#Once youre out and safe we can focus on moving from self harm to self care

[gxlden-angels]

Shoutout to my therapist for now ending sessions with "We out here sinning! We out here suffering!" as a weirdly hopeful affirmation for me

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ chapter 2 ~

[ word count: 3400+ ]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 x reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, I'm not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won't be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I'm willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can't do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask! 🖤)

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

[ chapter 2 ]

chapter content warnings: possible emetophobia warning: mentions of needing to throw up (character doesn’t actually throw up though) and unintentional self-harm.

The cold night’s air trickled between Namjoon’s thick fur. Millions of thoughts ran through his mind, faster than the paws carrying him and the princess. What was the princess doing outside? Why did she look so familiar and most of all, are his pack mates okay?

Growling out of frustration whilst running into the night, he shakes those thoughts out. For now he has only one thing he needs to focus on. Getting you to safety and he knows exactly where you’ll be safe.

-

Multiple hurried footsteps and panicked screams filled the room. It was chaos. What was a joyful and merry evening turned into absolute havoc.

The once golden room suddenly having turned cold and blue, its warmth having completely washed away. Hobi quickly ran and tried to push through the crowd looking for any of his pack mates. It seemed impossible with the sea of people engulfing him.

Just as Hobi started to feel hopeless, he found two of his pack members, Jin and Jimin, spotting them from across the room. Hobi used his hands to cup around his face before yelling desperately “JIN! JIMIN-AH! “ The two instantly recognized that voice.

They both quickly snapped their heads into the direction of where it came from, spotting their fellow pack mate trying to make his way through the wave of people. What after seemed like forever, they all finally reached each other, Jin grabbing onto Hoseok’s hands.

“Where are the others” Jin quickly questioned. “I don’t know, you’re the first two that I found” replied Hoseok. Jimin starts glancing around, running his hand through his hair as he pondered.

“Well wherever they are, they can handle themselves. For now we have to neutralize the threat.” Jimin asserts before turning to his fellow knight and pack member, Hoseok. “Hobi, you were the one who alerted that the princess was being attacked, where did the arrow come from?” Questioned the knight.

Hobi doesn’t waste time in answering, “Follow me, I know what direction it came from. Possibly even the shooting location” briskly, Hobi starts making his way to where he suspects it came from, with Jin and Jimin following closely and quickly behind.

-

The temperature around your body is warm. You feel snug and drowsy. Hearing the crackle of fire wood just makes you want to fall back even deeper into your slumber.

The smell of cedar filling your nostrils, comforting you furthermore. Shifting around and moving your legs, you start to feel the softness of blankets underneath, gliding against your skin as you moved. You start to wonder when was the last time you felt this pleasant..

Alas the sudden realization of what had just transpired abruptly started streaming back into your head. Quickly, you sat up, instinctively backing up and grabbing onto whatever was underneath you which happened to be the same blanket that had just brought you so much comfort.

“Your highness, you’re awake” a deep voice suddenly declared, making you shoot your head into the direction it came from. Letting go of the blanket in defense you realized it was the same man from before, the wolf hybrid. He was sitting beside your bedside in a wooden chair.

You didn’t get to have a good look at him before due to the havoc but now that you are, you realized that he’s a gorgeous man. He had tan skin and dark siren-like eyes. His hair was dark, adorned with an undercut.

You found yourself studying his features, they were soft and welcoming. As you sat in silence, taking in the man before you, the same voice suddenly interrupted your admiration. “your highness? are you alright?” his face contorted into worry.

How embarrassing. “y-yes, I am alright.” You answered before quickly looking down to avoid the man you had just been in awe of. Feeling his gaze burn into you, you can’t help but look back up, taking in your surroundings instead, trying to ignore the man obviously examining you with his eyes.

The room was lit with an orange hue from the fire, the room being much smaller than any you’ve ever been in before. Instead of the white walls and golden accents you were accustomed to, you were surrounded by walls of bark.

The walls simply decorated with some little paintings here and there. Looking around some more you noticed this room had no windows, how peculiar you thought to yourself. You noticed some bookshelves hung on the wall above the fireplace across from you, filled with old and torn books much like your own books.

Once you felt you’ve taken in enough of your surroundings and felt more at ease about the man that was studying you, you looked back down. Examining the sheets you were covered in, you realized they were a maroon shade. the colour was dull but you could tell it had been a vivid maroon at some point, or even red.

You decide to finally ask the questions that had been on your mind since you woke up. “Where am I? Are my parents okay?” you asked feebly, ashamed and feeling as though these circumstances were all your fault. Still looking down, you grip onto the sheets once again awaiting his answer.

“You’re at my pack’s den. Kings orders were to get you away from the chaos until it was deemed safe. Unfortunately I don’t know about the well being of your parents but as you might know, your mother didn’t attend the ball, just your father. Last I heard, he was being led to safety.” He replied with a gentle voice, as to not stress you out anymore than you already are. Sighing you let go of your grip to hold your face. covering your eyes, you just sit there, not wanting to cry in front of a stranger especially as princess.

You were to be queen one day and queens cannot show weakness, especially to their subjects. Your heart filled with rue, you decide to let go of your face. Turning to the man once again. “Your name…. It’s sir Namjoon.. right?” you inquired. His eyes widening from the sudden question and the fact that you knew his name.

You must of heard it when Hoseok was talking to him. His face quickly turns from surprise to a gentle smile “yes your highness, my name is Namjoon. Sir Kim Namjoon.” he confirmed.

He then got up from his seat to bow, before gently grabbing your hand with both of his. Softly, he brought it to his lips, you could feel his breath against your hand before he bestowed a kiss of respect upon it, his lips ever so slightly brushing against it. You’re used of servants bobbing you a curtsy or kissing your hand out of respect but this feels different.

You could feel your face start to get hot at the contact, stomach contorting into a ball of what feels like butterflies trying to fight their way out. Taking your hand back, you glance back at the man, met with the same warm smile you had been examining before.

Scratching the back of your neck, you quickly turn your head to face the other way, an attempt at looking at anything but the beautiful man in front of you. You knew your face was probably the colour of crimson so this was as an attempt of hiding that. Glancing around, you remembered how there were no windows, what time was it?

The last thing you remembered was riding away from the palace on top of the wolf hybrid. Had you fallen asleep? You looked for a clock in vain before briskly turning back to face the very man you were just trying to avoid eye contact with. “Ummm… how long was I sleeping for? What time is it?” You questioned, fidgeting with your hands, a bit embarrassed that you had fallen asleep on the hybrid.

“Oh! I apologize, it is the next day. it’s….” he looked down at his watch “09:37” looking back up at you he continued “speaking of, my pack should be back soon, along with your servants and a carriage to escort you back to the palace” he smiled. It’s the next day? You slept for so long, and he had to watch you the whole time.

Your guilt growing, you look down at your hands. Your chest weighing you down, you uttered “I’m… I’m sorry.. I fell asleep on you...” you sniffled. Surprised by your own unexpected moment of weakness, you really didn’t want to cry but you just couldn’t fight the tears.

Oblivious to the man’s sudden worried expression, you continued “and you had to watch me… all night… it’s all my fault, I-I put your pack in d- danger-“ you tried to continue as the lump in your throat fought to take over. But before it could, abruptly, your vision is covered.

Large arms are wrapped around you. They feel warm and comforting. You’re being gently pressed against a broad chest before you realize, he’s hugging you. His scent and warmth instantly calming you down.

Your muscles relaxed and you went loose while you breathed in his scent, closing your eyes. Slowly breathing in and out to calm yourself down, you just sat on the bed, letting yourself be embraced by the man. The embrace is cut short by the realization of what Namjoon had just done.

Gently pulling away, “Y-your highness…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed and quite frankly, scared of what he had just done. Standing up straight, he explained “please forgive me, that was out of line. it’s just… you looked so sad..I felt…” he continued, letting go of your arms to run his hands through his hair but before he could finish, the sound of horses and footsteps cut him off, making the both of you stand up.

-

“thank you once again sir Namjoon, to you and your pack for keeping the princess safe and your services” Your father’s servant said to Namjoon, bowing gratefully to the wolf hybrid. “ it’s really no problem, we are glad to be of service to the king” the hybrid replied, returning the bow.

Your fathers leading officers and servants had come to pick you up from Sir Namjoon’s and his pack’s den. Sitting in the carriage, you stared at the man who had saved you the night before. Pondering of what had transpired just before your father’s men had arrived.

You’ve never been held before by anyone before but your parents and governess. It felt nice. the different body type holding you, way bigger than your parents or governess’ body. It made you feel at ease and protected.

Suddenly your stare is met with his, his head turning to face you. He flashes you a smile before you quickly look down in embarrassment, fiddling with your hands. How rude of you, this man had just saved your life and you repay him by staring?

Footsteps interrupt your mental self beating, realizing they belong to the wolf hybrid that had saved you the night before. He’s coming this way, why do you feel so nervous? “Your highness?” he inquires.

“yes?” You answer with a small smile. “Im very sorry about… what happened in the den. I was out of line and I can only hope you and your father could forgive me for crossing such boundaries” all he did was hug you. You knew it was only a problem because you were the princess but what if you weren’t… would he….

You cut your own thoughts off. You can’t be thinking like that. “oh.. yeah.. please pay it no mind, I really didn’t mind… I actually.. quite enjoyed it.” You admit, mentally slapping yourself as soon as you said so.

A flush quickly took over his face, heart skipping a beat before he started smiling widely. “well.. me too.. you’re highness.” he also admits. You’re both looking at each other, smiling in silence.

Rubbing your hands together nervously, no one’s ever looked at you for this long before and neither have you ever looked at someone for so long. You didn’t want to admit it but for some reason, you wanted to be held by him again, to have his arms around your body, keeping it in a cocoon of safety and maybe… maybe even love-

“WE’RE OFF IN TWO MINUTES” the sound of your fathers men startled you from your thoughts, maybe for good reason too. “well, I guess I’m off.” The hybrid proclaimed with a half smile. “Me too I guess” you responded.

He then reached into the carriage to grab your hand, gently brushing a kiss against it once more just like he did inside, making your heart flutter. He then bowed and said “goodbye Princess. I hope our paths cross again one day” he smiled. You felt your stomach do flips as you looked down.

You uttered a shy “goodbye sir Namjoon… so do I” before looking back up. Looking into each others eyes, you smiled at each other one last time, the hybrid giving you a nod before reluctantly turning away. “MEN, WE’RE OFF” and just like that, the carriage started to move, finding that your eyes never left the man and the direction he was going.

While watching him, you notice his figure was suddenly accompanied by 6 other ones, all walking into the den you had just vacated in. Who were they? Looking back into the front of the carriage, reality started to sink in and your circumstances.

Realizing your parents were waiting for you back home, a sinking feeling settles in. You are in so much trouble.

-

Sitting in the plush chair in your room, you can’t help but think about the men from last night. Hobi, was it? And Namjoon. They were both very attractive yes but truth is, that wasn’t the only reason you kept thinking about them.

Who were they? What were they doing at the ball and why did they seem to know you? Sitting back on the chair, you brought your legs up, holding them against your chest.

Most importantly, how did Hobi know you were the princess? Sure he said you smelt of human but don’t other human hybrids do too? You are a full human though you thought to yourself. Maybe that’s it. You were missing the hybrid scent and perhaps he put two and two together, you and your parents are the last full humans in the nations after all.

Groaning, you slightly swung your head back in frustration. You need to see them again, you thought to yourself. You need answers. Knocking brings you out of your rumination, “your highness?” A voice spoke behind your doors.

“yes?” You replied. “your presence is requested in the courtroom by your Father” Shit. You knew your father would be livid about all of this but the courtroom?

What was he up to? Was he going to send you away? All of these worries ran through your head before you stood up. Turning toward the door, you croaked out a pathetic “I’ll be there in five minutes”.

-

Your steps echoed the hallways, shoes clacking against the marble. Hugging yourself while walking, you can’t help but tighten your grip around your arms the closer you get to the courtroom. Your eyes trailing the passing paintings hung alongside the hallway, a feeble attempt to keep your mind calm.

Alas it’s futile as your thoughts keep running your mind rapid. What if father sends me to a nunnery you think, you’ve never been away from your parents your whole life so this frightens you. Or worse, what if he decides to keep you locked up in one of the dungeons for the rest of your life.

You find your nails starting to dig into your skin, you need to throw up. You stop and kneel. Coughing as you hold on to your stomach. Nothing is coming out.

You can’t throw up but you need to. Tears started beaming through your eyes before you quickly got up. You dusted yourself off and wiped your tears. You need to do this. You need to get it over with.

As you continue your way down. The doors of the courtroom finally come into sight, making your heart drop. ‘This is it’ you think to yourself. You feel as though you’re not in control, you just want to run away but your body is calmly walking toward the doors with no hesitation.

Reaching for the handle, you gently turn it, using your weight to push it open. Why can’t you run, you just want to turn back. Entering the room, the discussion within it instantaneously became quiet. All eyes turned to face you.

A large L shaped table sat in the middle of the room, your Father at the end of the L. The courtroom had high ceilings and tall windows, velvet red curtains draped over them. You cleared your throat, ignoring the eyes on you, you held your head up high and calmly began to make your way to the end of the table, where your father was.

The once clamorous room, was now filled with nothing but the clacking of your shoes against marble. All you could feel were dozens upon dozens of burning gazes, almost making you trip as you walk. Once you made it to the end, you looked at your father.

Meeting eyes with his, his face is filled with sadness but somehow also solace. Without warning, something overtakes you. You thought you could do it but your Fathers’ face had made you weak. You were guilty.

You sank to the floor almost mimicking the way your heart felt. Kneeling down, you placed your forehead to the ground, hands placed side by side. Gasps and muttering quickly filling the courtroom at the spectacle, silencing as fast as they started at the wave of your Father’s hand. His sight never leaving you, “Father…” you weakly whispered.

“Please, forgive me… I can’t-“ you were about to finish when you heard a chair being pushed back. You looked up, your father was walking briskly toward you. You were scared but then you noticed his eyes were glossy.

He quickly picked you up from off the floor, embracing you like he never had before. “Daughter…” you hear your father choke out. your eyes were wide when they suddenly filled with tears at the realization and relief.

Feeling safe, you quickly wrapped your arms around him. Oh how you loved your father. After a few minutes, your father pulls away from the hug, wiping your tears. “a future queen should never cry in public” he reminded you, smiling.

You chuckled at the joke “yes father” looking down as he pushes your hair behind your ears. He was so glad that you were safe, he didn’t even care about the disobedience. One thing was made clear to him though, he could not stop you. So if he couldn’t stop you, you would just have to be protected at all times.

���Daughter, I know I cannot stop your desires to leave the palace, I can see that clearly now..” he admits shamefully while looking down. “and because of last nights threat, you will have to be guarded at all times, even more so than before” your heart began to palpitate in excitement. Wait… does this mean.. you can leave the palace?

Looking into your fathers eyes with anticipation, you spoke up “what are you saying father?”. Your father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose “you may leave the palace from time to time, but you must be guarded by all seven while doing so.”

all seven? You cocked your head in confusion before your father registered your questioning look, clearing his throat before continuing “because of last nights threat, the court and I have decided you need to be guarded at all times” guarded? Like, a babysitter? “by whom?” You inquired.

