#a machine you’ve never seen before and could easily kill you appears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainy-day-coffee · 4 years ago

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hi... how about head cannons about the dorm leaders with a magical girl mc from either the puella magi magica madoka, magical girl site, magical girl raising project or princess tutu universe please?

I'll be doing Magical Girl Raising Project for this one! I’ll be using the abilities found in the anime since I’m not creative enough to think of any myself. The personalities of the characters themselves have nothing to do with the abilities I chose, they’re their own person! This is written as platonic! I hope this is alright!

As an extra note, this was a really interesting topic to write about. I enjoyed it! I actually just binge watched this anime for this request! It was quite good, I might pick up the light novels!

Warning: Mild mentions of gore; spoilers for Magical Girl Raising Project(?)

Dorm leaders reacting to a Magical Girl Mc

A new game has been released! Customize your own Magical Girl and work hard to defeat monsters!

Granted a 1-in-10,000 chance to be a real-life Magical Girl, the unfortunate souls who agree to the contract are unknowingly pulled into a world of bloodshed. All Magical Girls are expected to collect Magical candies through acts of helpfulness. Whomever is at the bottom of the ranking list by the end of the week is greeted by death. That is, if they can even make it that far.

Magic: Swimming through objects as if they were water - the objects do not affect the user as they pass through them.

He’s never heard of an ability quite like yours! It isn’t teleportation--it’s literally going through objects, ignoring any kind of barrier. It sounds impossible. Understandably, he doesn’t believe you until you show him.

Please refrain from popping out of random places in an attempt to scare him. He doesn’t want to be on edge everyday, the stress he has now is more than enough.

He’s curious about the whole situation. Just how and why did these “people” wrap you (and others) into such a terrible contract? How is it possible to grant these special abilities onto otherwise magicless people? Unfortunately, you most likely don’t have answers for those questions.

Sadly, Riddle doesn’t know of a way to help you out of this. The library may have some information, but the chances are slim nonetheless. He can offer assistance in candy collecting instead!

Something always seems to be going on at his dorm, it would help him greatly if you were to keep an eye on everything and everyone. He knows it isn’t much, but every little bit counts. You have his full support.

Magic: Entering the dreams of others - the ability to pass through the Dream World, granting access to the dreams of those who are currently sleeping.

He’s extremely annoyed. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s only seen you a couple times before, so why do you seem to plague all of his dreams?

In his dreams, you move so vividly and in-character, it baffles him. Dream versions of people can be accurate, but never to such an extent each time. He’ll confront you about it soon enough. He has no evidence of what you’re doing, however vivid memories of dream-you push him to demand answers anyways.

Highly uncomfortable to know his dreams, his usual safe place, can be invaded by a person. He demands that you stop. You can go bother someone else, he doesn’t need that kind of help. If he sees you in there one more time, he may have to resort to other methods to get you to stop.

In regards to earning candies, unless you ask him specifically for help, there isn’t much he can do. You can always help Ruggie out with chores around Savanaclaw and you’ll be set. It’s a good deal for both sides, you can earn some candies and Leona can finally sleep comfortably again.

He finds the system you’re stuck in deplorable. Unfortunately, he can’t get you out of it, but if you ever need extra help he can always have Ruggie find one or two ways to get you those extra candies you need.

Magic: Hearing the thoughts of those in need - with enough training, the user can pinpoint the location of a person. Additionally, they can hear thoughts apart from cries for help.

Your special magic interests him greatly. He already has a good pool of information of all the students, but being able to hear their most inner thoughts is something truly amazing. No amount of research could easily give him those kinds of details.

He has the twins watch over you for a bit, gathering as much information as they can about your situation and what you go about doing.

Given the circumstances, he doubts he can rob this ability of yours through a contract. This does however present an amazing opportunity.

This could blossom into a wonderful partnership. You need to collect candies, and he’s always willing to accept requests from those “poor” souls who need help. By helping him, you can meet your quota! The rules never did mention what kind of help you were limited to offer after all.

He pities you, nothing can be done about your situation at the moment. You can rest assured though, you’ll never be at the bottom of the leaderboard with him around!

When time allows it, Floyd and Jade will be busy poking their noses where they don’t belong. The mascot that appears when you’re around seems to come from that phone you use. If they can see it, then that means these beings have made a mistake somehow. Is it possible to find a way to free you from this through that?

Magic: Transforming into any biologically living being - the size and shape of the creature do not matter, anything is fair game.

When he first discovers your special magic, he’ll be amazed! Transformation magic isn’t exactly easy, so being able to turn into whatever creature you want sounds like a lot of fun!

He’ll be begging you to turn into a wide variety of animals. Can you please turn into a tiger? How about an elephant? Maybe an alpaca? This could go on for hours if you don’t stop him.

Upon learning the darker side of the Magical Girl world, he starts to cry. He knows the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but this is too cruel. You didn’t know you would suffer this way. They should have at least given you all the information beforehand. Better yet, they shouldn’t be doing something so awful in the first place.

Because he finds it hard to keep secrets from Jamil, he ends up telling him about you. He then needs to convince Jamil that you aren’t trying to get him killed.

He goes around asking if people need help. He wants to do everything he can to ensure you survive. Money can’t get you out of this game, he’s tried to use it but that mascot that follows you around always refuses it.

Kalim doesn’t want you to die. Just thinking about it makes his head spin and worry bubble. It wouldn’t be his fault if you died in the first place, but the guilt would consume him entirely.

Magic: Freely manipulating sound - the user can generate sound from anywhere and even recreate the voices of others. As an added result of this ability, the user has enhanced hearing.

Vil won’t forgive you if you decide to mimic Epel’s voice so he can escape. He may be evading his lessons for now, but Vil will find a way to drill them into him later on.

He never would have thought such a thing was possible. This terrible fate you’ve had forced onto you makes no sense. The beautiful power you’ve been given is nothing compared to the price. He doesn’t blame you, he blames whatever is doing this.

If such a game exists in the world of Twisted Wonderland, he’ll use his influence to dissuade people from playing. Vil will do this behind the scenes of course, his public image has to remain intact.

He actively requests your assistance. For example, helping his dorm improve their instrument playing--your impressive hearing can detect small mistakes they need to work on. Apart from this, he regrettably can’t offer more help.

Hone your abilities and work with what you have. He knows you can prevail. Please take care of yourself as you move forward.

Magic: Receiving one futuristic tool a day - the ability to randomly pick one useful tool out of 444,444,444. The tool breaks down and is no longer of use after a day passes.

He’s in awe. A real life Magical Girl! To think they could really exist outside of anime! Just what kind of world did you come from? Forget living in a world where magic is common, Magical Girls are on a different level entirely! Curiosity gnaws at him, but given how shy he is he won’t approach you with questions himself. Ortho is more than happy to ask any questions for him in his place though!

Once he finds out you’re one of those Magical Girls, he feels a tad sympathetic. You really got the short end of the stick in life didn’t you? He knew the possibility was there, that trope is not uncommon, but a small piece of him wished it wasn’t the case.

He supposes your special magic can be compared to gacha luck. You never really know what you’re going to get. Unfortunately, in your case you can’t even calculate rates for good rolls.

If you’re willing to let him, he’ll happily take apart the tools and gadgets you get from your daily pull. One of those future items should help him create even better machines than he can now! And even they can’t, disassembling and reassembling objects he’s never seen is a thrill in and of itself

If you happen to hear a small tip from Ortho or someone else about an issue occurring around campus, it may or may not have been Idia. He has eyes all around the school, spotting problems is quite easy.

He’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines. You’re a protagonist in this story, he hopes you can make it through to the end.

Magic: Extreme regeneration - being able to recover from any wound so long as a portion of the user’s body is left.

Mortified when he finds your body all mangled and bruised after a rough “accident.” Malleus is ready to destroy whoever or whatever did this to you. He cares about you greatly, the very thought of seeing you in such a state makes his stomach churn and pure rage wash over him.

Once you explain your situation, he can grasp enough to understand the major gist of it. He doesn’t quite know what a “Magical Girl” is but obviously it isn’t something good. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in such a terrible situation.

To know that you can take care of yourself in the face of danger, makes him relieved. Although he doesn’t like the idea of you getting hurt at all, a healing ability is always wonderful to possess.

While you earn candies, Malleus will be working on a way to free you.

Even if these beings who granted you this ability are “all-powerful,” his magical capabilities are among the top in all the world. Perhaps, he can start by politely asking for answers from the leader of this group. If that seems to fail, killing off that mascot seems like a good place to start instead.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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kanerallels · 3 years ago

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for your 111 celebration - star wars, kanera, karaoke??? :D

It would be my pleasure!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: TBD, I'm currently on mobile with no way of checking

Tags/Warning: rated G (for good grief, Kanan you drama queen). The only objectional thing is the fact that Ezra is presented as Kanan's biological son with very little explanation. TW for alcohol

The first time Hera Syndulla saw Kanan Jarrus after Gorse was nothing like what she’d expected.

She was in a cantina on Mykapo, waiting for Sabine to return from her mission-- the Mandalorian girl was picking up intel from one of their contacts who lived there, and Hera was watching her back from a distance. It was a good learning experience for the teenager, and she had Chopper with her. Hera was more than happy to sit in the bar waiting for her crew’s return-- and treat herself to a drink while she was at it.

Settled at one of the stools, Hera waited patiently for the bartender to come serve her. As she did so, her gaze wandered around the room. It was the standard cantina, containing quite a motley crew of beings, although not as many as there would be after the average work day. Then it would be filled to the brim with them. In the back of the room was a stage and a karaoke machine, currently being used by a very drunk, very tone deaf Quarren.

She wasn’t sure what made her glance to her side-- perhaps a slight rustle of sound, or the sudden sensation that someone was close by. But she did, and was startled to meet the bright blue eyes of a boy, who couldn’t have been much older than twelve.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a grin. “I’m Ezra. What’s your name?”

“...hi,” Hera responded, caught somewhat off guard. Regaining her equilibrium, she offered him her hand. “I’m Hera. It’s nice to meet you, Ezra.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Ezra said, shaking her hand solemnly.

Curiosity flickering through her, Hera asked, “So, Ezra, what brings you to this bar? I’m… pretty sure kids aren’t allowed in here-- no offense.”

“None taken-- they’re not,” Ezra said with a shrug. “But the owner makes an exception for me, cause I’m awesome. Also, my dad works here.”

“Your dad, huh?” Hera gave the kid a once-over, taking in his scruffy blue-black hair and relatively clean orange jumpsuit. Nothing that would signify he was telling the truth-- but then, there was very little that would point to the opposite. “And where is your dad right now?”

Seeming unconcerned by her questions, Ezra craned his neck, looking around as the Quarren on stage stumbled off to several boos from the crowd. “Huh. Could have sworn he was-- ah-ha!! There he is!”

Ezra pointed, and Hera followed his hand to the karaoke stage, where a new song was starting on the machine. Standing next to it, holding the microphone, was a tall, familiar figure she hadn't thought she'd ever see again.

Kanan Jarrus sent her a crooked grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lifted the microphone and said, “I'd like to dedicate this song to a special someone out there sitting at the bar next to my kid, the drop dead gorgeous Twi'lek woman. You know who you are.”

“Because you just told everyone,” Hera pointed out in exasperation, but Kanan didn't seem to be listening-- nor did the crowd, all of whom seemed deeply invested. Grinning widely, he started to sing, his voice a deep, rich baritone:

“I musta been through about a million girls,

I love em and I leave em alone

I didn’t care how much they cried, no sir,

Their tears left me cold as a stone.

But then I fooled around and fell in love,

I fooled and fell in love…”

Hera had to give it to him-- he had a good voice, better than she’d expected. Catching her eye, Kanan shot her a wink, and Hera dropped her head into her hands in exasperation. “So, he hasn’t changed at all,” she observed to herself.

“Wait, do you know Kanan?” Ezra asked, sounding delighted. “That’s awesome! How do you know him?”

“We met about five years ago,” Hera told him, pointedly avoiding Kanan’s gaze. “On Gorse. He was--”

“Wait, you’re the Gorse lady?” Ezra gasped, his eyes going wide. “No WAY. Kanan mentioned you a couple times.”

“Did he,” Hera said, raising an eyebrow. “Please, tell me exactly what he said.” She wasn’t exactly sure why Kanan would be talking about her with this kid-- his son? The ages didn’t exactly match up-- but she was definitely curious as to how it had come up.

Ezra frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see-- I remember! He told me you were the best pilot he’d ever met, and that you were kinda crazy but also really smart and good at what you did-- but most importantly, he said that he'd trust you to watch his back.”

“What?” Hera said, taken aback. She'd expected parts of what Ezra said, and was even secretly pleased about the pilot part. But to know that she had Kanan's trust? That struck a different chord for Hera.

“I know,” Ezra said, nodding gravely. “It surprised me, too. Kanan doesn't really trust people. I mean, I've seen him trust people before, but it's been a really long time. So when I heard that he trusted you, I knew you had to be special to him.”

“I don't think that's quite true,” Hera said, mildly embarrassed. “Kanan and I-- well, we only knew each other for a little while. I don’t think he could have learned to trust me that much in that little time.” But even as she spoke, she remembered on the Forager, the moment when the ship was coming to pieces around them and Kanan had used the Force to save her. He’d showed her his deepest secret in that moment, a secret that could easily have him killed. But he’d trusted her with it. Maybe Ezra is on to something.

Shrugging, Ezra said, “Maybe, but I think he sees something special about you. Or hears-- he also mentioned your voice.”

As Hera turned that over in her mind, Kanan's song ended. The entire cantina burst into applause, and Hera couldn't resist an eye roll at his antics as he gave the crowd a wave and a bow. Strolling off of the stage, Kanan moved behind the bar and towards where Hera was sitting.

As he approached, Hera lifted an eyebrow at him. “Very impressive,” she said dryly. “Who would have thought you could sing?”

“I live to please,” Kanan said, leaning against the bar and grinning at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hera said. “I do have one issue with the whole performance, however. Did it occur to you that I might be trying to keep a low profile, and wouldn’t want the entire bar staring at me?”

“Trust me, most of them are so drunk they won’t remember our names, faces or what song I chose,” Kanan assured her. “I wouldn’t dream of messing with whatever you’re up to now. We all remember how that went last time.”

“I didn’t think it went that badly,” Hera said, and Kanan’s grin widened.

“Oh, really?”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “The mission. I completed my objective, after all.”

“I suppose you did, Captain.” Straightening up, Kanan asked, “So, what can I get you?”

“Something non-alcoholic,” Hera said. “I’m here on business.”

“I’ve got the perfect thing. So, business, eh?” Kanan made a face as he opened the mini fridge behind him and pulled out a bottle of juice. “That never means anything good.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid that sort of thing,” Hera pointed out.

“Good point,” Kanan said, handing her a glass full of the juice. Hera took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the familiar tangy taste of meiloorun, combined with something a little sweeter. As she took another sip, Kanan turned to Ezra. “And kid, what are you doing out here? We’ve talked about this.”

“It’s boring in the back,” Ezra protested. “There’s nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Don’t worry, Hera’s keeping an eye on me.”

Kanan’s gaze flashed from the kid to Hera. “Oh, she is now, is she? Well, you can’t sit at the bar, at the least. Come back here, okay?”

Ezra grumbled something, but vaulted over the bar in a very Kanan-like move. As he disappeared behind the bar, Hera said quietly, “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Recent development,” Kanan said calmly, and there was a snort from down where Ezra had settled.

“Try five years!”

“That, too,” Kanan agreed, but Hera’s mind was busy matching up the timeline.

“Five years? That was around the time we first met, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, Kanan said, “Yeah. It was actually shortly after that.”

“Was that why you didn’t come with me?”

“More or less.”

Ezra’s head appeared from behind the bar. “Wait, you asked Kanan to go with you? You never told me that! Were you two lovers?”

Hera nearly choked on her drink and Kanan let out a long sigh. “EZRA. We’ve talked about these kinds of questions.”

“You said I could ask you whatever I wanted,” Ezra pointed out. “The first day I moved in with you--”

“Yeah, I know, and you’ve proceeded to never let it go since. No, we were not lovers.”

“Not for lack of trying on your part,” Hera murmured into her juice.

“Ouch.”

“It’s just the truth, dear.”

“Fair enough,” Kanan muttered, a slight grin slipping across his face as Ezra snickered down by his feet.

“I like her.” he told the older man.

“Me, too,” Kanan told Ezra. Turning to Hera, he said, “So, it’s been a minute and a half since we talked. How’ve you been? Find some more crew for that gorgeous ship of yours?”

“I did,” Hera said, a small smile crossing her face. “I think you’d like them.”

“No idea if that’s a compliment for them,” Kanan joked. A serious look crossed his face. “However… I’m glad. Whoever this person is. I’ve always maintained that you needed more support in your life.”

“You never once said that,” Hera pointed out.

“No? Must have been someone else.”

“Must have been,” Hera said lightly. She paused for a minute, studying Kanan closely. He looked different-- older, of course. And despite his cavalier attitude, there was a new layer of something, responsibility, perhaps.

But more than any of those, he looked tired. Now that he was directly across from her, Hera could see the dark shadows under his eyes, and while he still leaned against the bar casually, there was the slightest slump to his shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

One of Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked caught off guard. “What?”

“You look exhausted,” Hera told him, deciding to just get straight to the point. Kanan opened his mouth, presumably to make some joke, and Hera speared him with a glare. “The truth, please.”

He closed his mouth with an audible snap, then sighed. “It’s been a long month. I’ve been working a lot lately. And this time of year is always… hard.”

Hera saw his gaze flick down to where Ezra was, and she frowned slightly. She knew Empire Day was coming up soon-- clearly, it had some special significance for these two.

She started to ask him another question, but heard a commotion behind her. Kanan’s gaze snapped up, and his hand slid towards where a blaster was. Hera turned and spotted Sabine and Chopper making a beeline towards her. “They’re with me,” she told him.

“This is your crew? Seems a little young,” Kanan remarked.

“Said the man with a son he didn’t tell me about,” Hera shot back, although she was getting less and less convinced that Ezra was Kanan’s biological son.

Before Kanan could respond, Sabine was next to them, the look in her eyes urgent. “Hera, we’ve got something.”

“What is?” Hera asked, and Sabine’s gaze moved to Kanan warily. “He’s fine,” Hera assured the Mandalorian.

Holding up a hand, Kanan said, “Don’t worry, Mandalorian. I want absolutely nothing to do with this.” Grabbing a cleaning rag, he began wiping down the surface of the bar.

“Not sure if that’s reassuring, but whatever,” Sabine said. Looking back at Hera, she said, “We got a lead.”

“On the survivor from Lasan?” Hera asked in shock. She felt Kanan’s gaze shift back towards them, but focused on Sabine. “Tell me everything.”

“Apparently, he was spotted a few days ago-- Hera, we have a location. He’s hiding out on Pantora.”

“Pantora? That’s only a few days from here.” Making up her mind on the spot, Hera turned to Kanan and slid him a few credits. “Thanks for the drink-- I need to go.”

He didn’t take the money. “You found a Lasat survivor?” he asked, his voice sounding stunned. “There are some left?”

“Only the one that we know of,” Sabine said, eying him warily. “Why? Also who is this?”

Kanan ignored her and turned to Hera. “Let me come with you.”

Hera’s eyes shot wide. “What? Kanan, now’s not the time for--”

“Hera, I’m serious. Let me come with you. I can help.” Kanan’s voice was shockingly urgent as he leaned across the bar, his gaze locking with Hera’s. “Please. I can help you get him to safety.”

“Why exactly do you want to help so much?” Sabine asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Kanan’s gaze didn’t leave Hera’s as he replied, “Because I’ve been where he is.”

Oh. Oh, kriff.

Hera hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You can come.”

“What?” Sabine’s incredulity was almost immediately drowned out as Ezra jumped up from behind the bar.

“YES!!! Finally, we can leave Mykapo, it’s SO BORING here.”

“What the-- Who’s this?” Sabine demanded. “Hera--”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Hera promised. Looking at Kanan, she said, “Meet us in the space port. We’re in docking bay seven.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minute,” Kanan replied, already moving, Ezra all but skipping at his side.

As Hera led the way out of the cantina, her two companions brimming with questions and suspicion, she had to admit-- she hadn’t expected to leave Mykapo with new crew members. But for whatever reason, she had a really good feeling about this, and about Kanan Jarrus. It all depended on what happened next, and Hera was very interested to see what that was.

#swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #kanera #star wars #sabine wren #sw rebels #111 followers celebration #post a new dawn #i actually have a full post to make about this au explaining where and how ezra comes in #but that's a post for another time #kanan is a dad and no one can argue #swr fan fic #it was dope. the end

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years ago

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Title: nothing to mourn or miss Ship: Poker pair Summary: The only thing connecting little Cornelia Walker to Tyki Mikk was the mop of dark hair. A year after his Master's letter had been sent to the Black Order, Allen Walker arrived at their Headquarters, carrying a newborn on his back. AN: I just want trans Allen fanfics. Let’s see where this fanfic will go!

