said letting out a small laugh as I read the note.

“Well?” She leaned in closer trying to read the note from over my shoulder.

I slid the parchment across our shared desk so that she could read the message as well. Hi. I just wanted to say you look beautiful today. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 7? Lily sarcastically groaned as she slid the note back over to me and we pretended to go back to our class work. I turned back around to see Sirius intently waiting for my answer, I rolled my eyes at the silly gesture but smiled as I gave him a small nod to confirm our meeting later.

“You two are so sickly sweet sometimes, honestly I think I might have a toothache.” She said loud enough to provoke a laugh from James who eyed her from a few desks over.

“Beats the headache I get from watching you and Potter dodge your feelings for each other.” I retorted, quietly laughing as I tried to refocus my attention back to my textbook.

After class had ended I said bye to Lily as I made my way to the library to study for my potions exam. Sirius had already promised James that he’d come watch the Gryffindors practice for the upcoming Quidditch match so I’d have to study alone today, which I didn’t particularly mind because usually with Sirius around I hardly got any studying done. He pressed a kiss on my temple before we parted ways. When I got to the library I took a seat in the corner as usual and began to sprawl my textbooks across the table.

In the midst of studying I heard giggles from a herd of girls a few tables over. Looking over I met eyes with Ianthe, a Slytherin also in sixth year, who was sitting alongside Sirius’s cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa. Though I had never spoken more than a few words to either of them, I knew I was not favored in the Black household. If anything, they probably hated me; although Sirius would never burden me with that confirmation, I knew how his family felt about me and “my kind.”

Being muggle born was still a rarity at Hogwarts, and one that pureblood families often had strong feelings against. Lily and I became fast friends because of this. Being two of the only Muggle born students at Hogwarts made fitting in quite hard sometimes. There were often things that we didn’t understand or we lost on. We relied on Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas a lot for explanations and now as of recently on the “Marauders,” as they called themselves, as well. But it was comforting to have Lily around, to have someone who understood experiences unique to us. Someone who understood what it felt like to miss basic muggle things while away at school, like televisions or even just pens.

I rolled my eyes at the giggling girls and went back to reading the next chapter in my textbook. Several minutes passed before my studying was interrupted again, this time I looked up to see the three slender girls approaching my table, a wicked grin plastered across each of their faces as they surrounded my table.

“Can I help you?” I breathed looking up from my book.

“Yes actually. Would you mind backing off of Sirius?” Ianthe mused as she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” I asked, Bellatrix laughed at my response, a cackle echoing across the room.

“I thought dating you would just be his latest phase but it’s been almost 6 months. I expected that he’d come crawling back to me by now but you seem to be standing in my way.” Ianthe ran her fingers over my notes and shuffled my things around as she spoke.

“In your way of what? Stealing my boyfriend?”

“Precisely.” Narcissa chimed in from behind the blonde haired girl.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s kind of pathetic how you constantly follow Sirius around like a puppy dog. One day I’m sure he’ll bore of having a little pet mudblood and finally come back to his senses.” Bellatrix said, her tone was cold and cruel as she knocked over a few of my things and proceeded with a sarcastic oops.

“I mean our families have been practically planning our wedding since before we were even born.” Ianthe said trying to refocus my attention back on her.

“Shove off, the lot of you.” I said trying to ignore anymore of their remarks.

“Feisty today aren’t we, Y/N. I would’ve never expected such boldness from a filthy little mud blood.” Bellatrix said cackling again.

“Just leave me alone please.” My voice strained this time.

“You really do ruin all the fun, don’t you, Y/L/N? But before we go, I just have to ask, dear. Does our darling Padfoot still like to have his neck kissed? You know, just above that mole.” Ianthe tapped her finger to the side of her neck.

“You’re all sick.”

“Maybe but at least we don’t have dirty blood.”

My heart beat fast as I picked up my belongings from off the ground, desperately trying to get out of the library as quickly as possible. I ran through the corridors back toward Gryffindor tower, tears welling up in my eyes and slowly beginning to fall despite my best efforts to hold them back. I ran past the other students and back to my dormitory praying that it would actually be empty for once. It was not. Lily was sat on her bed reading a book when she looked up to see me tears running down my face while I tried to keep a cool demeanor. Her face cloaked in worry as she asked if I was okay, her words triggered a visceral reaction as I finally let myself break down in tears. She came over to me and brought me back to her bed and hugged me for a moment, stroking my back waiting until I was ready to speak.

After my sobs and sniffles had mostly come to a stop I recounted the entirety of what had happened in the library. Sharing the words exchanged between me and the three Slytherin girls and the doubt that now seeped into my mind. Lily fumed, her anger rising as she listened to me talk about what had happened.

“Y/N, you don’t actually believe that do you?” She asked, her face still cloaked with worry.

“I mean why shouldn’t I? She’s right, I’ve seen the way people look at us.”

“What does it matter what they think?”

“It’s not what they think, it’s the fact that they’re right. You know exactly how Sirius’ family is, I’m probably just another conquest to him. Girls like Ianthe were bred to marry boys like him, to protect their bloodlines. They’ve basically been betrothed since birth, Lily!”

“Sirius is his own person. He is not his family. You should know better than anyone that that boy lives to break rules. And I seriously doubt it but if he doesn’t appreciate how absolutely brilliant you are just because you were muggle born then he’s not worth your time.”

I knew Lily was right, it was rare that she wasn’t. But my mind still wandered to a dark place that echoed with Ianthe’s comments. She stayed with me for another hour or so before she got ready to go over to the Great Hall for dinner. I didn’t realize how long we had been sitting in the dorm. I looked over at the clock surprised to see it was almost 7. I promised Sirius I’d meet him in the astronomy tower soon. Surely I couldn’t face him after what had just happened but my heart hurt thinking about standing him up.

“You going to be alright?” Lily asked before heading out the door.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll see you later.” I reassured her.

“Alright, if you need anything just give a shout.”

I sighed as she closed the door and headed off. I looked down at my mascara stained sleeves and quickly changed into a clean shirt and wiped away the smeared makeup from beneath my eyes. Regardless of how I felt, I had to face Sirius.

I walked through the empty halls over to the Astronomy tower. Springtime at Hogwarts had an underrated charm to it. The weather was ideal, chill but not too cold. Tonight was no different, the air tonight was crisp, the wind blew gently through my hair as I made my way up the winding staircase. When I made it to the very top I saw Sirius gazing across the school grounds. His face looking intently over the beautifully crafted buildings and through the lush forests around us. I stayed silent for a minute just to admire him. The handsome playboy that I always thought I loathed but whom had somehow not only stolen my heart but had also become my best friend.

When he finally sensed my presence he turned around, my heart fluttered just looking at the kind, dopey smile wiped across his face as he held out his hand for me. When I grabbed it, he pulled me in close. My face buried into his chest as he held me for a minute. I looked behind him to see a blanket laid across the ground a small picnic set up for us.

“Remus helped me bribe the house elves into sneaking me some food so we could have dinner up here.” He excitedly motioned over to the set up.

“It looks lovely, Sirius.” I spoke softly as if my words could be broken with just a tap.

“What’s wrong? Oh Merlin, you hate it, don’t you?” He asked worriedly.

“No it’s not that, it really is lovely. I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you’re doing this for me. You’re a pureblood and I’m...I’m a mudblood.” I took a step away from him, letting go on my grasp on his hand.

“What does that have to do with anything? You know I’ve never cared about any of that.”

“You should be going out with someone like Ianthe, not someone like me. Most people when they see us must be thinking, ‘oh he must be mad going out with that.’”

“That what” he said before raising his voice to echo the question, “that what?”

“You know exactly what, Sirius. Everyone does.”

“What the fuck are you on about? What does everyone have to do with how I feel about you? You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t fancy. That’s mine and mine alone. Now are you going to stop being a git or what?”

“Stop calling me a git, you’re the git.” I said trying to shove him away but his hands grasped my wrists before I could make my move.

Before I could say another word he crashed his lips into mine. His hands now releasing his grip on my wrists and instead caressing my face. Sirius had kissed me many times before but never with such urgency, like his life depended on it. Like if he didn’t kiss me in this exact moment that he’d never get to again. My hands now pressed up against his chest pulling him in closer to me as I savored the taste of him until we were breathless.

“You’re the git.” I whispered as we pressed our foreheads together, he let out a small laugh at my comment before he spoke again.

“Those twats, they aren’t my family. You are.” His thumb caressing my cheek softly.

“Sirius, I just—“

“You are my family.” He said firmly cutting me off before I could finish my sentence.

“Okay, you say that now but I just hate the idea that you’re choosing me over them. I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret your choice and start to resent me forever. I mean they’re your family, Sirius.” I rambled as doubt still riddled my brain.

“Y/N, listen to me, I will always choose you. I choose you today, tomorrow, and I’ll choose you forever for the rest of our lives. You are the only thing in this entire world I care about.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Yes, just maybe not to James, Remus, and Peter. I think they might burst into tears.” He let out loud laugh as he responded to my question.

“I won’t lie, I’d like to see that.”

“I bet you would. Now can we please eat dinner, I paid off the house elves 10 galleons each just so that they would make your favorite!”



[firefly464]

The Gilded Cage - Chapter 9

hehe i’m very excited :) also thank you pami for doing write time with me that was super poggers and awesome you’re so cool 

Written in collaboration with @pamiiap​​ :D Thank you @tea-with-veth​ for beta reading, and editing :D

Master Post

First -  Previous - Next

~~~

Three days. That’s how long Eret stayed with the computer. Three days of nothing but staring at the same screen, desperately trying to test out different commands to see what would work. Three days of sitting in a dark, cold room, with nothing to keep him warm. 

Over the past three days, Eret had barely slept. 

He’d lingered there for hours, the clicking of the keyboard and flashing of the screen filling his senses. All he could think about was this could be his way home. A way to end this and leave it all behind. Maybe he could wake up and it would all be a dream. 

A dream.

Dream.

Dream was his friend. Dream was…

Dream was.

After hours of clawing at the keys for an escape, he hesitated for a moment. He curled his hands into fists and relaxed them, trying to release the tension he had. 

Instead of typing commands, he typed:

Why?

If anyone is reading, send me something

A sign, preferably

Tell me I’m not alone

Give me something

Anything

The shaking in his hands slowed, the edges of his vision melted away. He watched as his world faded into darkness.

~~~

“Hey, chat!” He says, on impulse. “How’s it been? Feels like forever.”

“Sorry for the long hiatus, life’s been throwing curveballs at me.” He continues.

Don’t worry!

You’re fine!

Its okay :D

“I hope you guys have been alright. Don’t know what we’ll be doing with this stream so I’m going to start a little poll in the chat here…”

Time melts away as he talks to his stream, he knows that. That’s how streams usually go. It happens in a blur, the eyes of thousands of people aren’t on him anymore. The stream has ended.

He falls into nothingness.

~~~

Journal Entry #1

I found the Console, still can’t get back home yet though. I’m still unsure on how it works, but I know, I know, that I can get home. It’s kind of like a command block, you can input code but it needs some sort of activation key to trigger it. Haven’t found that yet.

I’ll update this as I find more information.

Journal Entry #2

Text commands seem to work, more extreme commands need the trigger. I really should make some sort of command list, that might help. 

Journal Entry #3

I’ve made a list on a separate paper. I’m running out of space.

Journal Entry #6

What could the trigger be? I need to find it.

Journal Entry #8

I haven’t slept in three days. I need to head back.

Journal Entry #9

Nothing new as of the moment. I’m going to start working on a trigger to activate this thing.

Journal Entry #10

I wonder if I could undo whatever Dream did to everyone’s memories? I wonder if I could make it so that they didn’t hate me anymore. 

Journal Entry #13

I can’t sleep. 

Journal Entry #15

Going home back again. Bad’ll still have muffins, I hope. (If George didn’t eat them already)

Journal Entry #16

George ate my muffins. Prick >:(

Journal Entry #17

Packing for another trip to the Console today. Bad made extra muffins to compensate for the atrocity that happened yesterday. (Sidenote: George had his muffin privileges removed for a day)

Journal Entry #20

Bad’s worried. I wouldn’t blame him. I don’t think I can blame myself either. I have to get home.

Journal Entry #24

I’m here. Glad no-one’s tampered with my list. I’ve been gathering some redstone supplies to try and make a prototype trigger.

Journal Entry #27

I’ve tried several combinations of levers and buttons and redstone but nothing seems to activate it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

Journal Entry #28

Nothing’s working.

Journal Entry #30

Can’t sleep again.

Journal Entry #32

I don’t think I’ve eaten. 

Journal Entry #33

I have to go ho back. I need to be more careful, George and Bad are getting worried. I don’t want them to be worried about me. They don’t even know me.

Journal Entry #34

Do I even know them?

Journal Entry #37

I won’t go to the Console for a couple of days. That might calm them down.

The weather’s getting warmer actually. I think spring might be almost here. Not sure if seasons might not work the same.

Journal Entry #38

George says it’s already mid-spring. I didn’t realize I’d been here for so long

Journal Entry #???

I want to go home. 