Your father snaps his fingers, signalling to one of his servants to bring whoever it is, in. Hurriedly, the servant runs to the other door connecting to the next room, opening it. The men who came waltzing in, made your breath hitch.

It was seven handsome knights, two of them being the same men from the night before, Hobi and Namjoon. After quickly scanning them, your eyes met with Namjoon’s. A smirk appearing on his face. “I bet you didn’t think our paths would cross again so soon, your highness.”

A/N: OOOOOOOO cliffhanger! I know I said we would meet the boys this chapter but I didn’t want to rush things, howeverr I PROMISE we will meet the rest of them in the upcoming chapter :) anyway what did you think of the chapter? Any notes are deeply appreciated, especially comments. It makes me so happy that people are actually reading this, I promise I’ll do my best to deliver! Have a good rest of your day/night everyone, I’m gonna get started on chapter three once I wake up tomorrow ☺️

P.s I was asked about a tag list, so if anyone is interested, just ask! I’ll be putting the tag list on the next chapter xx

Next chapter:

[sordideuphemism]

A few messages about self-defense

PART 1: Avoiding A Fight

In a recent Twitter thread, I explained in wide, general terms how to safely navigate your way through a fight. After an influx of DMs and comments, I decided to expand upon it here.

I am not attempting to glorify fighting. It is a brutal, ugly way of resolving (and creating more) problems. Sometimes, though, the fight comes to you, or you have to fight to prevent greater harm. It is for those instances that I'm writing this post.

Keep in mind I'm discussing empty-hand fighting here. Given the thousands of laws, restrictions, and so forth on weapons, any advice I might give could land you in serious hot water. This is about self-preservation, not risk-seeking.

A fistfight, once begun, is about focus and reflex. This isn't sabers, there are no rules. There is your goal, your obstacle, and your ability. Your first goal should be to avoid the fight entirely.

In fact, most fights end before they begin. This is the vastly preferred outcome. Sizing each other up, looking for support or opportunity, weighing whether coming to blows is worth it - these are important, necessary things. Furthermore, this is something you can train.

Training to avoid fights might sound weird, but it's vitally important. Everything we do on this planet is about resources, and your time and health are the most valuable of those. Why would you risk both getting into fights where a fight wasn't necessary?

Of course, there are those times where a fight comes to you - someone is looking for prey, and you'll do fine. They want your cash, or your fear, or your blood - regardless of the reason - and this is not something you can negotiate once the fight begins. There are steps you can take, habits you can adopt, to help avoid being that prey.

Before we dive in to this topic, I want to take a moment to make this perfectly clear:

While it is possible to make yourself a less-attractive target, if you have been attacked it is not your fault or responsibility. Do not feel guilty if someone has harmed you in the past. You're not the one to blame, the person who initiated the conflict is.

Ok? Ok.

How do you train to avoid a fight?

People get into fights when presented with a situation from which negotiation is not possible. If someone knows they can (or should) discuss something with you instead of going through you, a fight is less likely to occur.

People also get into fights when bullies (or worse) decide they're a suitable target. By appearing as a less-suitable choice for their prey, you can reduce the chance of being assaulted.

Training here is largely about awareness, poise, and thinking things through. This is the only part of fighting where thinking is valuable. Once the fight begins, you need to turn your brain off, so make sure you make good use of it before you do.

NEGOTIATION

You're walking from your job to your car. It's early evening, and while the shadows are long there's still plenty of light. It's a little chilly, so you have your collar up and are briskly moving, making a beeline for your car. You stop by your door, and fish in your pockets or bag for your keys. Suddenly, someone's looming over you and threatening you for your wallet.

Sounds like the fight's on? No, not yet.

Stop. Do not move anything, and don't try to get a good view of them now. Tell them where your wallet is. Ask if you can get it or if they want to. If it's in a bag, offer the bag after telling them the wallet's in there, and you can offer them the bag.

You're in the negotiation phase, here. Your job is to assess what they want, give it to them if feasible (it's almost always feasible), and get out safely. Keep talking, politely, unless you're told to stop.

You can use this time to remind your assailant that you are a person and want out of this tense situation just as badly as they do. Ask if you can keep your keys so you can get home. If you have important medicine, ask if you can keep that. Questions like these show you're complying and remind them you have an existence outside of your current interaction.

As someone who's been mugged a few times? Simply listening, responding, and complying has gotten me out of some scary situations. Did I lose my wallet? Yes. Did I walk away? Also, yes. That's the important part.

But unless you like giving wallets away, negotiating out of every fight isn't going to do you much good. So, let's take a step back and see what else we could have done?

RISK AWARENESS

You're about to walk from your job to your car. It's early evening, and while the shadows are long there's still plenty of light. You mention to Laura in the back office - she works nights - that you're heading out, and ask if she'll keep an eye from inside for a moment. Before you leave, you take your keys and put them in your hand, holding the key for your car door at the ready.

You step out, and while it's a little chilly, you keep your collar down and your hands otherwise free. You pause for a second as Laura waits at the door, and scan the parking lot. There's a large van next to your car, and Laura's car is two spots over. A few other cars in farther spots might belong to the other workers elsewhere in the strip mall.

You make note of the van, and if a plate is visible give it a glance. Keys in hand you walk to the opposite side of the car, open the door, and toss your bag in, still watching the area around your car and the nearby van. If someone suddenly moves towards you from anywhere, you've decided, you'll follow your bag in on the passenger side and lock the door behind you.

Nothing happens, so you walk around the front of the car, staying in view of Laura, unlock that door and get in, locking it immediately behind you. You start your engine, give Laura a wave of thanks, and head out.

In this instance, you made an effort to reduce risk. You identified potential sources of harm, reduced things that would limit your visibility, asked for a buddy, avoided entering potentially dangerous areas, made a plan, removed temptations, and so forth. Whoever was in the van took note of that, and decided that they'd have easier pickings elsewhere*.

So, what's a risk? It's a grim bit of study but the answer is 'potentially everything'. This isn't meant to engender paranoia, but acknowledging where harm might come from is situational, and might not apply to you in a given situation. In this situation, the unknown van beside your car would be a clear risk for anyone.

PRESENCE OF MIND

While risk assessment helped in the prior scenario, it's not always possible to scope out a situation before you enter it. In these cases, risk assessment is more of a background noise, a ping when you observe something that can increase danger - but in an unfamiliar location or situation, those pings are few and far between.

This is where we begin to familiarize ourselves with instinct and reflex. If I'm nervous about being somewhere, I might show it by rushing, or trying to avoid notice. Folks looking for targets will notice that.

So long as you aren't literally skulking in shadows, the best way to avoid being noticed is to act like you belong where you are. Walking for a pub? You've been here before, one hand reaching for the latch and the other loosely hanging from a thumb hooked into your pocket, a smile on your face.

An easy smile (and fabulous hair) isn't a ticket out, though. Presence of mind is more than masking to seem like one of the crowd. You still need to identify potential sources of risk, and rate them against your abilities. Let's walk back up to that pub.

You step out of your car in the parking lot, near enough to a streetlight that you won't be coming back to darkness. From here, it's navigation. Scan your eyes across your path a few paces ahead as you begin walking for the door. Notice traffic patterns. Are folks lining up to get in? Steer yourself to the line, don't bumble about.

The sidewalk is broken up ahead, and there's gravel next to the missing corner. That's a hazard, and one you can step around easily if you adjust your path early. The line's backing up along an alley. No worry, you can hang back and let someone fill the line ahead of you, then use them as a screen. Maybe even strike up a conversation if they seem friendly enough.

Glancing at your reflection in a window, you take note of who's standing behind and ahead of you as you adjust your collar. Does it all look ok? The guy in front of you might be a cop. There's the silhouette of cuffs in his jeans pocket. If trouble starts, you might want to keep him between yourself and the trouble. Of course, he might also be the trouble.

This constant observation, evaluation, and filing away is a mental exercise, and one you'll get better with over time. For my fellow ADHD / spectrum friends, it's something you probably do already.

When in unfamiliar places, you'll learn to do it quickly, quietly, without gawking, and while keeping your 'mask' up. Eventually it will become second nature, and as you physically train you'll begin to notice things that matter in hand-to-hand combat - others' stances, how they hold their hands or shoulders, etc.

Hope this helps for now. I'll be following up with another post in a day or two about the physical side of preparation. Take care of yourself out there.

Love, Dad.

*Unless you're planning on living the life of a vigilante, or enacting laws about pre-crime, the most upsetting thing about defending yourself and preventing assault is the knowledge that you might just be passing it down the line to someone who looks weaker. This is a societal ill, and does not fall within the scope of what I'm discussing here. We clearly do need more support at the street level to help people live lives where attacking others, for whatever reason, is not a valid option.

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

I think another part of this issue comes from a shifting definition of forgiveness as a concept. Two people might have the same idea of how to handle a situation, but semantic differences keep them on opposite pages. I’ve seen forgiveness used to mean:

“you wronged me, what you did can never be undone, and you have not changed to the point where I would feel safe in trusting you again. while I cannot let you back into my life for my own safety, I am moving on for my own sake because hatred is exhausting. I no longer feel resentment/anger towards you.”

”you wronged me, but you have made efforts to change. I still do not feel safe in trusting you again and will not be letting you back into my life, but I acknowledge and appreciate the changes you have made. for the sake of yourself and those who interact with you, I hope you continue to change for the better”

“you wronged me and you have made efforts to change. I don’t feel safe trusting you, but I cannot put you out of my life due to extenuating circumstances. I am going to try to let go of resentment for my own sake because it is eating me alive.”

“you wronged me, but you have changed to the point that I do feel safe trusting you again. the harm you once did cannot be fully undone, but you are trying to mend what you can. I feel safe with you now and I will let you back into my life. we will move forward together”

And the definition that it seems a lot of tumblr people are using:

“you wronged me but I don’t care and I will let you back into my life with no thought for my safety or your growth as a person.”

This one really frustrates me. forgiveness does not mean you have to let someone back into your life unquestioningly, ESPECIALLY if they show no signs of changing their harmful behavior. If we’re going by the dictionary definition, it only means “to stop feeling angry or resentful towards someone for an offense, flaw, or mistake.”

You can forgive someone without ever interacting with them again. You can forgive someone without them ever trying to earn it. You can forgive someone completely by accident, as I have, simply by waking up one day without feeling that anger burning in your chest. You can forgive someone by realizing that the anger and resentment you carry is like a weight that gets heavier by the day, and deciding to pry your seized-up, locked-into-place fingers away from it so you can finally get some rest.

It’s true, there are some things that we can’t forgive. The worst of the worst, crimes that are committed on a structural level by people with too much power and too little conscience. But for most of us, forgiveness is not as out of reach as we think, and self-forgiveness is an important part of growing from past mistakes. It doesn’t mean you did nothing wrong, it doesn’t mean you’re excusing your actions, it just means that you’re letting go of self-hatred and turning your focus towards healing.

Self-hatred produces no material good in the world. It doesn’t put food on plates or give closure to victims or create any external change. It just locks you in the Mind Prison and makes you feel like the best thing you could do for the world is take yourself out of it. Self-forgiveness says, “hey, let’s get out of our head and see what we can do to make this place a little better.”

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[cumrrnet]

Get Out of Toxic Relationships Ending Harmful Connections

Get Out of Toxic Relationships: A Guide to Recognizing and Ending Harmful Connections

If you're in a toxic relationship, it can be challenging to know how to get out. Toxic relationships can be emotionally and physically draining, and it can be difficult to know where to turn or who to talk to. However, it's important to remember that you deserve to be in a healthy and supportive relationship, and there are steps you can take to leave toxic relationships behind. Recognizing the signs of a toxic relationship is the first step to getting out. These signs can include verbal or physical abuse, controlling behavior, manipulation, and disrespect. If you feel like you're walking on eggshells around your partner, or if you're constantly questioning your own worth or value, it may be time to take a step back and evaluate the relationship. Once you've recognized the signs of a toxic relationship, it's important to create a plan for leaving. This may involve seeking support from friends or family members, reaching out to a therapist or counselor, or finding resources in your community that can help you safely leave the relationship. Remember, leaving toxic relationships can be a difficult and emotional process, but it's important to prioritize your own safety and well-being.

Understanding Toxic Relationships

Toxic relationships can be harmful to your mental and physical well-being. It is important to recognize the signs of a toxic relationship and take steps to get out of it. In this section, we will discuss how to identify toxicity in a relationship and the effects it can have on your mental health. Identifying Toxicity Toxic relationships can take many forms, and it is not always easy to identify them. Here are some signs that may indicate that you are in a toxic relationship: - You feel drained after spending time with your partner - Your partner is controlling and manipulative - Your partner is verbally or physically abusive - Your partner is constantly criticizing you or putting you down - Your partner is jealous or possessive - Your partner is always blaming you for their problems If you recognize any of these signs in your relationship, it is important to take action to protect yourself. Effects on Mental Health Toxic relationships can have a significant impact on your mental health. Here are some of the effects that toxic relationships can have: - Anxiety and depression - Low self-esteem - Difficulty trusting others - Isolation from friends and family - Feeling trapped and helpless - Physical symptoms such as headaches and stomach problems It is important to seek help if you are experiencing any of these symptoms. A therapist or counselor can help you work through the effects of a toxic relationship and develop strategies for moving forward. Remember, you deserve to be in a healthy and supportive relationship. If you are in a toxic relationship, it is never too late to get out and start taking steps towards a happier and healthier future.

Recognizing Your Worth

Recognizing your worth is the first step to getting out of toxic relationships. It's not always easy to see your own value when you're in a relationship that makes you feel small or unimportant. However, it's important to remember that you are a valuable person with unique qualities and strengths. Here are some tips to help you recognize your worth: - Identify your strengths: Make a list of your strengths, talents, and accomplishments. Focus on what you do well and what makes you proud. This will help you see yourself in a more positive light. - Practice self-care: Take care of yourself physically, mentally, and emotionally. This can include things like exercise, healthy eating, meditation, and therapy. When you take care of yourself, you send a message to yourself and others that you are important. - Set boundaries: Boundaries are essential in any healthy relationship. They allow you to protect your time, energy, and emotions. If someone is crossing your boundaries, it's important to speak up and let them know. - Surround yourself with positive people: Spend time with people who lift you up and make you feel good about yourself. This can be friends, family, or even a support group. Being around positive people can help you see your own worth more clearly. Remember, recognizing your worth is a process that takes time and effort. It's not something that happens overnight, but it's worth the effort. When you recognize your worth, you'll be better equipped to leave a toxic relationship and build a healthier, happier life for yourself.