Lavi’s greatest gift had always been his observation skills. Growing up on the streets (in a different city, under another name), he’d had to be clever and aware to ensure he wouldn’t starve to death or be killed. Bookman, of course, had taken the ability to a whole new level, ensuring that Lavi wouldn’t miss even a single detail. Lavi was pretty sure that if there was a way to keep from blinking for the rest of his life, Bookman would force him to learn that as well.

Regardless, his skill was why he knew Krory had to be in the next train wagon. It was the last possible option, given that the vampiric Exorcist hadn’t been in any of the others. The situation, once they found him, was pretty easy to break down. He’d gotten cheated out of his clothes and money by three traveling vagabonds and a sickly-looking child; tuberculosis if Lavi were to guess. They looked rough as if the gentleness was seldom shown to them. From their hands and posture, Lavi deduced they worked in the mines or a similar taxing job.

That was as far as Lavi got with his observation before another one took him by surprise.

“Allen!” the boy shouted and promptly threw himself at said young man.

Here was the thing about Allen Walker: He was lithe in build, small, but he knew how to present himself. Lavi looked at him and knew what he kept hidden, yet it was not a lie because everything about Allen Walker screamed that he was a young man. He’d never said a word about whether he’d learned from his deceased father or his Master, but Allen knew how to navigate society, which social cues to react to or ignore.

Allen often kept people at a distance to keep up appearances and live his life as he wanted. Lavi, personally, was a massive fan of invading people’s personal space. He’d learned to do so early for various reasons, and with time passing, Allen started to allow Lavi in his bubble. But always, he was careful, hesitating, bracing himself for interaction.

And yet, somehow, this protection was disregarded without a second thought. Allen wasn’t taken aback by the boy jumping him but reacted on instinct and caught the boy. Were the child smaller, Lavi would think it was because of Cornelia, but no, the boy was much older than Allen’s daughter.

And here it was, the second clue:

“Eeez!” Allen said. “What are you doing here?”

“Traveling to a new job!” Eeez replied in rapid-fire Portuguese that, had Lavi not spent a year in the country, he wouldn’t have been able to understand a word. “You’re pretty far from your usual roads,” Allen replied only and set the boy down again. “But I see, your cheating habits haven’t changed at all.”

“You’ve always been the worst cheat,” the man towards the right replied, causing the one on the outmost left to laugh in agreement.

The two seemed good-natured if a little tired. They were comfortable around Allen, studied him briefly as if to check he was doing well, eating enough or so. Anyone who knew Allen well enough to greet him so heartedly had to be aware of his metabolism and with this group struggling for money, it was no surprise they worried about food.

But it wasn’t quite the two men or the boy that drew Lavi’s attention.

No, it was the man in the middle.

Thick glasses obscured his eyes, but his hair was curly and dark, the kind that Lavi knew from experience was fun to run your hand through.

How well exactly did Allen Walker know this man and how much did he care to keep such large secrets?

“Are you going to join us, menino?” the man asked. “Your friend has lost a few things, I believe.”

Allen grinned triumphantly, but his hand twitched all the same, betraying his lie. He was nervous, shaken by this confrontation, and were he anyone else, words about little princesses in high towers, bright gray eyes looking up from the Branch Chief’s lap, and bets on milestones would soon spill out of his mouth.

“Allen,” Krory finally spoke up, still sniffling. “Do you know these men?”

“Yes,” Allen replied, shaking himself from stupor. “We traveled together for a while after Master Cross had dumped me. They’re friends.”

Just friends? Lavi wondered. From the looks of it, he was not the only one. The boy, Eeze, narrowed his eyes, glancing between Tyki and Allen. Whatever they had, it hadn’t been that casual. The result was currently crawling around HQ, after all.

“This is Momo, Crack, and Glasses in the middle—”

“You wound me.”

“Is Tyki Mikk.”

Tyki was not a name whose origin Lavi could place easily. He’d assumed that Cornelia had been picked because it was a fairly common British name and sounded well with the small family’s last name.

Cornelia Walker wasn’t even a year old yet, and thus Lavi quietly found himself doing the math. Cross’s letter had announced only Allen’s arrival and been dated about a year before Allen had actually managed to arrive at the Order. He knew that Lenalee thought Allen had been sent to the Order because of Cornelia, so she’d be safe while Allen killed Akuma.

Never mind that nobody expected Cross to be a capable guardian for a newborn. People had been fascinated enough with the fact he’d managed to raise a teenager.

The only thing connecting little Cornelia to Tyki Mikk was the mop of dark hair. Otherwise, she was entirely Allen’s baby, from the pale complexion to the eyes and… Before meeting this Tyki, Lavi had assumed that she had Allen’s nose, but it actually resembled Tyki’s more closely. Still following through with his conclusions, Lavi pretended to be shocked at Allen’s gambling skills, the way he won back Krory’s clothes and dignity before stripping his old friends of theirs.

“Royal Straight Flush,” Allen announced once more with a smile as the others tossed their cards, not at all angry, more amused.

“They’re used to this,” Eeez said, this time in English. It was accentuated but still pretty good. Lavi could hear the same kind of pitter-patter pronunciation Allen sometimes fell back on when he was careless or exhausted. He must have taught the boy how to speak the language. How curious, it spoke for longer exposure to Allen. This definitely added to Lavi’s growing suspicion that Allen hadn’t just taken the long way round to the Order.

As did the fond glances Allen couldn’t keep off his face.

He could have stayed with this group. They were obviously aware of Allen’s status, but they seemed to have no trouble with it. Without needing to pay off his Master’s debt, Allen could earn enough to settle down somewhere. If they stayed near a mining town, the group wouldn’t even have to break up or work in a different branch.

There’d be no little niece for Komui to fuss over or dress up in her father’s absence. The Order would have remained entirely unaware of Allen Walker’s presence until someday along the way, somebody would dig out the one letter Cross had hurriedly written. And by then, they’d have assumed that Allen Walker had died on his way to the Order. Despite the tension of Allen’s shoulder, he was obviously at ease with this group, was at home, whereas he still hadn’t settled completely at the Order.

He could have abandoned the Akuma for them, this odd broken little family, but he hadn’t. The Destroyer of Time had marched on, wrapped his new gift up in cuddly blankets and climbed up a mountain.

Perhaps Lavi should tell him of the Order’s gruesome history, its horrible present. Would the boy have chosen to take his daughter there if he knew what lingered behind the black walls? Lavi had no doubt that if someone else sat in Komui’s office, little Cornelia would be tested weekly for resonance with an Innocence piece given that her father was an Accommodator. Then again, that doll that acted as her babysitter had taken a liking to her and Lavi doubted it was just because of the sentience it possessed.

The train ride passed in relative peace despite the gambling with the miners talking of their travels and Allen returning with stories of his own, carefully modified to leave out any signs of Akuma or his daughter.

He had no intention of telling them.

Lavi’s job was to record history, not to teach it.

He didn’t have to tell them either. Most likely, this encounter would remain a footnote in Allen Walker’s biography.

The odd group had to leave the train before them, and their goodbyes were sweet and kind, warmer and lingering, a farewell that nobody wanted. Eeez hugged Allen once more and Momo and Crack both gave Allen a nudge and tousled his hair fondly.

When it came to Tyki, Lavi paid attention. Accommodator yet or not, someday Cornelia’s history might become relevant, and they’d need all the details.

“Take good care of yourself, menino,” Tyki said, making no move to embrace Allen, touch him in any way. How curious that he’d chosen distance when he so obviously wanted to reach for the opposite. Lavi had seen a hundred stories like this already, how bitter love like this must be.

At moments like this, Lavi was glad that he was forever exempt from such heartbreak.

“I’m not the one always on the road, running off doing odd jobs,” Allen countered with a soft smile, a joke that failed to hide any of the pain. “Take care of yourself as well.”

The group left the train, and it was only as the machine was already departing that Tyki tossed something at Allen, the same playing cards they’d used earlier. Lavi watched quietly as Allen looked through the cards until melancholy turned his lips upwards.

“Hearts this time,” Allen muttered under his breath, likely not meant to be picked up by Lavi’s ears.

He packed the cards into the pocket of his coat and wrapped it tightly around his body as if to keep out the imaginary cold. When Allen looked up, his eyes fixed on Lavi, he seemed torn between determination and desperation.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Allen said, or perhaps ordered. “Please.”

So it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Lavi had uncovered his little secret.

Checking that Krory was still out of earshot, busy carrying their luggage to this empty compartment, Lavi chose to engage. “Why not tell him?”

Allen shrugged, then smiled just a bit pained. “His world is different from ours. They don’t have much cash, so I wouldn’t dump a child on them, and it would be careless to ask Tyki, and the others by extension, to step into the nightmare that is our reality. It’s better this way.”

Lavi hummed in agreement, thinking on the report he’d make to Bookman. Allen Walker, despite his cheerful optimism, could be quite realistic, almost painfully so.

They didn’t tell the families of their Finders about the deceased either.

Ignorance, wounding as it might be, left you with nothing to mourn or miss.

(Later, bound to a chair, the Fourth Apostle screaming at him, Lavi would remember his past assessment and laugh at his naivete.)

#allen walker #tyki mikk #poker pair #dgm #lavi #d gray man #fanfic

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karlnapity · 3 years ago

Text

Some Things Live But All Things Die

AO3 link here.

TWs: Major character death, explicit grief, torture.

Sapnap appears on your doorstep on a gloomy day.

Perhaps it’s apt for the occasion. You’re shivering, and so is he, and it’s more alike than you’ve been in months.

It’s raining, and he is too.

You force open the door with more than a little hesitance; you’d ignore it, usually, but there’s something in his gaze, in the way he’s holding himself.

It’s only once he opens the door that you realize he’s crying.

It pulls at you, makes you want to pull him close. You don’t.

He makes no move to talk. You don’t urge him to.

There’s a sinking pit in your stomach.

He sobs, then, sinking to his knees on your porch step. The lights of Las Nevadas twinkle in the background, a cruel mockery of everything you always did for him.

This isn’t right.

“He’s gone,” Sapnap wails, and you immediately know what he means.

Something in you shatters.

Getting the full story is difficult between it all. You fall to your knees in front of him like a man begging forgiveness, and maybe you are.

He tells you the story in stops and starts as the rain tumbles down, in sobs and heaves, and you want to pull him close but he’s so far despite the distance.

You don’t want this story.

It’s not quite a surprise, really, what happened, when you think about it; you were always going to lose him first.

You’re not sure why it surprises you that he was as fragile as you thought.

He disappeared, says Sapnap, for days at a time, and you think you remember witnessing it a few times yourself. He says he couldn’t remember hardly anything.

It stings. Your absence is irrelevant, now, but some part of you is clawing, dying to know whether he chose not to tell you about his country or if it was all the set-aside madness of an already dying man.

You will never know.

He disappeared, Sap explains, and he thought it was normal, one of his casual disappearances, and he didn’t worry until it had been a few weeks.

Sap sobs, apologizes maybe ten times, for not realizing, and your anger flares for a second before the shame comes crashing down.

You didn’t even know. You knew none of it. You have no room to speak.

“It was George who found his body,” Sap says.

You don’t want to see him, but it’s the fucking least you can do.

It doesn’t feel real until you see him. You hardly have time to think about his kingdom as you’re led through for the first time (and that burns in and of itself), the glowing lights dimmed as though the land itself is mourning.

He looks like he’s sleeping, such a difference from the last dead body you saw.

He’s gray, like one of the ghosts, as though he’s coated in soot and ash. You almost want to reach out and try to brush it off, as stupid as it is.

His clothes, even, are as grayscale as the rest of him, like a washed-out film.

“He was like this when we found him,” George says. You don’t point out his use of ‘we.’

And it suddenly feels real. You feel like throwing up.

“I need to leave,” you say, and you ignore the way you’re running away again.

> You don’t want him to come back. You don’t want to see him shaded in gray, not like his death.

He was always meant to be colorful. This isn’t fair.

> “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, despite the way you are.

“Are you crying?” Dream repeats in delight. He found a weakness and he’s weedling it like a boy pulling off the wings of butterflies.

“Shut up!” You scream, despite the way you are. You take his collar and slam his head into the wall with a sickening crack.

“What happened, Quackity?” He sings.

You wish you knew.

His pain feels useless for the first time.

> You visit his kingdom.

It’s beautiful, but empty, and you know it was all him.

He was what made it special, and without his watch it seems decrepit, as though it’s been abandoned for centuries rather than days.

You don’t look around. It deserved his tour.

> You think of Wilbur, in his grand gestures and the beautiful way he destroyed himself, and you think you understand it, just a little.

My grand symphony, he’d said, forever unfinished, or at least that’s what Philza had said.

Forever unfinished.

When it had exploded, you hadn’t understood it, had wanted to ask how a man could be so destroyed that he’d take the life of his own nation.

The slime helps you collect sand for TNT.

You're too cowardly to use it. > Mourning is a funny word.

You’ve mourned enough, really. Your ex-husband, your relationship, your dreams, and now him.

Your last funeral was a celebration, and you sit back, now, wonder if it was a mistake to let him go at all.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” You ask a ghost.

It blows smoke in your face. “I don’t think I’m the one to give you advice on self-destruction, babe.”

You wave it away. “Maybe not.”

There’s a silence in which you observe its cave. It’s a pale imitation of its character, but then again his ghost is anyways. That stings too.

“Is it right to wish it never happened? So I can avoid the mourning?”

It looks at you, then, red horns flashing. “There’s no right to pain.”

> Your husband’s body was all harsh lines and pained twists. His is soft and peaceful.

You can’t stop thinking of it.

He looked like he was sleeping. You don’t know why that hurts so much.

> Dream can bring him back.

This time it’s personal. You will not let him be lost. >

You let him die. This is your fault.

You were petty, and vindictive, and you are to blame.

“We wondered why you didn’t come home,” Sap says, and it grates, feels like nails on a chalkboard, but you have to hear it. You deserve every bit of guilt.

“And George told us, then, that you didn’t want to, and we were so confused.”

“He never told me,” you whisper.

Sap’s hand twitches, as though he’s resisting reaching out to you. You’ve been doing that a lot lately, unsure where you stand. It hurts.

“I know, Q,” he says. The sympathy doesn’t, shouldn’t belong to you.

“I should’ve come home anyways. I’m sorry.”

“I wish you had. We never would’ve left you that easily.”

It’s not much use now. > Dream doesn’t matter.

You’ve been more vicious, lately, as even Sam grows uneasy, but it doesn’t matter.

You hardly feel in control of the violence anymore. > The slime asks you about the abandoned machines, one day, asking about the matching colors, and you crumble.

It doesn’t much know how to help with tears, but its company is welcome.

You’re taking advantage of its kindness like this. It doesn’t understand what you did.

> Meetings are useless. Technoblade doesn’t seem to understand this.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face, repeats his question, but it doesn’t matter. You push your chair, stand up, prepare to leave-

“Are you alright?”

You let out something between a whine and a scream. “You’re not the kind of person to be asking me that.”

“I know. But I’m asking anyways.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You deserve this guilt. > “I can’t bring him back,” Dream wheezes. “This is useless.”

You push your knife through his shoulder, pin him to the ground. “You’re lying.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” He shrieks, and you let up, only barely.

“Quackity, Quackity, I need a ghost, please.”

You sit up on your heels, scream into your hands. You signal for Sam to raise the lava, leaving Dream pinned. “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you this time, I really will.”

He’s scared of you for the first time, and it’s not satisfying. >

> Sap looks at you like he doesn’t know you.

Did he ever know you? That’s a frightening thought.

If he knew what you were doing, he would hate you.

You don’t care. You just want him back. > And thus begins your search for a ghost. You ask your own. It shrugs.

“But everyone has a ghost,” you plead. “That’s what you told me.”

“That doesn’t mean they want to be seen.” The plumes of smoke obscure its face. “Remember the kid? He hardly showed up at all in the time he was dead.”

“But he’d want to see me,” you whine, and it sounds wrong to your own ears. “So he has to be somewhere around here.”

“Q.” Its voice is surprisingly serious. “If you ever brought me back I’d hate you forever. Don’t force this on him.”

“But-”

“Listen to me. If I came back? My shitty fucking heart would probably give out again immediately. You don’t know why he died, right? Don’t hurt him because you miss him.”

You crumple. “I need to fix this. I need to.”

“There’s no fixing, babe. Just don’t break it more.”

You hate it. > “Q.”

Fuck.

“What, Sap?”

The nicknames are familiar on your tongue, just like the tension in the air.

“Can you tell me what you’re doing?” He comes up behind you, holds your arms like he used to when you got upset.

You never look at people when you’re upset. He’s the one who noticed.

“He was so observant,” you murmur. You’re not sure when the habit started, of needing to tell people about him. As though you’ll forgethimlikeheforgotyou-

No.

“He was,” Sap replies as you curl in on yourself, holding you closer.

“What are you doing?” He whispers. “Just tell me. I can’t lose you too.”

The last part is so quiet you have to strain to hear him. You wish you hadn’t. You let loose a wail, almost a scream.

This isn’t fair. None of this is fair.

“I want him back. I’m going to get him.”

Sap pulls you to the ground, still holding you close. “I know. Me too.”

“Dream has the book.”

You hear him suck in a violent inhale, like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Q. No.”

“He can bring him back!” You exclaim, twisting to look at him.

He looks… sad. It’s an inadequate word, so simple for the expression, for the feeling, that it’s almost useless. He looks like… he looks like you.

“Why don’t you want to? Why wouldn’t you?” You argue. You plead.

“Q, he wouldn’t want to! He told me!”

“That’s fucking bullshit!” You shoot to your feet. “That’s bullshit! Just ‘cause you don’t want to-”

His expression hardens. “I want to see him just as much as you do, Q-”

“No you don’t!” Your hands raise to grip at your beanie. “No you don’t! I need to- I need to apologize I need to tell him-”

“Quackity, shut up for five seconds and listen to me!” He’s sobbing, now, you both are, breathing heavy.

It gets you to shut up.

“He knew. He knew something was wrong, and he told me that if anything happens to leave him alone. And I thought he was joking. I didn’t take him seriously.” He wipes at his eyes, but it’s no use with how hard he’s crying. “And I kick myself for that every single day. We all regret things, Q.”

And when he holds you close this time it feels comforting instead of constricting.

“I thought you left me,” you start. “And I never got to see him or his kingdom or you and I never got to spend time with you because I was too busy being a stubborn asshole.”

“You know he’d forgive you.”

“But I don’t forgive myself.” It hurts to admit. “Because I never got to see him again.”

He holds you tight. “I know.”

> “Were you mad? When I got with Sap and… him?” You can’t say his name.

It shrugs. “I don’t really remember. It doesn’t really matter.”

“I don’t want him to be mad.”

“Don’t let the dead make your choices, sweetheart. We’re past our time.”

You let out a low chuckle. “Isn’t that all the dead do? Make our choices?”

It smiles ruefully. “Only if you let us.”

> “I was scared,” you say, entwining your fingers as you lay on the roof and pulling him down with you, “that it was wrong, to still love you.”

“I know,” Sap does, laying next to you. He looks at the stars. “Me too. But I do. Still love you, I mean.”

“But we’ll always be missing something.”

“That too. But it’s… it’s not okay, but it will be, I think.”

“I hope you’re right. I want you to be.” > And you don’t forgive yourself, but Sap does, but your ex-husband does, and that has to be enough.

You don’t see his ghost. Maybe it’s around, maybe it’s not, and that has to be enough, too.

Grief is awful. Mourning is awful. It hurts, a constriction around your throat.

You grieved your relationship, thought that would kill you, and it was only child’s play. Sometimes you’re certain you’ll die just from the pain of it all.

It’s not fair. Not to any of you. And that has to be enough.

But it will be okay. And that will have to be enough.

#be quiet i'm writing #karlnapity #quackity #sapnap #karl jacobs #georgenotfound #dream #dreamwastaken #jschlatt #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #las nevadas #kinoko kingdom #myctblr #fanfiction

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

Text

another chapter of the ‘we summoned Tommy and now we found out Grian’s family” fic. this chapter is very long.

also warning, there are some references to sui//cide, but it’s never directly mentioned by name.

Phil tried to ignore the way his chest hurt at the name that had been said. Sure, biologically Grian was his son, but it had been years since they had seen each other, and he had grown up with different people who became a new family for him. And he understood that, but it still hurt that the avian thought of someone else as his dad.

“Er, not quite.”

“Oh, okay,” Grian spoke, matter of factly. The two of them stayed quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “You found me ‘gain.”

“That I did.”

“You didn’t stop lookin’”

“Nope.” Phil replied, though he knew it was a lie. Of course he always wanted to find his son again, but he had given up actually looking a number of years ago. It wasn’t worth focusing on one child and ignoring the others. But he supposed that’s sort of what happened anyway with him and Tommy.

“That’s what I thought. It kept me goin’ on th’ really bad days.”