~~~

Eret closed the small book with a sigh. Ever since he had found the console several months ago, he had tried to do his best to keep a record of what he found. 

However, the journal had quickly turned into a place for him to pour his emotions, rather than document his findings. All of his actual records were with the console itself, where he could better keep track of them. 

He placed the small book in his bag, before swinging it over his shoulders. He needed to go back. Even if everything about the small, dark room made him want to scream, it was his only hope. His only way of potentially returning home. 

Gently, he pushed back the small curtain that separated his room from the rest of the community house. Even after several months of staying here, he still hadn’t bothered to make an actual room. After all, it wasn’t like he had a ton of free time. 

Almost all of his time was spent either at the console, or digging out tunnels underneath L’manberg. God, he hated those tunnels. 

As he gently stepped out into the main room, he quickly glanced around, checking to see if the coast was clear. 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Bad or George, in fact it was quite the opposite. He just… He hated making them worry. He knew how much his frequent visits bothered both of them, and so lately he had begun trying to quietly slip away. 

He was almost at the front door of the community house, when a voice called out to him. 

“Eret?”

He froze. 

Shit. 

Maybe, if he kept walking, whoever it was would just… let him go. Maybe he could pretend like he didn’t hear them, and he could just move on with his day. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to figure out the best course of action. 

“Eret? Are you alright?” 

Fuck. 

He slowly turned around, trying his best not to grimace when he saw Bad standing at one of the other doors. 

“Hey…” The word sounded forced, even to him. “Uh, I was just… um…” 

Bad’s face fell ever so slightly as he noticed the small bag slung across Eret’s back. 

“Are you going to the forest again?” Eret tried his best to ignore the way that Bad’s voice was tinged with a slight disappointment. It would only make him feel guilty. 

“Uh, yeah…” 

“Were you just going to leave again? Without telling anyone?” Although there was no accusation in his tone, the words still cut deep, acting as a harsh reminder of his own actions. 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to dispel some of the nervous energy that was swirling around him. “I didn’t want to worry you guys anymore… I left a note upstairs though, I swear!” 

That was a lie. There was no note, there never was a note. But if claiming that there was helped to ease Bad’s worries, then that was what he was going to do. 

He could tell that Bad didn’t believe him. Although his friend would never actually call him out on it, he could still tell from the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, or the small frown that crossed his face. 

“Ok… Well, before you head out again, me and George were hoping to give you something,” Bad’s voice was filled with a forced cheerfulness, complete with a matching smile. 

Eret’s head shot up in disbelief. What on earth did they possibly have to give him? They had already done so much to help him, what more could there possibly be? 

Tendrils of guilt began to worm their way through Eret’s mind, reminding him of all the ways his friends had helped him over the past months, and all the ways he had failed to return their kindness. How was he supposed to accept yet another gift? 

“I really don’t need anything, you guys have already done enough for me,” he protested, knowing full well that nothing he could say would actually dissuade Bad. 

“Nonsense, this is something that we wanted to do for you. Hold on, I’ll go get George. Don’t go anywhere!” he cried out, already rushing out of the building. 

Eret let out a long sigh at the final sentence. Of course Bad didn’t trust him to not run off. 

Why would he?

~~~

Despite every instinct in his body that was telling him to run, Eret found himself rooted to the spot where he stood. When Bad returned nearly 10 minutes later with George behind him, he had hardly moved. 

“So… What exactly is going on?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded forced and strained. 

“Well, George and I were talking,” Bad started, already rummaging through one of the many chests that lined the walls, “and we realized that you’re going to be king soon, right?” 

Eret couldn’t help but flinch at the reminder. To him, the title of king was nothing more than a reminder of what he had lost. A reminder of the pain he had caused for his friends. A reminder of the pain that he would continue to cause. 

But still, he couldn’t let his own reluctance show. If he remembered correctly, becoming king had meant a lot to his alter-ego. Hell, he had gone so far as to betray his friends, just so that he could secure the crown. 

And so he forced a smile onto his face, doing his best to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. “I mean, yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen for a while, but… yeah that was the idea. Why?” 

Bad’s grin grew wider, his face alight with barely contained excitement as he continued searching through different chests. Even George, who rarely showed any outward excitement around Eret, had a small smile on his face. 

“You’ll see, it’s a surprise. I just gotta find it first” 

“I uh, I think it's hanging up downstairs,” George interjected, already moving towards the stairs, “I can go grab it, hold on.” 

He was gone only for a few moments before he emerged at the top of the staircase, holding something behind his back, hidden from Eret’s line of sight. “Do you wanna explain what it is?” He asked, his question clearly directed at Bad. 

Bad nodded, then turned back to Eret, pride showing in his eyes. “Well, we wanted to get you something nice for your coronation. I know it probably isn’t going to be for a while, but you’ve seemed really stressed lately, and we wanted to do something nice for you!” 

George grinned, revealing a long, extravagant coat from behind his back. “Sapnap and Punz helped out with collecting dyes as well.” 

The silk coat was a deep shade of crimson, embellished with gold accents. It felt nice to touch but it was also durable. The inside of the coat was lined with an insulating fur that pokes over the collar, making the inside of it warm. 

He glanced up at both George and Bad, his brow furrowed in slight confusion. “Wait… Wait is this… What?” 

“It’s a coat! I know it gets cold at night so we made you this. Not to mention, a king should look the part.”

Tears started to form in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he gently took the coat. “Thank you” He forced out, unsure of what else he was supposed to say. 

“Go on then,” George said. “Put it on!”

Slowly, he took off the tattered L’manburg uniform, bloodied and stained with dirt, and put on the new coat. It felt… different. But, a good different. 

“Thank you.”

~~~

Several days had passed since Eret had last left the community house. Several days since George and Bad had gifted him the red coat. 

George could tell that their friend's absence was starting to chip away at Bad, his worry festering underneath his skin. By the third day, George had had enough. 

He quickly packed two bags, complete with everything that they would need for a long journey. He might not have known where exactly their friend had gone, but they knew the general direction. That would have to be enough. 

“Hey Bad!” He called out, his friend quickly coming down the stairs of the community house. 

“Whats up?” 

“Come on, we’re gonna go look for him.” 

~~~

Neither of them had any idea what they were looking for, all they knew was that it was somewhere in the eastern dark oak forest. They had spent nearly a week searching every nook and cranny of the woods, never finding any trace of their friend. 

That is, until they stumbled across a pathway. The dirt had been worn down, leaving a trail that they could follow.

The path had led to a small clearing, with a dark building in the center. 

Both George and Bad had recognized the strange material almost instantly. Bedrock. Eret had somehow found a building made of bedrock.

What the hell. 

The area surrounding the building was devoid of any human life, the only exception being a lone horse that was sleeping in the warm sun. 

“Well, I think we found him…” Bad’s voice was filled with concern. 

As they stepped into the strange building, they saw the room completely empty except for a machine in the middle. And unconscious at the desk, was…

“Eret?!”

~~~

Master Post

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[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack.  general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~2750

part ii.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 15 March, 2020.  2:01 AM.   

He falls for you in between the tireless teasing, the laughter that sinks into his ears and replays like a highlight reel.  It happens when he leasts expects it, when he's got his face pressed into the velvet of Yeontan's fur and you're cooing over voice chat, whispering sweet nothings to the manic panic pup.  It comes in the moments he's not expecting it to, when he's frustrated and unbearable and you're as sunny as always, spilling yellow paint across the doors he tries to keep shut.  

Bit by bit, day by day, he finds himself thinking of you more. 

First, it's wondering what you're doing while he's half-asleep and on his way to the studio.  Do you look as tired as you sound?  What colour is your hair and how does it stick up when you've just rolled out of bed?  When you yawn, do you stretch like a cat?  He thinks you do, if the sounds you make are any indication.

Then it's asking himself whether you might like the same things he does, from horror movies to carnival rides.  Would you hold his hand as you made the drop, stomachs leaping into your throats?  Would you scream?  Would it sound anything like that terrified pterodactyl noise you make when you're spawn camped by a Roadhog?  He doesn't consider the fact that he doesn't even know if you're in the same city and you'll likely never meet - bound to the servers of Overwatch only.  

He thinks about all the things he'd like to do with you.  Video game nights filled with butter-tipped fingers and spilled popcorn.  Walks with your family dog - Natto - you'd told him about, all fluffy white fur and dark teddy bear eyes.  Sunrises on the rooftop of his building, because you had the worst insomnia he'd ever seen and what better way to spend your endless waking hours than with him.  

Jeon Jungkook knows he'll probably never get any of these things, but he lets himself daydream anyway. 

Like now, for instance, as the two of you sit in another queue at 2 AM.  You just woke up and you've got that tell-tale rattle in your lungs, words sluggish and lacking any real intent.  He imagines you look the way you sound - tired and a little out of it, with barely opened eyes and sleep-loosened limbs.  

"How'd you sleep?"  He asks softly, crossing his legs beneath him and raising his arms high above his head in the same instance.  The bones of his body realign, ridges of his spine clicking into place when he knots his fingers together and pulls taut.  

"You know - the usual,"  you muse, apathetic.  It's always the same.  

He doesn't question it any further.  He had once or twice, when you'd first started talking and he'd noticed the way you were always up at inhuman times.  One grumbling response had told him enough - your schedule was what it was and no amount of remedying could fix it.  

There's a beat of silence before he hears rustling and then the loud, inescapable sound of an electric toothbrush.  You don't bother to mute your microphone, not that he minds.  He simply sits quietly, scrolling through his phone as you go about your "morning" routine.  

"How was your day?"  You're settled back at your computer, he thinks.  The acoustics sound far less like that of a bathroom.  

"I had the day off, actually."  He'd used it to edit some footage and record a cover.  He hasn't posted it to Twitter yet - there were certain times he was supposed to, to maximize visibility - but he's excited for when he does.  It's a song that's been stuck in his head for weeks, all thanks to you.

"Woah - you didn't work today?"  There's genuine surprise in your question, rounded syllables that pop off your tongue in an explosion of shock.

“Right?”  He laughs a little, short and sweet.

Despite his carefully crafted facade, there were certain plot points that just stuck, intrinsically weaved into his day-to-day whether he liked it or not.

His jam packed schedule, for instance. 

To you, it’s the result of stretching himself too thin between teaching at his friend’s dance studio (where he also apparently moonlights as a personal trainer) and working as a videographer for his media-involved friends.  Not that you know any of them.  No, no.  All the work he does is for the little guys - none of those big companies like BigHit or JYP.  Jungkook’s just your average Joe behind the camera.

“What did you do all day then?”  You’re still in awe, little flecks of wonder threaded throughout like glittering gold yarn.  

“Hung out.  Did some editing.  I’m kind of behind.”  That was an understatement.  He’s working on footage from six months ago, trying to get it out before they head on tour and he won’t have the kind of time he has now.  

“Probably spending too much time gaming.”  

“Yeah, probably.”  Not that he minds, or that he’d change it.  He savours the time you spend together, even if it has kind of messed up his sleep schedule.  

“Sorry not sorry,”  you quip, seemingly reading his mind.  

“You should be,”  he retorts with laughter that builds in his stomach and echoes out of his chest.  “I don’t think I’ve had a good night's sleep in weeks.”

If you hadn’t had this conversation a handful of times before, he thinks you might be offended.  Instead, he can practically hear you roll your eyes - imagines your optic nerve nearly severs with the intensity of it - and grins.

“Don’t kid yourself - you know I’m the best thing about your nights!”

You’re not wrong.  “You’ve been lied to.”

“I’m suing!”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer.”

“Wait, what?” 

The two of you have done what you always do - talked yourself into a tizzy that has you both laughing, sound crackling across the airwaves.  It’s nonsensical and silly but it feels good.  Your bond shines with it, glitters prettily between you.

Thank god for Overwatch.

You return the conversation to a semblance of normalcy first.  “Did you listen to that song I sent?”

“Yeah.”  The briefest pause.  “It was terrible.  Hated it.”

“Oh, shut up!” 

“I’m kidding.  It was really good.”  Jungkook doesn’t tell you that he’s had it on repeat for the past few days, saved to the private playlist that’s filled with the rest of your song recommendations.  

“I know!”  You’re preening as if he’d just complimented you, clearly pleased by the praise.  He supposes it’s a pretty good endorsement regardless. 

“Got any more for me?” 

“I should just make you a playlist.”

He ignores the way his heart skips a very real beat, mimics the erratic rhythm of his fingers on his keyboard.  Because he’d absolutely love that.

“You should.”

“Really?”  You sound uncertain but maybe - just maybe - a little hopeful.  He might also just be imagining things, as he so often does with you. 

“Yeah.  Why not?”  It comes nonchalantly despite the rushing in his ears, the wave that threatens to drown him.  He can feel emotion in his chest - winged and distracting.  A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering away. 

You’re quiet for another second.  It feels like an eon.  “Okay, yeah.  I’ll start one and we can just add to it together.”