Setting Boundaries

When it comes to getting out of toxic relationships, setting boundaries is a crucial step. Boundaries are limits that you set for yourself and others to protect your physical, emotional, and mental well-being. Here are some ways to set boundaries effectively: Communicating Effectively Communication is key when it comes to setting boundaries. It's important to be clear, direct, and assertive when communicating your boundaries. Here are some tips for effective communication: - Use "I" statements to express how you feel. For example, "I feel uncomfortable when you raise your voice at me." - Be specific about what behaviors are not acceptable. For example, "It's not okay for you to call me names." - Avoid blaming or attacking the other person. Instead, focus on your own feelings and needs. - Listen to the other person's perspective, but don't let them invalidate your boundaries. Learning to Say No Learning to say no is another important aspect of setting boundaries. It can be difficult to say no, especially if you're used to putting other people's needs before your own. Here are some tips for saying no: - Be firm and direct. You don't have to apologize or give a lengthy explanation. - Use "I" statements to express your needs. For example, "I can't do that for you right now because I need to take care of myself." - Remember that saying no is not selfish. It's important to prioritize your own well-being. - Practice saying no in low-stakes situations, like turning down a social invitation, to build your confidence. By setting boundaries and communicating effectively, you can protect yourself from toxic relationships and create healthier relationships with others. Remember that setting boundaries is a process, and it may take time to get comfortable with it. Be patient with yourself, and don't be afraid to seek support from friends, family, or a therapist.

Seeking Professional Help

Seeking professional help is highly recommended for those who are coping with the aftermath of a toxic relationship. It's important to recognize that leaving a toxic relationship can be challenging and may cause emotional distress. A mental health professional can provide guidance and support during this difficult time. A certified mental health counselor can help you plan your exit strategy and provide you with tools and resources to help you recover from toxic relationships. They can also help you identify any patterns or behaviors that may have contributed to the toxic relationship and work with you to develop healthy coping mechanisms. In addition to seeking individual counseling, there are also support groups available for those who have left toxic relationships. These groups can provide a safe and supportive environment where you can share your experiences and connect with others who have been through similar situations. It's important to remember that seeking professional help is not a sign of weakness. Rather, it's a brave and proactive step towards healing and moving forward from a toxic relationship.

Developing a Support Network

When you're trying to get out of a toxic relationship, having a strong support network can make all the difference. This network can include friends, family members, therapists, support groups, and anyone else who can provide you with emotional support and guidance. Here are some tips for developing a support network: Identify Your Peeps The first step in building a support network is to identify the people in your life who are supportive and nurturing. These might be close friends, family members, or even co-workers. Make a list of these people and think about how they might be able to help you. Cultivate Your Network Once you've identified the people in your life who can provide you with support, it's important to cultivate those relationships. Reach out to these people regularly, and let them know that you appreciate their support. Make time for them, and be there for them when they need you. Join a Support Group Support groups can be a great way to connect with others who are going through similar experiences. Look for support groups in your area, or consider joining an online support group. These groups can provide you with a sense of community and belonging, and can help you feel less alone. Consider Therapy Therapy can be a powerful tool for healing from a toxic relationship. A therapist can provide you with a safe space to process your emotions, and can help you develop healthy coping mechanisms. Look for a therapist who specializes in trauma or relationship issues. Practice Self-Care Finally, it's important to practice self-care as you're building your support network. Take time for yourself, and do things that make you feel good. This might include exercise, meditation, or spending time in nature. By taking care of yourself, you'll be better able to support others and navigate the challenges of leaving a toxic relationship.

Moving On

Moving on from a toxic relationship can be a challenging process, but it is essential for your mental and emotional well-being. Here are some steps you can take to help you move on: Healing Process The first step in moving on from a toxic relationship is to allow yourself time to heal. It's normal to feel a range of emotions, including sadness, anger, and confusion. Acknowledge your feelings, and give yourself permission to grieve the loss of the relationship. Here are some ways you can facilitate the healing process: - Seek support from friends, family, or a therapist. - Practice self-care by doing things that make you feel good, such as exercising, meditating, or taking a relaxing bath. - Write in a journal to help process your emotions and gain clarity. - Avoid contact with your ex-partner as much as possible to give yourself space and time to heal. Remember, healing is a process, and it takes time. Be patient with yourself and trust that you will get through this. Building Healthy Relationships Once you have given yourself time to heal, you may be ready to start building healthy relationships. Here are some tips to help you create healthy relationships: - Set boundaries: Be clear about what you want and need in a relationship, and communicate your boundaries clearly. - Practice effective communication: Be open and honest with your partner, and listen actively to what they have to say. - Look for red flags: Be aware of warning signs of toxic relationships, such as controlling behavior, manipulation, and lack of respect. - Take it slow: Don't rush into a new relationship. Take the time to get to know the person and build a strong foundation of trust and respect. Remember, you deserve to be in a healthy, loving relationship. By taking the time to heal and build healthy relationships, you can create a fulfilling and happy life for yourself.

Conclusion

In conclusion, leaving toxic relationships is never easy, but it is essential for your mental and emotional well-being. You deserve to be in a healthy and supportive relationship, and it is not your responsibility to fix or change someone else's toxic behavior. Remember that you are not alone in this process. Seek support from friends, family, or a therapist who can provide a safe and non-judgmental space for you to process your emotions and make a plan for moving forward. When ending toxic relationships, it is important to prioritize your safety. If you feel unsafe or fear for your physical well-being, consider reaching out to a domestic violence hotline or seeking legal assistance. Take the time to reflect on what you have learned from this experience and how you can use it to grow and improve in future relationships. Set boundaries and communicate your needs clearly with future partners. Remember that you deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. Finally, be patient and kind with yourself. Healing from the aftermath of  toxic relationships takes time and is a process. Celebrate your progress and give yourself grace as you continue to move forward towards a healthier and happier future. Read the full article

[helliontherapscallion]

Hello! Um hopefully this is ok but can you do a platonic poly relationship with tech reader and philza? And one day the reader comes over to there abode with a basket full of sweets and pastries (muffins bread ect-) also cottagecore quiet reader please she/they pronouns

Thank you! :D

(A/N): I’m back yall! Sorry I’ve been gone (in terms of writing/request doing) for so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a bit

Ok so you’re childhood best friends with Technoblade

You two met when you accidentally bumped into each other in the village by the sbi fam’s house

You were calmly along the cobblestone path when a cute dress in a store window caught your eye. You kept walking, but you were eyeing the dress as you walked by it. It was just your aesthetic: a vintage ruby red dress with laces tying the two sides together, a floused opening to the bottom of the dress, and puffy white sleeves. It looked like it was in your size too. It was absolutely perfect.

Just as you were about to walk into the store to check out the price, you bumped into someone and fell to the ground behind you. Looking up, you saw that the person that you bumped into was also on the ground looking at you. You saw that the boy was about your age with fair skin and long pastel pink hair tied into a messy ponytail. Peculiarly, he had small tusks poking out from his bottom lip, floppy pig ears on the top of his head, and crimson eyes. A piglin hybrid perhaps?

Feeling a small blush work it’s way onto your face, you quickly got up and held out a hand to the boy. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay? Here, let me help you up.” 

He looked at your hand for a bit before he grabbed it with his own and allowed you to haul him up to his feet. You looked him up and down scanning him for any injuries he might’ve gotten from the fall. Luckily, it didn’t look like he got hurt. The boy looked down at his feet and bent over to pick up the picnic basket and the few muffins that dropped out of it. Putting the muffins back in, he handed the basket back to you with a small smile and a blush of his own.

“It’s really no problem, I’m fine so it’s no harm done. Actually,” he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “I wasn’t looking where I was going either. I got distracted by that sword in the window.” He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the armory shop next to the dress shop. In the window was a shining golden sword glimmering in the bright sunlight. If you squinted, you could see a sign that said that it had a high level fire aspect and looting enchantments. 

“Well, it looks really pretty. I don’t know much about swords, so maybe you could tell me about them? I’m (y/n),” you gave him a small smile and stuck out your hand once more. He shook it with a grin, “Technoblade.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship with him and his family

You met Philza, his father

The avian was extremely excited and happy that his quietest son finally made a new friend

He treated you like you were his own daughter

You might as well be a part of the family with how much you came over to babysit Tommy or to just relax with Techno

You always bring over a basket of baked treats/pastries whenever you came over

Lemme just say, the family feasted and always fought over the last one

When you started to come over at least once a day for a bit with a basket full of sweets, Philza had to pull you aside and ask you to slow down a bit with the treats

“Hey (y/n) could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure! Tech, I’ll be out in a sec.” The piglin hybrid curtly nodded and walked out the back door to the backyard. You smiled at Philza before you set the basket down onto the table and started to put the rolls onto a plate.

“I know it’s not much today, I didn’t have much time yesterday to bake.”

“That’s fine, but it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Internally, you began to panic slightly. Oh Ender, you didn’t do anything bad did you? You couldn’t think of anything you did wrong. In fact, you actively avoided any wrongdoing or talking to strangers. Oh no, were you accidentally rude to someone?

“You aren’t in trouble,” he smiled lightly when he saw you slump in relief, “I was just wondering why you always bring over baked things. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious and we really appreciate that you take the time to make us things, but we kinda have a little too much. Maybe slow down a bit with bringing them over?”

You felt an embarrassed blush spread across your face as you nodded and put all your focus into transferring the bread rolls over to the plate. “Sorry Phil, I just bake whenever I’m stressed or bored and I just have a lot left over after I give some to my family.”

“And that’s completely valid! Just maybe don’t bring over so much, breaking up the fights with Tommy, Wil, and Tech just gets a bit much at times,” he grinned and clapped a hand over your shoulder.

As the years passed, you and Techno only grew closer

You taught Techno how to do meticulous neat braids in his hair while in turn he taught you some self defense

Mans makes sure you can properly and efficiently wield a sword and shoot a bow and arrow 

Poor guy can’t lose another friend

When he moves to the tundra, he invites you to live with him but you reluctantly refuse

You had Tommy and Wilbur to look after in L’manberg

Being pissed at Schlatt when he exiles them

Following them into exile leaving behind shocked Manbergians 

They didn’t think you were capable of the screaming, let alone such profanity

Practically launching yourself at Techno when he agrees to helping Pogtopia

Him making sure that the withers don’t harm you, even going as far as hitting them and luring them away from you

Staying with Techno after L’manberg is reinstated under Tubbo’s rule

Starting to dislike leadership and governments in general after Tommy gets exiled (again)

Convincing Technoblade to let Tommy stay with you two

Absolutely hating governments when the Butcher Army places Philza under house arrest and rolls up to your guys’ house and takes Techno and Carl

They lock you in the house, but you pick the lock with the bobby pin you kept the bandana pinned to your hair with 

You follow them to L’manberg and break down when you see the anvils crashing down onto Techno

Screaming profanities at the Butcher Army and taking out your sword to attack them not noticing when Techno runs away safely

Philza watching everything from the balcony and cheering you on

You almost take away one of Fundy’s (whom you considered to be your nephew until the whole Butcher Army incident) lives before you feel a sword slice your arm and an arrow shooting its way through your thigh

Turning, you gave Tubbo and Ranboo the fiercest glare you could as you were standing over a half-dead Fundy with a sword dripping blood hanging at your side

You, the soft spoken and sweet one that gave everybody baked goods wherever you went, screaming profanities at the festival and the execution was scary enough, but this?

Absolute nightmare fuel, gonna stick in their minds for a long time

You attempt to fight them but you lose and end up with injuries too severe for you to continue fighting

Philza being the one to yell at you to go home to the tundra telling you that Techno’s alive bc of a totem of undying 

You felt kinda stupid after that, Technoblade never dies (you often half joked that he was immortal like Philza)

You limp home and get met with a bone crushing uncharacteristic hug from Techno

He patches you up after reassuring you that the blood on him wasn’t his (he tells you about the duel in great detail)

In turn you tell him about your 3 v 1 duel, feeling a bit dejected bc you ended up losing

Him being literally so proud of you for facing 3 people at once, but also scolding you slightly for going into it blindly

When Philza moves in, everything feels complete and fulfilled (at least to you)

You help Philza clean and dress his damaged wing

Also helping him do some physical therapy so that he could at least move it

Comforting him whenever he felt down about not being able to fly again

You invite him and Techno to cook with you and it surprisingly ends up better than you expected it to be

When Tommy betrays Techno, you and Philza end up being the only ones he could fully trust (later slowly adding Niki and Ranboo to the mix when The Syndicate is formed)

You are Harpocrates when The Syndicate is formed due to your quiet nature

Philza and Techno fully 100% supporting your decision of not wanting to reveal your identity

At the second meeting you show up with a full mask covering your face and the opposite of what you normally wore (more of a grunge type beat)

Only communicating in nods and writing at meetings, living up to your nickname

You never reveal your identity to Niki or Ranboo

Pleasant late night conversations around the fire with hot chocolate and your baked goods

Techno still lets you braid his hair (sometimes you even put flowers in it) from time to time

You braid Philza’s hair when it gets too long

Braid chains when yall get too bored? Hell yeah 

Ultimately, you three become a strong family unit (goals)

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur

[pompettepink]

And here we have it. The response that makes her look bad because she corroborates everything I said she did

"My goal in giving these tips has always been to help people stay as safe as possible while dieting." VERY nefariously put!! These people are NOT dieting. They are actively STARVING! Her choice of words was very sneaky and intentional. And she said plain as day that her goal has ALWAYS been to make sure they starve "safely". A task that simply isn't possible when you're choosing hunger. I can tell everyone that I want to make a shade of pink that looks exactly like yellow but if it isn't possible then me stating otherwise isn't impressive.

"I have never told anyone to copy me or be like me" except she plugs in her tele Ed food plan in her bio and links it to anyone who asks so they can follow her personal steps. Also when she was asked by someone suffering with anorexia how they can lose 24 pounds in one month JUST LIKE SHE DID she told them to check out HER "diet" plan that she will link to them.

"To the minors who asked for advice I have publicly said that I don't believe they should go on a diet at all". Yawn. If she can't guarantee that all the anons who she guided into her Ana habits weren't minors I don't wanna hear it.

"Seems like those people have conveniently left those of my posts unaddressed when raging about my account." My entire post was to highlight how DANGEROUS of a person she was. The extremely limited amount of times she told people "actually don't have disordered eating" is NOT enough for me to focus on when she had SO MANY posts basically telling people "actually here's how you can have your disordered eating be just like mine!"

"I also had some cross tags on posts which I removed, and tags like Ed motivation or thinspo". Self explanatory. She wanted to host content that motivated eating disorders and inspired anorexia driven thiness. Moving on.

And finally

"It was never my intention to harm people, let alone being joyous over destroying a strangers body (yeah that's what someone actually wrote about me)". If she didn't like me talking about her feelings she should have never said them tbh. Someone on anon wrote to her saying "a few of your tips really stuck with me!" and she flat out said "I'm happy you found them useful. Best of luck". A person admitted to copying her and she responded with joy! Happiness! Elation! She was glad to hear that someone was following in her footsteps! So foul!!!!!!

And as an added bonus here's what someone else wrote in her notes. Keep in mind that she provided people with an outline on how to harm themselves. Telling people to take vitamins on top of harming themselves isn't the "harm reduction" it's being rebranded as.

Once AGAIN admitting that she was HAPPY when her Ana tips "helped" someone.

I didn't take "offense" to what she said. I was HORRIFIED by it. To be so giddy to hear someone being the same type of Ana she is is really disgusting tbh.

She is NOT the helpful saint you're trying to paint her as @pyraxeval . I've seen what you've been writing in the notes and the only reason that you're saying that she was trying to keep people away from disordered eating and that I was cherry picking is because you liked her and thought she was sweet.

I didn't and she isn't.

A sweet person doesn't map out anorexia for other people to follow along her path.

I really Really REALLY didn't wanna say this, but she was being a

groomer

If you don't agree with that then look at the receipts again. Still don't agree?