“Am I allowed to know what those bad days were?”

Grian was silent before shaking his head. “Hurts too much…”

“That’s alright mate. How about you talk about some other stuff.”

And so Grian did. Talking with Phil about some of the things he had done over the years. Eventually, Stress arrived and helped out, getting the bots up there with Grian and Phil. At that point the stories stopped and Grian focused on his kids, who were glad for all the attention. Mumbo returned with Tommy shortly, also bringing Tubbo along, and soon Grian’s nest was filled, making him quite happy.

“He’s looking better.”

“Yeah, I think it was your admin who gave me the gist of things. He was tired and using his Watcher stuff which made him loopy.”

“Yeah, that would do it.” Mumbo shook his head.

“Hey, you know what that means?” Tommy asked, smirking and focusing his gaze on the bots. Jrumbot smiled and pulled out some pumpkin seeds, which Grian quickly pounced on and started eating. “That part of the bird stuff is great.”

“And what part isn’t so great?” Philza asked, though for a moment he regretted it, thinking the teen wouldn’t respond and just stay quiet or get angry.

But instead he just crossed his arms and gave an over-exaggerated pouting face. “When he gets all mother hen or whatever and is super overbearing. The other shit is fine.”

“Tommy!” Mumbo huffed but the teen just waved him off.

“Oh come on, they’ve heard me say it loads of times. Jrum won’t risk saying anything cause you’ll just take some of his diamonds away.”

“Yeah! I won’t say stuff like that!” Jrum agreed, before suddenly Phil jumped and looked to see a few of his remaining feathers now in the small robot’s hands. “How much would I get for these Tommy?”

“I’m sure if you meet the right people you can get plenty for those. He’s like, trillions of years old, and not many people have them.”

“I’m not that old!” Phil complained, trying to grab the feathers back. He managed to pull one out of Jrumbot’s hand, but the rest ended up disappearing into whatever the kid had for an inventory.

“You’re right. You’re older.” Tommy taunted. “Old as shit. Dinosaurs are younger than you and they’re all dead.”

Philza glared at Tommy before his gaze fell on Grian. The other avian was still out of it, but getting better. Then he looked at Mumbo before rolling his eyes. “Alright Tommy, maybe so. But it means I’ve got more experience.”

Tommy paused, not used to the hardcore player agreeing with him about something like this. He looked over at the bots, who shrugged. It wasn’t like they had grown up with him. “Says the guy who let two mobs get the best of him.”

“Hey that was one time! And that was also years ago!”

“I’m gonna ‘gree, that’s pretty lame.” Grian spoke up, giggling a bit still. “I’m still alive af’er uhhh…” He started counting on his fingers. “I dunno! Lotta years with Sam!”

Mumbo, Tommy and the bots immediately froze up, looking between each other nervously. Tommy moved a little closer to Grian to make sure he had the avian’s attention. “Hey G? You sure that’s okay to talk about? I know normally you-”

“Pfft, it’s fine! Not like I died! ‘Stead I just hurt a lot, killed some pipul, selled some drugs, stuff like that!” Grian looked over to Philza, who was starting to regret staying around when everyone else arrived. “Ya know, almost didn’ make it. But I didn’ wanna disappoint you by giving up. Mmm… plus Gareth freaked me out too much ‘n I didn’ wanna be like him.”

“Okay Grian! I think you should really get to sleep now! We can talk about this more later! But don’t you want to uh…” Mumbo trailed off.

“I can get the jukebox once you’ve slept!” Tommy continued for Grian who seemed to really like that idea. He finally laid down and before long he fell asleep.

It was still quiet for a bit, no one sure how to react to all of that at first. Phil and Tubbo were the quietest since they had little to no context. Because of that, they easily jumped when Tommy finally shouted and broke the silence. “Okay Mumboli, when the fuck were you going to tell me about that part of all that shit?!”

“First off, that would be something Grian would need to tell you, not me! Second off, I didn’t even know about that!” The anger on Mumbo’s face quickly turned to some sort of melancholy. “He didn’t even tell me. I mean, he had made some jokes, but I assumed that it was just from the situation. It does make sense he would think of… but…” The redstoner became quiet, his normally pale face much paler than before.

“Daddy?” Grumbot spoke up, making Mumbo look at the bots. Jrum was shaking a bit and Grum didn’t look quite so well himself. “I think Jrum and I should leave.”

“R-Right. Let me help you down.” The redstoner picked Jrum up to help him down the ladder, Grum still well enough to go down it himself. Before he left the platform though, he got Tommy’s attention and nodded towards Tubbo and Philza. “Try to fill them in. If Grian wakes up before I’m back, tell him what he did. He deserves to know.”

Tommy nodded, waiting for Mumbo to leave before saying anything. “So… Grian kinda got stuck in a fucked up place for a number of years. He’s told Mumbo a lot of stories and me some as well, but not everything of course. Basically, he had two friends. If he was me, one of them was like you Tubbo. But uh… the other guy was like Dream. Like, Dream’s an admin and all that, but this other guy was for the most part just a fucking normal guy around my age but he went off the deep end. G and the other friend escaped, but not for a long time. That place was a hardcore world, but they didn’t have potions or healing or whatever the fuck. I mean, there weren’t any mobs either, so death wasn’t at every corner. I mean I guess it was for G because the one guy was a psycho and murderer, but whatever.”

“Wait, are you telling me that this guy just lived with someone potentially worse than Dream for years?!” Tubbo asked while Philza was trying to comprehend it all.

“Uh, well they didn’t live with each other all the time, but yeah. But ‘cause it’s probably good for you guys to know, his main triggers are wearing blue as well as rabbits. If someone else is wearing blue, it’s fine, but if he’s wearing blue it freaks him out. With the rabbits thing, some of them being around are fine, but white rabbits especially freak him out ‘cause the guy was a hybrid.”

“Alright, noted.”

“One of the people most frustrated about it is Grumbot because, well you know how he just suddenly knew who you were, right Phil? They kinda first built him to help with the election here- long story, talk about it another time- and he’s able to look into a lot of stuff, but only based on political stuff. There wasn’t really anything like that with G’s first world. I mean, he gets fragments since Grian’s been a campaign manager before, but all that really comes up is empire stuff.”

“Uh, he had an empire? Was it anything like-” Tubbo timidly asked, glancing to the unconscious avian.

“Nah, basically he just built a big thing in the middle of the ocean and decided he would become the Grian Empire. The only other member was his friend- the good one- but he went off and made his own place pretty quickly. The worst he did is the TNT there was really volatile. If you so much as touched it after placing it, it would explode. He’s told the TNT shop story a number of times where he built the shop out of it and made the stock the walls of the shop.”

“Was that the first time he did something like that, or did it never go anywhere?”

“No that’s the thing!” Tommy started laughing. “He did it so many fucking times and someone still fell for it! That’s why it’s such a great story.”

From there, Tommy continued to mostly tell lighthearted stories Grian had shared with him. He talked about the prank war and following civil war from the Hermits’ previous world. The hippies against area 77, the time machine, the build height battle. After that he brought up the head games, which freaked Phil and Tubbo out when he suddenly pulled out what at first appeared to be a severed head but was actually a very accurate mask. From there the election was talked about like Tommy had promised, and then the following turf war and its minigame battle.

“I showed up right after the turf war which I’m really glad about because it freaked me out enough just hearing about it. I can’t imagine having to learn what wars here were actually like while in the middle of it all. Instead when Grian visited me when I was holed up in his old place, he just kept talking about the mole people. Around then’s when I really started opening up, especially when Zed showed up.”

“Who’s that?”

“Sheep hybrid that makes contraptions instead of redstone. He made me a bed that just kills me instead of what it should.” Grian spoke up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was still slightly groggy from just waking up, but the three SMP members could tell he looked rested and more lucid than earlier. “Where’s Mumbo and the kids?”

“He had to take them away.” Tommy answered, covering Tubbo and Phil’s mouths before they could say anything, even though they weren’t going to. “Grian, you were like, super out of it earlier.”

“Oh oof, how bad was it?”

“Well,” Philza pulled Tommy’s hand away from his mouth. “You mistook me for some person named Martin and asked me to swear loyalty to your empire. Then you called me some name resembling your admin’s name.”

“X eye sooma void?”

“Exactly.”

Grian laughed a little. “Yeah, a number of the hermits call him some variation of his name so I took it to the next level when I first showed up.”

Tommy put a hand on Grian’s knee and the avian looked over, smile falling from his face when he noticed the serious look on the teen. He immediately sat up straighter, worried for his brother. “Tommy what’s wrong?”

Tommy noticed the way Grian’s hand moved like it wanted to grab a weapon, something he had seen constantly when the two of them were alone at night and the avian was being overprotective of him when he could take care of himself. Well okay there was the factor that all the mobs here seemed to be stronger, but that wasn’t too bad. Grian asking Tommy’s name again pulled him from his thoughts and he immediately stopped Grian who was now actually reaching for a weapon. “No! No it’s nothing that bad! You’re going to freak out Big T if you do that!”

“Then what’s going on?!” Grian huffed, crossing his arms, mainly so he wouldn’t try that again.

“When you were really out of it, you said some things. Specifically from your high school stories.”

Grian looked a bit uncomfortable from that, but didn’t look too worried. “Okay. I- was I screaming? Did I scare the boys from that?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. You said something new. It- god G, not even Mumbo knew about it at first.”

Now Grian looked worried, eyes flicking between Tommy and the other two and he pulled his knees up to his chest. “Wh-which thing did I say?”

Tommy stood up, being the only one standing adding to his already tall height. “You mean there’s more shit you haven’t fuckin’ told anyone about?! Grian what the fuck?!”

Tubbo tried to pull Tommy back down, but the blonde teen resisted for a bit before falling back to the ground. “Tommy please. If it’s been this long and he doesn’t want to talk, it's obviously really bad.”

“No, you don’t know some of the shit Grian’s talked about. There’s nothing that could be that bad!”

“Tommy that’s enough.” Philza spoke coldly, making him and Tubbo freeze. “Grian’s not you. He decides what he’s going to talk about. Maybe to most people the stuff he talks about is worse than the stuff he hides, but obviously it’s different for him. So you’re not going to fucking yell at him and make him even worse.”

Tommy frowned angrily, but stayed quiet and slumped back. Tubbo tried to help calm Tommy down while Phil did his best to do the same with Grian. “So… can you tell me what I said? Grian tentatively spoke up, looking to Tommy, but Phil answered instead.

“You mentioned someone named Gareth and not wanting to be like him. Obviously Tommy and Mumbo knew what you were talking about, but me and probably also Tubbo don’t know anything and are still pretty clueless. We just know that it’s something bad.”

Grian let out a quiet ‘oh’ as he pulled his knees even closer to himself. “Um, after I disappeared, I ended up in a different world and made friends with some people named Sam and Taurtis.” Philza tried not to react as he recognized the second name. “At some point in high school I moved in with them, but before that it was just the two of them. They had a teacher named Gareth. He um… his wife was found killed and a lot of people thought he did it. He… got fed up with it and uh..” Grian shook his head. “The classroom was closed up when people found his, uh, body. They took that away but left… left behind what he used. There was one time I snuck in and thought about… you know. But his ghost showed up and freaked me out so I ran.”

After that, it was quiet, no one really knowing how to respond to that. Grian just ended up letting his feathers puff up and he hid in his wings, Tommy being able to wriggle his way in there. The wings ended up muffling a conversation the two had in whispers, though Tubbo and Phil could both hear a few curses from Tommy. Mumbo finally came up the ladder while they were doing this and was greeted by the two SMP members with a finger to their lips. The redstoner wasn’t planning to be loud since he didn’t know if Grian was awake again or not, but he still of course complied. He moved closer to the avian before putting a hand on one wing, Grian moving said wing out of the way to see who was there.

“Mumbo. A- How are the bots?”

“They’ve gone to bed. They seem like they’ll be fine.” Mumbo replied in a soft voice. “You can go back to what you were doing, I just wanted to let you know so you weren’t worried.”

“N-no, it’s fine. I… Hey Tommy, why don’t you show off your base.” When Tommy looked like he might refuse, Grian spoke again. “Please?”

“Alright, but not my fault if a war starts up!”

That earned a smile from the avian. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Remember to bring scaffolding with you. I’m sure you can find some in the chests in the basement.”

“You mean the storage system, or the fucking chest monster.” Grian smirked an evil little grin. “Fuck you. Alright come on you two. You gotta see Cobble Tower.”

The two other SMP members each gave Grian a look of sympathy before going down the ladder behind Tommy. He led them down to the fireplace that was centering the main hall, but specifically to one side of it. “Alright, this is the quick way up and down.” The teen opened some trap doors revealing some sort of donut-shaped object. “There’s one on the other side, but this is the elevator or whatever the heck Zed called it. You sort of lie down in it like this.” Tommy climbed in, lying down in the small structure. “Then you just hit that button and-“

Redstone activated and suddenly Tommy was lowering out of view. He quickly pointed towards the other side of the fireplace before pulling his arm in so it didn’t get crushed. It took a few moments, but an identical mechanism appeared there, ready for Tubbo or Phil to get into. Tubbo was the first to get in and was soon following behind Tommy. Philza, on the other hand, took more time getting situated, trying to be careful of his wings so they wouldn’t get caught or pinched on anything. He was mostly sure it would be fine since this was Grian’s place and he was an avian, but at the same time, the hardcore player could never be too sure.

When he reached the bottom, Tubbo was busy freaking out over all the items filling the chests. And there were plenty of them. There seemed to be a storage system lining the room, but also plenty of extra chests strewn about. “Hey, Philza Minecraft! Help us look for scaffolding, or at the very least some bamboo and string!”

The avian rolled his eyes before helping the pair, the three of them gathering enough for each of them to have at least two stacks. From there he led them out of the mansion’s basement and around the back of it in the direction of his own base. “Okay, so I haven’t been here as long as the other guys, so my tower is still in progress, but it’s got a couple floors. I mainly stay at the hobbit hole that’s back the other way.”

Both of the SMP members expected to just see a pillar made of cobble, but instead, standing tall in the distance, was a mostly completed tower that looked like it belonged to part of a larger castle that was nowhere in sight.

“Mate what the fuck is that?” Phil stared at the tower. There was no way that was Tommy’s. Or at the very least, he hadn’t built it. He had been close to Grian and they had all just been at Grian’s mansion which was a feat on it’s own. Obviously the avian had been building this for Tommy.

“I said we were going to my tower. And that’s it.” Tommy gestured to the tower before he continued talking. “I gathered all the cobble myself but bought a lot of the wood. Yeah some of it I got myself and I got gifts here and there, but I got a pretty good business venture so paying for it is easy.”

“Business venture?” Tubbo asked.

“Yeah. Speaking of which, I think Bdubs said the shop was empty so I’ll need to refill. Once I show you guys around, I’ll probably fly over to do that.”

“Could I come with you?”

Tommy paused to look at his friend. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Big T. Everyone’s at the shopping district like all the time, and they fly everywhere too. They aren’t all avians like Phil and Big G, and they don’t use tridents all that often, so instead it’s elytra, and those use fireworks to work. I don’t know how you’ve been since I left, but I’m guessing you and fireworks still aren’t on the best of terms.”

Tubbo crossed their arms. “I can use fireworks when I need to. You know that.”

“Yeah, you can use them fine, but you get jumpy when other people use them.”

Before Tubbo could respond, a voice from further ahead piped up. “Hey Tommy my man! Who’re your friends?”

“Hey Ren!” Tommy ran over to his neighbor. “This is my dad and my friend Tubbo. They’re sort of visiting.”

“Nice to hear.” Ren lowered his sunglasses slightly to look at the visitors. “I’m sure X knows about them?”

“Yeah, I sorta got half kidnapped while hanging with Grian and they followed us back.”

Ren inhaled sharply with a wince, his ears folding back as well. “Oof, how bad did Grian scare them?”

“Phil got freaked out cause he did some shit to piss off Watchers in the past.” Tommy smirked while Philza rolled his eyes. “He kinda tried taking me back again as well as the bots. I seriously thought Grian might kill him until Grum kinda shouted at us.”

“Yikes, how bad did it get for him to do that?”

“We kinda kept interrupting him while he was trying to tell us something important.” Ren winced again from that comment. “Fortunately it helped calm things down a little in the violence department.”

“And in the other departments?”

Tommy pulled Phil over closer to Ren. “So Phil isn’t just my dad.”

Ren nodded. “Yeah, you said you had some brothers.”

“Yeah, he’s also Grian’s dad.”

Again, Ren nodded. “Okay, yeah that-” the wolf hybrid completely froze. “Grian’s dad?! But he’s your dad!”

“Yup.”

“But also Grian’s?!”

“Yeah.”

“So the two of you are-”

“Brothers, yup.”

“You know this explains so much my dude.” Ren ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the avian with his new knowledge. “Who else knows?”

“Right now, Xisuma and Mumbo. Haven’t really gotten the chance to tell many others.”

Ren nodded in understanding. “Does this mean you two aren’t coming to triple H?”

At this point Tubbo finally spoke up. “What’s that? And also it’s nice to meet you. Tommy said your name was Ren?”

“Yup, Ren Diggity Dawg at your service. And it’s Hermits Helping Hermits. We try to meet up once a week to help out one hermit.”

“You say that, but we haven’t even done it once yet Ren.” Tommy piped up, making Ren frown.

“Well that’s how it’s going to work. Hey, if you want, these two could come along.”

“I dunno. There would probably be lots of flying.” Tommy shrugged before slightly gesturing towards Tubbo.

“Tommy! I don’t need you acting so concerned for me! A few fireworks aren’t going to freak me out! Plus aren’t there unlimited lives here? Even if I do die I’ll just come back!”

Before Tommy could say anything in response, Tubbo took the elytra that were on Tommy’s back and put them on their own back. Ren seemed to be on Tubbo’s side, because he handed them some blank fireworks. He immediately lit one, which made them flinch just a little, but the next one didn’t cause them to have the same reaction. The only problem was while he was using the fireworks, he wasn’t getting into the air at all. “Uh, how exactly do these work?”

Tommy looked like he wanted to shout, but Ren spoke up before the teen could. “Elytra wings open up on descent, so you have to jump first. I’d say we get you some platform to test with before you try launching from the ground itself. Not even every hermit can do that right since you need to hit the sweet spot. Tommy’s pretty good at it though, but he’s got a good teacher.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes when Tubbo and Ren looked over at him. “Grian doesn’t use elytra, he uses his fucking wings.”

“He had to relearn how to fly in season six when he was still hiding his wings.” Ren pointed out and Tommy rolled his eyes again, though the sentence had caught Phil’s attention.

“Why was he hiding his wings?”

“Someone’s in parent mode.” Ren chuckled, which caught Phil slightly off guard. “I’ve heard that same tone plenty of times from X. Usually around the full moon.”

“Wait, so are you-”

“Werewolf, yeah. I know, most people just assume hybrid, and I kinda am. Anyway, to answer your question, he had apparently already gotten used to it in his older worlds. Even hanging around other hybrids didn’t help. He just had them hidden for so long that his standard was no wings. Iskall was the one to really get him with his wings out.”

“Iskall is Mumbo’s sibling, right?”

“Nah, unless we have another case of a surprise family connection. They had a business venture with Grian and Mumbo last season and the three have been really close ever since. They’re not officially related, but at this point they’re essentially all family.”

“I see, well what did he do?”

“They made a shop for hiring them as a hitman since they did that in the past. Someone ordered one on Grian and he got a plan ready and everything, but it involved outflying Iskall.”

“Good to know. I’ll have to meet with them at some point.” Phil nodded and Ren gave a barely noticeable wink at the avian correcting himself.

“Well, I’m sure I've held you guys up enough. If Tommy gives you any more trouble with flying, just shoot me a message.” Ren looked at Tubbo with his second comment, then he waved goodbye and headed off the other way.

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Tommy briefly showed off his tower, but for the most part it was Tubbo learning how to fly with elytra. Tommy was giving out pointers, but mostly was just freaking out whenever Tubbo did something that seemed even slightly concerning. Phil was doing his best to give tips, but wasn’t completely sure how elytra worked seeing as how he was used to just his own wings and hadn’t had access to elytra since they had been damaged.

By the end of the hour, Tubbo was flying pretty well, and Tommy was following nearby. When he had first gotten into the air, it had made Tubbo jolt, but before long, he had gotten acclimated to the firework’s initial sound with no following explosion. Tommy also ended up getting out a third pair of elytra for Philza to try. It wasn’t enchanted like the ones Tubbo wore or the backups on Tommy’s back, but it would do fine for a quick trip to the shopping district.

“Alright, you can explore the place as much as you want as long as you don’t go stealing anything. Otherwise I’ll have to pay for it.”

“You? Telling us not to steal?”

Tommy crossed his arms. “Yeah, no one does that here. I did a bit at the start, but you don’t really fucking need to. Even if you could just pay for shit at the shops, if you really need something, someone’s gonna show up to help you out.”