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT’S GYM Thursday, 26 March, 2020.  6:30 PM.   

“You sound like a meathead,”  you say, off-hand and disinterested.  

He loathes the grunt that squeaks past his teeth as he gently returns the dumbbells to the floor. Cue a generous chug of water and a near death experience when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe. 

Loud coughing crackles through his airpods before he’s addressing you.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re grunting like a caveman.”

If your first comment hadn’t offended him, this one does.  Jungkook scoffs, tonguing the interior of his cheek as his brow furrows.  Weights are returned to his hands, rotated above each shoulder as he resumes another set of presses. 

“Do you even workout anything other than your fingers?”  He’s making a conscious effort not to make a sound, breath exhaled sharply through his nose.  It’s harder than he cares to admit but he’s also not about to give you an excuse to tease him further.  You already had way too much material.

“Don’t shame me!”  You really don’t sound that indignant.

“So, I’m right?  You’re a big couch potato who’s just jealous of my hot body?”

Now you’re incredulous.  It’s one of his favourite sounds because it comes draped in laughter, dancing around his head in the form of cartoon hearts. 

“Did you just say ‘hot body’, Jay?”

“Maybe I did.  What of it?”  He sniffs - he’s picked it up from you over the months - and your amusement doubles, giggles crashing into each other in their haste.  

“You are so, so weird.”  There’s a tenderness in your voice that he’d like to live in.  It wraps him up like a hug, tugging at his feeble little heartstrings. 

“Weird and hot.”

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?”  If anything, you’re the one person he can say it to.  With you, it’s the funniest joke he’s ever made.  It’s playful and silly, with no rhyme or reason.  He doesn’t have to worry about it being misconstrued or held against him. 

“You just can’t!  Only other people can say it.”  You sigh dramatically, from your chest.  “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Everything but being healthy, probably.” 

“Har har har.”  

He can tell by how the words roll off your tongue, muffled and lacking clarity, that you’re eating.  He wonders if you’ve made pancakes - you’d been complaining about craving them just two days ago.  There are no tell-tale crunching or slurping, so he knows it isn’t your usual double whammy combo of ramyeon and Choco Boys.  

“I’ll have you know I used to run.”  Something about the way you say it makes him believe you, even though he wants to mock you a little more.  

“In gym class doesn’t count.”

“I used to run with Natto, you ass!”  Okay - so that actually sounded legitimate.

“Why don’t you still then?”

“There was an incident once.”  You’re sipping on something - likely coffee with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut syrup.  It doesn’t matter that it’s dinner time and most people would be winding down for the evening.  “Because of my insomnia, I’d run at odd hours.  One day, some weirdo stopped me while I was running along the river.  He didn’t hurt me or anything—”  A part of him thinks you’re downplaying it but he says nothing, only waiting for you to continue.  “—but he followed me home.  I made the mistake of telling my parents and they freaked out so…” 

“So no more running by yourself.” 

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’d run with you.”  It doesn’t mean much, but it’s the thought that counts.  

“Thanks, Jay.”  

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear his name - his real name.  Just once.

“JUNGKOOOOOOOOOOK.”  It eats up every ounce of space of the gym, filling the room with the resounding boom of it.  How it manages to be so loud, he’s not sure.  He wishes it weren’t.  There’s no way you haven’t heard it.  

Especially not when it comes again, deafening even to his occupied ears. 

“JUNGKOOOOK-AH!”  Namjoon now, right as the double doors fly open.

Jimin’s barreling toward the alarmed maknae as he shouts.  “WE’RE DOING A VLIVE!”

Jungkook feels like his insides are melting  - his internal temperature spiking with embarrassment and worry and something that chants oh no! over and over in his head.  The tops of his ears are burning, as is the column of his throat.  A quick glance in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he is, indeed, bright tomato red.

“Jay?”  You repeat once, twice, when he doesn’t immediately answer.  “Everything okay?”

He moves with a speed he doesn’t expect, weights unceremoniously dropped on either side of him before he’s tearing his AirPods out.  “I’ve got to go. Sorry!”

He doesn’t end the Discord call a moment too soon, Jimin upon him in the next instant.  The smaller dancer is draping himself across Jungkook’s shoulders, the widest shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

“Want to join us for a VLive?”  

“No.  I’m busy.”  

“Busy with your girlfriend?”  Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.  He only stops when Jungkook shifts aggressively, tearing himself out from underneath the other.  

“Not my girlfriend!”  

“But you wish she was!”  

He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t bother, instead seizing his discarded weights with an embarrassed scowl permanently etched into the planes of his face.  He’s reracking them - because god, he’s not an animal - when he notices Jimin making his departure, that teasing smile replaced with something soft and edging on concern.

“What’re you going to do when we’re on tour?”

Jungkook blanches then.  You’d become such an undeniable part of his everyday life that he hadn’t even considered what it’d mean when he was busier than now, unable to spend late nights gaming with you. 

But Jimn’s already gone, leaving him and his thoughts alone.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Friday, 27 March, 2020.  12:05 AM. 

It’s close to midnight by the team he logs on.  Realistically, he should go to sleep.  He’s clean and worn out and his bed is calling to him like a siren at sea.  But you’re sitting alone in the channel, streaming Overwatch for no one to see, and he can’t just leave it at that.

He needs to say goodnight, like he always does. 

“Coming for my title as Headshot God?”   The quip’s off his tongue before you have a chance to acknowledge him, your laughter the first thing he hears once he’s connected.

“I’ve been waiting in this queue for seven minutes.  Seven!”  

It’s really not that bad.  The rare times you’d both queue for DPS were nearly double that.  

“Patience is key,”  he teases, slumping into his chair as he watches you click through your Hero Gallery.  You’re cruising seemingly aimlessly, roving through the different skins for your mains (Mercy, Ana, Genji, Ashe).  The silence between you is comfortable, interspersed only by the occasional munching he can only assume comes from the carrots you seem to inhale.

For all the junk you ate, you were somehow also weirdly into vegetables.  

“Patience sucks,”  you retort, matter-of-fact. 

“You know what else sucks?”  

It’s a rhetorical question and he knows you know, but because you’re you, you start listing things off just to get under his skin.  “Spiders?  Undercooked samgyupsal?  Not having coffee?  Your jokes?”

If he weren’t laughing so hard, he might’ve given you shit for making fun of his comedic genius.  He really doesn’t understand how you think he’s the unfunny one when all you do is crack puns.  

“I was actually going to say me,”  he finally manages in between those high pitched cackles of his.  

“Wait, why?”  You’re used to him having witty comebacks.

Edge of enamel worries his bottom lip and Jungkook can taste cherry Chapstick and what would be bashfulness, if it had a flavour.  “For earlier.”

You scoff, your own tinkling laughter tearing him out from inside his own head.

“It’s okay, goofball.”

He appreciates how laidback you are, never holding anything against him.  Not even when he hangs up on you or accidentally spams you with memes when you’re trying (and failing) to sleep.  “No.  I’m sorry.”  He says it earnestly, with all the meaning he can muster.  

MATCH FOUND flickers across his and your screen and you’re loading into hero selection.  He knows you’ll be too distracted once the game starts, so he’s grateful when you laugh again, sweet as summer.  

“Nothing to be sorry about.  Just tell me everything’s okay and we’re even.”  

Inhale, exhale.  Try not to tell her you have the biggest, stupidest crush on her,  he tells himself. 

“Everything’s okay.”  And he means it when he says it, though they aren’t the words he wishes he could say.  

“Good.”  

You’ve chosen Genji,  He smiles to himself when you join voice chat and the rest follow, greetings filtering in from your team members.  

“Good luck.”  You don’t need it.  He still likes to say it.

“You have an early day tomorrow, right?”  Leave it to you to remember his schedule even when he doesn’t.  

“Yeah, pretty early.”  

“Then go to bed!  I’ll still be awake when you’re up.”  

He lingers on that fact - holds it tightly in his hands so it can’t slip away.  You’d be there in the morning, just like you always were.  Knowing that stirs those same butterflies in his chest, words stolen by the overzealous beating of their wings.

You read his silence like they’re your own thoughts,  “I’m always here for you, Jay.”  

“Goodnight.”

"Sleep sweet."

notes.  this chapter is set four-ish months following the first, in case that’s not clear.  :) 

tag list.  @teawithbucky​ 

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married. 

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?” 

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.” 

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?” 

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God. 

--

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her. 

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?” 

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination. 

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly. 

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove. 

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop. 

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast. 

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long  — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded. 

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life. 

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure. 

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel. 

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung. 

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.” 

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good. 

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face. 

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.” 

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly. 

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity. 

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.” 

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off.  We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?” 

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within. 

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

 ---

 Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week. 

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously. 

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text. 

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change. 

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone. 

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan. 

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering. 

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now. 

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else. 

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January. 

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong? 

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe. 

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?” 

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud. 

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him. 

August 17 (tues 

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.  

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice. 

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor. 

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.” 

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.” 

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all. 

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.” 

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed. 

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?” 

Pierre patted his jacket pocket.  “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor. 

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

[bookjockey]

I’ve been going back and forth on posting this, but I know most people won’t read it, so it’s okay to just scream into the void because I don’t know where else to get it out. Does anyone still. use read more options? I feel like I never see them. But the option is there. So I’ll use it.

On Friday, I found out that one of my many(!) maskless coworkers is positive for COVID. I’m not considered a “direct contact” because I was never within 6 feet of them, but those guidelines are so outdated -- even though they’re still used. Plus, Omicron is a beast. An absolute beast. And I was in the same room with them multiple times while they had their mask off. I don’t always get to choose my interactions nor limit them, and I’ve been thinking this whole past week it was a race for my stronger masks to come in and someone having it at work. I even had to go back and rush order a second batch because the first was taking forever. Also, person was infected once before and triple vaxxed. 

Despite what health experts have been saying and continue to say, some people still don’t mask up if they don’t have to, think they can’t pass it on because they are vaxxed, and also think that masks protect the WEARER. I have been told multiple times at work that if I didn’t feel safe in a situation, “just wear your mask.” 

I don’t feel sick, and I’m going to take an at-home test Sunday evening as a precaution. I’m waiting to increase any chances of the viral load showing up. Problems on top of this is how I have symptoms on a daily or weekly basis already (allergies, asthma, sinus, GERD, etc.), and it’s so hard to figure out if it’s new or not. Because I also have certain conditions, like asthma, that feel so much worse than they are and so many random things that pop up that no one can explain that I just ignore most weird things that crop up and live with them. 

I have not mentally been okay today nor the day before. I haven’t for a while, and I know that applies to most people. I knew work always put me at risk, since the beginning, and I’ve done everything possible to limit that to my only potential place of exposure. I’m also triple vaxxed.  I live alone, and I feel like that also put me in a position to be even more careful because I didn’t *have* to be around anybody else. Sometimes, it’s fine. But after almost 2 years and experiences that included being in a hotel room in a town with no one I knew for a month thinking about a natural disaster wiping out parts of my town, it’s tough. After 2 years of making excuses and skipping on family gatherings, it’s tough. My family isn’t/hasn’t been careful. Thankfully no outbreaks from those gatherings, though the chances were always high. I’m relieved for them but it’s hard not to feel like I cheated myself sometimes because what if that was the last holiday they get? (Thanks to my mom’s dying young, and the fact that she and my dad always talked about dying since I was kid, I think about that kind of stuff A LOT.) So guilt city. 

And I’ve been worried that beyond possible complications that I won’t even be able to spot with everything else I have, I don’t know that I can mentally (as in emotionally) come back from this -- in general but especially if I get it. I have avoided socializing. Paid all the extra fees (and gave good tips) for contactless delivery of groceries, food, etc. Put off certain doctor appointments. There are some littles in my life that probably don’t even remember me because I haven’t seen or hugged them in 2 years. After holidays at home, alone, crying. After crying so many times because I just wanted a hug even though I usually hate them, and I had to go over a year without one. It’s hard not to feel angry and frustrated and scared and depressed and like everything is pointless.

If for some reason you did read this, I promise I don’t need anything. It’s going to be what it’s going to be.

[king-finnigan]

Tips for Studying During a Pandemic but I’m Depressed

I’ve been seeing a few ‘Studying During a Pandemic’ posts, and while I appreciate the advice they give, it’s usually just not doable for me, so I figured, hey, why not make my own list of half-measures for people with depression, like me? So here’s my list of little things that have made it all a little less terrible the past few months.

(Feel free to add your own. I’m just one person, and things that worked for me might not work for you.)

(Also, some of these aren’t even about studying directly, but they do benefit it inderectly.)(Also also, this post was getting a bit long, so more under the cut.)

Go to the toilet: This might seem obvious, but I know for a fact that I tend to just... ignore my urge to pee when I’m having a particularly bad day, but really, just go. It’ll make you feel a lot better. And if you tend to just not feel it, make sure to check in with your body every once in a while.