Not my problem 🤷🏽‍♀️

myfairydiary has been removed from tumblr, i got an email

THIS IS WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY THAT REPORTING WORKS!!!

It's literally so important and it only takes a minute. This community needs to work together to make it as safe for recovery as possible and it simply cannot be if we don't make an effort.

Thanks to everyone for putting in the work!! ❤️

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[silverflame2724]

Accidental Martial God WWX

That was exacty what I meant actually but I do have a few more povs if you want.

LQRs reaction to a demonic cultivator ascending, JGS and JGY reaction to the Yin Tiger Tally moving completely out of reach, WQ pondering the true requirements for ascension given WWX doesn't have a golden core yet ascended, WWX musing on Godhood and on his new followers both the good and the more disturbing worshipers.

Maybe LWJ protects the Wen Remnants because WWX asked him to in a dream and after he succeeds (13 years later) he ascends and is finally reunited with WWX.

Lan Qiren did not know what to think. Wei Wuxian, his most troublesome student, a demonic cultivator, had ascended. He’d ascended. How was that even possible? Were the Heavens blind? Why would they allow someone like Wei Wuxian to ascend?

From what Lan Qiren had thought, only those who are righteous and followed the correct path in life like the Lan clan’s founder, Lan An, would be worthy of ascending.

Either the qualifications for ascension were lower than he thought or Lan Qiren had been horribly mistaken about Wei Wuxian’s personality and motivations for using demonic cultivation. That last thought made Lan Qiren feel very uncomfortable.

He’d always been harsh on the boy and disregarded him, even - he ashamedly admitted - punishing him harsher and more frequently than others.

He’d thought he was in the right because of how Wei Wuxian was but…..

But if he was wrong then Lan Qiren owed him an apology.

………………….

Jin Guangshan wanted to scream out in frustration seeing Wei Wuxian ascend. That brat had the Stygian Tiger Seal on him - according to his spies - and now that he ascended, the Seal went with him.

He had had so many plans on bribing Wei Wuxian to his side or killing him when he refused - as well as stealing the Seal - and then taking over the cultivation world, lording over it as he was always meant to be.

Now those plans are ruined. He sighed. Hopefully that bastard son of his can finally prove his usefulness and give him countermeasures or he might retract his favor from him.

……………………

Jin Guangyao’s first thought upon seeing Wei Wuxian ascend was: Oh shit. I have to go make up new plans to help Father.

He knew his father wanted Wei Wuxian and the Seal and didn’t really care how he obtained both or either, just as long as no one traced it back to him. He sighed. This was going to be a big headache. But at least the plans on putting his father as Chief Cultivator were going smoothly. He could only imagine what his father would do to him if even this failed.

..............................

Wen Qing had still been in Yiling, making plans to relocate her family, when the news that Wei Wuxian had ascended had reached her.

Her first reaction was, That’s impossible.

Because it was, right? Wen Qing should know. She cut out his core, after all. But to think he was still able to ascend while he was a demonic cultivator made her wonder what the requirements were for ascending. Perhaps it’s an honest heart? Self-sacrificing tendencies? Or is it a sacrifice of some sorts? She paused. What if.....it was a trial? To test a person’s will? What Wei Wuxian had suffered was.....horrible. Could it have all been just a test from the Heavens?

If that was so, the Heavens really are cru--- 

“A’ Jie, we have to go! Some Jin were spotted nearby!”

Wen Qing gritted her teeth. Members of the branch families of Qishan, regardless of whether they were innocent or not, were captured and subsequently tortured to death by the Jin and sometimes the Nie. Because her family was all in Yiling, they were safe.......but only for now. They had to hurry and escape.

Wen Qing sent a quick prayer to Wei Wuxian, hoping for her family’s safety, and tucked the rest of her belongings in her qiankun pouch, remembering to wrap her arms in bandages to hide the needles she might need to paralyze any Jin that came close.

....................................

Wei Wuxian’s first thought when he landed in the Heavens was, What the fuck.

Then he looked around and looked taken aback and wary at the unfamiliar faces around him. Where the fuck am I?

“Hello.” A rather stoic-faced man greeted.

“Hello.” Wei Wuxian parroted back. The person in front of him didn’t seem to be a threat so he felt a little tension loosen from his shoulders. “Um, Xiansheng? I’m afraid I don’t know where I am?”

“You have just ascended.” The man replied, throwing Wei Wuxian aback.

“Are you pulling my leg?” Wei Wuxian asked. “How is that even possible! I don’t even have---” He swallowed. I don’t even have a core.

“I do not lie. Come, we are wasting time. We must get you washed up and dressed for the induction ceremony.” Seeing Wei Wuxian still frozen, the man sighed, signalled for some people to pick Wei Wuxian up and dragged the struggling man to some quarters.

After absentmindedly washing, drying and changing himself, Wei Wuxian noticed some differences in his body. He wasn’t....cold or hurting anymore. And - he touched his back - he could feel his back! After having his muscles and nerves shredded by Zidian, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to sense touch on his back or even move without pain! But now he can!

He heard the urging of some people and grumbled.

“You will become a god of demonic cultivation.” Was the first thing he heard when he stepped out of the room.

Wei Wuxian choked. “Excuse me?!”

“I said what I said. Now then, if you would please concentrate, you should be able to hear the prayers of the people below.”

Wei Wuxian felt like everything was moving a little too fast for him, but nevertheless complied. Immediately after, a flood of prayers hit him at full force.

“Wei Wuxian!” That was Jiang Cheng! “….Have some fun up there.”

“A’ Xian, do be well. Shijie isn’t there to take care of you so do be well.” Wei Wuxian refused to cry.

“Wei-Xiong! I hope there’s someone up there to supply you with you know what *winks*”

How does someone even wink in their prayers? Wei Wuxian thought amusedly.

“Wei Ying.” That was Lan Zhan. “Wei Ying, I will—be well.”

Ah, Lan Zhan. Always concise even in your thoughts.

Wei Wuxian was a little teary. As much as he was glad to not be a part of the cultivation world considering all the rumors, he did regret leaving behind those that cared for him.

That thought was much more cemented upon hearing…….

“Ah, Lord Wei, the pinnacle of evil, the role model of all demonic cultivators!” Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “Please hear my plea for more power! I need it, I need it to destroy everyone who harmed me!”

“Wei Wuxian, I wish to gain power over resentful energy so that I may tear my enemies limb by limb!

“Give me money! You’re a god, aren’t you? Be useful for once and give me some gold!”

“Tch. If I’m going to pray for anything, then it’ll have to be the Seal. You’re a god, now, right? So you have no need for the Seal. Just give it up.”

No matter the good or bad, Wei Wuxian heard the wishes and prayers of the people down below and while some were innocent enough, there were those that wished for death, destruction, tools for torture, power, money, women…….you name it.

It made Wei Wuxian feel a little disgusted with humanity. He cut off his focus from the bad and focused on the prayer he received from his friends and family.

“Wei Wuxian, I heard you became a god.” It was Wen Qing. He hadn’t heard her voice in a long time. “I know this might seem shameless of me after all I did to you, but please. Please guarantee the safety of my family. We’re being hunted down and—”

Her prayer was abruptly cut off, before coming back in full force with notes of desperation. Her family had been captured and taken to Qiongqi Path! Wei Wuxian panicked. He didn’t know how to escape from this place and try to go help her.

The…..person who was watching over him evidently knew what he was thinking about and merely stated that gods cannot interfere with the mortal realm. So he was stuck.

But that didn’t mean he was out of options.

It took a few days, but he managed to wheedle out how to help: via dreams. He merely needed to get into the mind of one of his followers and tell them to help. Much like those prophetic dreams Wei Wuxian had read about as a kid.

So he buckled down, thinking of the best candidate to help him.

……………………………

Lan Wangji looked at the landscape around him and concluded that he was dreaming. Though, it was a little odd that he was aware that he was dreaming. Not that he hasn’t realized he was dreaming before - especially in those many fantasies he had of Wei Ying - but to be aware that this is a dream and to see nothing but a flat landscape was pretty out of the ordinary. 

Anyway, he digressed. What was going on?

“Uhh, Lan Zhan? Can you hear me?”

“W-Wei Ying?!” Lan Wangji couldn’t be blamed for stuttering. He wasn’t expecting this!

“Phew. Oh good, you can hear me. Anyway, Lan Zhan, I gotta be quick about this because I’m kinda sorta bending the rules here, but do you think you can go to Qiongqi Path and rescue Wen Qing and her family?”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Just like that? Not even going to ask me for a reason, er-gege?”

Lan Wangji’s ears flushed red at the address. “If Wei Ying wants to save them, you must have a good reason. That’s enough for me.”

“Ah, Hanguang-Jun.” The title was spoken fondly. “Always so good. I’ll tell you anyway. Wen Qing and her family sheltered Jiang Cheng and I after Lotus Pier fell and even brought back Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen’s bodies! That’s a debt I cannot repay.”

“I understand. I will help.”

He couldn’t see Wei Ying, but could practically feel the amusement from him.

“Wei Ying.”

“Yes?”

“Are......Are you well?”

“Of course I am. I’m actually feeling so much better than before.” Wei Ying grumbled, “I’m not even in pain anymore.”

“You were in pain?” Lan Wangji asked worriedly. “Wei Ying, why didn’t you say anything.”

“Lan Zhan, there was nothing you or anyone else could do to alleviate my pain. It doesn’t matter now. I’m okay.”

Lan Wangji was still worried and wanted to speak to him more, but---

“Ah! Looks like my time’s up!” Wei Ying exclaimed cheerfully as the dreamscape wavered. “See you, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji nodded. “See you, Wei Ying.” I’ll catch up to you soon.

.

.

.

And 13 years later, Lan Wangji kept his promise.

___________________

I didn’t edit this so I’m hoping there’s not too many grammatical errors lol. 

[alisbackalleybbq]

Puppy Love Chapter 1

A/N:    I’ll be working off my limited knowledge of Idaho law because I don’t know California law so please be mindful of that. I will be looking up some California laws. Disclaimer:  I am not an attorney.  My face claim for Charlotte Trager is Stella Maeve.  The face claim for Jeff Williams is Eric Bana.  The face claim for Jonah James is Dan Levy.

TW:  Domestic abuse, attempted strangulation, strong language, mentions of self-harm

Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list.  

A HUGE THANK YOU TO MY BETA @daddysfavoritesexkitten​!  I wouldn’t be posting this without her support.

“7-Adam-19,” dispatch came over the radio.

“Go for 7-Adam-19,” Lucy answered.

“Domestic in progress, 1160 Michigan Avenue.”  Dispatch relayed.

“Enroute.” Lucy replied.   “Everything okay?”  She asked Tim tentatively.  He’d been in a surly mood more so than normal even for Tim Bradford.

“Yeah,” he didn’t take his eyes off the road, “just focused on this call.”

“You’ve been quiet today.” Lucy prompted.

“Not a lot to say,” Tim shrugged.  “Focus up.  Domestics are the most dangerous call we can respond to…”  Lucy tuned out the rest of his Tim Lecture.  She’d been his Boot long enough to know what he was saying.

Tim cut the lights and siren as he turned onto Michigan Avenue.  The house they pulled up to was unassuming.  As Tim got out of the car, he noticed a lack of noise coming from inside.  No yelling which gave him pause.  He’d seen calls like this go south too often.  He was stealing himself to find another woman murdered in a domestic violence incident.  Lucy’s stomach was filled with dread as she climbed the steps to the house.

“Police,” Lucy announced after knocking on the door.  Tim hung back on the walkway, hand on his holster.

“Get rid of them,” a male voice ordered from inside.  The door opened and a woman peeked out.

“Ma’am, is everything okay?”  Lucy asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”  The woman answered, giving Lucy a small smile.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need you to step outside so we can make sure you’re okay.”  Tim said.

“No, absolutely not.”  A man pulled the woman away from the door and stepped out onto the porch.  “This is insane.  She’s fine.”

“We’re going to have to see it for ourselves.  Have her step out, please?”  Lucy said sternly.  “You can talk to my partner.”

The man huffed out a sigh.  “Charlotte, get your ass out here.”

Tim gestured to the man to come talk to him.  “Got identification?”  Tim asked.

The woman meekly stepped out onto the porch.  Lucy had to suppress a gasp from escaping her mouth.  The poor woman’s face was swollen, an eye was beginning to turn purple, her lip was bleeding, and there were angry bruises forming on her throat.

Lucy picked up her radio.  “7-Adam-19, roll an RA to our location.”  

“She doesn’t need an ambulance.”  The man spit out.

“What happened to you?”  Lucy asked her.

“Nothing, I-um-I…” She stammered.

“She’s a clumsy bitch.  She fell down the stairs.”  The man said.

“Hey,” Tim warned.  “Talk to me.  Don’t talk to them.”

“Can we go inside?”  Lucy asked the woman.

“No,” the man answered but the woman nodded anyway.  “You little-” he snarled, moving towards the two women.

“Hey,” Tim snapped again,  “stay here with me.”

“What’s your name?”  Lucy asked once they were in the house.

“Charlotte.  Charlotte Trager.”  She answered before sitting on the couch, worrying her thumb nail between her teeth.

“What happened, Charlotte?” Lucy asked softly.

Charlotte shook her head.  “He found out about a bank account I had opened behind his back.  I was trying to save money so I could leave.”  She wiped tears from her face.

“How long has this been happening?”  Lucy asked.

“Six months.  Every time I try to leave, he does something crazy.  Last time I tried to leave he cut his wrists and took a bunch of pills.”  Charlotte answered.  

“Give me a full statement and I can put him in jail today.  You can go somewhere safe.”  Lucy pleaded.

Charlotte shook her head.  “His mom will bail him out and he’ll be right back here.”

“These would be felony level charges.  We can get you a protection order.  While he’s gone, you can pack some things and go to the YWCA.  They have shelters to help keep you safe.”  Lucy explained.  “If you don’t get out now, he is going to kill you.  Please tell me what happened.”

“Jeffrey Williams,” Lucy said as she came out of the house and walked towards the man.  “You are under arrest for attempted strangulation and domestic battery.”  

“Put your hands behind your back,” Tim said, pulling out his cuffs.

Jeff rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh.  “Lying again, you stupid cunt?”  He spit at Charlotte who was standing on the porch.

“Hey!” Tim barked as he put the cuffs on the guy.  “Don’t talk to her.”

“You know I’m going to get out in a few hours and when I do, I’m coming back here, Charlotte.  I’m coming to get you.  You won’t get away with this.”  He snarled.

“That’s an extra charge of Criminal Threats.”  Lucy glared at him.

Jeff rolled his eyes again.  “Please.  You’re just a rookie.  You probably don’t even know what the penal code is for threats.”

“422(a) PC.”  Lucy smiled smugly.  “And I may be just a rookie but I’ll still throw your ass in jail.”

It had been a week since Jeff Williams had gone to jail and been bailed out.  Charlotte had moved everything out of his house and found a great apartment of her own.  Currently she was standing in the grocery store checkout line when she recognized a familiar face in front of her.  