“Got it.” And with that the three of them flew over the ocean and to the island in the middle of it all. The place was littered with builds that surprised Phil and Tubbo. “These are all just shops?!”

“Yeah. You saw how big Big G’s mansion is. Just about everyone works at that scale. Even if they don’t fucking need to. You get used to it after a bit, it’s why my place is so big. You’d lose your minds if you saw Cub’s place.”

“I don’t even want to know mate.” Phil replied as they landed, sounding slightly exasperated at the thought.

“Right, well that’s my place over there.” Tommy pointed to a shop that looked more like a skyscraper and was near a number of similar buildings. “Most of the land in the actual shopping district is claimed, but Aquwu town still has lots of property.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Aquowo.”

“Stop.”

“Aquwayway.”

“What’s the place actually called?” Tubbo piped up, making Tommy stop the joke.

“Just Aqua Town, but no one pronounces it like that. Even Scar, and he built the place. He normally calls it Aque Town.”

“I’ll be using that.”

“Suit yourself.” Tommy then walked towards his building. “You guys take the diamonds out and I’ll restock the place, okay? You can even keep a few of the diamonds.”

There were some nods of agreement and the trio went inside. Tommy put down his shulker boxes filled with stock as Tubbo opened the first chest, eyes going wide at the amount of diamonds in them. “There’s twenty-seven diamonds in this chest!”

Phil looked up surprised before looking in another chest. “This one too.”

“Well they said the place was all sold out.” Tommy responded as he opened up one of the shulkers and started pulling stacks of cobble out of it.

The avian noticed just what Tommy was grabbing and stared at it. “Mate, are you actually selling cobble for diamonds?”

Tubbo’s head whipped around to look away from the chest where he too saw Tommy pulling out cobble. “Not just cobble. There’s that, normal stone, andesite and granite.”

“And they buy that?”

“Yeah, at first I thought it was out of pity, until one day I got there to stock up and Bdubs was in there and was happy I was there. They all like building, but when they mine, none of the hermits bother to pick up all the stone since they normally fill their inventories with anything else and let the rest disappear. I make sure to go down with plenty of chests and put everything away, so when they need stone and shit, I’m the one they buy from.”

From there, Tommy and the other two stocked the shop. No hermits showed while they stocked, but one did show up just as they were leaving, Tubbo jumping back a little as the two of them nearly ran into each other, the wide eyed look of the hermit adding to the surprise. “Hey Keralis. Just stocked up so you’re good to go.”

“Why spank you Tommy. Who are your friends?”

“Tubbo and my dad Phil.”

“Will they be staying long?”

“Yeah, but Big G’s got them covered with housing.”

“Ah, Brian does have a good place indeed. But if they need a place to stay, I have plenty of room.”

“Almost too much. They’d be like me the first time I saw your place.”

“All the more reason for them to visit!”

“Right, see ya later.” Tommy followed behind Tubbo and Phil who had already slowly gotten ahead. He pulled out his comm and sent a message to Grian and Mumbo about where they were and where they were heading. Mumbo sent a reply that they would be coming over there soon with the bots, and Tommy put his comm away again. “Alright, I have a bit of land on a different part of the island, but it’s not really a shop. It’s more something I sort of brought over from the SMP.”

Tommy led them through the roads before they reached another area near the shore. Sand had terraformed the nearby land and various tables and chairs and other items were all over the place. But right next to the shoreline was a familiar piece of furniture that had Tubbo tearing up just a little. “You built the bench.”

“Yeah. Made it feel more like home sometimes. The rest of it is based on the beach party I held back in exile.”

Tubbo flinched slightly and looked down at the ground. Tommy was slightly confused and looked at Philza, who just gave a slight nod and wandered off. Once he was gone, Tommy led his friend over to the bench. “What’s up Big T?”

“Your… Your beach party. I- I’m sure you had fun.”

“Not really. Didn’t go the way I planned. Especially since you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me there. I never-”

“I sent an invitation, Tubbo. Ghostbur was supposed to give everyone in L’Manberg an invitation. But no one came. I thought it was cause you all fucking hated me. I mean, I did kinda ruin everything. I remember how mad you were.”

“Tommy…”

“I still thought that when I got here. Starting making friends out of spite instead of because I needed them. But then they made me realize some things. I don’t… Ghostbur wasn’t the most reliable, so I thought maybe he just didn’t manage to get the invitations out. But Grian said since Dream was messing with me the whole time I was there, he probably did something. Made sure you didn’t come.”

“Really? He’s been helping out. With you gone he’s become an ally to L’manberg.”

Tommy essentially growled in response to those words. “He’s not a fucking ally to anyone. He plays mind games and fucks everything up. He lies and tries to make you trust him so he can stab you in the back later. He was trying to make it so I’d only trust him. Unless you’re saying he told the truth when you immediately burned your compass for me.”

Tubbo’s hand immediately moved to hold where he had kept his compass, but it stopped midway there. “I… No. I kept it with me all the time.”

“Kept?”

Tubbo started tearing up a little before forcing the tear back. “I sort of got killed by a creeper and the explosion or something destroyed it. Tommy… I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to lose it. I didn’t want to lose you. But-”

Tubbo was cut off from Tommy hugging him. “It’s fine Big T. We lived in a fucked up place, and now we don’t have to. It’ll be you and me again. I’ll build you a tower for yourself. I’ll-”

A loud sound suddenly rang out along with an explosion. A second and third pair of the noises quickly followed. Tommy and Tubbo jumped up from the bench and looked towards the source of the noises to find three withers in the middle of the shopping district.

“What the fuck?! Why are those there?!” Tommy was immediately pulling out his comm and sending a message in the main chat.

Tubbo, on the other hand, squinted as something that seemed to be standing behind the boss monsters. They quickly shot open as he realized what he was seeing. “Technoblade?”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #grian #watcher!grian #avian!Grian #grian xelqua #tommyinnit #philza #tubbo #rendog #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #jrumbot #YHS #tw suicide

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lovelyirony · 4 years ago

Text

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic.

A wedding ring.

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel.

“Colonel Rhodes-”

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?”

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.”

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.”

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.”

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time.

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more.

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice.

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it.

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey.

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.”

And he doesn’t.

Tony never does.

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all.

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.)

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted.

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything.

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.)

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do.

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise.

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.”

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times.

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples.

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony.

Tony almost yelps.

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?”

“Are you gonna get them?”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.”

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?”

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?”

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?”

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s.

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.”

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?”

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.”

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long.

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.”

“And I put up with that?”

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.”

“Like what?”

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.”

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.”

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin.

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.”

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs.

“I lost my memory!”

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.”

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like.

“I like...I like fruit salad?”

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.”

“Seems suspicious.”

“You’ll have to try it again, then.”

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment.

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything.

“Quinoa?”

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?”

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?”

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.”

“There’s no way I did that.”

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!”

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture.

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt.

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once.

So he needs answers.

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about.

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows.

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.”

“Why him?”

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch.

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!”

“And you weren’t?”

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.”

“Why did I...why did I bring him?”

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?”

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.”

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following.

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events.

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.”

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks.

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory.

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.”

Mama looks across the room, smiling.

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...”

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one.

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!”

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!”

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!”

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh.

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.”

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.”

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does.

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point.

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling.

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?”

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.”

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?”

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.”

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.”

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home.

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with.

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk”

Well shit.

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset.

Not a tad.

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in.

Almost.

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.”

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says.

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.)

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?”

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.”

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...”

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!”

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!”

Tony stops.

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?”

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet.

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!”

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles.

God, he looks gorgeous.

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?”

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work.

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water.

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why.

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal.

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!”

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically.

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day.

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together.

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done.

Memories are coming back easier.

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing.

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!”

“It wasn’t that complicated!”

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?”

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.”

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases.

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.”

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment.

“Rhodey? What is it?”

“I...”

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows.

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.”

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.”

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.”

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes.

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.”

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony.

“I...I remember. I remember!”

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously.

(He can’t be let down. Not again.)

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?”

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug.

“I can’t believe you remember.”

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.”

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!”

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.”

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.”

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower.

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal.

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings.

The class rings.

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them.

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him.

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing.

He looks up at Tony, smiling.

“Show me the pictures, Tony.”

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception.

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?”

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...”

“What does that mean?!”

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.”

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!”

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?”

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.”

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?”

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.”

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his.

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.”

“It wasn’t that weird!”

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things:

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.)

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer.

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies.

(He mostly forgave him for that one.)

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #part two!#rhodey has amnesia #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #also yes the use of 'jim' in the beginning and then transitioning to rhodey a bit is intentional #sorry if it is a bit confusing but i like how i formatted that one so that's what we're getting with this one #i hope you all like it!

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mako-bones · 3 years ago

Text

Year Walk (A Zelpha Story)

I have this posted on AO3, but I'd like to post it here as well! This is the second chapter, and it's under a cut since it is kinda long.