Get out of bed before noon: I’ve seen a few lists that urge you to maintain a 9-5 workday, but, hell, even on a good day I only manage to drag myself out of bed at 9. Just get out before noon, you’ll feel a lot more accomplished if you get out at 11:45 than if you get out at 12:15. 

Change your underwear, and, if you can, the rest of your clothes: Even if it’s just changing from your Casual Sweats to your A Little Less Casual Sweats, it’ll feel a lot better. And if you wear socks, change those, too. It’ll make you feel a lot cleaner, and it’ll reset your mind, making it easier to transition from Bed Time to Not In Bed Time.

Set a soft start: Pick an hour at which you aim to start studying, and pick it so that it’s about an hour or so after the point at which you start feeling productive. That sounds complicated, but, for example, I usually start feeling productive between 11 or 12. My soft start is set at 1. On good days, when I do start working at 11 or 12, I will feel accomplished for starting before my soft start point, on bad days, I will aim to start at 1, but if I can’t, I won’t beat myself up over it. It is, after all, a soft start. It’s just an anchor to keep you from floating around the day, no strings attached. Your soft start can be set at 3, 4, even 5, it doesn’t matter, it’s just here to give you some sense of structure.

Set a hard stop: Pick an hour at which you will stop studying, and set it around the time you usually stop feeling productive altogether. Mine is at 6. When you reach your hard stop, just drop everything and go relax. Unless, of course, you’re feeling productive still, in which case, you have to move your hard stop, because you should set it at the point where you’re no longer feeling productive so that you don’t try to push yourself past your abilities or limits. If it’s time to stop, it’s time to stop. 

You do not need to study from your soft start to your hard stop: I know I don’t. They’re just anchor points, to give some structure to your day. I know for a fact that I have trouble to separate Study Time from Not Study Time, that’s what these points are for, especially the hard stop. Do not set the goals to push yourself past your limits, these goals are supposed to adapt to you, not the other way around. Unless it’s what you really want, and you feel confident you won’t harm your mental health in order to reach them, in which case, knock yourself out (but safely).

Every hour, check in with your body: Does your head hurt? Do you need to pee? Are you hungry? If there’s anything wrong, take care of that first. Your health - both mental and physical - is your nr. 1 priority, not studying. If you feel like you need to take a break, then take one, if you don’t, then don’t. 

Eat something: Anything. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t have to be healthy, if you can’t bring yourself to do that. Just eat something. If you can bring yourself to eat fruit and veggies, good for you, but I can’t on my worst days, and if you can’t either, you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. 

Okay, but maybe one or two apples a week would be good: Just any piece of fruit, really. Once or twice a week. If you eat fruit more often than that, hey, good for you, I’m proud of you, buddy. If you can’t, just once or twice a week is great and I’m still very proud of you.

Drink something: Again, anything. If it’s soda? Not the greatest, but hell, it’s better than nothing. Tea or coffee is good, too. Fruit juice helps you get some vitamins if you can’t eat the fruit. And if you drink water? That’s fucking amazing, good for you. I know I can’t. (Yet)

Open a window: Oxygen is good for your brain. I don’t really give a fuck about that when I open my window, though - what I give a fuck about is that it makes me feel hella productive. 

Just do whatever makes you feel productive: That feeling already does a lot more for you than things that are productive but don’t make you feel as such. And, in my experience, if I feel productive, I will be more likely to actually also do productive shit.

Pick your battles: If you feel like you can’t handle all of the shit that’s being thrown at you (I know I can’t), then don’t. Pick one or two things that you’re sure you can handle when you focus on them, and focus on them. If you’ve got assignments for other classes you can’t miss, then do the bare minimum to pass them. (Please do note that I have a chance to redo any exams I’m skipping in the summer. Take this advice with a grain of salt if you can’t.)

Find a way to reward yourself: If it’s with food or episodes of your favourite show, it doesn’t matter. Find a way to proportionally reward yourself - so when you’ve done a lot, you get a lot of the reward, if not, just a little. I reward myself by making paper stars. I just enjoy making them and I can put them in a little jar and admire how much work I’ve done in total over the past few weeks. 

Only reward yourself after your hard stop: I know if I don’t do that, I’ll get too caught up in the reward to be productive. Also it just feels nicer to get a lot of it all at once at the end of the day.

Don’t beat yourself up at the end of the day: The hard stop is also a reset for your mentality. It’s the end of the day, what is done is done, there’s nothing you can do about it. We all have our good days and we all have our bad days. Don’t beat yourself up over the bad ones, give yourself a pat on your shoulder for the good ones. Which days are bad and which ones are good is not in your control, no matter how much you feel like it is. All there’s left to do is recharge so that you can try again tomorrow.

Relax. Actually relax: Whether you’re just going to bed again, or watching your favourite show, or playing a video game, it doesn’t matter. Just forget about school work. Fuck that shit. It’s You Time now, no matter how much you feel like you don’t deserve it - and for that matter, fuck that little voice inside your head telling you you’re not worthy, too. You are.

It could be worse: This sounds wrong, but hear me out. If you are beating yourself up over the things you couldn’t do today, then list the things you did do. For example: “Sure, I didn’t study, but I got out of bed, I ate an apple, and I checked my mails! It could be worse!” If you can’t find anything, then remind yourself that you tried, so, again, it could be worse.

You tried: That also sounds really condescending, but listen. Whenever you feel like you haven’t done enough or you failed, take a moment to tell yourself that you tried. There’s a lot of things dragging you down right now: the pandemic, the absolute fucking state of the world, your depression, what-fucking-ever. Things aren’t easy, and yet, you still tried. Hell, if you’ve even read my bs up to this point, it means you’re trying. And I know your mind is telling you it’s not good enough, but it is, because the best thing we can do is try. You tried, and that’s worth a hell of a lot more than your mind is trying to convince you it is.

Also check your mails.

[satsuki2406]

Dear Aomi Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

"I've seen you in a dream before, you are the warm and bright presence that embraced me on Cape Kamui a long time ago on a June afternoon."

Shinohara (Y/N) is a normal girl who had everything she could ask for, a loving family, a beautiful home, friends, and a fluffy cat. For a long time, she gave her life and happiness for granted, never imagining that she'll face one of the worst and crueler facades of society so closely, destroying what once was a happy, harmonious and normal family. One day, in hopes to recover what they lost, the Shinohara family took one of the more difficult decisions of their lives; leave behind their home back in Hokkaido and travel hundreds of miles south until Musutafu, the place that could grant them a solution and help close the yet fresh wound and scare away the ghosts of the past. Hardheaded, passionate, and ambitious (Y/N) is forced to confront the incarnated face of the superhuman society that she hated the most; Bakugou Katsuki.

PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Dark Themes, My poor attempt of humor, Strong language (Courtesy of King Lord Explosion Murder God *********💥), Manga Spoilers.

STATUS: On going

Chapter 1: School is a Great Place to Make Enemies

Chapter 2: My Stupid Classmate, The Angry Dandelion

Chapter 3: In Conclusion, This Day Was...

Chapter 4: Welcome to the Neighborhood 

Masterlist \(￣︶￣*\))

✒A/N:

OH-EM-GEE-

It's really been a while since I updated this story, I really thought it was a couple of months ago, I’ve been very busy lately and just kept pushing writing for later, and later transformed into 8 months! I had to admit that I also had a huge block with this story, but recently I got a lot of inspiration and energy, chapter 6 is almost ready but editing needs to be done after all. Hopefully this would be a good one! There’s more details coming in future chapters and also new characters! I got a thing for OCs recently, I feel they add more personality to the story!

Enjoy!

o(*°▽°*)o

5: Aldera Chronicles

‘Just a good day’ That was what you prayed, asked for last night, and what you tried to repeat to yourself to keep calm and serene while you looked desperately for your earphones. As soon as you did, you connected them to your phone and searched for the loudest song you kept in your collection.

“Oi! I’m talking to you dumbface!”  

The loudest one of all.

After the whole ‘neighbors fiasco’ you got stuck with Bakugou on your way to school, both of your mothers insisted that you should go to school together at least today, so you could ‘amend your differences and get closer’ you almost gag at the suggestion, but your mom looked so ecstatic about the idea of you making new friends, after all she hasn’t looked that excited in a while, so you could not find yourself saying no to her.

Although you ‘accepted’, that didn’t mean that you will stay with him all the way to school, right now you were still in their field of vision, so if you left him behind, they will notice. You were just waiting for the perfect moment, as soon as you made it to the end of the street and turned to the left, you will take that as a cue to hop on your bike and leave him behind eating your dust.

“What a shity morning, stuck with this idiot. That friking hag threaten me to change the wifi password if I didn’t come and to top it off, she had the fucking nerve to take my phone, fan-fucking-tastic…” Bakugou was right in front of you grumbling angrily and throwing profanities left and right. His anger was more than evident; he was more hunched over than normal; his hands were way deeper in his pockets to the point you thought he could rip them open and his feet were stomping on the ground with such intensity that you could almost feel it vibrate under your own.

Despite the fact that you could not see his face, you could bet your (F/C) post-its that there was an extra deep scowl and curled pouty lips ‘decorating’ his face right now. You tried to distract yourself with your phone and avoid Bakugou as much as possible, it was bad enough to spend more time with him than you already did in school, not to mention that unwanted encounters may become commonplace being next-door neighbors.

You sighted dejected at the thought, you really were kind of excited about moving to a new city, Musutafu was way bigger than Sapporo was, with bigger malls, parks, shops, restaurants and more fun things to do. But sadly for you, Bakugou manage to crush your hopes and expectations as soon as he opened his mouth, hell, even by existing actually.

Your attention was snaped back to reality when the sound of cars passing by and other students came to you. You got on your bike again, getting in front of Bakugou so you could reach the avenue faster, “Oi! Don’t go in ahead of me dumbshit!” You ignored him as he yelled at you, his words more and more inaudible as you got farther.

After a few minutes you had lost him completely, he probably went the opposite direction to the bus stop or the train station, Aldera was close, but not enough to go walking, you did it there in twenty five minutes with your bike if you took your time, fifteen if you were in a rush, you made sure to verify how long it would take you to get there the days prior that you had to actually go back to school.

You decided to relax and enjoy the view of the city and listen to your favorite songs like the day before. Luckily the Tatooine Station was open, safe and working at its fullest.

“Not a single villain in sight, phew, how good that they managed to clear the area otherwise I would have had to…” Suddenly memories of your crossing trough Dump Beach™ came to you, that was an experience you were so willing to don’t repeat ever again. “I wonder who else from my school had to make a detour like me yesterday, or if someone was involved in the incident… those ladies said it was a middle schooler, but it’s quite ambiguous data to make any conclusive statements, there are hundreds of middle schools in Musutafu and the commercial district is in the center, so it could be anyone.”

You stopped in front of a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. ‘I’ll ask Midoriya if he knows something else, he probably passed by or something’. You had to admit that you were kind of excited about the idea of befriending the green head, even with his nervous, anxious, jumpy and shy personality he gave you a kind and sweet vibe. His insecurity gave away his true nature; his clumsiness, the nervousness, overanalyze everything, the mutter, for some they could be annoying but you found it rather and oddly fascinating, it made him feel real, genuine and honest.

‘He’s almost like…’

The chirping sound of the traffic light snapped you out of your rampant thoughts announcing that the light had finally turned green. You started off with your bike along the rest of the pedestrians and continued on your way to the school.

The rest of the way to Aldera passed without any hitch, you left your bike locked and took your stuff to walk to the shoe lockers like yesterday, just a few feet ahead you distinguish a very familiar mop of green curly hair. He seemed slightly hunched and deep in thought, probably way too deep in thought to the point that you could see a colorful smeared aura surrounding him and the word mutter coming out of his mouth. And you were not the only one, as you could see the people around walking away, with slightly perturbed expression on their faces. You just took it as a cue to let your presence being known.

“Good morning Midoriya!” You hopped by his side and greeted him enthusiastically. The poor thing almost had a heart attack and jumped out of his own skin as you just scared the shit out of him. He released a muffled scream and seem to calm down a tiny bit to immediately turn the shade of a tomato and babble a greeting.

“G-G-G-G-G-Good mo-morning Shinohara-san! You-You-You caught me by su-surprise.” He squeaked as he covered his face with his arms and his eyes moved erratically to look everywhere but you.

“Did I scare you? I’m sorry! I guess I let myself go a little bit.” You trailed, resting a palm against your nape.

“Oh nonono! Please don’t apologize! Y-Y-You were been courteous after all. He whispered breathlessly at the end fidgeting his fingers nervously. “I…nobody ever greets me or says good morning, I didn't expect it and that's why I got a little nervous. T-That’s all, so don’t worry.” His little confession shocked you for a moment, it was really depressing to be honest but it motivated you at the same time.

You beamed confidently at him, “Well Midoriya, I recommend that you get used to it then, because I intend to greet and say goodbye to you every day without fail from now on.”

He looked up at you with a surprised and somewhat puzzled expression, his fingers started to twitch nervously, his countenance became even redder if that was even possible.

“B-B-B-B-B-But Shi-Shinohara-san-!”