“Hey,” Tim said with a smile, “Charlotte, right?”  He was somewhat surprised that he remembered her.  He’d seen so many people between the time he left her house and now.  He didn’t even talk to her at the scene.  Maybe it was that Lucy was so fired up for the rest of the day after that call that made Charlotte stick in his head.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiled back.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Tim.  Tim Bradford.”  He answered.  “How’re things?”

“Good.”  Charlotte replied.  “Thank you for helping me that day.”

“No thanks needed.”  Tim said.  

“Actually it is needed.  I’d called a couple of times before and the officers who responded basically told me to stop antagonizing him.  One actually said that if I’d shut my mouth and just make dinner like a ‘good girl’ then Jeff wouldn’t have a reason to hit me.”

“Who the fuck said that?”  Tim was instantly furious.  An officer’s job was to protect and to serve.  There was absolutely no reason for any officer to have said anything remotely that gross to a domestic violence victim.

“I’m not sure what his name was.  He was riding with a young rookie, too.  The rookie’s last name was something like Easton, I think.  Poor guy was mortified by what the other officer said.”

“Was the rookie’s last name West?”  Tim felt his anger growing.

Charlotte snapped her fingers.  “Yes!  Super nice guy.  He felt so bad.”

“I know exactly who that officer was.  I’ll have a talk with him.”  Tim promised.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!  I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“No, he needs to know that his conduct is unprofessional.”  Tim gritted his teeth.

“Hey, are we still going to Home Depot?”  a man came up and asked Charlotte.

“Yeah, I have to get that shower fixed since the landlord is refusing.”  Charlotte answered him.

“Who’s this?”  The guy asked, smiling at Tim.

“Jonah, this is Tim.  He’s one of the officers from last week.” Charlotte replied.

“Oh, goodness!”  Jonah said, dropping his armful of groceries into the cart and shaking Tim’s hand.  “Thank you so much for helping Charlie get out of that hellhole.”

“All in a day’s work.” Tim shrugged.  “What’s wrong with your shower?”

“It leaks all the time.”  Jonah said, dropping Tim’s hand.  “The landlord is bitching because the water bill is so high but he won’t fix it either.”

“I can come by and look at it.”  Tim offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t-” Charlotte started.

“That would be great, thank you!”  Jonah cut her off.  “We’re horrible handymen.  Charlie can give you her number and you can set something up.”  He looked proud of himself.

Charlotte gave Tim her number so they could set up a time for him to come by and look at the shower.

“Weren’t you the one telling me to be careful of puppies?”  Lucy asked, eyebrow arched at her TO.

“She’s not a puppy.” Tim rolled his eyes at Lucy.  “I’m just helping her fix her shower.”

“Sure,” Angela chimed in, “just be careful.  Don’t let her get the wrong idea.”

“There’s no idea to get.  I’m fixing a shower.  In and out.”  Tim huffed, walking off.

“Watch him,” Angela said to Lucy.  “Something’s going on with him.”

“10-4.”  Lucy replied.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it. 

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors. 

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

 The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

 It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

 Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

 And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

 It’s fun.

 Point. Right. Right.

 It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

 Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

 Yeah, they gotta work that out.

 Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

 Normal people.

 What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

 No one is normal and normal is boring.

 Logan. Right.

 Okay, so here’s the thing.

 Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

 Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

 It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

 Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

 Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

 Oh.

 Right.

 He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

 He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

 The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

 Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

 Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

 They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

 So. Gentle it is then.

 Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

 Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

 But with Logan...

 Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

 It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

 Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

 Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

 Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

 Not anymore.

 Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

 Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

 Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

 Take a shower.

 Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

 Go to sleep.

 Ask someone for help.

 See?

 If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

 Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

 The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

 He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

 He can’t.

 Fuck.

 He knocks.

 “One moment, please.”

 Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

 “Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

 “Can I come in?”

 “Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

 “Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

 “Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

 “Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

 “Not wearing your costume?”

 “Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

 Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

 “Do what?”

 “Care. Try and take care of me.”

 Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

 Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

 “Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

 “So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

 “As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

 Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

 “You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

 “Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

 Logan frowns. “Like what?”

 Glad you fucking asked.

 “‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

 He watches Logan’s face tense.

 “Sound familiar, Lolo?”

 “You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

 He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

 “That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

 “Lolo.”

 Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

 Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

 Logan freezes.

 “W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

 “Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

 “No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

 Gotcha.

 Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

 “Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

 “But I have work.”

 “But you need food.”

 “Remus—“

 “Logan.”

 At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

 “Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

 “I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

 “’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

 “I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

 Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

 “Hey!”

 “Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

 “It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

 For fuck’s sake…

 Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

 “Remus, what—“

 “You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

 “I am being honest!”

 “You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

 “I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

 Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

 Or eating.

 Or taking care of himself.

 Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

 “Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

 “Lolo?”

 “It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

 Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

 Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

 “You know what I do.”

 Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

 “You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

 Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

 Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

 “Ah!”

 “Am I hurting you?”

 “No, no, just—just a little startled.”

 “Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

 Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

 “I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

 Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

 “It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

 Oh, Lolo.

 “I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

 “But why?”

 Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

 “O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

 “Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

 “Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

 “Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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[loveofafangirl]

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field.  *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it. 

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N. 

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him. 

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed." 

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out. 

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble. 

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years." 

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch. 

65 hours. 

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower. 

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected. 

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true. 

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you. 

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips. 

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be. 

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead. 

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt. 

57 hours. 

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you. 

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you. 

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy." 

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks. 

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why. 

51 hours. 

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed. 

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you." 

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately. 

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic. 

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world. 

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for. 

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it. 

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand. 

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him. 

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?" 

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself. 

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too. 

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." 

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not." 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000​

[backtothefanfiction]

WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW| Chapter One

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: After your mission starts going tits up and you find yourself being held at gun point, your groups big secret is about to come to light.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! Guns, Violence, Hostage Situation, Shooting, Murder, Sexual References, Some Angst.  (This Chapter is purely set up but there will be plenty of Smut in future instalments, not to mention drama galore, especially where Frankie is involved.)

Word Count - 3429

A/N- Hi all, I hope you enjoy my little self indulgent piece I’ve been working on. This is a female reader insert so I do use she/her pronouns, I hope this doesn’t bother anyone or make them feel uncomfortable, I just always vision myself as my insert character and I just end up writing with my own pronouns. Although I have re-read this a couple times, I did write this and proof read in the early hours of the morning so there may still be mistakes, if you find any I’m sorry. Also I cannot wait for you all to see where I’m taking this and the drama that is gonna go down. Will Benny find out everything in the end? Let’s find out.

CHAPTER ONE | WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW

Your feet danced silently across the sun spot covered floor boards as you made your way down the upstairs hallway of the house. You stayed close to the walls, your gun held tightly to your vest, finger always close to the trigger. You sensed a figure move across the hall behind you. You looked back over your shoulder as the brim of a cap stuck out from the corner of a door frame. You and Frankie locked eyes and he gave you a silent nod to let you know he had your back. You took your next tentative step forward towards the last room at the end of the hall. Creeeek.

You froze, your foot half in the air as you waited to see if your target had noticed. You heard a slight click from behind you as Frankie adjusted his gun ready just in case. You slowly moved your foot, placing it down on the floorboard next to the one that just creaked, so you had a better stance. The room at the end of the hall remained silent. You looked back to Frankie and he gave you a reassuring nod once again.

“We're all clear down here and we found the money.” Pope's voice came through the coms. “Fish? Magpie? How's it going up there.” There was a noise on the stairs causing both yourself and Frankie's head's to whip around to see Will. Frankie held up a fist to him. Will gave a silent nod as he readjusted his hand on his gun.

Frankie's response was hushed. “Give us a sec.”

You took your last few steps down the hall to position yourself across from the slightly open door. Frankie swiftly moved down the hall, stopping with his back against the wall, the barrel of his gun, ghosting the door frame. He signalled his hand indicating for you to take focus on the left side of the room, he'd take the right. You gave a nod to show you understood taking a quick look down the hall to check Will had your six. When you looked back to Frankie he was taking a slow calming breath, focusing himself. He gave one final nod and you both stormed through the door.

Just like every other room you'd checked, it was clear. You both relaxed, calling it out as Will came into the doorway. “There's nothing up here Pope.” you said into your com.

“What do you mean there's nothing up there?” Santiago Garcia's voice was frustrated as it came through the com.

“What you don't trust me? There's nothing fucking up here.” You said again as Frankie and Will did a double check of the other rooms.

“I'm coming up there.” You rolled your eyes. You and Santi had both gone into similar lines of work post service and you couldn't be mad at him for not trusting your judgement, you would probably do the same had the roles been reversed.

“Jesus Fucking Chr-” you started to mutter to yourself but a sound behind you caught you off guard. Shit.

“Put down your gun.” came a voice behind you. Of course this house had a secret fucking room you missed. You made a loud example of dropping your gun on the floor, alerting your team mates to the threat in the room with you.

Frankie stormed back into the room first, gun aimed at the ready. You sneered as the barrel of a gun was jammed into your back and your wrist was grabbed, your arm being forced behind you. “Fish what's going-” Will's voice fell as he too came back into the room, Frankie holding a hand up to him in caution.

“How many of you are there?” the man behind you spoke, his accent thick.

“We've got two more guys downstairs.” Frankie's voice came back calm.

“Iron head what's going on?” Pope's voice came booming down the hallway. Will held a hand up to him.

“All of you in here where I can see you.” The man said. You grunted as he twisted your arm again, leading you backwards so he was in a better vantage spot in the room. Frankie never lowered his gun as he stepped around the room to maintain his shot at the man behind you.

Will and Santiago slowly stepped into the room, both their weapons aimed ready. Santiago, not wanting to risk reaching for his com instead yelled out. “HEY BENNY, COME UP HERE!”

Everyone was silent as the sound of heavy footsteps made their way upstairs and down the hall. “What's everyone doing up here-” his question was cut off as he quickly surveyed the situation in the room. He quickly berated himself for leaving his gun downstairs but calmly checked himself, spotting your gun on the floor and forming a plan in his head about how he'd acquire it.

“All of you put your weapons down.” The man's heavy accent cut through the silence. When none of the men before him moved he raised the gun in his hand to rest against the side of your head. “I said, put your weapons down or I'll shoot her.” None of the men moved.

“Boy's it's alright, you can put your guns down. He's not gonna shoot me.” You said, your voice too light hearted for this situation.

“Yes I will.” the man bit back pushing the gun harder against your head.

You calmly turned your head to look at him. “No you won't, and you know how I know that?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Because you need me to get out of here. You know the moment you do any actual harm to me, these men won't hesitate making your body drop, right where you stand. You're goal here, is to get yourself out alive, so you need me alive. So in conclusion, no, you're not going to shoot me.” You roll your eyes turning your attention back to your boys. “Boy's it's fine. I'm fine, just drop your weapons.”

Benny gave a quick glance to his right, at his brothers. Both Santiago and Will reluctantly followed your instruction, making a show of calmly lowering their weapons and placing them on the floor. The only one of them who didn't move was Frankie. You locked eyes with him. You saw all his emotions and care for you in his eyes, his determination to keep you safe as he fought with every fibre of his being to not lower his weapon, to just shoot this guy right where he stood. You're eye's pleaded with him softly. “Fish, it's okay.” It took a moment, but he too followed suit, slowly lowering his weapon.

“What's gonna happen is we are going to slowly head for the door.” The man pointing the gun at you said calmly. “You're friends are gonna stay right where they are.”

“Okay.” you said back calmly. This wasn't your first hostage negotiation but then again, you'd never been the hostage before.

“Okay.” he reiterated as he pulled your arm and slowly edged you towards the door. You watched the boys closely. You could see in Santi's eyes he was desperate to say something. You kept your glance on him a moment longer and his mouth began to open, your voice came out first.

“Do you remember that time in Italy?” you addressed him calmly as your feet still moved backwards towards the door.

“Yeah...” Santiago said tentatively, the man behind you jostling your arm as he began to step into the doorway.

You felt the man lower the gun from your head to your back, pushing it against your left side, a caution to be quiet which you ignored. “With that guy at that club.” You continued, your eyes locked with Santiago trying to get him to understand. “And you tried to impress me when you shot him, but I just got mad...” You too were now stood in the doorway. You stopped. “well.” None of the men had ever seen you move that fast. You reached your arm to the gun poking at your side, taking it from the man's hand. Before he'd even realised you'd taken it your whole body swivelled around as you twisted the gun around in your hands, raising it and shooting him point blank in his forehead. His body hit the ground with a thud. Your eyes didn't leave the man as you fully took a moment to take him in as you lowered the weapon in your hands.

There was a giddy squeal and the sound of Benny bouncing around excitedly behind you. You turned around stepping forward to hand the gun off to Santiago, finishing the statement you were making before. “Consider us even.” you said, raising your eyebrows to him.

“Oh my god! Did you see that?” Benny continued to bounce around the room. Will and Frankie only just taking a sigh of relief as you moved back towards the body now lying in the doorway. Benny finally came to a stop. “Is anyone else slightly turned on right now?” his filter not stopping the question, quickly permeating the room with it. There was silence from the other three men as you bent down to rummage through the dead sicario’s pockets. The radio silence to Benny's question was deafening to you. You slowly sheepishly turned your head towards the other three men who were still yet to say anything. You're head turn hadn't been slow enough though and you caught the look that Santiago, Frankie and Will quickly shared, before looking at any opposing point of the room they could.

“Well I guess I know what you boys don't talk about when you're out with Benny.” your statement cut through the thick silence. You took a quick look at Benny just long enough to see his face fall. You stifled a small snigger as you turned back to the body in front of you.

“What?” Benny's voice rang out. “What is it you don't talk about when you're with me? What did I miss?” the youngest man searched his brother's faces for answers. They continued to remain silent.

You pulled yourself away from the body, blowing straight past Benny to Santiago. “Does Will know about Italy?” Santiago remains silent but a quick look over to Will and how he's looking at you tells you everything you need to know. “So he does know about Italy.” you say coyly, your gaze turning back to Santiago.

Benny is beginning to get antsy, moving about the room. “What happened in Italy?” Nobody answers Benny and you continue your playful interrogation.

“How much does he know?”

“All of it.” Santiago responds. You look to Fish then back at Santi.

“Even...?” You can see Will's eyes fixed uncomfortably to a spot on the floor out of the corner of your own. Frankie beside him started to relax, his own legs becoming fidgety as he began to rock on the balls of his feet, the conversation making him uncomfortable.

“All of it.” Santiago says again. You suddenly notice Frankie become tense once more. It takes a moment for your brain to process why, but then it's fitting it together. The creaky floorboard in the hallway. You reached out for the gun in Santiago's hand quickly whipping around just in time. BANG. Another body hits the floor in the doorway.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Benny practically squeals again. You turn your head back to Santiago, he has that look in his eyes. The same look he gave you that night in Italy. A warmth suddenly hits between your legs and you have to take a deep breath and centre yourself.

“I thought you said downstairs was all clear.” You say handing the gun over to him again.

“It was.” Santiago's voice was low as he tried to retake control of this situation, but the two of you both knew it was long gone. It had been gone the moment you mentioned Italy.

You took a step back, Benny still hopping about giddily. “Seriously did nobody tell him.” Your eyes roamed over to Frankie's. They locked for a fraction of a second before he purposely turned his gaze away from you. He still slightly resented you for the whole Italy incident. Your eyes finally fell on Will who was now silently looking at you, well aware you were the one fully in command from here on out. 'Wow' you silently mouthed.