Chapter One: The Walk Begins

Chapter Two: Since We Were Kids

Word Count: 2342

~~~

Oh, Jabu-Jabu, this may be the worst day of my life.

Mipha's face was flush with bright blue as the floor slowly receded, flooding out in murmurs and gossip per the request of King Dorephan.

"It IS about lunchtime...Let the Council take a recess and we will return tonight. Mipha? A word. In private, please."

Yes, this was quickly transpiring into the worst day of her life.

The two took a left, into a spacious room decorated in the abundance of silver and aqua blues. Narrow columns served as the only vague doors, but no one was around to think of eavesdropping on the King and Princess.

Dorephan stopped and faced his daughter.

Anxiously, Mipha wrung her hands together, debating between meeting her father's concerned eyes or easily focusing on the wall elsewhere. Although it was hard to ignore his deep, rumbling voice as he hummed.

"You look tired, Mipha-"

"Father, what day is it?" Mipha blurted out again. "What time is it? I-I can't seem to remember what happened yesterday, or the day before that. And I apologize in advance , but I don't know what's going on-"

"Mipha." Dorephan knelt down, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. He lifted another hand to his chest. "Take a deep breath. In...And out..."

While her eyes closed, and she slowly inhaled a shaky breath, she missed the way Dorephan's gaze turned to great worry, but disappeared when she opened her eyes again.

"Could you tell me how you're feeling? You've never been one for bad mornings...And yet, I've never seen you so scared before."

Mipha ran her hands down her face, dropping them into her lap. Slowly, she recounted the events of her nightmare. Leaving out the grisly, goreish battle, and the deja vu paradox she seemed to have found herself in.

It was her and Ruta, against a fearsome enemy. Alone and afraid.

Dorephan scratched at his chin, staring intently at the floor as he listened. Eventually he sighed. "I knew this was a mistake."

"Father?"

"Mipha...You looked so happy when the Hylians and Zorans unearthed the Divine Beast. It was quite endearing, seeing how excited you were when you’re usually so serene. But...Is this truly what you want?”

“Not because it's expected of you, or thrown upon you.” He continued. “But deep down, I encourage you to consider what this truly means. Do you understand?"

Deep down, she did. And she also did not.

She had to be the pilot. Her family, her home, her entire world counted on her. No one would know what it meant to be killed by the monster inside the belly of the beast, and in a strange sense, it was hers to conquer. Again and again all alone, so be it. So long as no one else had to.

And she nodded. "Yes, I understand." She took another breath in and out. “If it’s alright, Father…”

“Go ahead.” Dorephan finished, nodding. “Be mindful of the time, however.”

Mipha’s grateful smile was wobbly and drained, but she dove forward to hug Dorephan tightly before finally taking off through the halls again.

This time, she went the back way, avoiding the flood of curiously wandering Hylians and Zora.

In the East Reservoir Lake, Vah Ruta sat in the same spot she did a year ago. Or was it yesterday? It was the same spot that Mipha had remembered.

Perched between sand and water, her trunk was lifted high into the air, her head tilted to peer at the sky. She did not move, not even as Mipha swam closer.

“Although this may seem like the first time, weren’t you there when the world ended? Was that really you, or was it your ghost and mine?”

No move.

Mipha raised herself from the water, turning and sitting on the shore. The elephant towered over her even more so, its silhouette casting a gigantic shadow over the Zora. Mipha kicked her feet in the water as she continued to ramble.

"Nightmare or not, something was real. Something happened, that much I believe. Though I'm not quite sure how...Or why...At least I have another chance. We have another chance. All the things we never got to say or-"

"Is that you, Princess? Ah, I would know that voice anywhere."

Grass and leaves crunched beneath high heeled shoes, brushed away by a long azure dress. Mipha jumped, eyes trailing up Zelda's dress until she met her dark brown eyes.

There was a look that Mipha couldn't recognize, paired with her smile that didn't quite reach.

"Are you feeling alright?" Zelda asked, finally stopping a few steps away. Her neck craned upwards and she squinted.

"And I thought you did not want to be a pilot. Yet..."

"I was just...Becoming familiar with her, that's all." Mipha said. "I don't really mean what I said at the Domain. I panicked."

"I know." Zelda flashed another smile. "I could see it in your eyes. What had you so rustled? Was it me? I know we haven't had much time to meet since we were kids, right?"

"Right." Mipha nodded, and slid back into the cool water. She gestured to Zelda to follow along the shoreline. "It was only a bad night, Princess. And a hasty morning--But now that you're here, it's becoming much brighter."

Zelda playfully rolled her eyes, kicking a small branch aside. "I can say the same about you."

She paused, and then quietly said, "You seem...Different, now."

"Different?"

"In a good way!" Zelda added quickly, raising her hands. She laughed in a short bark, tucking her hair behind her reddened ear. "I only meant that...Uh...It's just nice to see you again."

They had reached the end of the lake, where a wide pier was stocked with benches, beds under luminous stone canopies, and even snacks in chests nearby. Zelda plopped down on one of the benches while Mipha lingered in the water, leaning on her crossed forearms.

"I do hope I've changed since we were children. You...Also seem different." Mipha squinted, but she couldn't place it. Was it her hair, or maybe her blushing cheeks?

Speaking of blush...

"Have you and Link gotten along well enough?"

Zelda's eyes blew up wide. She looked horrified, confused. She sputtered and sat up straighter. "Link...?"

Mipha blinked, wondering if she should press on or backtrack while she was still ahead. "Your bodyguard, yes? The knight that--Is very skilled in his line of work."

"I-I haven't heard of anyone like that, Princess." Zelda cleared her throat. "Are you a fortune teller now, as well as a Pilot and future queen?"

Mipha sank into the water, cheeks dusting blue. "How do you know for certain that I'm a Pilot? I could easily say no, you know."

Suddenly a rumbling and grinding of stone made both women jolt up, Mipha spinning around to face the noise.

Vah Ruta began to raise her trunk, slowly backing into the water. Zelda tilted her head, ready to begin documenting as she noticed it sinking into the water. But only halfway...

It lifted its trunk, and spewed water like a broken fountain straight into the air. In only a few seconds, Mipha felt heavy raindrops beating down on her skin, rippling the water in a mini rip current.

"Ruta?!" Mipha lifted her head from the rough waters, a scowl on her face. "We talked about this, don't you remember? We are going to have another talk about this...Later. Oh, don't look at me like that, that was very rude!"

Mipha shook her fins out, huffing. To a Zora, it was hardly any different than a light shower. No clothes to ruin, no skin to prune and wrinkle. But for Hylians…

Oh, no. It was then that Mipha realized that Zelda was still standing, clothes ruined and her fingers no doubt beginning to wrinkle. Her face and expression was covered by her soaked hair, but she was staring up at Ruta. Then at Mipha as she quickly jumped out of the lake.

“Princess! Oh, I hope your dress isn’t ruined. Come with me--Surely there’s something at the Domain you can wear as your clothes are mended to. Is that alright?”

“Ah…” Zelda pulled apart her hair to reveal a dazed expression--She couldn’t believe what just happened, and neither could Mipha. “R-Right. Thank you, Mipha.”

As they quickly hurried to the nearby stairs, Zelda turned her head back to stare at Vah Ruta, still in shock. That had never happened before…

"It's not everyday I find something to be surprised about," Zelda mused as she pulled the silver comb through her hair--Short, brown locks that were beginning to bounce with lively curls.

"Is this about the water, Princess?" Mipha turned with another towel in hands, a scarce fabric in the Domain--But luckily there were a few on hand for the unexpected guests in the palace. "I apologize for-"

"Ahaha, no!" Zelda shook her head. "It’s just that...You spoke to the Divine Beast with such...Familiarity. And although it seemed rather playful, teasing us with that rainstorm...It obeyed you immediately."

Zelda rested her hands in her lap, staring at Mipha through the vanity's mirror. "...It just goes to show that there's more sentience to these machines than anyone could have assumed. It raises more questions about the relationship between a Divine Beast and its Pilot. It's fascinating, is all.

It makes me wonder how the rest of the chosen Pilots will follow..."

Mipha blinked, stopping short in her walk to deliver more towels. She had completely forgotten about the others. Revali, Daruk, Urbosa...Did they have the same nightmare, too?

"You're staring." Zelda's eyes flashed with worry, checking her own appearance again. "Did I forget a tangle? Is there a frizz where I can't see?"

"Oh, no, Princess. It's quite beautiful, if I may say." Mipha stepped forward, setting down the cloth to hover a hand near Zelda's head. "It looks...Different, than I remember. What did you do differently?"

And then it hit Mipha, right after the words escaped. At one point, she had remembered Zelda's hair being thick, and long. Always braided tightly down her back in a multitude of elegant braids, decorated in gold to match her dark brown skin. She gasped.

"You did cut your hair!"

Zelda's eyes widened, before she smiled. "Yes, I did." She laughed, a melodic sound that brought a faint blush to Mipha's cheeks.

"I...like it this way. I like it this way." Zelda repeated, nodding her head in confidence. "And there's plenty of hairstyles I can experiment with now. One for every occasion!"

Mipha hummed, and gently trailed her fingers through the ends of the curls.

"It fits you perfectly." She sent a warm smile to the mirror, and stepped back to give Zelda room, hands clasped together.

Zelda's cheeks flushed, but she quickly finished brushing her hair back and pulled it back out of her face. "There's something I'd like to ask of you, Princess."

When she asked, the entirety of the Domain was asking too. The King was waiting, subtle worry etched into his expression.

"Graceful Princess of the Proud Zora, will you accept the humble call to stand with me against the evil that may threaten my home and yours, and become the Pilot to steer Divine Beast Vah Ruta?"

The whole world was holding their breath, and Mipha's heart thrummed in her chest like it did the first time--The theatrics of it all never failed to give her stage fright.

"I accept."

And it was sealed. Mipha turned from the cheering crowd, looking up at her father who only smiled reassuringly with a small nod. He seemed like he was holding back many things, keeping it under a calm expression in the gaze of his only daughter.

"Father...You won't have to worry about losing me ever again. I swear it this time."

"I won't lie." Dorephan let out a sigh, drumming his fingers in a slow rhythm. "As a father, I'm always worried for the wellbeing of my children. But you rise to this challenge with such determination and courage that I cannot stand in your path, only walk next to you and pray that you'll return home safe and sound. In my heart, I know you will. Yet it is still hard to let you go."

Dorephan looked over Mipha's shoulder. "Princess Zelda."

Quickly, Zelda waved to another Zora guard she had been speaking to and stepped to the dais, bowing. "Your Majesty?"

"I understand that the plan is the same?"

"Ah--Yes, Your Majesty-" Zelda reached for the Sheikah device on her hip, flicking away droplets of water as it powered to life under her touch. She tapped away, focused and calculated. Mipha curiously glanced over, watching a detailed map of the land and its various landmarks flicker across the screen.

Colored lines and grids drew across the map, obviously hand-drawn in their wobbly

curves.

In the region over Zora's Domain, a tiny creature similar to Ruta animated its trunk on screen.

"Everything is still on schedule. Princess, tomorrow we'll head for Hyrule Castle to regroup our supplies and soldiers, and then begin our journey to the next region of Hyrule, in regards to the next Pilot."

"In that case...take good care of each other." Dorephan nodded to them both. "I have no doubts in my Mipha's abilities, but I surely do not mean to downplay your own strengths. I only ask that you watch each other's backs...Whatever the case may be...In and out of battle."

Zelda and Mipha both glanced at each other, a faint smile shared between them.

And Dorephan, sitting back and waving them off, his fears begrudgingly took the backseat as he nodded to himself. Of course there would be a flood of Hylian and Zora guards to accompany them; But there was always something special about placing your faith in a friend...And their faith in you.

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #mipha #fic time; year walk #fic time; mipha naphela #princess zelda #zelpha #age of calamity #hwaoc #fanfiction

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Two (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, mention of murder.

wc; 8.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

One second, you’re running through a dark forest. With your heart pounding in your ears, hot breath tingling your lips, legs aching and burning the more you push on. You weave through the trees, fingertips scraping against the bark. You’ll move one way, but jerk the other when you hear a voice call your name. Loud, teasing, and hauntingly familiar. You reach the top of the cliff, with nowhere else to run. One blurry glance behind you, and you know that you can’t stay.

Your only option is to jump.

Before you have the chance to reconsider, the wind is already whistling in your ears, clothes painfully whipping at your skin. You can see the water coming closer and closer, the jarring rocks becoming more clear. From the height you jumped at, the water is concrete, and the rocks are spears. You’re about to hit the water and feel every single bone break in your body--

The next second, you’re jolting awake, now in the Capitol. For a moment, you can’t catch your breath, feeling the painful ache in your lungs from sucking in air while you ran. With shaky fingers, you wrap your hands around your throat, closing your eyes. You’re safe, they can’t get you here.

The only place they reign in is your nightmares, and even then sometimes they lose. They just got lucky this time, they caught you off guard. Next time, they’re not likely to be as lucky.

When you feel like you’ve got a hold of reality again, you open your eyes and stare into the sun yellow room. It takes a second for you to realize that it’s not the morning dull color, it’s the afternoon one. The sun that makes the room warmer and feel like home. You sit straight up in bed, immediately looking to the clock.

It’s past noon. Your tributes went to the Training Center by themselves, with hardly any direction. You doubt that Elysia gave them the advice that you would, you’re not even sure if she’s authorized to say stuff like that. Which means that they might have just gone and screwed up their big debut to the gamemakers, something that will surely have an effect on their score later on.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a soft groan. You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and then slip out of bed to take a quick shower to wake you up. As soon as you’re done, you let the Capitol machines have their way with your hair, making it as soft as silk, and free of tangles. All that’s left to do is to style, but you leave it alone today.

You spin the ring around on your finger, already feeling nerves growing in your stomach as if Elysia will yell at you for slacking on your duties. Out of all your years of mentoring alone, you’ve never slept in. You’ve never had a day where you just forgot to get up on time to tell the tributes what to do.

You knew you should’ve taken it easy on the alcohol last night. It wasn’t even that you, Elysia and the stylists stayed up late, because you didn’t. You talked for maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes after Finnick left. You went straight to bed after that because you were afraid something like this would happen. At least you were right, and you know that you won’t be doing this ever again.

As much as you enjoy being around your Capitol friends, and the nights where you can celebrate like that, they’re not good for you. They throw you off, and since this year has already been different from the start, you’re already on your way down a different path. There’s no reason to start slacking now.

Elysia isn’t in the dining room, and she isn’t in the living room either. The apartment is as empty as it was yesterday when you came around for lunch. You should’ve expected this, with your luck, Elysia is doing what you’re supposed to be doing. And she’s already swamped with trying to keep things on track.

You pause in the doorway of the hallway, staring into the apartment, feeling tired and miserable. You don’t know where to go, or how to start. To the stylists? Find Elysia? Wait for the tributes to come back and tell you how their first day went? Is there even time for a quick bite before you go? Probably not.

You take a single step towards the door, figuring that you’ll start off with the easiest place to go; the stylists, and work your way from there. They might have some idea on where your trusty Capitol escort is. Then, the front door opens, and you’re met with Finnick’s red face, running a hand through his hair.

The door slips shut behind him, he’s definitely distracted. It’s like he doesn’t even see you, with how he moves to the living room and turns on the tv. You open your mouth, going to question what he’s doing, but he finds the channel. There’s no time to ask, you gravitate towards the television set as if it’s got you under mind control.

Once in a blue moon, the gamemakers will hint at what the arena will be. It’s rare, even more rare than allowing two tributes to win the Hunger Games together. Finnick hears the tapping of your shoes against the steps, and looks over his shoulder briefly. Your mouth falls open slightly, eyes glued to the screen.

The tributes are never allowed to see the broadcast, and the gamemakers show it once. Which is exactly why Finnick’s out of breath, he must have ran all the way here to make it in time. It’s a good thing that you got up thirty minutes ago, or you would’ve had to take Finnick’s word for what they’re showing.

It’s a beautiful landscape, like it is every year. One that manages to look better than the last. The Capitol has done it all when it comes to arenas; from deserts, to islands, to frozen tundras, to cities that are nothing but crumbs after the rebellion. They’re all intricately planned, and they were ready years before they were actually used.

The Capitol doesn’t show much, only one snapshot of the arena. You have to figure out the mystery of what this year’s nightmare personality may be. What will be the final twist that they have to offer? During your games, there wasn’t one. You and Finnick made it entertaining all by yourself. But other games need that little push to make it memorable.

The picture on screen is of a deep green hill with thin trees and colorful flowers. They won’t do much for hiding, not even climbing. They’ll hold body weight, but it’s hard to climb trees that you can almost wrap your body around twice. There’s a stream, maybe a bit bigger than a stream. Blue water, clear as day. Makes you suspicious that it’s not as clean as it appears to be. It’s hard to trust good-looking water after you’ve been betrayed once before.

There’s a small building, a shack like the one you had in your games. Only, this one is much more beaten down. It’s roof is caving in, definitely looks like wood rot, it won’t provide much protection. Especially since the door is half gone and there’s no windows. A strong enough gust of wind could blow the place down.

But that’s not the main attraction, something as simple as a shack could be easily written off with the monster behind it. In fact, you don’t think you’ve seen anything more terrifying in the Hunger Games before. At the start of this new decade, the gamemakers are trying something new this year. Luminous fear.

It’s a large dam, a great wall of grey concrete. The only thing that stands between the rest of the arena, and an unfathomable amount of water. You’re not sure that knowing how to swim could save anyone in this situation. Just staring at it, you think that there’s a ton of water being hidden behind the dam.

You’ve never seen a dam in person before. You know that District Five has one, though. It’s what gives the districts and the Capitol most of their power. Get rid of that, and there’s a nation-wide blackout. From what you’ve gathered when you’ve seen it on tv, it’s fucking huge. A hundred times bigger than what’s going to be in the 70th Hunger Games arena.

This dam compared to the one in District Five, is childsplay. But that’s where you stop underestimating it, because it’s still dangerous. The gamemakers wouldn’t choose to shower it unless they had ill intentions. You cross your arms slightly, using one of your hands to play with your lower lip while you stare.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell the tributes about what you’ve seen. Neither can anyone else, it’s cheating and the tributes will be targeted inside of the arena because of it. If they tell anyone that they know about it beforehand, it’s an immediate target. If the tribute never goes towards where the snapshot was given, then they’re a target too.

Normally, no one breaks the rules because of this. It’s too risky to have the Capitol find out. But you’re sure that Districts One and Two will find a way around this rule, because they always do. It’s their tributes funeral, the faster they get killed, the better chances your tributes have.

The program zooms in on the dam a little, you’re sure that they’re getting ready to take it away. So, you try and memorize the last that you can, thinking that you’ll need to locate the placement in the arena when you have the chance. But you’re stopped when you see something dark on the screen. You move forward, squinting, wiping the screen under the assumption that it’s a hair or a smear of alcohol from Pleurisy when she continued to drink last night.

But it doesn’t come off, and the more you stare, the more your blood begins to run cold. It’s not on your side of the screen, it’s on theirs. It’s thin, barely noticeable if you’re not looking for it. And you just found it by accident. They zoomed in on purpose.

No human structure is unbreakable. Not even the better creations.

This wasn’t a mistake, they wanted a mentor to notice that the dam is cracking.

“What is that?” Finnick asks.

“A crack.” Your hand falls, you back up to look at the whole scene one last time before it disappears, “There’s more.”

It’s gone right after. There’s a warning issued right after not to warn the tributes or find a way to prepare them in advance. Doing so will result in immediate trouble for the mentor. But your mind is already finding ways to make up for it.

You can’t brainstorm out loud here, maybe somewhere in the street, away from the Tribute Center. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, Finnick turns off the tv since the main show is over, and they’re not talking about it at all.

A low hum sounds from you. A plot is already beginning in your head for a subtle way to push your tributes in the right direction. You’d say that you’ve never cheated in the Hunger Games before, but then again, your tributes have trained since they were children.

You’re already cheaters, what’s a little more?

“I talked to the tributes this morning.”

“About what?” You ask, pressing your lips together for a moment.

You then turn your body away, heading up the steps and to the dining room table. You wish you could write your thoughts onto a pad of paper. But paper is traceable, they’ll be able to find out that it came from you guys.

“About training.” Finnick says, following you, “You weren’t up this morning.”

“I had too much to drink last night.” You thank the avox that delivers your late lunch. You pause for a moment, thinking over what Finnick has just said, and then you turn to him, “You were at the table this morning?”

“You said you would fill me in.” Finnick says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I figured the best time for you to do that would be this morning before you got busy. But you didn’t show up so…” he trails off for a moment, picking up a sugar-covered grape, turning it over in his fingers, “I told the tributes that they should show off their skills to the careers.

“They told me that they don’t want to ally themselves with the careers, and I told them that was fine. They don’t have to succumb to the pressure of the tradition of teaming up. All that matters is that they show the careers that they’re just as good and they’ll be missing out on two good tributes.” Finnick looks at you.

“And they’re keeping at least one hidden?”

“Yes.” Finnick nods, and then eats the grape, “I warned them that this might start an early rivalry that they probably won’t be able to remedy. Annie and Marsh don’t care, as long as the careers won’t try and be friends, they’ll figure it out. I don’t think they want an alliance with anyone.”

“Figured that much out already.” You say, “Thank you for doing that for me.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, his eyes casting downwards. You two eat in silence, and just when it seems like he’s about to leave, Elysia comes back.

“Did you see?” She asks, she’s pulling off some black gloves that she’s wearing. Actually, she seems to be dressed in all black.

“Who died?” You ask in return, earning a snort from Finnick.

Elysia rolls her eyes, “The broadcast—“

“Yeah, we saw it.”

You and Finnick get up from the table, making a triangle with Elysia. You rub your face slightly, “They showed the dam for a reason, we’ve already figured it out. This year is a handful already.”

Elysia stares between you and Finnick for a moment, eyes shifting from side to side like she’s deciding something. Like if you and Finnick are finally back to being a team, or are coincidentally together at the moment. Although, the two of you were sitting at the table together, so you can see why.

You don’t mind teamwork. If Finnick wants to go all in, he can be your guest. You’re not the problem here, maybe pushing him isn’t a perfect idea, but neither is letting him run free. The second that Finnick comes to the conclusion that he’s ready for it again, you’ll be unstoppable. All he needs to do is say yes.

“The tributes might be feeling a little overwhelmed after today,” she says, her eyes darken a bit. Secret meanings, they’re hidden everywhere. “The balcony would be a good place for a pep talk after dinner.”

Elysia’s a rule breaker too, it seems. Suggesting that you take your tributes out there and warn them in some way. This is why you like her, she’s not naive and stupid like the other escorts. You got lucky, placed with a woman who might not be on your side all the time, but there are times she waivers and caves.

“I think they might like the lights of the city.” you agree, nodding your head, “Smart thinking.”

Finnick’s caught on too, he nods, and then stretches his arms, “I’m going to take a quick nap. The two of you will be here to collect the tributes, so I’m off duty.”

He turns, heading up the steps. Elysia bids him a short goodbye, and then the two of you wait for him to be gone completely before she starts to gossip, “You should’ve seen him this morning. Normally, he’s not so serious but he stepped up when he realized that you weren’t coming out.” she pauses, and then her eyebrows push in, “Was that on purpose?”

“No, it wasn’t.” you shift on your feet, checking the clock on the wall. There’s about half an hour before the tributes come back, “I’m not surprised. Once a victor, always a victor. It’s hard not to mentor when you know that the tributes need your help. It’s hard not to be overbearing and in control, either. Took me a while to figure that out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Don’t plan on it.” you tell her, “I only slacked because I drank. I’m just lucky Finnick didn’t stay out too late. How’s the Capitol liking Four?”

“They’re excited about the volunteers, I’ve been talking them up all day. I’m going to go back out for a little while and check up on Laurel and Pleurisy. Have anything you want me to pass along?”

“No, but we should probably have the token talk tonight as dinner, or tomorrow at breakfast.”

She snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something this morning. You threw me off.”

“The last time, I promise.”

“Good.” She says, heading down the steps, “Try not to obsess over the broadcast, (Y/n). Annie and Marsh are fit, it’ll take a miracle to bring them down.”

“Don’t jinx us.” you joke.

She leaves through the elevator, you wander around the apartment for a minute, deciding if it’s worth it to stay out here. But in the end, you sit on the couch and pull out a book to read. Capitol fashion, the past trends and how they affect today. The last time you checked, they’re still drooling over the idea of gems and expensive fabrics.