“Shush, shush, shush! I am not going to put it up for discussion this is how it’ll be from now on and it's over.” You placed your hands on your hips, a slight scowl adorning your face to accentuate your mock annoyance. “Besides, who will run away from Bakugou with me after I tell him how much of an asshole he is for the umpteenth time in a row?”

You relaxed your demeanor again, offering him a goofy smile, so he could notice that you weren't even mad to begin with. The poor greenette thought for a smidgen that he made you angry and that worried him profusely. But one glance at you told him that you were being sincere, he was scared that you could be trying to play a prank just to make fun of him as it has already happened to him so many times. that alien feeling of relief and tranquility invaded his chest, apparently the chance encounter he had with his childhood hero had been a good omen and brought him more good things that he could imagine.

His eyes teared up with hope and a squiggly smile adorned his face, he dried his tears with his gakuran sleeve and clenched his fists excitedly.

“So, what do you think?” you asked eagerly.

“I look forward for it!”

.

.

“Did you see what happened yesterday at the commercial district? It seemed pretty rough” You commented to Midoriya absentmindedly while you took your uwabaki from your locker. He visibly flinched as he heard your question almost dropping his shoes in the process.

“Ye-Yeah, they said that the pro heroes could hardly put up a fight because of the villain’s quirk.”

“Right? Hopefully All Might was nearby, otherwise who knows what would have happen. I wonder if the hostage is ok, I didn’t watch the news last night so I’m not pretty sure what exactly happened. Do you know how it was?

He flinched again and turned his head to you rigidly as you raised an eyebrow at his sudden odd behavior.

“I do-don’t know a lot but I read that everything was ok afterwards, the hostage walked out with just a couple of scratches, so there’s nothing to be concerned about Shinohara-san, it’s pretty nice of you to worry so much, especially since the hostage…” Midoriya looked down and tapped his trembling indexes together; he wanted to tell you something, but didn’t know how.

“Come on Midoriya, you already told me the hostage is ok, what can be so bad that you are hesitant to tell me?” You inquired him softly.

“Is nothing bad per se, well, you’ll see the hostage…” He paused and looked in all directions to check if anybody was listening. Ok, weird. He got a little closer to you and cupped his mouth with his left hand.

“The pe-person captured yesterday was-”

Your little hush-hush conversation was interrupted when the metallic sound of a locker being abruptly opened echoed in the sudden silent space. Your ears located the unexpected noise behind you and instinctively you turned to see what had caused such a ruckus.

A couple of lockers from you, a really angry and really frustrated Bakugou appeared right in front of your eyes. You observed how out of the blue everything and everybody seemed to freeze in time, and all eyes were on him. The atmosphere turned tense, every person there watched attentively his every movement, talking with just a glance, some people were whispering among themselves no even taking their eyes off him.

‘What the hell is happening?’

He took his uwabaki and slammed them on the floor, removed his shoes and buried them unceremoniously in the locker, slamming the door shut. He grumbled, trying fruitlessly to put his uwabaki, cursing that he couldn't put them on as smoothly as he would’ve liked. He suddenly stopped his movements, acknowledging the unwanted attention he was receiving.

“The hell are you looking at you fucking losers?! Why don’t you mind your own damn business, huh?!”

His voice echoed with fury at the school entrance, despite their obvious fear, nobody moved an inch, all the eyes glued on him. He finished to put on his shoes and stomped further inside. At the corner of his eye he noticed your presence and immediately stared at you, he seemed even more infuriated than before, this clearly soured his mood even further, if that was even possible.

You returned it with one of your own, as intense or more as his, the attention seemed to turn your way as your little staring contest became longer, Midoriya nervously looked between you and him, probably waiting for another showdown to break out, just like yesterday. Everybody’s breath hitched by the minute, but you didn’t back down, your (E/C) eyes met the fiery inferno of his crimson ones, after a couple more seconds he just tsked and stomped away with his hands buried way deep in his pockets.

After he left, the clock started ticking again, everyone took a breath of relief, averted their eyes from his retracting back and continued their lives like always. Midoriya’s shoulders relaxed significantly at the time that his soul slowly returned to his body. When you noticed him more calmed and focused, decided to address the elephant in the room.

“What. The. Heck. Just. Happened?” You whispered bewildered. “Who peed on his cereal? If this is something usual here, I’ll be more than glad to take my bike and go all the way back to Sapporo.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared irritated at his retracting back.

“Well, now that Captain McTantrum™ left, what was that you wanted to tell me about yesterday’s incident?” You asked relaxing your demeanor to something more gentle and friendly. Midoriya flinched slightly and his poise appear suddenly uneasy.

“Um, well, the person-the-the person th-th-that got trapped by the mud villain, tha-tha-that person…” Midoriya tried over and over but it was useless, he couldn’t complete a single sentence without stumbling over his own words. Noticing that using his words would be useless, he looked at you in the eyes to then wander his gaze, pointing to something behind him. You started at him completely lost while he kept repeating the same cycle of looking at you and then looking away, urging you to get what he was trying to say, not moving his head once, like he was unsure to look back.

You exanimated what was at his back; just a couple of students walking to their respective classrooms, friends greeting each other, and Bakugou turning to the right at the end of the corridor to go upstairs-

‘Wait, Bakugou?’

Then it hit you, the awkward silence when he arrived, the unwanted starring, the murmuring, his more than usual foul mood, the outburst, Midoriya’s reluctance to tell you, he probably though he would get into trouble with him if it reached his ears that stupid Deku was talking shit of him to thief bitch. Everything made sense now. You broke out of your trance and looked at Midoriya “Was Bakugou?-” He eagerly nodded his head, satisfied that you finally understood him.

“Oh, I see…”

“Y-Yes…”

“…”

“…”

“HOLLY SHIT-”

.

.

With the issue clarified and only five minutes left before the class started you two proceeded to go upstairs as well. Midoriya and you made small talk with some intervals of comfortable silence here and there, soon enough you both reached your classroom, people chatting lively when you opened the door. Midoriya walked in just behind you as you made it to your designated seats.

‘If I’m not wrong, Math is our first class of the day’ your mind wandered to other school related topics while you seated at your desk, just as you did the bell ringed and your teacher entered the classroom and started his lesson of the day.

.

.

Midday finally came, which mean it was finally lunch time, you invited Midoriya beforehand to eat with you, he timidly accepted, after a lot of nervous quacking but you could tell he seem excited about the idea. As soon as the bell that announced the so waited lunch break ringed, you proceeded to pack your books and stationery into your bag and take out your bento when your desk was crowded by what it looked like to be all the girls in your class. One of them, a girl with short brown hair and blue eyes was the first to approach you.

“Hey Shinohara! Do you want to have lunch with us? We didn’t actually have the chance to talk yesterday and we thought it would be nice to know you better.” She spoke.

“Yuki-chan is right! Is refreshing to have another girl in the class after almost three years since we are very few, with you we are eight now!” Said another one of them visibly thrilled.

“You looked so cool yesterday when you confronted Bakugou!”

“I think nobody has managed to do that and live after it, or actually do it”

“Right?!”

“So awesome!”

They gave you a really kind and chill vibe, chatting and praising you animatedly. Although they seemed to really enjoy Bakugou’s antics against your green head classmate, well, nobody's perfect, noted. You can’t judge the book by its cover, but when you looked at them, it’s impossible to not think about…

The offer is almost irresistible.

Almost.

“That sounds lovely! But Midoriya and I agreed to have lunch together today, so I’m afraid we’ll have to leave it to another time.” You almost cringed at how cutesy and honeyed your voice sounded but they seemed to buy it, until their expressions made a 180. Their faces were shocked and almost offended at the thought of you putting him over their proposal. It was a ‘are you for real?’ reaction over all. You kept smiling at them to emphasize that you were serious, when the girl that talked first tried to dissuade you.

“B-But why don’t you eat with us today and leave your lunch with him for tomorrow? I’m sure Midoriya won’t have a problem, right?” She turned and looked at him just as the rest of the girls did after she, Midoriya flinched nervously holding his bento at the unexpected attention he was receiving.  

“Eh…! I…! Well… Um…”

“You see! He’s ok with it!”

‘He hasn’t even said a thing!’ You thought trying to conceal your disbelief. ‘Let’s put all the beef on the grill then’

“Oh, I got an idea!” You chimed. “Midoriya! Why don’t you join us for lunch too? That way nobody eats alone and we get to know better! It’s a win-win plan! What do you think?” You were not dumb, although it was true you can’t judge anybody by a simple glance, you had a somewhat firm idea of why they were so eager to mingle with you, so you just did what you thought it was necessary to make sure it was not that, and what a better way than with your nerve-wreck of a friend.

‘What a better way to know someone’s character than by the way they treat others?’  

The poor guy looked like he was about to have a seizure and your classmates were not any better; they looked at you even more astonished than before, and you could swear that they started to sweat. Suddenly they look to be hesitant, even the more insistent one. They looked at you, at each other and then at Midoriya.

“I-I think you are right, it wasn’t very nice to insist after you already had plans with…Midoriya, I guess we can leave it for another day.” The others seem to agree, a bit crestfallen but relieved nonetheless.

‘I knew it…’

They shortly left after that; you kept your friendly smile until they finally disappeared behind the door, when they were out of your view completely you let your smile fall and collected your lunch from your desk. You marched to the door, but stopped midway when you noticed that certain someone was still standing lost in his own world, mumbling nonsense as usual.

“Midoriya” You called him, he seemed to have got out of his trance and looked at you eyewided, confused and bewildered.

“Huh?”

“Are you coming or what?” You said smiling.

He stared at you genuinely surprised, but he swiftly shook his head and walked towards you.

“Yes!”

“A-Are we going to eat outside?” he asked curiously.

“I mean, it’s a beautiful day the temperature is perfect and this would actually be the first time ever that I had the chance to be outside in early April without freezing my butt. Do you have any place in mind?”

“No, I-I always eat by myself, so I prefer to stay in the classroom” He answered somewhat ashamed.

“Its ok, I know the perfect place.”

[96thdayofrage]

As much of White America scrambled to not be the bad guy, the holiday commemorating the last vestiges of legalized slavery came right on time. At the height of protest season, here was an opportunity that seemed primed to absolve America of a piece of its slavery-addled past by embracing the true and final date of full emancipation. News stories gave remedial history lessons in advance of the June 19 celebration, and makeshift festivals sprung up despite having to make numerous pandemic concessions. And then there were the T-shirts.

A year later, not much has changed about the state of Black America. More people are aware of modern activist lingo, so we’re having the same old arguments with more up-to-date language, but the needle hasn’t moved much on any given condition. In fact, the backlash against more education on Black history has largely fallen into two categories for much of White America: doubling down on its erasure, or commodifying it. Magically, the lead-up to the 2021 edition of Juneteenth seems to have done both in equal measure.

The erasure of Juneteenth has been the campaign of choice until last year. You could live almost anywhere in Texas outside of Galveston (where the holiday was born, in 1865) and have never heard of it. Thanks to the spike in activism and White guilt last year, the ignorance platform took a big hit. But since this is America, commodification stepped in like a champ. Businesses have taken the opportunity that Juneteenth affords to present themselves as progressive on race issues, though most don’t just make it a proper day-off kind of holiday. Retail-minded entities have taken the commodification to heart and silk-screened the day onto cotton tops. All commodification isn’t about money, and so festivals all over the country in various states of organization are back on deck, fueled by people seeking to extinguish post-quarantine fatigue and kick off a proper Black-folks summer.

Depending on how and why one celebrates Juneteenth determines how far they lean into the observation over party aspect. For a holiday whose commemorations range from stoic reverence to being called the Black Fourth of July (complete with the requisite fireworks and cookout spreads), there’s a pretty wide spectrum of practice. Many Juneteenth celebrations are less about the end of slavery and more about what has happened to Black people, period, making such affairs just miniature Black History Months.

I asked a friend of mine, Valerie Boyer, a crowned former Miss Juneteenth raised in Galveston, what she thought should happen at a Juneteenth celebration. “I believe that the Emancipation Proclamation should formally be read to begin Juneteenth,” she replied. As an event organizer, this made sense to me, but as someone who used to do workshops breaking down how Lincoln’s order didn’t actually free all of the slaves, I had reservations. She assured me there was a lot of spiritual meat and affirmation in an intentional reading of the document in a context that only Juneteenth can provide.

“When it gets to that ‘whereby henceforth both now shall be and forever remain free,’ folks get weepy. And some folks holler, and some folks just cry, and some folks just don’t know what to do with themselves,” she continued. “I argue that that was my first experience with what we would call today ‘ancestral generation.’ You’re just very clear that you are not there alone.” She also stated that there should be dancing, singing, and food, which means we might be related, and impressed the importance of moments of both joy and stillness throughout.

One of the reasons many of the problems in America persist is that most people don’t have a good grasp on the scale of America itself. When you can’t see the size of the problem, you can’t comprehend the ramifications of allowing that problem to fester. Rather than contend with the legacy of slavery, America has opted for poor navigation. The legend of Juneteenth suggests that America was so vast that news took years to get across it, which is a patently ridiculous notion. As my former Miss Juneteenth friend likes to say, Black folks have always had a rumor mill. News travels fast, whether you like it or not.