“What the fuck am I missing out on?” Benny butted in again, his voice whining like a child.

“We'll tell you when your older.” his older brother finally said, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

---------

Your fingers were swollen red and sore as you carried yet another heavy bag of cash to the van. You quickly dropped it onto the large pile Frankie was loading into the back of the van parked outside the front of the house with a thud. You took a moment to regain your strength ready to go back for the last few bags, watching as the veins in Frankie's muscles strained as he lifted multiple bags at a time, swinging them into the van. You watched as he stopped a moment, realising you were still stood there, a hesitant look on his face, like he wanted to say something but didn't know if now was the right time to say it. You watched as the emotion inside him quickly built from whatever inner conflict he was having. He practically threw the next bag into the van.

You took a tentative step towards the pile of bags, picking one up and lifting it into the back of the van. “Don't do that again.” you heard the man beside you growl.

“Do what? All I did was put a bag in the van-” “Don't gamble with your life like that.” Frankie snapped at you.

“He wasn't going to shoot me.” you tried to keep your voice calm as you reached for another bag, but the slight irritation in how Frankie was treating you was clearly niggling at you.

“You didn't know that.” He said stopping everything he was doing to stare at you.

“Yes I did.” you snapped as you threw the bag in your hand, into the back of the van. You felt him grab your arm, pulling you round to face him. His hand remaining firmly around your wrist. You felt like your skin was burning under his touch.

“No. You took a gamble and began running your fucking mouth off, you were practically taunting him the whole fucking time-”

“He had the safety on.” You spat back at him, cutting off his rant. He looked at you half in shock, half in curiosity.

“What?”

“He had the safety on the whole time.” you said your voice softening trying to make him understand, but the look on his face was slow to change, almost like he still didn't believe you. You snatched your hand out of his grasp. “But thanks for caring.” You laced the statement with a slight venom, almost challenging him. He looked at you longingly then. So much of your relationship with one another going unsaid and sitting heavy between the two of you.

“You know I always fucking cared-” “No.” your voice was commanding.

“What?” he said slightly hurt and confused.

“Frankie, we're not doing this now.”

“Doing what?” Santiago's voice cut between the two of you as he made his way out of the house, a couple of the money bags in his hands.

“Nothing man, nothing.” Frankie said as he took a step back from you. He lifted his hat from his head, using the back of his hand to smooth the hair beneath it, attempting to look anywhere but at you as you went back to loading the bags into the van.

“Benny's just packing up the last two bags.” Will said as he came out to the van. He didn't add the bags in his hands to the pile, instead putting them straight into the back of the vehicle, pushing you out the way so he could get through.

You took a step back to survey the three men before you, as Will and Frankie began working together to haul the last of the bags into the van. “So you guys really telling me Benny knows nothing at all, and I'm not just talking about Italy.” The three men turned to look at you. This was the first time ever you'd been alone with the three of them together since all this started and you were dying for some answers.

“It never came up.” Santi sheepishly answered, shrugging it off.

“But the three of you have talked about this shit?” you questioned, quickly becoming bolder.

“Why, you been feeling your ears getting a little bit hot chica?” Santiago began teasing you.

“No.” you fired back a little too quickly shooting him a death look at the same time. You were surprised though when, instead of Santi coming back with another quip to continue teasing you, it was Will's voice that filled the silence.

“You know I'm beginning to think she get's off on the idea of us talking about her and debating over who did her better.” He said with a low chuckle. You shoot daggers at Will for the low blow but it only makes him smile.

“Well William, if you truly do know everything, then you know it's no competition and you already know who I think the best was.” you are quick to rebuttal, your voice taunting.

“The best at what?” Benny's voice questioned as he brought the last bags out to the van, throwing them in the back.

“Fucking me.” you say shooting him a wink and a cheeky grin. Your voice is so nonchalant when you say it, he knows you're saying it to taunt him. It sounds like such an exaggeration, like the farthest thing from the truth, a lie just to wind him up. He scoffs irritated as you raise your eyebrows at him and make your way towards the front of the van, away from his view. But what he doesn't know, that his brothers do, was that it was completely true. You had just taunted him with the truth and gotten away with it and damn were they impressed.

Santi practically chokes as he tries to hide his laughter, sputtering and coughing from how blatant you were. Will gave a small snicker before looking to his brother with sympathy, patting him on the shoulder. Frankie closed the doors to the back of the van, practically skipping around the side of the vehicle after you. You look back to him and he shoots you a look as if you say 'you're playing with fire' as he reaches out to open the door for you.

You give him a sickly sweet smile in return. He rolls his eyes at you as he leans against the door, waiting for you to hop into the van first and slide past the steering wheel, into the middle. You climb onto the seat but pause, looking directly at Frankie. He truly turns his head to look at you now, the serious look on your face when you address him. “You know it was always you right?” you asked him.

With everything that had happened between you, he genuinely hadn't known, but he could tell by your face you weren't talking just about the sex anymore. He wanted to push you further but the passenger door opened on the other side of the van as Santiago climbed in. When Frankie looked back to you, you had already turned away.

He took the drivers seat beside you, slamming the door shut a little bit too hard. He fumbled with the keys in the ignition. 'Why had you had to drop this on him now?' he thought to himself.

“Fish you okay man?” Santiago's voice rang out in the silence. Frankie's head snapped towards his best friend but his eyes somehow ended up landing on you. He took a moment to steady himself, his fingers going into autopilot as they once more placed the keys into the ignition, turning it over. The van roared to life.

The three of you watched as the Miller brothers took off in a separate car in front of you. “Alright man let's go.” Santi said slapping the dashboard and Frankie put his foot down on the accelerator, following the car in front back into the cover of the trees around them.

Let me know if you want to be added onto the tag list for this fic. I also won’t be adding names just from likes again like I did with the announcement post so if you want to be notified you have to put it in writing for me.

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[eliemo]

Solitary

Summary: Logan wakes up. He wasn't supposed to this time.

TWs: aftermath of a suicide attempt, implied/referenced self harm, self hatred and self esteem issues, hopeful ending

Notes: Mind the tags pls, I wrote this with no plan at like 1am. Platonic LAMP

When Logan woke up, the first thing he registered was a splitting headache, white hot pain spreading down his head to his spine like his skull was being snapped in two.

The next was the pulsing agony in both of his arms, shooting up to his shoulders with a sudden intensity that made him gasp before he could stop himself, only to be met with another stabbing pain in his throat.

“Hey hey hey, easy.” A vaguely familiar voice filtered in from somewhere nearby, but Logan was pretty sure the pain would only worsen if he opened his eyes to look. “Easy, Lo. You’re safe, you’re ok.”

All Logan was able to manage was an awful sounding croak. He felt someone running their hand gently through his hair, another holding the side of his face.

“Breathe, kiddo. You’re ok.”

Patton. A bit of the rising alarm faded when he recognized the moral side’s voice, but something still pulled at his chest when he realized how scared Pat sounded. What was going on?

“Can you open your eyes?” Patton asked, soft and concerned right beside his ear. “We really miss you, Logan.”

Patton’s voice broke a bit at the end, miserable and pleading, and that was enough for Logan to risk pain that came with the sudden light, making another weak noise in the back of his throat as he pried his eyes open, surprised and a little frustrated over how much effort it took.

Like he’d warily expected, the barrage of light did feel like someone was repeatedly taking a knife to his eyes, but it wasn't nearly as intense as he’d anticipated.

It took a second for everything to come into focus, but when it did Logan could make out that he was on the couch in the living room, a dark blue blanket draped over him, the curtains closed over the windows to keep the sunlight out of the dim room.

Patton was crouched beside him, fingers still running through Logan’s hair, slow and gentle. Virgil was perched on the other end of the couch, eyeshadow smeared and staining his face with dried black tears.

Roman was standing beside the armchair just a few paces away, looking like he’d just been startled out of his seat, face pale, eyes wide and shiny.

They all looked...awful. They looked about as bad as Logan felt right now.

“Wh-what?” It hurt to talk, voice raspy and shaking, but the confusion was only making his head hurt more. “What’s happening, I—”

“I’ll, uh- I’ll get him some water,” Roman said hastily, failing to hide the worried glance he sent Patton’s way. “Hang in there, Teach.”

Roman was gone before Logan could say anything, and his gaze wandered instead to Virgil who was still planted by his feet, shifting anxiously where he sat, glancing between Logan and Patton like he was waiting for someone to speak.

Luckily Roman wasn’t gone for long, hurrying back into the room within seconds and practically thrusting a glass of water in Logan’s face.

He moved to sit up and take it, only to hiss at the pain shooting up his arms at the tiniest of movements, falling limply back onto the cushions.

“Don’t use your hands, honey,” Patton said, a second too late. “Here, let me help you, ok?”

Any other time Logan would have protested. He was perfectly capable of drinking a cup of water by himself. But right now all he had the energy to do was give a tiny nod and let Patton help him to sit up.

He didn’t have the energy to fight, keeping his aching arms under the blanket and letting Patton bring the cup to his lips. The cold water eased the pain in his throat somewhat, even if it took a frustratingly long time for Logan to swallow a few sips.

“There you go,” Patton said when he saw done, and Logan hated how overly gentle the other side was being with him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Logan said, despite how badly everything hurt. “What...happened?”

He saw the three of them exchange worried glances among themselves, trying and failing once again to hide it from Logan. His head was still too heavy to remember what had put him in this position in the first place, but their concern was only worsening his rising anxiety. Or maybe he was just picking up on some of Virgil’s distress.

The anxious side shifted again, brows drawn together as he looked Logan over. “Do you not...remember what happened?”

Logan took a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing against the lump in his throat, taking a moment to catalogue his aching body, his headache, and the searing pain shooting up his arms.

“Was I...injured?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Patton immediately burst into tears. To his dismay, Roman and Virgil’s eyes started welling up at the same time.

Oh, god. Logan was even less prepared to deal with their emotions than he usually was.

“Is that…” he trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “Is that a yes?”

Patton only began crying harder, and before Logan could try to apologize the moral side was throwing himself forward, arms wrapped around Logan as best he could, sobbing loudly into his chest.

“Patton, I—”

“I’m so sorry!” Patton wailed, only further growing Logan’s confusion. “I’m so sorry Lo, I’m so sorry! We didn’t- we didn’t know! I swear we had no idea!”

“Let him take a moment to wake up, Padre,” Roman said, still hovering anxiously. He and Virgil were being much quieter about their distress, but both of their faces were soaked with tears. “But we...we really are sorry. Gosh, Logan we’re so so sorry.”

Logan screwed his eyes shut again, still coming up blank when he tried to connect the dots. “What...what on earth are you apologizing for?”

“For not realizing you felt that way, Lo.” Virgil moved to put a hand on Logan’s leg, refusing to look the logical side in the eyes. “Jeez- you’re family and we never...we never noticed.”

Patton was still bawling into his shirt, Virgil tightened his own hold, Roman began pacing as he tended to do when he was stressed, and Logan still had absolutely no clue what was going on. Why wouldn’t someone just tell him what had happened?

“Patton...” Logan stopped, first from the pain that came with raising his hand to touch Patton’s shoulder, then from the shock of seeing his arms. “I—”

“Don’t look, baby,” Patton said, gently guiding his hands back under the blanket like Logan hadn’t gotten a clear view of blood stained bandages wrapped around his arms from his wrists to his elbows. “You’re ok.”

His arms were...had he...?

Roman cleared his throat, and Logan looked over at the sound. The Prince held a wrinkled piece of paper in his hand, crumpled and a little stained, and the writing Logan could just barely make out was suddenly alarmingly familiar.

“We, uhm. We found your note.”

And just like that it all came rushing back- the overwhelming pain, the emotions, everything spiraling out of his usually so strict control as he finally let everything out onto a flimsy piece of notebook paper.

He’d lost control, no longer able to see a better way out. All he’d been focused on was the horrible pain in his arms soaked with blood that signified an ending he hadn’t even been sure he really wanted.

It came back in a fragmented blur, and Logan abruptly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to have woken up.

Oh. Oh no.

“I am...so sorry,” Logan said, at a loss for what else to do. “It was never my intention for you all to—”

“Your intention was pretty fucking clear,” Virgil snapped, and Logan was taken aback by the hostility in Anxiety’s voice. “Jesus Christ, Lo! What were you thinking?”

“Virgil,” Patton snapped, but the wavering in his voice overshadowed any vehemence. “That’s...let’s calm down, kiddo. Ok?”

Virgil wiped his eyes with his sleeves, shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms and stared at the ground. Logan’s chest squeezed, guilt and panic overwhelming.

“How long was I...asleep?”

Patton gave a shaky sigh, going back to running his hands through Logan’s hair. “Since last night. It’s...I think three in the afternoon now.”

Logan’s stomach dropped, and the pain in his arms flared up again as he struggled to sit up, only to fall limp against the back of the couch. He’d been out all day, forcing the other sides to stop what they were doing and look after him.

He couldn’t imagine how much damage and stress he’d caused. The one thing he’d been trying to avoid doing any more of.

“I’m very sorry,” Logan said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “My intentions were not to be an inconvenience or cause any unnecessary stress. I will attempt to get back on schedule as soon as possible and—”

“Get back on schedule?”

Logan couldn’t remember hearing Virgil yell like this, shrinking back into Patton’s arms before he could stop himself, the anxious side having stood up from the couch, eyes wide and brimming with new tears.

Logan cleared his throat, struggling to speak with his heart hammering in his chest. “I...apologize for—”

“You think we’re upset over the schedule?” Virgil snapped, flinching when Roman moved closer to put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you to wake up after you tried to kill yourself and you think we’re upset because we’re behind schedule? Are you fucking serious, Logan?”

The screaming eventually dissolved into ragged sobs, and Logan watched as Roman gathered Virgil up his arms and pulled him close, the anxious side burying his face into the Prince’s chest.

Roman hadn’t stopped silently crying, silent tears sliding down his cheeks as he pressed his nose to Virgil’s hair, trembling with the strength it took to hold back his sobs. And Patton hadn’t let go of him, half of Logan’s shirt soaked with the moral side’s tears.

He hadn’t...expected this. Any of it.

Honestly, Logan hadn’t expected anyone to even notice his absence at first. He supposed they might not have known he’d...passed at all if he hadn’t been found before he’d finished.

He'd expected them to be mildly agitated when they found out he was gone, a little annoyed that he’d taken such drastic measures instead of continuing to ignore it and move on for Thomas’s sake. They'd have to make their schedules themselves now, and his death would likely push a few things back.

Things might be a bit less efficient without him but...they’d realize it was for the best eventually. They would be happier without him around. The air would be lighter.

It would be quieter. They wouldn’t have to constantly hide their annoyance every time he opened his mouth.

They wouldn’t have to deal with him at all anymore.

He hadn’t...expected anyone to be upset over the thought of losing him. He hadn’t even succeeded, he was perfectly fine, and every single one of them was in very clear distress.

“I am...very sorry,” he tried again, wondering if all he’d managed to do was ruin things irreparably. “I never wanted to upset any of you.”

“It isn’t about us,” Patton said, reaching over to quickly squeeze Virgil’s hand. “It’s not about our feelings. It’s about yours.”