Anything to make them look expensive and upper class. But you know their secrets, after years of mentoring and talking to sponsors, you’ve begun to notice when they’re faking. People who aren’t rich, invest in the Hunger Games in hopes that they’ll win it all back. The betting room is an intoxicating place if you’re in debt and need a place to be flashy.

The truth is, the Capitol isn’t all silver and gold. They’ve got their own lower class, but the difference between their lower class and the districts is that the districts will help each other. If your neighbors needed a babysitter or dinner for the night, your doors were open. You’re all a tight-knit community normally, but with the Hunger Games, it makes you even closer.

Annie and Marsh come through the elevator, foreheads glistening, sweat stains under their arms and down their backs. Needless to say, you think that they had a good workout. They pause in the doorway, Marsh leans over to catch his breath, Annie seems pretty happy.

“Hey,” you fold the book halfway, “Sorry for not being up this morning. How did your first day go?”

“Good!” Annie beams, “We’re good at a lot of things in there, so there’s not much to learn. I think that we’ll spend the last day going through stations that we don’t know just in case.”

“That’s good. Anyone offer an alliance?”

“Not really looking for one.” Marsh stands, he’s in worse shape than Annie is. His face is redder, like he ran a couple of miles in the heat, “But no offers, we’ll let you know if there are any.”

You nod, “Go shower and get ready for dinner, Elysia will come and get you when it’s time.” you watch as they start to go, “Oh! Also, be quiet in the hall.”

“We will.” Annie says.

You read in the living room for a little while longer, but end up packing it up and heading to your room to relax and make a phone call back home. Reed’s the one that picks up, letting you know that everything is going just fine. He passes the phone around after that, you get an array of greetings and questions about what’s happening and what you think is going on.

Unfortunately, you can’t tell them that you saw the arena, either. It’s a surprise for them too. You know that Reed won’t tell anyone, he’s got the whole Capitol-Hunger Games thing on lock. But sometimes Mox forgets what’s supposed to be secrets, and what isn’t. One slip to Caspian, and the whole secret will be out. And it’ll be traced right back to you, because you’re the one that keeps the Dorazio families company.

You wrap it up with Alyssum, listening to her talk about whatever comes to mind. You only get off the phone when you see that dinner is drawing closer. By the time you’re able to get off the phone, you barely make it to the table before the tributes. You and Finnick ask lots of questions at dinner, curious about how they’re feeling and sizing up the competition.

As always, every single year, the only threat they can come up with is the careers. You constantly remind them that they’re careers too, and today proved that, “If you showed off like Finnick told you to, you just threatened them and everyone else in that gym. And it’s going to be even worse now that you’re not allies with them. The other tributes are going to have two groups to worry about. You two, and the careers.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the careers pick you guys out first in the arena.” Finnick says, picking at his food, “You’re going to be the first threat, especially if you score high during training.”

You snap your fingers, catching Annie and Marshs’ attention, since their eyes have drifted, “Don’t get nervous. It just means that your odds are increasing, and more people are going to like you. It’s an opportunity, remember that.”

“What if they offer an alliance?” Annie asks, shaking her head slightly, “They haven’t yet, but what if they ask?”

“You tell them no.” Finnick says, “Saying it straight to their faces is going to get the message across. They’re more likely to back off then, but it’ll be temporary.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s obvious.”

Marsh clears his throat, “I’m worried that they’ll follow us after the bloodbath.”

“Don’t stay in the cornucopia.” you say, “In fact, I wouldn’t go that deep in. You’ll get sponsors, they’ll fill the gaps that you’re missing. You two just have to focus on running. The careers will be caught up in the bloodbath, as they always are. They’ll be too busy to follow you guys.”

“I hope so.” Marsh says.

You sigh, sitting back in the chair, “You guys need to remember that you’re ready for this. Four and five years of fighting and memorizing. You are just as dangerous as they are at this point. You’re scared now, think that you might be inferior, but the truth is that in a fight, you’re going to hold up. You’ll see.”

Think down, you’ll perform down. You want to tell them that the longer they underestimate themselves, the more they won’t realize their true potential. They’ll never measure up the way that they’re supposed to. You open your mouth, to say exactly what you’re thinking, because you’re the mentor and you should know better than them.

Finnick’s eyes shift to you, waiting for what you’re going to say. But you hesitate, because you know that mindset doesn’t work for everyone. You got chosen for the Hunger Games, you didn’t volunteer like they did. Unlike them, you didn’t have a choice but to go. The only thing that kept you going the entire time before and inside of the arena was family, and thinking that you were more than you actually were.

You’re not sure that’s going to work with them. They know who they are, they know the things they’ve learned and the worth they hold. They’re just nervous, you don’t need to tell them that they’ll do fine inside of the arena. Everyone has their moments of doubt, right? But you don’t remember having it this bad, and considering you age, you should’ve been depressed.

Once again, it was family that was keeping you alive. The constant visualization of you being the last one standing while your name was announced over the arena. You also knew that you were going to do well that year. It was a gut feeling. Just like how it’s a gut feeling that Annie or Marsh is gonna live this year.

You close your mouth, smiling slightly at Finnick. His lips part momentarily, and then he mimics your own smile. You think he’s realized this too. The constant reassurance of your tributes is babying them. They’re just nervous, they know that they’re going to do well. You could let up on the pressure, but they need it. They’re going to be under pressure inside of the arena, too.

“Are you guys done? There’s something I want to talk to you guys about.” you wipe your mouth with the napkin, and then stand up from the table.

“I--yeah.” Annie carefully stacks her plates and bowls into a neat pile for the avox to collect. Marsh is much sloppier, but tries to be as considerate as she is. You think that she has experience in this type of thing.

You raise your eyebrows at Finnick, who’s still seated at the table. He shakes his head, “I’m busy tonight.”

“Stay safe, then.” you tell him, and then start up the steps, “Come on, you two.”

They don’t say a word behind you, not even a question on where you’re taking them. You bring them deeper into the apartment, around to the balcony that’s off to the side. The top floor--District Twelve’s floor--has a better balcony, one that blends in better. But you’ve explored this place plenty of times, you know it’s secrets now.

You hum, unlock the door and then open it. A gust of wind blows through the doors, warm and welcoming. It reminds you of the salty air from District Four, also hot during the summer after baking in the sun all day. Annie goes through the door first, thanking you quietly for holding it open. You press your hand to Marsh’s back, pushing him out a little quicker.

Looking behind you, there’s no one. The hallway is dark because you didn’t turn on the light. And it’s empty, because the floor’s don’t hold peacekeepers. They rarely even have Capitol attendants waiting around every corner. Which means that you guys should be just fine outside. Since it’s windy, it’ll be harder to hear you if there are cameras and microphones.

You shut the door tightly behind you, and join the tributes at the railing. The city below is bright and alive, as it always is at night. The Capitol is full of a bunch of insomniacs. They never are up during the morning, but they’re wide awake at night. Sometimes, you think that you can relate to them in this sense, but for a different reason. For a while, you were afraid of the dark too.

Marsh leans over the railing, like he’s testing its sturdiness. Your eyes scan over the wall, until you find the windchime. Pulling it down from the roof, you toss it right over the edge without a single warning to the tributes. On the way down, it continues to clink and whistle.

“What was that for?” Marsh asks, eyebrows knit together, eyes on you.

“Just in case you get any bright ideas. Watch.” you say, and they do. It takes a couple of seconds, but the windchimes hit the forcefield and come bouncing right back. When you catch them in your hand, they’re as black as charcoal and no longer sounding as delicate as they did before.

You crush the wood in your fist and watch the wood turn to crumbs. Then, you drop it off to the side. Marsh has now backed off of the railing, crossing his arms. Annie takes one step back, but still looks over the edge curiously.

“We’re close in age.” you start, looking out to the city too, “I’m only two-three years older than you two. Finnick is even less than that, so I can understand why it’s hard to believe us when we tell you that you’ll do just fine inside of the games. We haven’t been inside of the games for a while, and our track record is far from perfect when it comes to mentoring.”

You look at them now, you’ve got their attention, “Believe me when I say that this year is different. You two are special, more capable than the tributes in the past were. Your lives have revolved around this idea since you signed up for the boarding school. You have fought hard to get to this point. Don’t give up on yourselves now. This is the most important part.

“It’s hard to know what to prepare yourselves with when it comes to training.” you pause for a second, trying to figure out how to word this. You know exactly what they should use, even if you never used it personally, “Tomorrow, I want you to focus on agility.”

You look between their faces, trying to read their expressions. Annie is smart, you know that she’ll catch on. Marsh is a different story, he’s always driven by explanations. You can’t give him one this time, which might ruin your subtle plan to push them in the right way. In the gymnasium, they have blocks for agility training. You hop from block to block, that gradually gets higher. It’s timed, but that’s not the important part.

They’ll learn how to assess the ground that they’re going for. Maybe help them when it comes to picking and choosing where to place their feet, strengthening their confidence in non-dominant feet. The better they’re at with going up and down uneven ground, the better.

“Okay.” Annie says, “I was looking at that today already, so I think that it would be a good idea.” Her eyes then land on Marsh, who stares right at her. He trusts her, that’s a good thing when it comes to allies. It might be his downfall if she ever plans on betraying him, though.

“Sure.” Marsh finally agrees, and then looks at you, “You’re the expert.”

“Don’t get me wrong, this is your games. You’re the ones going into the arena, so you should be planning out what you want. But trust me on this one, okay?” the wind has died down, the previous cover is now gone, “Go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Annie says, her eyes show that she understands, and you give her a gentle nod.

They go back inside, but you stay outside for a little while longer, leaning against the railing as you stare into the city of the Capitol. A place that’s so pretty on the outside, but absolutely ugly on the inside. The definition of how looks can be deceiving.

Hopefully that idea can apply to your tributes next.

“Good morning!” You yell, clapping your hands together as you come out from the hallway.

No one is looking awake this morning, and you can’t really blame them. Annie and Marsh have been working hard at training for the past two days. Lucky for them, today is the last. But it also means the private training scores happen this afternoon.

Finnick leans his head against his hand, watching as you come to the table. He looks fairly amused by your enthusiasm, and how your tributes are lacking.

“In the Training Center today, you’ll have the first half of the day for training, but after lunch is time for scoring.” You sit at your spot, “Don’t stress out about it too much. If you kept a skill that you’re good at hidden, then you’ll do just fine. After training, you’ll come back here. And then we’ll wait to see what happens.”

The avox delivers a plate of food, you don’t hesitate with starting to eat. Honestly, the more you look at your tributes, the more they start to look green. They’re picking at their food, not really looking at you or Finnick. It’s definitely the nerves kicking up again. Yesterday they did so good with not even feeling it.

You share a brief look with Finnick, he’s playing with the rope bracelet around his wrist. It looks exactly like the one he had when you guys were inside of the arena, but you know that it’s new. If you remember correctly, the last bracelet broke just after the Victory Tour. Guess it fulfilled it’s duty, and Finnick got a new one because of it.

“Tomorrow we’ll have a different sort of day, it’ll be more relaxing,” you continue, picking up the mug of light brown coffee, “And then it’s interviews.”

“Just like that, huh?” Marsh mutters, pushing around the food on his plate.

“You guys should eat, you’ll need the energy.” Finnick says, “Even if it’s not much.”

Annie listens, but Marsh’s heart still isn’t into it. You try to keep conversation light with them, but they’re duds, so you switch to Elysia to talk about how tomorrow will happen. Elysia knows more about proper etiquette when it comes to being on stage, so she’ll be the one taking care of how Annie walks in heels and how they respond to questions.

Which just leaves you and Finnick to decide their personalities on stage.

You wish Annie and Marsh good luck, “The first thing you do in that private room is breathe, got it? Calm yourselves down.” you then give them a smile and let them go.

Elysia isn’t too far behind, going to do her daily duties of rounding up people that could potentially sponsor your tributes in the arena. It leaves you and Finnick at the table, left to figure things out on your own.

“I think we can put Annie down as kind.” You say, “Or have her try to talk smart to get people to look at her more.” you rub your forehead with an open palm, “But if she scores low, then talking smart won’t do anything.”

“At least one of them have to act dangerous.” Finnick says, you nod slightly, “Or the both of them. Even if they score low, they can still be mean on stage.”

“It’ll just take the effect of it away.” pressing your lips together, you stare off at the wall for a while, “We’re just going to have to wait and see, I guess.”

When you place your hand down on the table a little too hard, you can hear your ring clink against the table. Standing, you stretch your arms and move some hair out of your face.

“Where are you off to?”

“Tribute tattoos.” you say, and then pause, “Not for actually tributes, for my parents. I should be back before they’re done, but to be fair, when we came back from ours, Anchor and Mags were nowhere to be seen. It’ll be good for them, not knowing what to do next.” you start down the steps, “Teaches them some independence.”

You get all the way to the front door, looking behind you to Finnick. He’s absently staring at you, like he’s waiting for something. A while ago, when you and Finnick were still dating, you used to describe him as a golden retriever, because he’s loyal and would love to go with you, if you asked.

You wonder what happened to the loyal part. You press down on the door handle, “You’re invited if you want to go. I think they take walk-ins.”

“One of us should be here.” He says.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” you let out a small laugh, “Or are you just scared of needles, Odair?” You give him a cheeky grin, opening the door and leaving, “I’ll see you later.”

You get all the way to the elevator, inside with the button pressed when Finnick rounds the corner, hand covering the doors before they can close. It’s hard not to give him another big smile, especially with the annoyed look on his face. Secretly, you know that he liked the invite, and he’s going to enjoy your company.

“What’s with the tattoo obsession?” he asks.

You scoff, “Obsession? This’ll be my second one, thank you.”

“And the first one being…?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

You roll your eyes. You’re pretty sure he was around for this one, but you lift the hair off of the back of your neck anyway, turning to let him see. It should be a D3, obviously for District Three. You got it for Blaire, you knew him for so little time, but you’re sure he was your best friend inside of the arena.

“Oh, I remember that.” Finnick says, “Looks like it needs a touch-up.” he mutters, and then you feel cold fingers against the back of your neck. He runs his finger over it, but it’s gone quickly, “Just for Blaire, right?”

“Didn’t really know Verda.” you let your hair down.

“Yeah, that’s true.” He says, the two of you walk side by side out of the elevator and to the front doors, which is currently fairly crowded by a group.

They’re not dressed in bright colors or solid white, so they can’t be Capitol people or peacekeepers. And if they are stylists, they’re definitely dialed back a lot like Laurel is. Out of all the stylists that you’ve seen come and go, she’s definitely more tame than the rest. Even your prep team is pretty normal-looking.

The closer you get, the more it dawns on you. It’s a pack of mentors, four of them all gathered together in the middle of the lobby. You take the initiative, going in front of Finnick to lead him through. From afar, it was hard to see who exactly, but now you know that it’s District One and Two’s mentors; Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Wade.

You’ve worked with them in the past, they’re not bad people to be around. But they have the career mindset going on all the time, it’s hard to be around them. They all won their games years ago--with the exception of Wade, who won a year or two ago--and they’re still living life like that doesn’t matter.

You guess the career complex really themselves worked into their brains. Whereas your tributes have moments of anxiety and hesitation, their tributes never do. But a downside of that is the impulsive and brashness when they’re inside of the arena. It never hurts to think things through, but they don’t do that. It’s why you knew that Trink and Lennox would follow your treasure trail, because they wouldn’t think ahead about how they’re wandering right into your trap.

To be fair, though, they did think that you were severely injured. You also were several years younger than them, and had never trained the way they did for their entire lives. Then again, you scored high, you took down Horace. They should never have kept you around for as long as they did. It’s the same reason why you took down Allio; because he was a threat. And you were too.

“Hey, guys.” you call, making them look over.

You’re sure that they’re getting ready for a celebration, considering their tributes never score badly. However, you think this is the last day where all the tributes will get to intermingle the way they have been for the past couple of days. Tomorrow they’re inside, the day after they get brief moments on stage and after interviews to swap compliments. Then they’re straight to the arena.

“(Y/n)!” Cashmere says, she opens her arm, you go ahead and give her a hug, “We haven’t seen you since the Tribute Parade. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re hiding from us.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely hiding.” you laugh, they do too.

“Our tributes want to have an alliance with yours.” Enobaria says, “They haven’t had the chance to ask, so they wanted us to give it a try.”

You open your mouth to tell them that it’s not going to happen this year, but Finnick’s speaking over you, “Our tributes aren’t really looking for an alliance this year, they want to go it alone.”

Every single one of them share the same confused expression. You almost laugh, but clear your throat instead, “Annie and Marsh are working as a pair this year. We didn’t want to push them on an alliance if they didn’t want one.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Cashmere says, “I hope they know what they’re doing in the arena.”

“They’re definitely a couple of fighters, that’s for sure.” you shift on your feet, and steal a glance at Finnick to make sure that he’s not uncomfortable. You could talk to these four all day, it’s hard not to make friends with the other mentors when you’re by yourself.

At some point, their sponsors became your sponsors by default. You worked together, all hands in to make sure that one of your tributes would come out. It worked for a while, Cashmere and Gloss got a male victor almost immediately, and so did Enobaria and Kurt. The only reason why the new male victor from One isn’t a mentor is because Cashmere and Gloss are siblings; they like to work together.

“Two volunteers in the same year is new.” Gloss says slowly, you and him stare at each other, “What are you guys up to?”

“Same thing you guys are.”

Wade sneers, “Clearly it isn’t as good.”

Your eyes find Wade, he hasn’t warmed up to you the same way that Kurt did. He’s still a naive boy, only eighteen. He’s still got a lot to learn when it comes to mentoring. That making enemies shouldn’t be the top priority on the list. When your tributes team up, you’ll want the other mentors to be cooperative.

“I’d be careful if I were you.” Finnick says, you can hear the smile in his words, “You might just end up eating those words.”

One last look over him, and then it’s back to your favorite three, “Anyway, you guys know Finnick, right?”

“Yeah! Honestly I was a little surprised when I saw him at the Tribute Parade.” Cashmere says, “What’s got you back on the move, Peacock?”

You can hardly hide the surprise that washes over you. The use of his Capitol-given nickname has got to sting, especially with everything that the Capitol does to him. You know that every time that it’s brought up with you, your mood dies instantly and you make sure that the person never brings it up again.

You press your lips together, eyes slowly making their way to him. Finnick’s a lot smoother than you are when it comes to holding back his emotions sometimes, “(Y/n)’s pretty convincing when she’s threatening you.”

A smile creeps onto your face, “I only had to do it once, so you know it’s pretty effective.”

“It’s nice to see you two together again.” Enobaria says, “Where are you two off to?”

“I’m getting a tattoo, I invited Finnick along.” the clock on the wall says that you’ve got about a half hour before your appointment, “We should probably get going, don’t want to make my favorite artist unhappy.”

“It was nice to see you.” Gloss says, “We’ll pass on the word to our tributes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you guys later.” you wave, to your favorite three.

You only get a couple steps away, before you’re grabbing Wade’s collar with both hands, yanking him towards you. He’s quick, pressing both of his hands to your shoulders and leaning away. But his eyes are searching your face, panic expressed through his eyes at the dead serious look you’re giving him.

“Next time, you should watch how you talk to me. Otherwise, you’ll have a pretty problem on your hands.” you shove him back, “And my eyes are up here, fuckhead.”

You hold the door open for Finnick, give Wade a final glare, and then turn your back to them. After you’ve rounded the corner, you roll your eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, you beat me to it.” Finnick says, “I was going to say something.”

“I’m on top of it. I’ve always been on top of it.” you then give Finnick a smile, “Not my first rodeo, cowboy.”

Finnick’s face twists, “Don’t call me that, ever.”

You laugh at his face, “Bet it’s better than being called Peacock, huh?”

He shrugs, “I don’t mind it all that much. It could be worse.” and then his eyes fall on you, suggesting your title without even saying a word.

Your jaw sets, you grit your teeth and look away. You don’t want to be known as a name so harsh, it’s not who you are. Only in unique moments does the name seem to fit like it does. Leave it to Finnick to get something so delicate and flowery, and for you to be known as the opposite.

The Executioner. And yet, you can’t get any of your tributes to follow in the same bloody footsteps that you’ve walked.

“I wish they’d picked something else.”

“Like what?” Finnick asks, it’s quiet for a moment, until he breaks it with his own laugh, “The Betrayer.”

“Traitor.” you correct, “And to be fair, I’ve heard that one too. During the Victory Tour, don’t you remember District Two shouting that at me? They weren’t very happy.”

“Who cares what District Two thinks?” Finnick scoffs, “District Eight felt the same way about me. It’s not my fault that their older teenagers don’t know how to take care of themselves.”

That’s fair, actually. One of the tributes was eighteen, the other was seventeen. Both went at Finnick, you think that the girl died first and the boy died second. He came around later when you were half-dead inside of the cave. Finnick never stopped working for the title even while you were gone.

“Either way, I got the short straw.”

Finnick’s voice is quiet, “I think it makes you fierce.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes finding Finnick’s. Soft, green, gentle. Genuine. He’s the first to smile, the light reaching his eyes. Just for a second, you can see the boy he used to be, making your heart twist sadly. You won’t ever get him back, will you?

You smile too.

The tattoo’s don’t take long, just like how you expected. Permanently embedded in the skin on your collarbone, are the names of your parents. With Ryatt, your father, on top, and your mother, Aesira, on bottom. You would’ve got them over your heart, but you and Finnick agreed that it was too cheesy.

Finnick decided to go down the same path you did. So, after you got your tattoos done, you sat off to the side and watched as Finnick got his own family on his left shoulder blade. Just like how your parents are gone, his entire family is gone too, including his younger brother.

That summer was by far the hardest for the both of you.

It took months to find out, but eventually Laurel came around with the details. The following year, when you were eighteen and Finnick had turned seventeen, you were told exactly why everything crashed and burned the year before.

The Capitol is sick, a lot worse than you originally thought. Forget the marketing towards new victors, and the Hunger Games themselves. If a victor is good-looking and sponsors do ‘well’, they’re given the victor as a reward. President Coriolanus Snow himself talks to the victor, tells them that they either go into prostitution, or they get a surprise disaster.

Well, Finnick didn’t decline at first. He came back to the Tribute Center and broke up with you, actually. Finnick tried to back out of the deal a couple of days later, but Snow had already made up his mind. Finnick missed an important arrangement that Snow set up, and in return, Snow killed Finnick’s entire family in one swoop without batting an eye.

You vaguely remember Finnick being upset, but it really came down on him when you got back to District Four. You knew about his family dying when you came back, not all the rest. The only people Finnick invited to the funeral was your family, and that was the last time the two of you have ever been close. After that, the warmth turned to ice, and there was no reviving it.

You can’t imagine coming home to an empty house every year. You don’t know how Finnick does it. Even if he doesn’t want to take part in the mentorship or the boarding school, you’d think that he’d come out and train teenagers, anyway. It’s better than being shut in a place so quiet and cemetery-like. The times you’re alone in your own house gives you chills.

Finnick doesn’t seem so sullen after the tattoo. He looks a little more alive, actually. He doesn’t have to say it, you already know that he’s glad he came along. The two of you end up coming after the tributes, though. It’s well past lunch, almost time for dinner.

As much as you enjoy Finnick’s presence, you end up outside on the balcony again by yourself. You like the fresh air and the serenity of being away from the others. You could always do the same thing in your room, but it doesn’t have the same effect. Out here, you don’t feel like you’re being watched.

Elysia comes and gets you on her way to get your tributes for dinner. You thank her, as always, and then make your way to the dining room. Finnick’s standing next to Pleurisy and Laurel when you get out there. Once they see you, it’s big smiles and bright chatter.

“How was it?” you ask, looking to Annie and Marsh.

Annie’s got a small smile on her face, “I think that I’ve scored high. The gamemakers looked interested in what I had to offer, so that was a pretty good sign.”