In 1860, the Pony Express started delivering mail between Missouri and California. In the year-plus that followed, you could send word between the two states in as little as 10 days. That was two years before the execution of the Emancipation Proclamation. Bottom line: It doesn’t take two years to send an executive order from one end of the country to the halfway mark. There was a lot of collusion at play that prevented word from getting to Galveston in 1865, a denial of change, and thus an erasure of justice.

That is the reality of Juneteenth that we come close to addressing but fall back on the freedom part when the conversation gets too real. The end of slavery could not make it halfway across America’s body for two years, not because the message was slow, but because the message was stopped. We do not have Juneteenth because America doesn’t know how to deliver mail. We have it because parts of America thought if they ground their heels into the dirt, they could stop change. What happened on January 6, 2021, at the U.S. Capitol isn’t a new strategy. It has a lot of precedent, and Juneteenth is evidence of it.

As of this writing, the Senate has passed a bill declaring Juneteenth a federal holiday. It still has to pass through the House before we can start singing the Schoolhouse Rock song about bills. But let’s be clear: There’s a reason why that measure is sailing through Congress and the anti-lynching and reparation bills are stalled out. The Juneteenth bill is the one White folks can (falsely) claim they got right with the least amount of historical baggage. Juneteenth ends slavery. The others just make White people look bad.

There’s a standing criticism from a segment of activist circles that questions the point of Juneteenth. In pointing out the many ways in which liberty still doesn’t fully apply to Black life, such critics suggest that we still aren’t free at all. While I wouldn’t make a strong case against such observations, I’ve never allowed myself to be so militant that I couldn’t recognize a win when I saw one. I may celebrate only for a day or a news cycle or a breath, but to never be able to hold up the resilience of your ancestors is to disrespect them. I may be a pessimist, but I am never dishonorable. We are free with an asterisk. Considering what we’ve come through, that’s worth at least a day off. Ultimately, I care less about what people do to Juneteenth so long as the people and places that know what it’s really about — and those who have bonded with the power and implications of that history — are celebrating it, and unapologetically so.

It’s impossible to keep anything pure in America, even our pains. Of course your job is going to blow it even if they try to celebrate it right. Of course White America will hold up its federalization as evidence that the country is less racist. And yes, someone is going to make a commemorative plate out of it. The selling of Juneteenth is a horse already out of the barn, because commerce is often the balm America uses to soothe its conscience. The question isn’t ever about what the wrong people do with our history and celebrations, but what the right people do with them.

[anabantoid]

The Ubiquitous Betta Care Guide

Literally everyone and their mother has written a care guide about bettas, but I felt like I could provide a care guide based around my opinions and experiences in keeping bettas. I’ve kept bettas since I was about 15 years old, they were one of my first fish, and I fell in love with them and at one point I had over a dozen bettas at one time! That’s ridiculous now, but this was 2005/2006, bettas were cheaper and not as disposable then, definitely lasting for the oft-quoted “2-3 year” lifespans that people struggle to see today. Nowadays, I struggle to be able to get a betta to live past 6 months. So, what’s happening? Am I suddenly taking worse care of bettas than I did when I was 15? 

Well, no, all of my most recent bettas were kept in tanks that were over 50 gallons, well planted, my tap water is soft (kH of 5), my pH is neutral (7-7.4) and my water is easily modified with botanicals or wood to be about 6 if need be. They live in filtered tanks with 80 degree water, eat nothing but live or frozen food, and never fall ill with disease or parasites. That’s more than I can say about teenage me. I dealt with a lot of issues, obviously, from bacterial to fungal infections because of my ignorance, but nowadays I can’t say I’ve had to treat a betta for anything, they just sorta..die, and at seemingly random too. What’s going on? 

Today, bettas come in every color, shape and variety you can think of, which wasn’t the case when I was 15. The reason for the huge variety is the desire for more ornamental fish, but for commercial selling, there’s mass breeding on an industrial scale which leads to poor stock, inbreeding, and deformed fish and genetic issues we just can’t see. It doesn’t matter if it’s a local breeder or from a store, they’re all coming from the same stock now. 

I’ve touched about betta problems in the past, and if you’ve followed my blog for a few years or see me in my discord server (Fish Tea), then you already know how I feel. That’s not what this post is about! This post is about caring for your betta, what I’ve learned in my experiences with them, and how to treat and care for the common ailments that befall them.

THEIR CARE:

Min tank size: 10 gallons. Why 10 gallons? In all my time keeping bettas, they do best in larger tanks that allow them to move, they get proper muscle tone in larger tanks because they’re able to move, and I’ve never had an issue with constipation in bettas when placed in larger tanks because movement makes it easier for animals to pass their waste. I can’t think of any other 2 inch-3 inch, active fish that anyone would suggest for a 5 gallon, but for some reason people all say 5 gallons is fine. This is MY recommendation, this is something I will tell people to follow, but whether or not you agree is up to you. You can keep them as you wish, but I prefer having bettas in larger tanks.

Temperature: 80+. In the wild, the Betta genus comes from hot, humid environments in Southeast Asia, living in shallow bodies of water that can be over 80 degrees in temperature. Wild Betta splendens have been observed living in rice paddies with an average temperature of 84 degrees (Jaroensutasinee & Jaroensutansinee, 2001). While it can be argued that domestic bettas are different from their wild counterparts, we have not bred them for cold resistance, and bettas display poor health in colder temps, lethargy, loss of appetite, bloating and constipation. 

Water Params: My position about water parameters has evolved over time, but I still think a betta does best in neutral to acidic waters, because a betta in a pH of 8+ will not have a great time. Essentially, most people’s tap water will be fine, you don’t need RO water to keep a domestic betta.

Feeding: I feed my bettas live food in the form of blackworms, fruit flies, random small bugs I find, a spider….anything that’s an invert and they can swallow, they can eat it. I also feed them frozen foods such as bloodworms, krill, mysis, cyclops and sometimes just cut up cocktail shrimp. You can feed them live and frozen, and you can also give them prepared foods, like New Life Spectrum, Bug Bites, or Bug Pro. They have excellent sources of protein that are not derived from soy like other brands such as Hikari, Omega One, Tetra, Aqueon and such. You can also make repashy grub pie and feed them that. 

Furnishings: Bettas naturally come from environments that are dense with vegetative growth (Jaroensutasinee & Jaroensutansinee, 2001), which means your bettas should also be in tanks that are filled to the brim with plants! I like live plants, but you can use soft silks too, anything that can provide them some cover that they can serpentine and swim through. My rule of thumb usually is if you can see straight through one end of the tank with no broken lines of sight, you don’t have enough plants. Lack of proper coverage can make them stressed out, lethargic and more susceptible to illness and refusal to eat.

Tank mates: If you want to keep bettas with other fish, I suggest a 20 long as a minimum. If your betta has long fins, avoid getting any boisterous, nipping fish like tetras. Kuhli loaches make wonderful tankmates for bettas because they tolerate the high temps a betta likes, as well as Hypancistrus plecos, some corydoras, smaller spiny eels and more. I don’t recommend ever putting shrimp in with bettas, aside from larger shrimp like amanos, because shrimp are a betta’s natural prey and they will hunt them all down!

WHAT IF MY BETTA GETS SICK?

Bettas can and will get ill, you will most likely encounter an issue with your betta one way or another, but what can you do to help? In most cases, the problem is lack of proper care and poor water conditions. The best way to insure your betta remains happy and healthy is to have a clean tank. The easiest way to do this is to make sure your tank is cycled and you do regular, weekly water changes of 25%-30%. 

When you buy a betta, make sure you are picking out an active one, don’t try to be a saint and pick out one laying on its side, half dead. The likelihood is that it will just die, you’ll feel upset, and then you’ll go out and try it again. I’ve been there! It doesn’t work! Get a fish that wiggles at you and looks like it wants to kick your ass. That’s a good betta.

Here’s some common betta ailments:

Popeye: This happens because your water quality is poor and a bacterial infection brews up, causing fluid retention that can pop the eye out. Your best course of action is to address the water quality issue, then use an antibiotic such as kanaplex or metroplex. 

Bloat and constipation: The betta is fed too much, the tank is unheated, the water quality is poor, the tank is too small, and more. This is a symptom of an underlying issues, and it needs to be addressed by seeing what you’re doing wrong. To treat it, give your betta a soak in an epsom salt bath for 10-15 minutes in a bucket or other container, with 1 tbs of epsom salt per gallon. Feed them some frozen food like daphnia or brine shrimp to aid in passing their waste. 

Ich: This can literally happen to anyone, and it sometimes just. Happens. Inexplicably. Whether or not it’s introduced or always in the water, it can crop up in even the warmest of tanks, as ich nowadays seems to have gotten particularly strong. Up your temps to about 86, your betta can handle temps into the 90’s, and use an ich treatment, I usually do Ich X, follow the directions on the bottle. You can also do a salt dip on the betta at the first signs of ich, 1 tbs of aquarium or table salt per gallon in a separate container, do a 10 minute soak. Up the temps and see if the ich subsides, if not, follow through with medication.

Fin rot: This is a water quality issue, you need to address this first before proceeding with treatment, as usually providing clean, warm water is enough to stop fin rot. If you do this but notice the fin rot is especially aggressive or starting to proceed onto the body, treat with an antibiotic such as kanaplex.

Velvet: This is a parasitic infection like ich, though for this one it comes from yet another water quality issue. It can happen in the store they come from, or it can happen in your home if you’re not up and up on your care. You would treat it the same way as ich, however shut your lights off, as it appears to be light sensitive.

Lethargy, bottom sitting, loss of appetite: These are symptoms of a bigger issue, be it water quality, age, or simply just something going wrong internally that we can’t see. If your tank is too cold, you’re not feeding enough or you’re not on top of water changes, you can help by adjusting all of that. If it’s from age or something else, all you can do is wait and see how much longer the betta has left, or euthanize if you feel he won’t get better. You can attempt an epsom salt bath, raising temps, and feeding live or frozen, but at that point it’s palliative care rather than a solution.

What if you just got your betta, and it seemed fine, and then one day it didn’t look good and the next you found it dead? Well, circling back to my long winded intro, you can see that the answer is in the poor breeding practices. Bettas are not as strong or hardy as they used to be, in fact they seem to just be about as durable as tissue paper nowadays and will die after a few months or a year, with some exceptions. It can be disheartening to feel like you’re failing at a fish that’s touted as being one of the hardiest fish out there, but I promise you that if you’re providing the best care for them, they’ll still die early, and you’re not at fault. I still get bettas, but I only buy one after another passes, and I try to not spend more than $15 on one. I settle with the fact they won’t live as long, and I enjoy them while I have them, and if you feel the same way, go for it.

If you’d like to learn more about bettas, their alternatives and more, the best way to reach me and a whole community of experiences keepers is through Fish Tea, an lgbt+ friendly discord server dedicated to all things aquatic.

(reference: Jaroensutasinee, M., & Jaroensutansinee, K. (2001). Bubble nest habitat characteristics of wild Siamese fighting fish. Journal of Fish Biology, 58(5), 1311-1319. doi:10.1111/j.1095-8649.2001.tb02288.x)

[rethala]

I suppose it might be a good idea to actually put something else on here, considering that I’ve never actually used my tumblr for anything before today. When I meet people I tell them that I’m probably the weirdest person they’ll meet all day, but considering where I’m writing this... So! A little background info might be in order!

I am a trans femme AMAB enby, which already calls me out

I am pansexual, but lean more toward female-minded people

I have been married to the same person for almost 17 years, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a girlfriend if she/they can get along with my wife (and aren’t psychotic)

I’m a pagan, most similar to Wiccan but with my own personal experiences colouring my beliefs

I am not just a furry, but in that special (read: “crazy”) class of furries who has past-life memories of actually being something other than human

I am extremely introverted, mildly autistic, and have only ever worked in public-facing jobs my whole life (I finally just started a job as a professional truck driver, and it’s the first time I haven’t had to worry about whether or not Karen and her litter of crotch-goblins are going to complain to my manager about “that horrible man in a skirt who uses the women’s bathroom”)

I like to be artistic, but complain constantly that my art/writing/whatever is horrible and should never burden the rest of the world with its incompetence

I would love to one day be a VO actrix, in spite of hating my voice, because it can range from mid-alto to contrabass and I’m half-way decent at mimicking certain cartoon characters (I can do a pretty mean Pinky, and I’ve had friends tell me never to do Snarf because it’s too good and they hate him) (If you know anyone who might be interested *coughs in @pmseymourva* let me know, its one of my dreams)

I’ve tried my hand (paw?) at YouTube and Twitch, but I never seem to have enough time to actually get good at either one

I’m a suicide survivor

I have chronic (treated) depression, ADHD, OCD, MPD, body dysmorphic disorder, Ehlers-Danlos disorder, chronic pain, and undiagnosed fibromyalgia (also I can be extremely forgetful)

I’m a rescuer of cats, dogs, ferrets, guinea pigs, and occasionally people

I’m terrified of spiders but love snakes

This is the sixth or seventh time I’ve tried to start an internet presence, but I’m probably not worth your time and/or energy because I’ll likely forget that this website even exists (in fact, if I post more often than every 6 months, it will be the most I’ve ever done)

Feel free to completely ignore me now and pretend that you’ve never heard of me if you worry that my weirdness might rub off on you. On the other hand (paw?), if you don’t mind that I’ll probably only pop up on your feed sporadically at best, then I’ll welcome you to my craziness. If you have any suggestions, questions, harsh criticisms, hateful remarks, or anime recommendations, by all means message me! I assume that tumblr will inform me if I get a comment...