“No, Virgil is right. It was selfish of me to—”

“It wasn’t selfish,” Virgil said quickly. He pulled away from Roman, just enough to look at Logan. “It’s not...it wasn’t selfish, Lo. It wasn’t your fault.”

Logan frowned, because that...was an exceptionally strange thing to say. Especially when he had every right to scream until his voice was hoarse. “Of course it was. I did it to myself. I was fully aware of what I was doing.”

That made Patton tighten his hold and Virgil’s gaze drop to the floor, but Logan didn’t falter. It was the truth. He wasn’t going to make excuses or pretend to be ashamed. He’d been convinced it was the right thing to do.

Roman suddenly sighed, trembling and quiet, the only one able to meet Logan’s eyes. “Sometimes our brains tell us things, Lo. They aren’t true and they’re awful but it’s...hard not to listen. You just need some help quieting the thoughts.”

“My thoughts are...perfectly rational,” Logan said, despite the situation. “I was simply mistaken. I thought I was doing what was best.”

“You thought we hated you!” Patton was crying again, sobbing with nothing holding him back, and Logan suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at the note left on the coffee table. “You thought...Lo, the things you said—”

“I was wrong,” Logan said curtly, even as a prickle of dread settled in his stomach. “I was...I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

He was a bit taken aback by how quickly the three of them burst into affirmations, all of them suddenly crowded around him, holding him close as gently as possible. Keeping him safe.

“We love you,” Virgil was saying, and the anxious side had somehow managed to half commandeer his lap, his arms wrapped around his Logan’s middle. “I love you, Logan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not...your fault,” Logan said, wishing his arms didn't hurt quite so bad. He couldn’t even attempt to hug anyone back. “I shouldn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Roman spoke up, placing a gentle but grounding hand on Logan’s back. “I know it feels like you did, Teach. I know. But you didn’t.”

“I tried to...I- I thought—”

“You’re in a bad place and we didn’t notice,” Virgil said, barely audible from where his face was pressed into Logan’s shirt. “That’s our fault. We- I should have been there to help, I didn’t know you—”

“I was attempting to hide it.” Hiding it had become normal. He’d hoped it would all simply go away, or fade away to the background at the very least if he just pretended.

But it had only grown worse, leaving him feeling empty and numb and hurt each time he was ignored and talked over, each time an argument went a little too far, each time he felt like a burden for simply speaking his mind. For having a thought in the first place.

He’d thought they hated him. He thought they hated the sound of his voice, his presence in their lives, his existence. A bitter part of him had wondered if they’d celebrate his death before erasing him from their memories entirely.

He hadn’t been able to say it aloud. But he’d finally been able to sit down and put it all on paper, finalizing it into one last goodbye.

Logan has been stupid. Logic had failed, and he’d done something irrational.

If he couldn’t even do his job well enough to keep himself alive, what even was the point in keeping him around? Thomas might be better off without him after all—

“Logan.” Patton was right in front of him now, warm hands on Logan’s cheeks, effectively cutting off his spiraling thoughts. “We’re here now. We’re here and we know.”

Logan curled his shoulders and nodded, the thought equally comforting and terrifying. He’d never planned on having to face the consequences of this decision. Of his awful, irrational feelings.

“We’re gonna help you kiddo,” Patton continued. “You’re not alone, Logan. You never ever have been. I’m so sorry you thought you were.”

Logan swallowed, alarmed at how tight his throat was becoming, vision quickly becoming blurred. “I...I don’t want to cause any pointless stress. We’re all busy.”

“We’re worried about you,” Patton said softly, never letting go of Logan. “You worry about the people you love. You worry about family.”

“I...” he paused, closing his eyes as the tears finally spilled over. “I wasn’t...sure that I was.”

Virgil lifted his head and frowned, but Logan refused to look down at him, staring blankly at the wall instead. “You weren’t...what? Family?”

Logan didn’t respond, didn’t jump to correct the assumption because he...couldn’t. He’d questioned his place for so long, somewhere along the way he’d begun assuming nobody cared. That it wasn’t a question for anyone else.

The heartbroken noises from the other three sides made him flinch, and he melted into their touch as they rushed to assure him once again, hard as it was to focus on anything they were saying.

He’d been so stupid. How could he have mistaken this for anything but love?

“You’re family, Logan,” Roman said, holding him from behind with his head now rested on Logan’s shoulder. “You will always be family. I’m so sorry it got this bad.”

Logan wasn’t sure when he’d started letting himself cry in earnest, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

There were three pairs of arms around him, holding him close while he trembled and sobbed and tried to force out apologies that kept getting caught in his throat.

He’d been selfish, and he’d upset them all so much but…

But he’d been so hurt. He’d felt so hurt for months and none of them had noticed. Nobody had asked. He wasn’t angry, he knew they would never have left him like that if they could have known. But it didn’t change the fact that it had happened.

But it was...going to be better now. Logan wanted so badly to believe it was going to get better.

“We’re going to fix this,” Patton said, and Logan’s eyes slipped shut when the moral side once again began playing with his hair. “We’re gonna be right here, Lo. We’ve got you. It won’t ever get this bad again.”

Logan felt himself drifting back to sleep, the pain fading to a dull ache in the background, and he didn’t try to fight against it. His chest was still heavy, mind clouded with distorted thoughts and doubts, and he knew none of that would disappear the next time he woke up. He wasn’t naive enough to hope it would.

But he had a way to fix it now. A way that wasn’t quite so final as his original plan.

And his family would be there when he woke up. He didn’t have to do this by himself anymore. He didn’t have to be the only one trying to fix this.

Logan believed them. He wouldn’t have to do it alone. Never again.

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 05 / all for us

summary: after the recent incident, you don’t feel a real reason to live. so why try to live?

note: this was supposed to be longer, but i loved how it ended. i’m also a suffering from headaches again. please be patient with me. also, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IVE LISTED. this is a DARK chapter.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle @ascybous @saturnalya @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky

word count: 1.4k

warnings/notes: cursing, suicidal thoughts, self harm, attempt of suicide, dark, panic attack

YOU lay on the floor of your closet once again, the scratchy carpet being the only thing that provided you with warmth. the only person you'd seen for the past few days was erwin. anytime he'd even mention levi, you'd beg for him not to see you.

you groan quietly, deciding to go lay in your bed for a while so your skin won't keep itching. your foot chills when it touches the hardwood floor of your room, and it distracts you from the task at hand.

you're dizzy now, only being able to focus on your foot. it didn't help much since you collapsed onto your side, breathing heavily through your nose as you stare blankly to the wall. you haven't stood up for hours, opting to leave the closet only to go to the restroom.

you blink while getting back onto your feet, hand pressed against your head as if you were soothing it. you decide to go to the bathroom, if you go now that means you won't have to go later.

you watch your hands afterwards, tired eyes watching your reflection in the crystal clear mirror.

your face was bruised, you have a black eye and a deep cut on your cheek from levi's wedding band.

you look back down to your hands, wanting to focus on something else in order to soothe yourself. you don't bother to dry your hands off with a towel, opting to shaking them around in the air.

your feet drag against the floor as you jump into your bed, body smoothly sliding across it so your head rests against a pillow. you curl up under the covers, genuine warmth crashing against your body for the first time in days. it's almost overwhelming, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you watch a movie to help pass the first hour and a half of you being outside of the closet. you play another movie for background noise, getting off of your bed and walking to the bookshelf.

you grab a black book with white font, grabbing a smaller blanket and throwing it over your lap once you sit in a chair.

you’re going to read some of this book and then retreat back to your safe space whenever they come to feed you.

even though you’re reading the story, you can barely comprehend the words along with the plot line. everything seems to be a jumbled mess inside of your mind, so much that it makes your head hurt right behind your eyes. time stretches longer than you meant for it to as you keep rereading all the sentences, hoping to gain at least a tiny bit of understanding.

you’re attention is taken away by the sound of the door opening and closing. you’d been so focused you hadn’t even noticed that someone was coming to see you. and not only was it someone, it was levi.

the book falls out of your hands and onto the floor, eyes wide as you stare at levi with fear.

he’s holding your tray of food for lunch, which you don’t think you’ll be eating today since it’s not erwin who’s going to feed you.

levi tries not to get irritated at the way your body is trembling. he hasn’t even said a single word and you’re already cowering.

when levi steps closer, you jump out of the chair and into the corner furthest from him. you cry out for erwin, for help, anyone that will be able to take levi away from you.

it startles levi for a moment, but it’s soon replaced with frustration as he makes another step.

you scream while tears gush out of your eyes, nailing planting onto the wall you’re up against. levi angrily puts the tray of food down onto your windowsill, metal and glass clinking against one another in unsynchronized harmony.

for whatever reason, it has you screeching with you dropping to the floor and cover your head with your arms. levi’s worried and goes to make a move towards you, but you’re too frightened to think.

your screeching has his head pounding, so much that he’s silently praying that erwin would just come in already.

“i’m—i’m trying to fucking help!” he barks at you, stomping his foot onto the hardwood flooring.

you jump once more, protecting yourself more than before.

levi goes to scream again, but he’s interrupted by the door to your room slamming open.

erwin’s there, half dressed and messy hair while his eyes frantically scan the area. his eyes widen at the sight of your cowering, quickly rushing over to you to sit in front of you.

“what happened,” he asks levi while cautiously pressing a hand to your knee.

“i just walked in and she just went batshit,” levi says with exasperation, confusion and anger flashing on his face.

“get out. you scare her,” he orders with furrowed brows, stroking the skin of your kneecap with his thumb.

levi scoffs but listens anyways, shutting the door behind him.

“my love, everything’s okay. it’s just us now,” he murmurs sweetly, managing to coax you out of your panicked state just a bit.

“us? j... just us,” your voice is shaky as your hand absentmindedly reaches out for erwin.

“yes, just us,” he confirms with a smile, managing to gather you in his large arms.

you continue to cry, only this time you can breathe.

“can’t be with ‘im... i’m scared,” you admit while attaching yourself to erwin, “so scared.”

shushing you, he coos, “you can, i believe in you.”

wrong choice.

“no! no! NO,” you start to trash in his arms, once again entering the almost inconsolable mind state.

since he wasn’t expecting your panicked reactions, you manage to kick him in the chest and push him away. his body bangs against the stool of your vanity, knocking it onto his side with a loud crash.

levi runs back inside, watching how you jump to your feet and over to your vanity. erwin manages to scoot further away from you, slightly unsure of your next move.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably as you slam your fast into your vanity’s mirror. it’s so clean, not a smudge on it. not even a speck of lint. it’s perfect.

the shards cut your hand, but you don’t care, too high on adrenaline. levi and erwin go to disarm you just as you manage to grasp a particularly large and sharp shard of glass.

the moment it’s in your hand, you raise your opposite wrist to the glass while screaming at the two men.

“NOT ANOTHER STEP,” you cry as you push the glass against your skin, freezing both levi and erwin, “not another fucking step or i kill myself with this shard right fucking here.”

“(name), my love, it’s alright! it’s okay! no one’s going to hurt you,” erwin barely moves an inch while he pleads, but you don’t care.

“I SAID NOT ANOTHER STEP!!” you roar while slicing the glass against your skin, blood immediately pouring from the new wound.

dark red paints the glass as your finger swipes against the blood by accident.

“get out,” you whimper, “just leave me alone to die, please.”

“we can’t do that,” levi says calmly, accidentally taking a step out of instinct.

it feels comparable to flour whenever the blade slices through your pretty skin. it burns and you know that you might end up having to get stitches from just how deep it is if you want to live. and considering you can only really get stitches from hospitals, you say your goodbyes in your head.

“if you can’t do that,” your vision is starting to grow hazy as your breath comes out ragged, “then, i’ll just kill myself right here, knife at the vein.”

this is the only way you’ll be free again. the only way you’ll be away from them. the only way you’ll probably ever get to see your friends again.

your hope has dwindled into nothing. you know you cannot get away, not in a million years. now, there’s only one way to escape. death.

and by god if you let one of them slaughter you.

and so, you slash your arm once more right against the vein. blood oozes from the wound with ease while your eyes roll back and your knees hit the floor. the last thing you see is erwin and levi running towards you with panicked looks on their faces. it almost makes you laugh.

you hope to see them in hell.

[kinglazrus]

Dead Man Walking

Phic Phight | AO3 | FFN

Submitted by @syrren: Instead of making him half-dead, the portal accident makes Danny unable to die. This....changes things.

(or: how canon changes if the accident leaves Danny with deadpool-style regeneration abilities to make for a horrifyingly self-sacrificing vigilante, or with some kind of reset ability every time he dies to equally horrifying implications)

Summary: The accident changes Danny in ways he never thought possible. Sam and Tucker watch him fall from the portal dead and burnt beyond recognition, but he doesn't stay dead for long. He never stays dead. Of all the things Danny expected to happen when he walked into that portal, getting unlimited regeneration wasn't one of them, but now that he has it, he's going to put it to good use. Deadpool AU.

Word count: 3606

The first time Danny dies, his friends bear witness. They will never forget the ominous whirr of the portal as it turned on, the warning crackle of electricity, the final throat-tearing scream of their best friend. There are other things, too, that burned into their minds that day. How his body hit the floor of the lab with a thud, burnt beyond recognition, burnt so bad there wasn't any blood. How it smelled, to their horror, not so different from charred barbecue.

They like to pretend that part never happened. It's easy when all they need to do is call his phone and hear his voice, unaffected by the savage electrical heat that brought him to ruin that day. When he doesn't stay dead, it's not hard to pretend he never died at all. It took minutes for his body to fix itself, blackened skin overtaken by fresh pink muscle, which then sprouted new skin, perfectly unblemished.

Even the scar he got when he was fell off his bike at six years old disappeared.

"I liked that scar," Danny says, pouting when he finally notices its absence three days later.

"I don't think that's the right thing to get hung up," Sam says.

"But it looked like a spaceship!"

"I always thought it looked like an upside-down nine," Tucker muses.

"Or six," Sam says.

"Upside down nine is more fun."

They proceed like this for three weeks, mentioning the accident only in the lightest of terms, joking about their new, shared trauma. They are content to move on with their lives, forget it happened, go on as normal high schoolers. Until Danny dies again.

—

"What do you mean you don't want to hunt ghosts?" Jack exclaims. He gapes down at the trio, wholeheartedly baffled by this confession.

"I'll stick with tech, thanks," Tucker says, holding up his phone.

"Ghosts just aren't cool anymore," Sam says.

"Can I go back upstairs now?" Danny asks. At his question, Sam and Tucker fall silent. None of them make eye contact, and neither do they look toward the portal innocently humming only a few feet away. Danny is very aware that this is his first time in the lab since the accident. The same thought runs through Sam and Tucker's minds.

Jack doesn't notice the sudden change in mood. "Nonsense, Danno! You love ghosts. Why, I remember when you were just a tyke, you wanted to be a ghost when you grew up." He clenches his fist. "It was unacceptable. But that's okay! You can hunt them instead!"

He turns his back on Danny and his friends, eagerly going over the array of tools laid out on the counter. Ghost detectors, ecto-guns, protective shield, and an empty space where a thermos should be. "I forgot the best part! Wait right here, kids." Jack charges upstairs, leaving the kids alone.

Danny glances at the portal, unable to suppress a shiver. "You think he'd notice if I snuck away?"

"Nuh-uh, if you go, we go, too," Tucker says.