“What about you?” Finnick asks.

Marsh shrugs slightly, “I was nervous and fumbled, barely recovered.”

“Fumbling is normal, the gamemakers hardly react to it.” you tell him, “Trust me, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Even I missed when I was with the gamemakers.”

“And you scored a ten.” Marsh says.

“And I scored a ten.” you repeat.

It seems to raise his spirits enough for him to talk more during dinner. Afterwards, you all gather on the couches. Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy sit together in one bunch. You and Finnick next to each other, and Annie and Marsh take up the middle of the couch to see the screen dead on.

“Just before it starts, you guys should know that it’s normal for the careers to score between eights and tens. Rarely does anyone have the skill to get above a ten.” you say, and then Elysia turns the tv on.

Caesar Flickerman comes onto the screen with a white smile. It’s time to get started, it’ll start with District One, boys first. A picture of their faces will appear on screen, and their numbers will flash below.

You’re fully expecting a hard start with District One, since they always score high, but you’re genuinely surprised when the boy scores an eight and the girl a nine. Your mouth falls open, a laugh passing through you, “Well, there’s a twist.”

“Seriously.” Finnick says, “Looks like you two don’t have anything to worry about, after all.”

District Two isn’t as tough, the boy gets a ten, the girl a nine. Which means that Enobaria and Wade have triumphed over Cashmere and Gloss for the first time in years. Rarely do they score over District One. Yes, this year is surely something else, isn’t it?

Three isn’t as memorable, but when Marsh appears on screen, the room falls into a hush. You lean your elbows on your knees, fingers laced together, “District Four, Marsh Millilio with a score of nine.” Caesar smiles.

“Oh!” you laugh, sitting up.

All of you give Marsh a pretty good congratulations, shaking his shoulder and exchanging grins. The tension seems to dissipate from his body, and he relaxes against the couch, “If I did good, then so did Annie.”

“District Four, Annie Cresta, also with a score of nine.”

There’s loud cheering, Annie’s face turns a burning shade of red, but she’s definitely as excited as the rest of you. You can’t imagine how good the two of them are feeling right now. They’re careers, through and through.

They’ve got high scores. All that’s left is to sweep the Capitol off their feet during the interviews.

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @acatalepsyy

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odar imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair ethereal #ethereal #ethereal chapter two

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sweethq · 4 years ago

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♡ how you become friends // headcanon

𑁍 Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma, Ushijima Wakatoshi

»»—Trigger warning(s): none—-««

➶ Genre: hmmm fluff?

-ˏˋ A/N: I’m eventually going to do one of these for all of the boys I write for so feel free to request who you want to see next! ˊˎ-

even though iwa seems like a big tough guy on the outside, we all know that he’s a softy and such a kind person

soooooo if he ever sees anyone being mistreated, he’s gonna want to put a stop to it

you didn’t have very many friends at school, none, actually

girls at school would always torment you for no reason, calling you a freak, an outcast

you didn’t really understand why they felt the need to be mean to you, but you learned that things were never going to change and that trying to stop it would make things worse

it was typical for them to make it a point to ruin your day in any way possible

whether it was steal your lunch money, trip you while you’re walking to your desk, or ruining your homework, they didn’t have a problem with doing it

things like this have been happening for a while, but iwaizumi never saw these events happen until one day when your paths happened to cross

it was in between periods when the same group of girls shoved you into a nearby locker, making you drop your textbooks and papers all over the floor

iwaizumi turned at the crashing sound, seeing you on the floor quickly trying to gather your belongings, the group of girls snickering as they walk away from your shaking figure

he started to make his way over to you, wanting to know if you were okay

before he could reach you, the bell rang signaling the start of next period

you grabbed your belongings and hurried off to class, not giving iwa the chance to approach you

the only reassuring thing about the torment is that they limited it to only once a day

unfortunately for you, they were feeling especially mean today

you had just bought your lunch and sat at an empty table, silently excited to eat your meal as you weren’t able to have one yesterday (they stole your money again :/)

but before you could take a single bite, they approached you once more

“you bought me lunch? how sweet!”

proceeded to take the food that sat in front of you before walking away, leaving you with an empty table and an empty stomach

iwaizumi also noticed this event, he had been keeping a close eye on you all lunch period to make sure that nothing else would happen, but it did

he quickly made his way over to your table, soon hating the sight of your frowning face

when he sat down in front of you, you both just stared at each other i mean, i would if that big chunk of man was sitting across from me hhh

“are you okay? i saw what those girls did, are they always that mean to you?”

you just gave a small nod, wondering why the vice captain of the volleyball club was suddenly so interested in you

“here, we can share my lunch.” he handed half of his sandwich to you

“n-no, that’s okay!!! i’m not hungry..”

deadass rolls his eyes at you haha

“yes you are. eat it. oh, and if they ever bother you again, just let me know. i have no problem with telling them off.”

ha the way you meet kageyama is the best

it was like any other day, you had just inserted the money into the vending machine to grab yourself your daily box of milk

because you need your ~ c a l c i u m ~

however, you were not aware that this routine also belonged to another, and that other person happened to be standing right behind you, watching you purchase the last milk carton

you grabbed the milk from the vending machine and took a step to the side so that the person waiting behind you could take their turn

you noticed that the boy didn’t step closer to the vending machine but rather stayed glued to his spot

you shrugged and continued to detach the straw from the box and insert it at the top

as you were about to take your first sip, the boy spoke

“w-wait”

he was staring at you, eyes wide and meeting your confused ones

“uh, can i help you?”

“can i have that?” he was pointing at the milk carton that you held in your hand

you looked at the boy before asking him why he couldn’t just buy one himself

you even showed him the other milk cartons in the vending machine window after he tried to argue that you took the last one

“but i don’t want those ones”

“why not?”

“they... they don’t have an animal on the box…..”

you lOst it

you couldn’t breathe knowing that this tall, intimidating boy just told you that he only wanted to drink milk out of the boxes that had cartoon animals drawn on them

it was easily one of the most hilarious things you had ever experienced thus far

you decided to give him the milk that you had just purchased, not wanting the boy to have a permanent pout on his face

“okay, you can have this one. but, you have to buy me two tomorrow”

unlike the others, you actually met kenma when you guys were kids

you had just moved into a new neighborhood so your mom wanted to greet your neighbors and made you go with her

honestly, you didn’t really mind

i mean, all a seven year old wants is to make new friends, and this was a great way to do that

kenma lived in the house across from yours, which happened to be the last house you decided to visit

you were kinda bummed because the other three houses you had already went to didn’t have any kids your age; they were either too young, too old, or nonexistent

after your mom knocked on the door, a woman around the same age as your mom appeared

your eyes lit up when you noticed a boy your age sitting in front of the TV playing a video game

the lady, who you assumed was his mom, saw your bright expression and called the boy over to say hi

he slowly walked up to the three of you, his golden eyes peering through his long black hair

he stuck to his mother’s side like glue, his small hand firmly clutching the bottom of her blouse

“hi, i’m y/n! what’s your name?”

he just stared at you lmao

you were not going to give up. nope. you were gonna make a friend today if it killed you

“do you like video games? i like them too. whatcha playin?”

“dO YOU WANT TO COME IN AND PLAY WITH ME?”

to this day, this is the most emotion you have ever seen him display ha

it was like a fricken switch was flipped lol

poor boy didn’t have any friends to play video games with

so he was more than happy to invite this strange kid into his house just so he had a playmate

and ever since that day, you and kenma have been the closest of friends

you are NOT a morning person

so it’s no surprise that the first place you go in the morning is to the coffee shop down the block for your daily pick-me-up before school

you’ve had this routine for so long that all of the workers know you and have your order already made by the time you walk through the door

and likewise, you always have the exact amount of money ready to hand to one of the workers

everything was the same as all of the other days, except one thing

you had stayed up all night working on your studies and thinking about all of the problems that were occurring in your personal life wow its as if i’m writing this about myself

that said, you were 1000% more tired than you usually were

so tired that after you paid and picked up your iced coffee from the counter, you decided that it was a good idea to close your eyes for a couple of seconds while you were walking out the door

wHatS tHe wORsT tHiNg tHaT cOUld hAppEN

yeah so to your surprise, you end up running into a rather large figure

by ‘large figure’ i mean absolutely ginormous

and by ‘running into’ i mean completely knocking into them and pouring your drink all over their chest

you continuously apologized to the person in front of you, not even bothering to look up at them

but when you did, oh boy

that was one way to wake yourself up

ushijima wakatoshi stood in front of you with a blank stare on his face, his shirt soaked with coffee

if there was ever a time where you wanted to crawl into a corner and cry, this would be it

you had seen him around school and new that he was the captain of the volleyball club

you also knew how hard he can spike a volleyball and that he was notorious for being extremely intimidating

you were hoping that he wasn’t picturing your head as a volleyball

you were more than confused when he asked you if you were okay

you just stared at him like he was crazy

i just ran into you and got coffee all over your uniform but you ask me if im okay?? tf

even offers to buy you another coffee??????????

you start to believe that he wasn’t as bad or scary that people made him out to be

he’s just a giant teddy bear who wants friends uwu

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader

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ryanmeft · 4 years ago

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Movie Review: Promising Young Woman

Your reaction to the opening scene of Promising Young Woman might say a lot about you. A trio of finance ‘bros at a strip club talk about a female colleague in unflattering terms. One of them notices a woman who is drunk, by herself and who might be suggestive if she were sober. Two of the men don’t much care whether she’s sober or not, but the third seems concerned, and tries to help.

Have you seen the film? If not, I’d suggest you stop reading. You want to go in blind, not because the story has any fantastically inventive or original twists, but because of the fresh way it presents otherwise tired revenge-fantasy tropes.

If you have seen it, I’d like to quiz you on your reaction to the opening scene. Did you think:

A: “It’s good one of these guys is decent and wants to help.”

B: “Something about this whole thing seems off to me.”

The very-much-not-drunk woman’s name is Cassie, played by the perennially underrated Carey Mulligan, and she makes a habit of this. The “nice guy” of course attempts to take advantage of her, and she leaves his apartment the next morning with blood on her, not hers. She does this not for herself, but for a friend who was sexually assaulted in college.

If you knew anything about the film going in, you expected that. What’s refreshing is where the story goes from there. Cassie returns home to her parent’s house. Her “lair” is her room, an ordinary, if upper-class, quarters. She works at a coffee house, drives an ordinary car, and eventually acquires an ordinary boyfriend (Bo Burnham) who is cute enough but not Hollywood Hot.

Most revenge-fantasy films strictly avoid questions of where a character lives, how they earn money, who their family and friends are, and what they do when they aren’t revenging. That’s even more true of movies starring women. We seem unable to imagine them as both hardened action stars and having a regular life. In movies like Atomic Blonde or Ocean’s 8, the heroes operate out of temporary digs, and if we do catch a glimpse of an apartment, it’s not the kind of place humans actually live---there are never any messes, and nobody spends even a single night on a Netflix binge. One recent film simply titled Revenge gave our heroine absolutely no background or story at all.

This often works, on a sleek, superficial level. What elevates PYW is that it eschews that sleekness for messy reality, so that when Cassie takes revenge on one of the many people she blames for what happened, she still has to walk out onto an ordinary street, drive to a real house in a real car, and so forth. Most avenging angels are simply transported from one setpiece location to another by editing. You cannot picture one of Liam Neeson’s retribution-obsessed action heroes actually driving somewhere---he simply teleports.

The movie later suggests she does not kill her targets, but instead terrorizes them and sometimes tortures them. You may well wonder how she gets away with this---how she fools assholes into taking her home despite leaving them alive to spread the story. The movie never says, but if you’ve been around this particular type of guy, you already know. Men such as Cassie’s victims never see a woman as being their equal, and thus cannot perceive one as a threat to them. And if a woman does get the best of them, they’d never tell the authorities. Both things would threaten their sense of dominance. When they tell their friends the story, you better believe they re-write it to make themselves look good.

All of which naturally begs the question: what is Cassie achieving? A lesser film in this vein might be content to say that revenge is enough. Emerald Fennell clearly found that approach lacking. Cassie is not a mindless, emotion-free robot of automatic vengeance, but a broken person driven to break people who deserve it. One of my favorite comics, 100 Bullets, is built around the ability to get away with justified murder, and ranges widely in terms of the fates of those who take that chance.

Cassie would fit right in as a character there. The men she targets deserve their fate. Yet her crusade is destroying whatever was left of her as her ends justify more and more extreme means. She eventually confronts the Dean of her former med school (Connie Britton), a woman who has a history of allowing abusers to walk free because she places her social class above both her gender and justice. The Dean deserves to squirm, but however correct Cassie is in what she says, what she does to torture the women would make any parent hate our protagonist.

There is no way this is not deliberate on Fennell’s part; you cannot write a hero such as this one and expect us to agree with everything she does. She is not out to ruin the lives of merely abusers, but of those who looked the other way. The moral dilemma is that Cassie does not care who else she hurts to make those people hurt. Anyone is fair game for her schemes if it accomplishes her ends. There’s no way for a person with a soul to be that focused on getting the job done without internalizing some of it, taking that darkness on themselves.

The pivotal moment showing the damage Cassie is personally incurring is not very dramatic. She visits a woman who was a friend when they were kids, and talks about the friend who is gone. This is simply an ordinary woman---we have not seen her before this scene, and we do not see her after, because Cassie has isolated herself from her life. She lives on an ordinary street, and the two talk like you or I might talk, not like a screenwriter would. You could quite easily walk down this street and past them talking, and not know anything important was being discussed.

Could this be a comment by Fennell: “Sexual assault doesn’t appear dramatic, and is all around you”? It works on that level. I chose to see it as a means to ground Cassie in a life like ours, to elevate her above the killing machines we see in many movies. Real survivors don’t become superheroes; they have to go on with life. Cassie is a great hero because she has to do that, too. Our satisfaction at seeing assholes punished is muted somewhat by how much of her soul it costs her. Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow me on Twitter here, if you want more posts about film and video games and sometimes about manscaping:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#carey mulligan #bo burnham #promising young woman #movies #alfred molina #connie britton #emerald fennell

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romantic-barnes · 4 years ago

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strawberry & tape | part four

| part four - blood red jam |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot Blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: death, possessiveness, mention of non-con, gang violence. This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!

A/n: I am so sorry. oof. please don’t read if you are under 18!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

The days dragged on, leaving you breathless. Days spend in the bed, not even crying. You knew that not going to work was possibly the worst thing you could do, but not a bone in your body was able to move, all muscles numb, your head screaming at you to stay in bed. There seemed to be nothing left for you. The thing Bucky did to you left you scared. If that’s what he was going to do to you for not believing you, then what other things was he capable of doing?

The bed started to smell like sweat, grime and dirt. You were disgusted with yourself, the way you could let go of yourself. Over the last few days you had let yourself go like you’ve never done before.

One of the girls, Natasha, brought you food every morning and evening. She told you that Bucky wanted to make sure you were well fed and taken care of, but the gesture that would appear sweet and caring, made you want to puke violently. After violating you, shaming you in public for anyone to see he wanted to take care of you?

But you ate. You pushed down the bites with difficulty, because the thought of what he would do if you didn’t frightened you and you hated yourself for it. That you bend so easily at his wish.

After days of laying in the murky bed, you decided to take a shower, washing away the dirt piling on top of your skin. Your hand traced your skin, the disassociation of your own body frightened you. The soft flesh felt like someone else’s. Your hand lowered following the water’s stream, down to your pelvis, down to your core.

You hissed as you touched your sensitive skin. A shiver running up your body from the pain. Even after days and days of laying in bed, the pain never subsided and Bucky’s fingers left their mark, ghosting on top of your body like foul mold. A soff sob left your lips as you gently washed yourself, a hand steadying yourself on the wall opposite you, closing your eyes as your tears mixed with the water.

Stepping out of the shower you looked at yourself in the mirror. You traced the contours of your face with your eyes, but the woman in the mirror was someone you couldn’t recognize. A woman who’s skin started to crack, the pain creeping out from the cracks beneath. A pile of pain growing like weeds.

As you sat at the table, eating the breakfast Natasha brought you, you knew you needed to go. Staring outside the sun peaked through the clouds. A glimmer of hope. Far away in the big city someone should be able to help you.

After you got ready, you remembered Bucky’s demeanour when you went out for breakfast with Lana, the way he made you ask for permission. The memory send shivers running across your body like a million cockroaches slithering on your skin.

Your feet carried you to his office, like walking on thorns. The door becoming bigger with every step you took towards it. A man stood in front of it and if you weren’t so distracted by the killing machine resting in his hands, you would recognize him as Clint, the father of the girl who tragically died a few years ago.

A big topic for gossip, no respect for the young girl that lost her life too soon, but the people like to talk in Dawn. Some say her father killed her himself, but other believe that she was already dead once her father joined the Howling Commandos and that her death was just an accessory to the name. The girl was discovered by her own mother, laying face down by the church. Her eyes had been carved out and her mouth was sewed shut.

Just looking at him send puke squeezing up your throat.

“What do you want?” Clint barked, death stare on your body.

“I’m here to see Bucky.” You croaked out.

Clint hesitated for a second, but knocked on the door regardless. Bucky granted permission and Clint opened the door for you, revealing the room behind it. You stepped in carefully examining the room. The walls painted red, a deep, morbid red. The pain staining everything it touched with beams of red.

Bucky sat behind the desk, leaning back on his chair, a sinister smile painting his lips. The door behind you shut close and the prospect of being in a room alone with him frightened you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bucky said, tilting his head.

It took you a little to form the words carefully in your head. “I wanted to ask if I could go visit Lana.” As soon as the words left you, your cheeks heated up with embarrassment.

“That’s cute, but I need more than that.” Bucky’s smile formed to a smirk as he rolled his chair back. “Come here.” He ordered with a whisper.

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but your hart started to race. A slow step forward and determination took over. Just this and you could go forward with your plan. Another step and another. You now stood in front of Bucky, waiting.

Bucky looked up to you. “Get on your knees.”

You swallowed thickly, lowering yourself on your knees like he ordered. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he wanted. You were prepared for the worst, to taste him in your mouth. Your head between the legs of devils’s creation, but even the smartest people can be wrong.

“Beg.”

You looked up to him, confused. The stern look on his face told you he meant it, Bucky wanted you to beg for it. “Can I please go -go to Lana’s house?” The heat in your face travelled down to your neck. “Please, B-bucky?” Your voice almost failed you, but as his smirk widened to a smile you let out a breath of relieve.

“Sure, sugar. But only because you asked so nicely.” Bucky reached his hand out, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He traced from your forehead, down to your temple, to your jaw with the tips of his fingers. His hand travelled down to your throat and with a swift move he enclosed his hand around it, encouraging you to stand with him.

He towered over you with his hand on your neck. “Have fun.” Bucky breathed, his hot breath on your face and you just wanted to cry.

As soon as he released you, you stumbled away from him, backing out of the room while you almost tripped over you feet. The moment you were out of the house, running down the street you were crying. Turning corners, passing people and you knew they would be looking after you, how couldn’t they?

Lana’s house came into view and you slowed down, walking up the steps to her door. You ringed the doorbell and the door swung open. Lana let you in without words.

Once in her room you sat at her desk, opening her laptop. Lana sat on the edge of her bed next to you with questions all over her face. After a while of searching you fund what you were looking for and it was a woman named Maria Hill. a private investigator.

“I’m going to take them down from the inside. Since the police here in Dawn can’t help me, someone in the city surely will.” You spoke without taking your eyes off the screen.

“Y/n, are you sure about this?” You turned to your friend. “Someone saw what Bucky did to you.” Her voice got quiet, a whisper almost.

You lowered your head, the thought of people talking about you, standing in the phone booth. “That’s why I need to do this.”

Lana left the room making tea while you called Maria, explaining the situation you were in. She asked questions you were reluctant to answer, but you did either way. Bucky’s eyes haunted you brain, his voice ringing in your ear making it difficult to focus on the woman’s voice. so much so that she had to pull you back from your thoughts from time to time.

Once you arrived back at the house you avoided everyone like you always did, resorting to your room at every hour. You were supplied with groceries, but that was the only human interaction you got. Your days were filled with sitting by the window, watching everyone live their life free from the invisible handcuffs.

After contacting the private investigator, Lana promised to help you despite her life being on the line as well and you thanked the gods for her. She was to inform you on any details that arise. You were nervous, chewing on your nails down to the nub of your fingertips.

Your nervousness didn’t falter as the day went on.

A knock on the door shook you out of your dream. The opening of your door made you sit up. Two men stood across from the bed, ushering for you to get up. They led you down the stairs to Bucky’s office. The pit in your stomach told you vile things, warnings.

They opened the door, but the scene in front of you made no sense to you. You walked in further, at least four men stood around the room. Bucky stood behind his desk, his hands wrapped around the back of the throat of Lana.

Your breaths became shallow, too fast to catch up.

Lana’s eyes stared into yours, red rimmed and glossy. The two men grabbed your upper arms on either side, but you were too focused on your best friend, standing with him, shaking. The air around so thick it was chocking you.

“Peter over here told me some interesting things, dollface.” Bucky’s anger was visible in his face by the creases on his forehead, fire burning behind the blue of his eyes and you’ve never seen anything like it. “He said that you told Lana about the police and then, oh remember, you tried to call her?”

His words set in and you glanced to Peter standing at the wall, his head down in shame. Your lips parted but nothing came out.

“You know what we do to traitors? We punish them.”

“Stop, she had nothing to do with the police, Bucky.”

“Well, dalin’, how would I know? And since I don’t want to mess up your pretty face, she has to deal with your punishment.” His grip on her throat tightened, his fingertips digging into her soft flesh and he slammed her pelvin into the edge of the desk making Lana yelp in pain.

“You know I fucked her, right? I took her innocence right here.” With a thump Lana’s chest hit the desk and Bucky bend her over. “Just like this.”

“No, no, no, stop.” Your voice barely audible and you wanted to cover your mouth but the men held your arms to the sides of your body tightly. Your heart pounded against your chest so vigorously you thought that it would bruise your ribs.

Bucky lifted Lana’s skirt and her sobs filled the room, but none of the men standing payed her pain any mind, watching the scene unfold before them, not even flinching, batting an eye.

“Stop, please.” You pleaded and you were ready to go down to your knees, beg for forgiveness.

Bucky’s face lit up at your words, looking directly into your eyes. “Say that again.” He closed his eyes, groaning over Lana’s cries. He exposed Lana even further, lifting the skirt over her back, showing her cotton panties underneath. From the corner of your eye you saw one of the men, blond hair and blue eyes, lick his lips.

Bucky’s eyes opened and you sunk down until your knees hit the wooden floor, but underneath your skin the wood felt as if you were kneeling on glass for him. “Please.” You begged.

“Alright, no problem. But I would’ve liked to fuck her one last time, she cried so pretty with my dick in her cunt.” His low, morbid chuckle filled your ears. “I have something better in mind.”