[jokertrap-ran]

Collar X Malice ~UNLIMITED~ Seiji Minegishi Route PRIDE Translations (Part 1)

Translator’s note : MC’s name shall remain as my normal (ラン) Spoiler FREE : Translations under cut !

Ran Hoshino: Yes, this is the Special regions crime prevention office speaking.

Male: Oh, hello! I can go through this line regarding any inquires about the X-Day incident, right?

Male: I've heard that the isolative measures that have been placed onto Shinjuku will be lifted soon, but...When will that happen!?

Ran Hoshino: Oh...I'm afraid that I can't disclose the exact date at this present moment in time.

Ran Hoshino: My apologies, but if you could wait for the official announcement to pass...

Ran Hoshino: ...Yes, that's right. Of course, understood. This is behind the 6th district's park, yes?

Old Lady: I'm really sorry about this, Hoshino-san. I don't want to be viewed as odd in the eyes of my neighbours but, I just can't help but to be concerned...

Ran Hoshino: No, not at all. Every little bit of information you provide will ultimately help in crime prevention of the area.

Ran Hoshino: Please feel free to contact us again if you find anything amiss.

Old Lady: Yes, thank you. I'll be leaving it to you then.

Ran Hoshino: Urgency: Low. Location: Shinjuku District 6. Classification: Suspicious person...There.

It has already been 2 months since we nabbed the perpetrators involved in X-Day; 2 months since the destruction of Adonis.

And those of us in the Shinjuku station spent the end of the year post-processing and cleaning up the mess it left behind all the way through the New Years.

But in all honestly, truth to be told... The SRCPO's job hasn't changed significantly from the past, much unlike the other departments.

We mainly deal with minor reports detailing minor offenses on a day-to-day basis and gathering all information related to X-Day.

Working alongside the Life Safety Division, we strive towards attaining regional security and crime prevention. Our goal and the amount of work we do is no different now.

Ran Hoshino: Whew...

I looked up after entering all the records from our conversation and saw Mochida-senpai crack his neck a couple of times before he made to stand up and leave his seat.

Masanobu Mochida: How about you take a break now, Hoshino? I see that the wave of reports have finally calmed down.

Ran Hoshino: Good work, Mochida-senpai. There were really a lot of them today.

Masanobu Mochida: Yeah. During the X-Day Incident, I was always thought to myself about how I wanted to resolve the case as soon as possible and free myself from the daily madness of being kept busy everyday, but...

Masanobu Mochida: I never would have thought that I'd be even busier after we finally managed to wrap the case up.

Ran Hoshino: I think that just goes to show how much everyone's getting jittery in their boots waiting for the quarantine to lift. 

Ran Hoshino: Even the calls I got today! 60% of them were all regarding the matter of when the quarantine ban was to be lifted!

Masanobu Mochida: I'm about the same as you in that aspect. "I want to make a bullet train reservation, so could I please know the date of when the quarantine ban will be lifted?"

Mochida-senpai replied with a bitter smile.

There's a platform specifically meant for those enquiries, we are faced with a situation where everyone is more concerned about special defence measures due to X-Day.

While I'm glad that our direct hotline is becoming more widely known, it's quite a challenge deciding if special defence can handle the enquires and redirecting them elsewhere.

Ran Hoshino: Seems like it'll take a while for the system to calm down...Still, I feel like the number of calls have drastically reduced now.

Masanobu Mochida: It's been 10 months since Adonis made their first statement...This just goes to show that everyone is able to have a peace of mind now that the turbulent times are over.

Ran Hoshino: ............

The case is over.

Rolling the words over the tip of my tongue, I turned and fixtated my gaze at the window.

Ran Hoshino: ...Mochida-senpai. The X-Day Incident is truly over, right?

Masanobu Mochida: What's with that out of the blue?

Masanobu Mochida: Of course, not everything has been solved. We'd have caught all the suspects if that were so.

Masanobu Mochida: Adonis has been destroyed and the isolation ban, lifted. I think it's fine to say it's done and over with for now.

Ran Hoshino: ...I guess you're right.

My hands ghosted over my neck, feeling the skin there despite no longer feeling the weight of the collar.

I could only feel the warmth radiating from my skin through the material of my shirt.

Gone was the feeling of the restrictive and cold collar that had used to be there.

Ran Hoshino: (I guess I should count my lucky stars that I'm still able to continue my line of work in the police...)

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

--Last year, December.

A collar had been placed upon my being by Adonis. The day that we were threatened by the coming of X-Day.

[We'll kill you if you tell the police]

Bound by those words, I was forced to rely on on others, those not of the police. Investigating in secret.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

But the X-Day Incidents continued on, the victims increasing by the day.

Even if we managed to catch the perpetrators, their memories were erased. We were utterly helpless.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Stuck, I made my decision then. --I'd tell the police everything.

It was inevitable that I'd become a burden to the police, to get the collar off and to solve the case. Of course, with it came the fact that my life itself was also endangered.

We still managed to remove the collar in the end thanks to the help of Sasazuka-kun and co. And above all...

We were able to nab Adonis thanks to the trust that the Investigation Headquarters had in my words.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

They took my actions in stride, choosing to go along with my choices rather than to abandon me.

It is only with thanks to a good many others that I am now able to stay on as a police officer.

Ran Hoshino: (That's right...There's no longer any need for me to fear my death, no need for me to be afraid that today might be the day I breathe my last.)

I was finally able to let go of that one fear of mine now that Adonis has been destroyed.

And the city of Shinjuku too.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

My throat's going to get wrecked by winter if I'm to continue picking up calls all morning.

I've still got some time...I should go get some tea and lozenges before my break ends.

Someone called out to me, just as I headed out with that intention in mind.

???: Good work today, Hoshino-san.

Ran Hoshino: Oh, Minegishi-san. Good work today. I didn't know that you were coming over today.

Seiji Minegishi: Yes, I came to see how the Investigation Headquarters' faring.

Seiji Minegishi: I have to show my face around here once in a while since I am the commissioner after all. Otherwise, people will start questioning my position.

Minegishi Seiji, the individual overseeing the X-Day case back in the Investigation Headquarters.

He was always stuck around the Shinjuku station, giving out commands during the incident.

Since the case has been closed and marked solved, he's now more often found in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department now that things have settled down.

So, it's been about three days since I last saw his face around here.

Ran Hoshino: You're going back and forth the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department now, right?

Seiji Minegishi: Yes, I have some other cases to handle now that the X-Day Incident is more or less resolved.

Seiji Minegishi: What about you, Hoshino-san...? How's everything after that ordeal?

Ran Hoshino: Well, the reports regarding that matter has reduced considerably. But, I can't help but to feel that the dams holding in the public's anxiety has been broken...

Seiji Minegishi: Ah...Yes, while that is also a cause for concern, I'm actually asking about you, yourself.

Ran Hoshino: Huh?

Seiji Minegishi: Because you're the only one who Adonis has "allowed to live" despite being in direct contact with them.

Ran Hoshino: Oh...

My hand unconciously reached up to my neck.

We have yet to find the perpetrator who had placed the collar on me.

Despite the fact that they had ran away, we can't ignore the possibility of them returning.

It was natural for him to harbour doubts. Realizing his apparently concern, I adverted my eyes and turned away.

Ran Hoshino: Nothing much has changed...

Minegishi-san had widened his eyes in response before a wry smile formed on his face.

Seiji Minegishi: ...I apologise. It wasn't my intention to corner you between a wall and a hard place, I was just concerned about your mental state.

Ran Hoshino: Come again?

Seiji Minegishi: A good many things happened throughout the incident. So...When you really think about it, I don't think you can say that you have a peace of mind yet.

Ran Hoshino: No, I'm fine and well. ...I've really must have been a hassle to you. I thank you for all the help and consideration you have extended to me.

Seiji Minegishi: It wasn't me at all, no. I didn't do anything. In fact, I think Sasazuka-kun and the rest were the ones who had truly managed to help your cause.

Ran Hoshino: Oh, yes. Of course. I was just about to go visit them again.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

The odd combination of a group of people who had left the police force for one reason or another, working together to uncover the secrets of the X-Day case. ——Also known as the "Investigation Headquarters".

They had all separated ways and continued down their own paths in lives after the X-Day case had been closed. I was indebted to them.

And Sasazuka-san, who had just recently re-joined the force had gone back to the Metropolitan Police Department.

I heard that Enomoto-san and Yanagi-san we're both struggling to run a full-fledged detective agency on their own, a 2-man team.

And I've also heard that Shiraishi-san had taken a long vacation, disappearing off to god knows where...

Just recalling their individual faces made nostalgia well up within me.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Ran Hoshino: It certainly does feel a little odd. To think that the case was closed just 2 months ago...

Seiji Minegishi: Heh, well you're absolutely right. It doesn't quite strike you as reality, seeing as how the quarantine ban has yet to be lifted as of yet.

Seiji Minegishi: I'm sure the citizens feel the same way too.

Ran Hoshino: I think so too. Most of the calls we've been receiving are more often than not citizens who are voicing their concerns.

Seiji Minegishi: ...In any case, there has been no reoccurring cases ever since Adonis was shut down despite there being remanants of them lurking about.

Ran Hoshino: Yes, but on the contrary...

Ran Hoshino: ............

Seiji Minegishi: Hoshino-san?

He looked at me curiously, noting the slight hesitance on my end.

Softly prompted by him, I opened my mouth once more to speak my mind.

Ran Hoshino: Crime rates have actually fallen as of late and there are lesser large-scale crimes that aren't related to Adonis. I'm sure the statistics show as such too.

Ran Hoshino: "Because Adonis had become a deterrent".

...That's right. It's been quite the hot topic on the internet recently. So much that most people actually agree on this as a whole.

Adonis had simply brought justice onto whom they deemed evil in their eyes.

Of course, their the whys and wherefores of their actions were unacceptable, but still...

Weren't they rather effective? They made criminals afraid of commiting criminal acts. They feared that they'd be next to face the brunt of it all.

The plausibility of that story is still being widely discussed over the net even now.

Seiji Minegishi: I see. So you're saying that there's a dwindling rate of crime thanks to Adonis?

Ran Hoshino: It feels rather conflicting when you actually read about someone justificating Adonis...

Ran Hoshino: Even though Adonis should be no doubt, evil in terms of legal and human rights--

Seiji Minegishi: Well, they're not exactly wrong either. It is a fact that Adonis does exact justice, in a sense.

Ran Hoshino: Eh...!? Seiji Minegishi: It is without a doubt that those whom they've disposed of did have some shady business.

Seiji Minegishi: But ethics aside, I think they exact justice on those people because they believe that they're right.

Ran Hoshino: But...Their actions are only lynching and nothing else!

Ran Hoshino: The school bombings and net-game killings, even if it's for revenge, it's still no reason to cause deaths across the board!

I've never had such a mindset for vengeance, not one that'd drive me to such viciousness.

That's why I can also never understand just how hurt and broken the suspects are.

That being said, this country still has it's laws. You'll only be denying the police's existence if you let them go scot-free like that.

Ran Hoshino: I don't think that such a terrible sight is justice at all...

There are many videos up on the net. I clenched my fist, recalling how bloody it was.

He gave a small chuckle in reply.

Seiji Minegishi: ...It's exactly as you say, Hoshino-san. Their judging criterias are way too general and vague that one may find it subjective.

Seiji Minegishi: If everyone could exact their own revenge, the vicious cycle will only continue to no end.

Ran Hoshino: ...You're right.

Seiji Minegishi: So even if Adonis was upholding and exacting justice as they deemed fit...

Seiji Minegishi: They are still to become outlaws of this country for passing judgement against the law.

Slow but steady, the evil will grow.

Minegishi-san placed his hand upon my shoulder, a small smile on his lips.

Seiji Minegishi: Seems like we had a misunderstanding. I don't agree with Adonis' way of handling things.

Seiji Minegishi: It's just that, I'm sure...That there a still a handful of people out there who still believe in their version of justice.

Seiji Minegishi: Even if Adonis is destroyed now, there's no denying the possibility of a second or third Adonis being created due to them.

Seiji Minegishi: ...And that's precisely why we must strive to understand how and why people sympathise and agree with Adonis on that matter.

Ran Hoshino: Right... You do have a point.