No one gets to go. Two sets of slimy green tentacles poke through the portal, probing the empty air. Their soft bodies soon follow, revealing a pair of ghostly octopuses.

"Holy shit ghosts are real." That is all Tucker has time to say before the ghosts attack. They launch themselves forward, shrieking in excitement. One goes for Sam and the other charges Tucker. They try to jump out of the way, but the ghosts are faster. The ectopuses tentacles wrap around them, pinning their arms down.

"Danny!" Sam shouts.

In retrospect, a smarter person would have gone for the ecto-gun lying on the table, freshly loaded and ready for a demonstration. Or, they might have shouted for his father, a ghost hunter who has trained his entire life for this scenario. But Danny acts faster than he thinks. He dives toward Tucker, the closest of the two, and digs his fingers into the ghost's tentacles. It screams as Danny's nails dig into its flesh.

The ghost's body goes translucent. Tucker slips out of its grasp, dropping to the floor in a heap, but Danny's hold stays firm. The ectopus panics, thrashing and tugging, its flailing limbs cutting through Tucker over and over without harming him. No matter what the ectopus does, it can't shake Danny loose, and his nails are starting to cut.

"Dude, you're doing it!" Tucker says, too soon.

As it flails, one of the ectopus' tentacles smacks Danny in the face, making his head snap back. At that moment, he and the ghost have the same realization. If he can touch it, it can hurt him back. The ectopus gives another shriek and its remaining seven tentacles surge forward. They wrap around Danny's arms, his chest, curling so tight his bones ache. The last one closes around Danny's throat.

His throat, weak like the ghost's flesh, crumples in an instant. His air disappears. No sound leaves his mouth, not even a wheeze, and his eyes bulge as panic sets in.

"Danny!" Sam and Tucker scream. Sam struggles against her captor kicking and gnashing her teeth, but her boots can't reach its body. Tucker grabs Danny, tries to pull him away, to bat off the ghost’s grip, but it is no use. The ghost is too strong, and Tucker can't touch it in this state.

Danny loses focus of them, then. His brain goes fuzzy, everything blurring around him while his face grows hot. All he can feel is the burn, the ache, the need to breathe, breathe, breathe damn it! The haze of the ghost looming over him fills his vision, slowly overtaken by red, then black spots.

As everything goes dark, Danny's last thought is this:

I guess I'm dead after all.

—

He hears the sobbing first. It starts off quiet and distant, but quickly grows louder, great hiccupping coughs scattered between heart-wrenching cries.

"Mr. Fenton!" someone screams. It happens fast, after that. Thundering steps, a deep cry of shock and pain that cuts him to his core. A piercing whine followed by two quick blasts.

The ectopuses' retreating shriek cuts through Danny loud and clear. His eyes snap open and air rushes into his lungs, a hoarse, wheezing breath that he holds for a moment. Then he takes another, and another, and he's breathing again, and he's not anymore.

Sam and Tucker, kneeling at his side, cry out as one. They throw themselves on him, blubbering messes the both of them. Danny's father, facing the portal, turns disbelieving eyes on him.

Danny's gaze drops to his father's hand and the ecto-gun clutched in it. "Oh, right." The word scrapes against his throat. He swallows, twice, until speaking doesn't hurt and says, "I forgot we had the gun.

"Danny!" Jack dashes toward them, dropping to his knees beside Danny. Sam and Tucker scramble back, giving him room. "Are you alright? What happened? You looked..."

Dead.

Because he was. Again.

"I'm fine," Danny assures him. "Lost consciousness, that's all.

"Danny, your face was blu—" Tucker yelps when Sam punches him in the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. He rubs the spot, shooting her an offended look, but Sam's eyes are only on Danny.

Danny nods, just enough that she can see, a silent thanks.

"I think you kids should go upstairs now." Jack's voice trembles. He raises his hand, about to run it through his hair, but stops when he sees the gun he's still holding. "I'll take care of things down here. Call your parents and all that."

For the first time, Danny notices the green splotches littering the floor and the wall. Probably from the ectopuses.

Sam loops an arm around Danny's shoulders, hoisting him up. He stumbles when he gets to his feet, bracing himself against her as the room spins. It settles after a few seconds, but he still feels a bit lightheaded. A side effect of choking, maybe?

Tucker helps from Danny's other side. They go up to Danny's room in silence, their steps thumping up the stairs. Only once they're safely behind his closed door, and Danny is lying on the bed, does Sam speak.

"You died again," she says.

Danny touches his throat. "Yeah." Pressing gently, he feels is no lingering pain. Just like before, he healed without a trace. "Can I just not die now?"

"More like you can't stay dead," Tucker says.

"Tucker!" Sam hisses.

"What? It's true! Sorry that I'm not handling seeing my friend die twice very well!"

"Be quiet!"

Danny cuts in before they can devolve into shouting. "Let's just leave it at two, okay?"

Sam and Tucker share a glance over Danny's prone form and nod. The weight of that action is lost on Danny, whose only thought is that he wants to sleep for a very long time.

—

The knives don't kill him. They hurt like hell, but they don't kill him. He sees them flying toward him and leaps out of the way. Something strikes him in the gut, a solid punch that blows the air from his lungs and knocks him back into the walls. He thinks one of the frozen steaks got him, but when he looks down, he sees the handle of a kitchen knife sticking out of his stomach.

He stares at it, stunned, not feeling anything at first. Then, his body jolts, like a shock of electricity is running through him, and his nerves scream, heat building, until every little twitch sends a jolt of pain so deep coursing through him that he can hardly breathe.

"Danny, look out!" Tucker, or Sam, he can't tell which, so lost in his pain, cry out a warning. Danny doesn't move in time and two more knives bury themselves in his body, another in his stomach, and the other through his chest. The Lunch Lady cackles with glee as Danny gurgles. The last knife got his lung, and he can feel it slowly filling.

The pound of Sam's boots on the tiles reaches his ears. She shouts something, but he doesn't hear it. Trembling, Danny grips the handle of the knife in his lungs. In first-aid, they tell you to leave whatever object stabbing you in. It keeps the wound plugged, stops you from bleeding out. But Danny's instincts cry out against everything he was ever taught.

Take them out! Take them out!

He braces himself, then yanks. It hurts so much worse coming out, now that he's aware of the pain, the sharp edge searing as it rips the wound wider. He drops the knife and goes for the next one. All three fall to the floor beside him with a clatter, their blades shiny and red. Danny can't breathe, can barely think through the pain. He presses a hand against his chest, feeling the wound beneath his shirt.

It stitches itself together beneath his fingers. The searing pain retreats, replaced by a dull ache. By the time Sam reaches him and rips his shirt open to see his wound, his chest is healed.

"Technically, I didn't die," Danny croaks.

Sam sobs, covering her mouth with her hand. There's relief in her eyes, beneath the horror, and she makes a noise that might be a laugh, choked and garbled as it is.

Danny dives back into the fight with renewed vigour. Twenty minutes and one Fenton Thermos later, the ghost is gone, but not before half the student body saw some bloody idiot fighting it bare-handed.

"Did you see who it was?" Dash whispers to his friends.

Danny, clean of blood and wearing his gym t-shirt, slumps against the wall nearby, listening. Someone called the police when meat started flying through the hallways, and they apparently called Danny's parents. Ghosts are real and everyone knows it now, but Danny doesn't care about that at the moment.

"No, man. I wasn't close enough," Kwan answers Dash.

"Whoever that was, he totally just saved us all," Paulina says. She clasps her hands together and leans against Star. "He's such a hero."

Hero. The word resonates with Danny. He can't explain it, but it pulls at him. A hero. The school is in chaos, the yard covered in raw meat, the hallways hacked and slashed, but everyone is safe and unharmed thanks to Danny.

"More like a dumbass," Sam mutters from Danny's left.

"Semantics," Tucker says.

Between them, Danny only grins.

—

Jack paces in front of the portal, a tub of fudge cradled in the crook of his arm. Every few steps, he grabs a square and pops it in his mouth, chewing furiously. Between bites, he mutters.

"I'm telling you, Mads. He must have been some kind of ghost," he says.

"I don't know, Jack." Maddie, staring at the computer screen, tilts her head. They managed to grab a few stills from the school's security footage of the figure who fought off the ghost, but they didn't come out right. The surroundings are a little grainy, but no more than a standard security camera, so they know there's nothing wrong with the film itself. The ghost, who called herself the Lunch Lady if Maddie remembers correctly, is little more than a green haze in the image. They expected this. Ghosts don't interact with most technology well, not unless it is designed to interact with them.

But the smaller figure is distorted, a twisted shadow obscuring their form. Not ghostly, but not human either.

She clicks to the next image, getting the same results.

"Are you saying it's a human?" Jack asks without breaking stride.

"It's humanoid, but I don't think it's human, either. Yet it bled, so it's not a ghost. And look at this." She closes the files, revealing a folder full of pictures, all of them taken over the past couple of weeks as ghost sightings increased. "They show up at most fights and leave lots of bodily fluids behind." Jiggling the mouse, she circles a series of four images with the courser, all pictures of significant blood splatters. "But the samples..."

As one, she and Jack turn to the sample tray sitting on the far counter. Where the blood is deep red in the pictures, the samples they took have slowly turned to a dark, murky brown, like thick mud. The oldest sample from the first sighting is black.

Jack grabs a handful of fudge and shoves it in his mouth. "Not to mention," he speaks around the chewy squares, "what does it do with the ghosts?"

The lab door squeaks as it opens. Maddie and Jack fall silent, gazes turning toward the stairs. A pair of red sneakers appears on the top step, creeping down, until the wearer slowly reveals themself. Their son, Danny, with what looks like a thermos clutched in his hand.

"Sweetie, are you only just getting home?" Maddie asks.

Danny yelps in surprise. He jerks the thermos behind his back and swivels to face his parents, freezing on the step. "Oh, hey. I didn't think you guys would be here..."

Maddie narrows her eyes. "What did you do, young man? You were supposed to be home from school an hour ago."

"Nothing! I just got held up." Danny tugs the collar of his jacket.

That's odd. Maddie doesn't remember him leaving with a jacket this morning. The sleeves drape over his hands, down to his knuckles, and he has the collar turned up to cover his neck. It must be cold outside, even though September is only just ending. "What held you up?"

"Uh, that's kind of why I thought you guys wouldn't be here? There was another ghost fight. It got pretty bad." He shifts, pressing his arm against his side. Is his jacket darker there, against his ribs?

"Another ghost?" Jack exclaims. He slaps the fudge down on the closest surface, rattling the test tube samples. "Mads, we gotta go! There might still be some evidence!"

Maddie's eyes widen. "Oh, shoot. You're right! We need fresh samples." They race to grab their equipment, snatching up sample gathering packs from their desks, and charge up the stairs.

Danny presses himself against the wall, offering them a nervous smile as they go. "Stay safe!" he calls. The front door slams as Maddie and Jack make their exit, leaving the house in silence. Still, Danny doesn't relax until he hears the rev of the Fenton RV and the familiar squeal of its tires against the pavement. His shoulders slump and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"That was close." Taking his hand out from behind his back, he looks down at the Fenton Thermos. "Now let's get you taken care of."

As he empties the thermos back into the Ghost Zone, his gaze wanders to the computer screen, still open to the photo evidence. Danny reads the title of the folder. "Challenger?" He snorts. "That's lame." As he skims the photos, a couple jump out at him. In most, he can barely make out the shape of his own body—something he tries not to think about—but in one or two, he can recognize the colours of his clothes beneath the distorting shadow.

Danny slaps the cap back onto the empty thermos before moving closer to the computer, frowning at the screen. "That might be a problem."

—

Danny stands in front of his friends, fists resting on his hips, and shows off his new look. "Well? What do you think?"

Tucker looks him up and down, body shaking as he suppresses his laughter. "Is that a paper superhero mask? Did you spray paint your hair white?"

Danny's hands rise to his head. "It's a spray-on dye! I thought it was cool!"

"Ten bucks says it's super crispy."

"Don't be mean," Sam admonishes Tucker. "I think he looks pretty good. For a discount Jack Frost."

Tucker snaps his fingers. "Emo Jack Frost! The real one would never wear this much black."

"We are no longer friends," Danny says, turning away from them.

"Come on, don’t be a spoilsport."

"Nope, too late. I'm already dead to you."

Sam and Tucker share a confused glance. "Don't you mean we're dead to—" Before Sam can finish the sentence, Danny turns and throws himself out his bedroom window. "Danny!" They scramble after him, falling against the sill as they lean outside, peering down to the alley below.

Danny lies face-first on the pavement.

"Are you dead?" Tucker asks.

Danny raises his arm and gives them a thumbs up.

—

Valerie holds back a startled shout when the metal suit crashes onto the sidewalk next to her. She is not scared, but anyone would be surprised if two tons of metal suddenly fell from the sky. A scream, rapidly increasing in volume, drawings her gaze upwards just in time for a black-clad figure to plummet inches from her nose and land with a sharp crack on top of the suit.

This time Valerie cries out because holy shit, is he dead? Her panic sputters out when she peeks at the possible corpse and gets a good look at exactly who, or what, came falling after. A human figure dressed in all black with poorly coloured hair. It looks crispy as hell.

Valerie sneers. What kind of cheap dye did they use?

She recognizes the Challenger on sight. By now, more than half of Amity Park can, although Valerie can't account for the sudden style change. Maybe they realized how lame their regular t-shirt and jeans are and decided to switch things up. This isn't much better, though. Black hoodie, black pants, black boots, no style.

No one knows their name, but the moniker the Fentons gave them seems to have stuck. Valerie thinks it's a little on the nose, though.

Something wriggles in the corner of her eye and she looks to the Challenger's fist. It clutches a bright green blob, with stubby limbs and a wide mouth.

"Let go of me!" The blob beats its penny-sized fists against the Challenger's thumb. "You are my prey!"

The Challenger groans. "Can you shut up for a second? I think my neck broke." They squeeze the blob until it squeaks.

"Hey. Watch where you're throwing this stuff around." Valerie kicks the arm of the metal suit. "You nearly crushed me!"

The Challenger jolts. Their head whips up, accompanied by a loud crack, and they lurch to their feet. A mask covers their eyes—cheap like the hair dye, probably from a costume stored—but judging by the way their eyebrows shoot up, they look at Valerie with wide eyes.

"Uh, hey, Va—citizen." Their voice drops a solid octave. "Sorry about that! I'll watch out next time." They are about to say something else when a loud squeal interrupts up, the signature sound of the Fentons' approach. The Challenger pales. "Sorry, gotta go!"

They dash into the nearest alley before Valerie can get another word in, leaving her with the empty metal husk and the sound of the Fentons from two streets away. She gapes after them, unsure what to make of the brief exchange.

"Actually, wait a second." The Challenger pops back around the corner, leaping over the ghost's suit to reach Valerie. They grab her shoulders in a cold grip. "Are people really using that dumb name for me?"

At a loss for words, Valerie nods.

"Ugh." The Challenger groans and lets her go in favour of rubbing a hand down their face. "Stop that. It's so boring. Just call me... Phantom. Okay? See ya!" They spin away, too fast, and trip over the metal suit.

Wow, Valerie thinks as Phantom scrambles around the corner once more. We have the lamest superhero ever.