Seiji Minegishi: Have more confidence in yourself. You did the right thing.

Ran Hoshino: Thank you...

Previously looking at me in encouragement, his eyes slid close as he smiled.

Thinking about it, this might actually be the first time we've talked together so closely.

Feeling unrest, I opened my mouth to speak again.

Ran Hoshino: You're amazing.

Ran Hoshino: You're always so logical about things. I guess you're reliable and that's a relief.

Seiji Minegishi: Haha. Well, the subordinates wouldn't know what to believe if even the boss' blur as a squid.

He laughed at his own joke before jolting up, as if he had just remembered something.

Seiji Minegishi: You say I'm "amazing", but... I think you're the amazing one here.

Ran Hoshino: Amazing? Me?

Seiji Minegishi: Of course. Do you not remember how you were collared during the X-Day incident, putting your life at stake...

Seiji Minegishi: Any normal person, regardless of whether they're a police officer will have been used as a spy to get them leaks on inside info.

Seiji Minegishi: But you managed to put up a resistance till the very end, even going so far as to sacrifice your being. Not everyone's capable of that.

Seiji Minegishi: But more than anything else...We were able to control the Adonis situation thanks to your trust in the police and it's top brass.

Ran Hoshino: No, I should be the one saying that. It was thanks to the trust you and the rest of the Investigation Headquarters had in me.

Ran Hoshino: I was only able to get out of that precarious situation thanks to all of your instructions on how I should proceed with that collar on me,

Seiji Minegishi: ...How humble, not to mention, how stubborn.

Ran Hoshino: Sorry. But it's a fact that I didn't do anything...

Ran Hoshino: This all happened only because they didn't decide to kill me first, right off the bat. I mean even I'd have no choice but to comply

Ran Hoshino: if they told me that "We'll kill you if you refuse to become a spy for us right now".

Seiji Minegishi: That seems plausible. Truth to be told, it is your courage and judgement that has brought peace to Shinjuku as it is right now.

Seiji Minegishi: I was probably able to lead this case to it's closure only because the collar was on you.

That being said, being told as such tickles me a a little on the sides and I can't help being humble.

I just so happened to have the collar forced upon me and managed to successfully close the case.

Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I found myself adverting my eyes from his.

Seiji Minegishi: ...But...

He trailed off.

Seiji Minegishi: Why were you the one they chose?

Ran Hoshino: What?

Seiji Minegishi: ............

He stared at me, lips forming a frown as he pondered over something.

--Why was it me?

It was the very same question that had been circling through my head back then.  

I couldn't see why it had to be me.

Ran Hoshino: Minegishi-san? Um-

Office Announcement: Calling for the Shinjuku Station's Special crime prevention. A report has come in from a public phone in a park at Shinjuku's 6th district.

Office Announcement: The caller sounds like a girl, reporting that she was going to be killed and managed to escape.

Office Announcement: All patrols in the vincinity are to head to the scene, immidietely. I repeat, a report has come in from Shinjuku's 6th district-

Ran Hoshino: That announcement!

Seiji Minegishi: Indeed. It's not time for a drawn-out conversation right now. I'll head to the Crime Department.

Ran Hoshino: Of course!

——≿————-𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊… ————-≾ ——

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

Destiny Series

AN: Yall... I’m soo shocked how quickly yall are fucking with that mood board like actually soo shocked. I was going to do Egyptian gods cause when I was younger I read the Kane Chronicles and I fell in love with Egyptian mythology and their gods BUT I feel like more people know Greek gods and it’s easier to like deal with Greek gods family tree vs Egyptian because whew chileeee that would of been a mess. BIG BIG BIG ups to @chaneajoyyy​ for a. proofreading and catching the little errors and for supporting me. 

Summary: On May 14th a god or goddess picks someone to take their place in the following years, when T’challa invites everyone in your graduating class to his house for a Chaining day party chaos ensues and relationships get tested.

Pairing: Erik x reader

Warnings: cussing, light smut like literally  I don’t wanna call it smut because it’s so light. 

Word count: 2,111

It was May 14th and the eve of arguably the most important day of your life, chaining day. Chaining day was a right of passage that had been happening since before you or any other Wakandan had been alive, chaining day was the day in which the gods and goddesses came down to earth and selected who was going to fill their position as that specific next god in the next years. Chaining day only occurred once every three generations and it happened that it fell upon you and your peers. You laid on your bedroom floor while your two best friends Makyla and Aaron sat across from you in bean bag chairs.

“I just don’t get why you're not excited Y/N” Makyla said nonchalantly, “I can’t wait to figure out which god chose me! I hope it someone like Hera or Aphrodite. They would suit me don’t you think?” 

“Your annoying ass deserves Hestia” Aaron mumbled under his breath earning him a firm slap on his arm.

You sat up from your floor and took a slow breath in and exhaled. “I just don’t get why it falls onto US, like why can’t the gods choose someone who wants to be a god not a normal person who just wants to live and die and get this shit over with.”

Aaron rolled his eyes “You're just worried that you and Erik’s gods won’t be together and some other girl will have him”

“HA” you laughed out sarcastically “That punk ass nigga can get whatever trick ass whore wants him, we are over and I dont give a flying fuck who gets him”

The room got silent because that lie and everyone in the room knew it, you and Erik never went into full relationship territory just comments under each others posts and his constant flirting with you. But it all ended when he posted a photo with a girls arms wrapped around his shoulders and a blunt in his hand and the caption “all the bitches fuckin with me, its like im the god of pussy or sum..” That was the last straw, and you hadn’t actually spoken to him since you’d seen that post go up.

“Can we go now y'all?” Makyla asked “I want to get to T’challa’s party early and get a good spot for chaining time”

“Are you sure we have to go? We could just stay in and watch a movie until chaining time” you lay your head back down onto your plush carpet and squeezed your eyes shut. You heard movement above you and opened to see Aaron and Makyla standing over you an annoyed look on their faces.

“Fine, fine!” you grumbled outstretching one of your hands out signalling for one of them to help you up, Aaron groaned and grabbed your hand pulling you off the ground. You walked over to your closet, you pulled out a pair of light wash ripped jeans, a white cropped t-shirt and a multi colored nike windbreaker. To emphasize the fact that you didn’t want to go you groaned and moaned while putting on your clothes.

“Keep playing Erik’s gonna give you something to moan about” Makyla said under her breath causing Aaron and her to bust out into a fit of laughter, you turned your head to them and gave them a look that shot daggers.

By the time you got to T’challa’s house you were reminded of why you didn't want to go to his chaining day party and your reason was sitting right at the front door like some self righteous bouncer. You thought if you ducked and hid in between Makyla and Aaron he wouldn’t spot you, but of course he did.

“Woah woah woah lil mama where do you think you're going” Erik’s arm had snaked in between your friends and grabbed you out from in between them. You looked up at your friends with pleading eyes practically begging them to help you out which caused Erik to laugh. “Nah nah ma, your friends can’t help you now, you've been ignoring me and I wanna know why.”

You looked around and noticed a few familiar faces, he wanted to embarrass you in front of your friends? And make a lesson out of you for his other bitches, not today.

You looked down at your arm and back up at him “Nigga I don’t owe you shit.” you snateched your arm from his hand and folded them across your exposed midriff.

A chorus of “Ooo’s” erupted from the small crowd that had developed.

Erik smiled and licked his lips “I asked you a question Y/N and I’m telling you to answer it right fucking now before it gets bad for you.”

You cocked your eyebrow up at him, oh so he thought you were playing?

“Nigga I gave you my answer, you don’t need anything else from me. Now excuse me I’ve got a party to attend” You smirked up at him and waved your finger signaling for him to move out of your way. You had him beat, you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Last chance Y/N before I embarrass you in front of all of these fucking people and I swear to god I will”

You batted your eyes up at Erik innocently and your hands found the collar of his shirt. “Oh no baby boy” you wiped some dust off of his shoulder “I think I just embarrassed you”

You tried to walk away, you had won that fight fair and square and everyone in T’challa’s yard knew it or so you thought. Until you felt strong arms wrap around you calf's and felt you world flip upside down.

“ERIK!” You screamed out hitting his back with an array of punches in varying strengths.

The yard erupted into laughter as Erik walked you through the front door, you caught Makyla’s eye as Erik walked you up the stairs still slung over his shoulder. When he got up to one of the guest bedrooms he plopped you on the bed and locked the door behind himself, when he walked back over to you, you shot him a deathly stare.

“What the fuck was that Y/N?”

“What the hell is posting other bitches Erik? Hmm?” 

You dug your phone out of you pocket and pulled out his instagram, instantly finding the photo you were looking for “all the bitches fuckin with me, its like im the god of pussy or sum.” you mocked his tone.

Erik plopped down on the bed next to you “man this why you been ignorning me for the past two weeks” Erik paused “I thought you had found another nigga ma”

You laid your head back onto the bed and laughed lightly “No Erik I haven’t found another nigga, its just been me sitting around looking stuck waiting for you when you obviously hadn’t been doing the same.”

“It’s not even like that ma, that’s Vannah, you know her and M’baku were going through something and she asked me to take the picture with her and post it to get him mad. They got back together tonight and I was taking it down tomorrow. I can show you the texts to prove it” Erik pulled out his phone and showed you the texts between him and Vannah and her begging and him finally agreeing after she agreed to buy his alcohol for a month.

“Fine I GUESS I’m done being mad at you.” you poked your bottom lip out at him in a mock pout.

“You better stop poking that lip out before I bite it baby girl” Erik rolled you over on top of him forcing you to straddle him,with his hands resting on your ass. “Fuck I can’t wait to tear this shit up ma” his hand smacked your ass roughly “I’ma give you back shots so hard you're gonna feel that shit all week I’m gonna have you-”

Erik was interrupted by counting below you.

“Fuck” you said getting of of his lap “It’s almost time”

 10

“Turn off the lights ma”

9

“Who do you think your gonna get Erik”

8

“I dunno but if I get stuck with some bitch ass mother fucker I’m killing whoever got Zeus”

7

“I want someone calm, someone who does their job and stays out of any drama”

6

“Give me your hands Erik”

5

“I got love for you baby girl, you know that?” Even in the darkness you could see his brown eyes pierce your soul.

4

“Promise to stay friends no matter what happens”

3

“We will stay friends no matter what happens Y/N” he squeezed your hands lightly

2

“I love you Erik Stevens”

1

That was the last thing you remember hearing before a bright white light flashed in front of you, so bright you let go of Erik’s hands to shield your eyes. In a few moments it dimmed.

“My child” a voice called at you

You looked around for the source of the voice and found a strong willow tree waving in the wind, you walked towards it and felt the plush green grass beneath your feet, it felt softer than anything you had ever felt. 

“Sit” the tree told you softly you could make out eyes, nose and mouth in its brown bark.

“Persphone” the words fell out of your mouth without you even knowing they were coming.

She smiled at you transforming before your eyes from a tree into a beautiful black woman, her curves filled out her chiton you noticed her outfit matched yours but she wore it much better.

“Come here” she opened her arm to you and stood up and ran into them burying your face in her chest tears flowing down your face. It didn't hit you until now of her story and what happened, she fell for Hades, a forbidden love and then for the rest of her life spent half of her life with the people she loved and the other half of the year with the man that she hated how much she loved him.

She stroked you curly hair and spoke soothing words to you “I know this is not the outcome you were expecting by I have gifted you a ability”

 You pulled your head off of her and looked up at Persephone tears still threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

“Open your arm”

You obliged her and held your left arm out for her, you noticed a small tattoo outline of a plant.

“Touch it”

You followed her instructions and out of thin air a small plant was in your hand, you immediately recognized it as a venus fly trap similar to the one that grew on your window sill. 

“Anywhere that you walk plants will grow underneath you as long as your on the floor of a building it doesn't matter how many layers on concretes are in between you. Plants will grow” She caressed your cheek in her hand. A gong rang out and you looked up at Persephone, your eyes pleading for some kind of answers or help.

“What am I supposed to do? You have to help me please!” you felt a pulling on your waist as if you were attached to a rope and the other end was pulling you back in.

“Do not fight it Y/N destiny is destiny and you are destined to be with Hades” and with those last words the bright white light flashed again and you covered your eyes. You felt like you were falling but quickly you realized you were back at T'challa's house in the same room that you had been in before with Erik, however he wasn't here now. But when you speak of the devil he shall appear and like clockwork blue flames were produced around a body, you could hear what sounded like a large dog barking and then it all went away, you squeeze your eyes shut not sure what to expect. You heard a familiar chuckle in front of you and you immediately opened your eyes and started at the bottom up. Black tims paired with black jeans and no shirt you studied the person's chest in front of you which now held thousands of tiny scars, a fur coat draped his bare chest his left hand holding a ball of what looked like fire. You finally met his eyes, dark but with a hint of fire in them.

“Wh-who” you barely managed to get it out before a smirk formed across Erik’s face.

“Hades, god of the underworld”

Tag List: @chaneajoyyy @chasingsunlight @writerbee-ffs @dessianna1