There wasn’t time. No time could’ve prepared you to register what you witnessed. With a quick snap and a loud crack, Lana’s legs softened, her body relaxed against the table. The life she had left her eyes, her body numb.

Your jaw slacked, but realization didn’t hit. It couldn’t be true. A sinister silence fell and Lana’s body with it, sliding off the desk, but you couldn’t hear the impact of her hitting the floor.

You were frozen in place, kneeling on the floor and something within you told you the truth, he had snapped her neck right in front of you, without remorse, without hesitation.

And it hit you once again.

You’ll never make it out alive.

[ next ]

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #dark!mcu #clair writes

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

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The Aftermath (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Aftermath Rating: PG-13 Length: 4000 Warnings: Pregnancy Complications (Ecelempsia, Seizures, lots and lots of medical discussions in this one) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set June 1997. This is a really heavy chapter, ya’ll. As always I will assure you that things will be okay. But if you are at all triggered by pregnancy complications, discussion of seizures, medical discussions, or the effects of not being able to breast feed you might want to just skim. Summary: Javier grapples with the complications around Sofia’s birth.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066

“You’ve got to hold it together, Javi.” Chucho told Javier, his fingers curling around his shoulder tightly. “You’ve got Josie and Sofía. They need their father.”

“She needs me too.” Javier hissed out, jerking his shoulder out from his father’s grasp. He knew what his father was trying to remind him. He didn’t want to lash out at him, but fuck. How was he supposed to think about the girls in a context where they wouldn’t have their mother? He couldn’t let those thoughts get to him.

He raked his fingers through his hair, before he rose to his feet. “Where the fuck is the doctor?”

“She’s gonna be okay, Javi.” Steve assured him, looking up at him from where he was sitting. “When has she ever let something like this bullshit get the best of her?”

Javier swallowed thickly, stopping mid-pace. “After all the shit she’s been through…” He really wanted to punch something. But he couldn’t really risk breaking his fucking hand. That wasn’t going to help with his guilt. Fuck. There was so much guilt. So much of the shit that she went through in Colombia had been his fault.

And the stress. The goddamn stress was all his fault. She wouldn’t be laid up in the hospital if he hadn’t pushed a stressful situation onto her. He should’ve left the DEA shit alone. Somehow he’d managed to fuck up the birth of their second child. God, if he lost her....

The waiting room door opened slowly, a doctor appearing in the doorway. “Mr. Peña?” Javier couldn’t tell if the doctor had grim news or if the son of a bastard was born with that dourer expression.

Steve stood up, clapping Javier on the shoulder. “We’re here for you.” He said something else, but Javier wasn’t entirely certain what it was. Everything seemed to focus in on the doctor who was waiting for him. Steve and Chucho felt like they were at the far end of a tunnel, the distance obscuring their voices.

Javier waited for the waiting room door to close behind him before he spoke, “How is she? Can I see her?”

“She’s stable.” The doctor told him calmly, guiding him across the hall to a private room. He’d seen families come out of that same room with bad news. He truly felt like he was going to be sick.

The doctor waited for Javier to sit, before he continued. “We have her sedated currently. Once we get her settled into her new room, I can take you down to sit with her.”

He swallowed thickly. “Are we out of the woods?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not yet. Despite our best efforts, there were complications. She suffered a mild seizure, which was to be expected given her condition. Fortunately, the CT scan didn’t show any damage from the episode. We’ll get her scheduled for a MRI and prepped for a PET scan in the coming days.” He offered Javier a sympathetic smile. “As much as I’d love to send the three of you home tomorrow, we’re going to need to keep her for observation for a few more days.”

Javier nodded slowly, trying to process everything the doctor had just told him. So many scans and the potential for something being wrong. Really wrong. “I just want her to come home.”

“She’s a fighter, Mr. Peña.”

“I know she is.” A brief smile spread over his lips. “She’s fucking incredible.”

“And we’re going to make sure she goes home.” The doctor promised him. “We’ve already started her on some hydralazine intravenously. It’s already started getting her blood pressure under control.”

“Good.”

“After she’s released she’s going to have to monitor the hypertension. She’ll be prescribed medicine to help stabilize it, but she won’t be able to breastfeed.”

Javier nodded slowly. At least the doctor was talking about the after. Going home. That sounded positive.

“Have you been down to the nursery to see your daughter?”

“No.” He rubbed at his forehead. “My pops went to see her.” Everything had been perfect.

Sofía was gorgeous.

They let him cut the umbilical cord. They let him be such an active participant in their daughter’s birth. Everything had been going in the right direction.

But she didn’t look right.

She was exhausted, which was understandable, but her coloring was all wrong. She looked weak.

And then the seizure.

Javier wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get that memory out of his head. It was worse than watching her bleed out on the ground.

It had been maybe three hours. Maybe five.

He hadn’t seen either of them since.

“When do you think I’ll be able to sit with her?”

The doctor’s brows furrowed as he stared at him. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to call down to the nursery and have them bring your daughter up to her room. That might be good for the three of you.”

Javier swallowed thickly and nodded. “Alright.”

“I’ll have a nurse come and get you from the waiting room.”

“Thank you.”

——

It was another two hours before the nurse came to get him.

Steve had gone home to help Connie with the girls and Chucho looked worn out, he wasn’t easily convinced to leave. Eventually, Javier won out because Stevie needed to be let out and he knew Monica had work.

It felt wrong to care about anything outside of the hospital, but he knew she’d kill him if anything happened to that damned dog.

But then the nurse came and he was ushered to her room. The floor was eerily quiet — it was after visiting hours, but the doctor had made special arrangements just for him. Even in the worst situation of his life, at least the hospital was treating him like he belonged.

She looked awful. Hooked up to machines and monitors. Wires running from her hands, little censors stuck to her temples.

“We’ve started decreasing her sedatives,” The nurse explained to him. “We’re still waiting for the doctor to look at her MRI—“ That must’ve been why it took so long. “But everything is looking really good, Mr. Peña.”

The nurse gestured to the burgundy vinyl-covered reclining chair in the corner of the room. “We brought this in for you. In case you wanted to stay.”

“I do.”

Javier looked away from her then, his eyes drawn to the bassinet Sofía was in. He knew he had to focus on her as well. She needed him just as much as her mother did.

“When was the last time she ate?” He asked the nurse, moving towards the bassinet to pick up the swaddled infant. She cooed softly as she woke up and his heart melted. “It’s alright, daddy’s got you.” He whispered as he cradled her against his chest.

“Half hour ago.” The nurse smiled. “Do you have other children, Mr. Peña?”

He nodded. “We have another daughter. She just turned four.”

“What a fun age.” She gestured towards Sofía. “If you need any help or if anything happens, there’s a call button on the bed. You’ll get one of us on the floor in here.”

“Thank you.”

Javier kept Sofía cradled against his chest as he moved towards the hospital bed. It broke his fucking heart to see her like this. There was nothing peaceful about being sedated. He had seen peaceful sleep on her and this wasn’t it.

“You’ve got to wake up for us, baby.” He said gently as he gingerly curled his fingers around her unresponsive hand. “I don’t think you really got to see how beautiful Sofía is. She’s perfect just like her mother.” Javier looked between the two of them. “She reminds me so much of Josie at this age. She’s so little.”

Javier sniffed quietly, trying not to cry. But he’d been holding it in for hours now. And there was a lump of emotion wedged in the back of his throat. Raw and painful. How was he expected not to cry when the love of his life was fighting for her life?

He settled Sofía back down in the bassinet, before pulling the rolling stool over to her bedside. “This better be the last time I have to see you laid up like this, baby. I fucking hate it.” He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles. “We’re not doing this again. We’ve got two daughters. We don’t need any more kids.” He lifted her hand up as he leaned over to kiss the back of her hand. “I’ll get the snip tomorrow, if it means never putting you in this position again.”

Some machine beeped, making Javier jump a little. He glanced up, brows furrowed as he studied the monitors beside her. “They told me they’re decreasing the sedatives they have you on. I think that means you’re going to wake up soon.” Javier told her, squeezing her hand. “I wish I knew if you could hear me.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

Javier stood up, leaning over the bed so he could press a kiss to her forehead, his fingers tenderly brushing over her cheek. “You did such an amazing job delivering her, baby. I’m in awe of you. Your strength.” He let his nose brush over her forehead as he sighed.

He studied her face, hoping to see some flicker of alertness. He knew she was going to wake up — she had to. But he wanted to talk to her now. It had been hours. He’d lost track of the time.

“I’m so sorry, baby. This is all my fault.” He raked his fingers through his hair as he sank back on the stool. “I set all of this into motion. I should’ve known better, starting this shit while you were pregnant…” He shook his head.

Javier pressed his face into his hands, letting the tears finally fall. It had been such an emotional day. The elation of seeing his daughter born, giving way to the fear of losing the woman he loved.

The reality of the social worker meeting with him. Going over what his role as her POA meant, ensuring he understood what wishes she had made known in the document. His father had listened, because he hadn’t. He had been in shock.

He couldn’t lose her. He’d lose his fucking mind if he went home to a house that didn’t have her in it.

And it would be his fault.

Sofía started fussing in her bassinet and Javier went to pick her up. “Are you hungry, sweetheart?” He questioned as he looked down at her. She had the longest lashes he’d ever seen on a baby. A nose just like her mother.

Javier hit the help button on her bed, waiting for a nurse to turn up so he could tell them Sofía needed formula.

He sat on the rolling stool beside her bed, feeding Sofía and talking to them both. He told his daughter all about how brave her mother was, how good she was. How much he hoped both of his children ended up like their mother. She was far too good for him.

Javier went through the bag of clothes she’d brought with her to go home. Not tomorrow. Not like they had planned.

“There it is.” He smiled as he saw the stuffed dog that Josie had made certain she had with her. “Baby, if you wake up I’ll get you another dog. I know how much you love having Stevie.”

He moved back over to the bed. Javier lifted her hand up and tucked the toy into her palm. “Josie wanted to make sure you had this, baby. It’s Bruno.”

Her fingers twitched faintly and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m right here.” He curled his hand around hers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “I love you, baby. Just rest, okay?”

Her fingers twitched again, coupled with her lashes fluttering.

“Hey.” Javier whispered, staring at her face. Looking for a sign that she was waking up. Three short squeezes, weak but there.

“I love you too, baby.” He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lips parted, inhaling shakily. “W-where is she?” Her voice was hoarse, barely recognisable as her own.

“She’s sleeping.” Javier brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Do you want to see her?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled, her eyes still closed. “Feel weird.”

“You’ve been through hell the last few hours.” Javier said as he reluctantly left her bedside to pick up Sofía. “She’s beautiful.” He told her as he walked back over to the bedside, brows furrowed as he looked down at her. “You gotta open your eyes, baby.”

“Just wanna... hold her.” She said wearily.

Javier frowned when she just laid there motionlessly. She was still clearly under the effects of the sedative.

“I’m just gonna lay her on your chest, okay baby?”

“Yeah.”

He carefully maneuvered Sofía, keeping a hand on her back as he laid her against her chest. Sofía opened her eyes, cooing quietly as her little fingers grabbed at the hospital gown beneath her. “That’s your mommy, baby girl.” He whispered.

“I’m so tired.” She whispered, her lashes fluttered a faint glimpse of her eyes before they fell closed again.

Javier reached out and took her hand, lifting it up gently to hold it against Sofía’s back. “Do you think you can hold her?”

Her fingers twitched as she flexed them, spreading them out across her little back. “She’s tiny.”

“Two ounces smaller than Josie.” He smiled at her as her eyes opened, though they were still heavy and groggy. “You did so good, baby.”

“Did I?” She blinked slowly, her eyes very unfocused as she looked at him. Her fingers moved again, weakly brushing over the blanket Sofía was wrapped in. “Javi…”

“I’m right here, baby.”

“Take her. I don’t want to drop her.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Javier leaned over the bed to scoop their daughter up, moving to put Sofía back in her bassinet. He stared down at her, fingers brushing over her cheek as she blinked slowly before falling back to sleep. He remembered how much Josie slept the night after she went home that first night.

“I feel weird.”

He turned back to look at the bed, “Do you want me to call for the nurse.” Javier was already at her bedside, primed to press the call button.

“They’ll give me more…” She gestured vaguely to her IV. “Wanna stay awake.”

“You need to rest, baby.” He insisted, reaching out to cup her cheek. “But I don’t want them to sedate you again either. I missed your eyes.”

She laughed quietly, sinking back into her pillow. “My eyes?”

Javier nodded slowly. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d never open them again.”

“And leave you to raise two daughters?” A weak smirk quirked at the corners of her lips.

“I wouldn’t be able to cope without you.”

She raised a brow, even as her eyes flickered closed. “Calm down, Romeo.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She turned her head towards him and grinned as she opened her eyes slowly. She looked down then, picking up the stuffed dog that was still laying in her bed. “Was Josie here?”

“No.” Javier frowned. “She gave it to you to pack, remember?”

“Right.” She said distantly as she sat the toy back down.

“Do you not remember that?”

“Everything is a little hazy,” She admitted, reaching up to touch the nasal cannula in her nose. “I fucking hate this shit.”

“Oxygen is good for you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“There’s the woman I know and love.”

“I’d flip you off but....” She taunted, staring at him a little harder then. “You look like shit.”

“It’s been a fucking awful day, baby.” Javier pushed his fingers through his hair. “But they gave me this hideous chair over there to sleep in.”

“You should sleep.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He shook his head. “This is about you. You’re the one who scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” She reached out and curled her fingers around his where they were curled around the side of her bed.

“Why the hell are you apologizing?”

She shrugged, “I dunno.”

“Well, don’t.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m gonna get the nurse, alright? I think they were waiting for results. MRI? CT scan. One of them.”

“Did someone let Stevie out?”

Javier shook his head incredulously, “Yeah, pops went to stay with her.”

“Good.” She smiled up at him. “I feel worse than I did when I got shot.”

“You had a seizure.”

“I did?” Her brows drew together, confusion marring her features.

Javier nodded. “Is everything hazy?”

She lowered her gaze, picking at a piece of fuzz on her blanket. “Yeah. Tell them not to give me whatever they’re giving me. I feel really weird.”

“You just have to stay calm. Okay?” Javier reminded her, reaching you press the button to call for the nurse. “That’s the key thing. Okay? If you keep your blood pressure down you’ll get to go home.”

“Home sounds nice.” She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Javier glanced at the door as it opened, “She woke up.”

The nurse beamed, “That’s great news, Mr. Peña.” She looked towards the hospital bed then, “How are you feeling?”

“As bad as he looks.” She quipped, looking at him as she reached for his hand.

He squeezed her hand. “Nurse, she’s having… not memory loss, exactly but… confusion? Is that the medicine?”

The nurse checked her vitals before putting them up on the whiteboard across from the bed. “That may just be the sedation, but there is always the chance that she may also be experiencing side effects from the seizure. The doctor will discuss the postictal phase when he comes down.”

She looked towards the hospital bed then, “Let’s do a little memory test, shall we?” She tapped the dry erase marker against the board. “Do you know what your daughter’s name is?”

“Joséfina Peña.” She answered and the nurse frowned.

“Our older daughter,” Javier explained.

The nurse nodded and wrote the name out on the board.

“She has an accent above the ‘e’.” She corrected the nurse. “And it’s ‘f’ not ‘ph’.”

“Do you know your newborn’s name?”

“Sofía.” She rubbed her lips together slowly. “With an ‘f’ and an accent over the ‘i’.” She looked towards Javier there. “We named her after Javi’s mother.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

She shook her head. “I think… I came in on the thirtieth.”

“Thirty-first.” Javier squeezed her hand, before glancing back at the nurse.

“It’s June second.” She supplied.

“Shit.”

“It’s okay, baby.”

“When was she born?”

“The first.”

She laughed quietly. “May first and June first.”

“Easy to remember.” Javier leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Do you have any pets?” The nurse questioned.

“A dog. Stevie Nicks.”

“Very good.” The nurse wrote the names up on the whiteboard before making a big square around ‘PLANS FOR TODAY’. “It looks like the doctor still wants you to get that PET scan today. Once we get that over with you are one step closer to going home. We’ve just got to keep that blood pressure down.”

“How is it?” Javier questioned.

“Good. Still a little high, but nowhere near as high as it was when she came in.”

Sofía started crying and she sat up quickly, looking towards the bassinet. “She needs food. She sounds just like Josie when she was hungry.”

“I know.” Javier cradled her to his chest, but he wasn’t giving her what she wanted.

The nurse looked a little anxious. “Now, due to the medicine you’re currently on you’re not going to be able to breastfeed for a little while, okay?”

“Oh.” She sank back against the pillows, “Can I… is there formula?” She questioned, looking around the room.

“I can get that.” The nurse excused herself from the room then.

“I know this fucking sucks.” Javier offered as he passed Sofía to her mother. She seemed stronger now, able to hold her without his assistance. “It’s not at all how we planned it…”

“It never is.” She said quietly as she looked down at Sofía, brushing her fingertips against her forehead. “She’s so little. Is she smaller than Josie was?”

“She is.” Javier rested his hand against hers. “She looks so much like her big sister.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced up at him. “I know this isn’t… this isn’t what you wanted.”

“Hey, hey. No.” He reached out and brushed away the stray tear that slid down her cheek. “None of that, baby. No. All I care about is the two of you being healthy. You could’ve given birth in the back of our car and I’d still be the happiest man alive.”

She inhaled raggedly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Can you take her?”

“Of course.” Javier cradled the back of her head as he picked Sofía back up, rocking her gently in his arms. “Baby, please don’t cry. I really don’t fucking care about anything except you, okay?”

“I’m leaking.” She admitted, covering her face ashamedly. “My baby is crying, my breasts are leaking, and I can’t fucking feed her!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” She crossed her arms across her chest, trying to hide the damp spots forming.

The monitor beside the bed started beeping and the nurse appeared seconds later with the formula and a look of concern. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t feed my baby.”

Javier’s heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest.

“I’m going to need you to calm down.” The nurse said lightly as she passed the formula off to Javier. “You can still feed your baby with the bottle, okay? But I’m going to need you to calm down, otherwise I’m going to have to sedate you again.”

“Please don’t.” She whispered, hastily wiping away her tears. “Please. I don’t want to feel like that again. Please don’t sedate me.”

“Are you going to calm down?”

Javier kinda wanted to yell at the nurse for the vague condescending tone she was speaking to her with. But that wasn’t going to do anyone any good. “Her breasts… are leaking.” He told the nurse, trying to intercede for her. “Can you get her a fucking pump or something? Please.”

The nurse just glared at him, before she backed down. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Sofía started crying louder, which only seemed to make the dark stain on her mother’s hospital gown grow darker. “Shh. Sweetheart, your mommy’s going to help you. Okay?”

How would he have done this without her? How could he handle Josie and Sofía on his own? The mere thought made him want to join in with his girls and sob his fucking heart out.

Once again he helped her take her daughter into her arms, nestled safely against her chest. He passed her the formula, watching as she brought the bottle to her lips and waited for her to latch on to it.

Javier sank down onto the rolling stool, head in his hands while she fed Sofía. He was so fucking tired and so fucking tired of feeling helpless.

If his father and Steve hadn’t been there with him… he would’ve lost his fucking mind. He couldn’t imagine dealing with this in Colombia. There was no way in hell he would’ve been able to go back to the DEA and work, knowing she was incapacitated. She was a fucking fighter and it made him want pull the world apart knowing that she was hurting. There was nothing he could do. The decision he had made had gotten them into this situation.

It was all his fucking fault.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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holicanth · 4 years ago

Text

Hanging On Threads (2)

@shinoweek 2021 Prompt 3 - Sunset/Canon Divergence

Words: 3.7k

Genre: Angst. Drama. Shinohina. Tragedy

Warnings: -

Additional Tags: Shinohina, Kibahina, Naruhina, family issues, Konoha’s noble clans, nepotisme and collusion.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry y’all. I’ve been extra busy :( Here’s chapter 2 (?) of my Shino week series. I hope you have a great day :)

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

It has been 3 days since Shino disappeared from the Aburame compound.

It has also been 3 days since the Konoha elders re-welcomed the Aburames and reintegrated them into society.

Ever since, Shino has been staying at ROOT, hiding undercover while waiting for Danzo's orders.

And with that, Shino is handed the dreadful task of explaining every little detail to Torune.

"I just can't understand your logic, Shino." He says, clenching his fists on the table. "You should know better than to just run away from home like that!"

"What do you think you'll achieve with this?" Torune grits his teeth, "You cant escape this--there's no way Danzo will let you out anymore!"

Guilt that has previously bubbled inside him was now gone. Shino felt close to nothing as he stays cooped in ROOT. No fear. No anxiety. He was obviously feeling full of himself, believing to have won his side of the bargain. As such, none of Torune's words were ringing bells inside his head.

Shino tries to keep his facade well-put.

"How is Uncle Shibi taking the news?"

"I've sent some beetles to Father. I can tell he's doing well even without me. Nothing else will change in the household."

"Not until," Shino's words come to a startled halt. "Until I finish my promise to Danzo."

His brother bangs the table in a display of panic that Shino has never seen. " You don't know what he'll do to you. Shino, you don't know anything..."

His words cut off abruptly. In a split second, Shino senses a tremble in Torune. A slight quiver of his lips.

Torune used to live with them, and had expressed massive gratefulness towards his uncle. Shino didn't realize at that time (he was but merely eight), that more than anything, Torune's sacrifice was addressed more towards Shibi. The boy would do anything to protect his uncle—you can see it in the way he devotes himself to his work.

A kindred sort of regret rose in Shino. To think that he had so easily thrown away the ideal life that Torune had bestowed upon him—and voluntarily at that.

But both of them know that there is no safer alternative.

(It's an inevitable fate, they console themselves. It is a necessary sacrifice.)

"I had to do it for our clan." Shino repeats the fact to his brother. "We were to be killed soon enough. And it would have been Father first."

Shino's eyes flit nervously as he spoke.

"And who do you think would pull the trigger, Shino?"

Torune didn't ask why. Like he knew all of the details already.

Shino glanced around the room, thinking. He already knows the answer. Rather, he's trying to figure out how to word it in a manner that doesn't...offend Torune.

(Shino could list all the names of the ANBU members that have been in contact with particular individuals. Journalists, Governors, Clan heads, people of high posistions. Their agenda was blatant. Shino knows because their names have been whispered in contemplation throughout the Aburame compound.)

"The jonins," Shino says, in a hushed voice. "The jonins will work together with the ANBU. The Sarutobi clan will be extremely involved too."

There is a pattern Shino notices in Konoha's history. It's that the types of people who reign over the village are identical and identifiable amongst each other. A teacher to their student, A blood relative to their predecessor. Lesser clans would do anything to grab ahold of that social circle.

Replacing an unliked noble clan would be one of such tasks.

Torune listens keenly, in a hum that neither denies or confirms it.

"Not only that," He resumes, "There seems to be equal participation from other clans. Such as the Nara. You know they've been looking to steal our research on bugs."

"They're especially interested in yours, Torune."

He doesn't oblige. Torune was aware of this well before he came to ROOT, too. Fear and suspense were not things Torune had to be worried about. But today, he finds that he had to face it--the abject horror of seeing his little brother in a hostage situation. The pure fear of knowing how hopeless he is engulfs him. Was there nothing that Torune can do?

(A shinobi must constantly opress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict.

This was the first lesson Danzo had stamped inside Torune's memories.

To disconnect oneself from the act of murder—it was the essence of a shinobi.

Or so Torune thought.)

"I was to be sent as well, Shino." Torune looks down as he breaks the ice. "They want us gone because of our power. Of our potential. They'll take our knowledge and use it to their own benefit. All the research, medicine, poisons and bugs."

(The Aburames are notorious for being mysterious. All done in order to conceal oneself, to prevent oneself from having their secret techniques outed in public. Ensuring, that they stay formidable, underestimated,

and strong.)

"You heard Danzo say it. They think we're weird. Unsanitary. Off-putting. That our secrecy is a form of betrayal, even when we've been constantly obedient to Konoha."

"And will you die as well?" Shino asks cautiously, "After you've killed all of us, will they dispose of you too, Torune?"

A sorrow smile lit up Torune's face. There was, again, no answer. Shino knows—No, he had plenty of ideas already. Torune’s predisposition was already a valid enough reason for Konoha to justify his death. Killed or not, there are many ways to make a man break. Danzo would have his merry time trying out which one of those methods satisfy him best.

What Konoha was capable of bringing unto the Uchiha was just as likely to happen to the Aburames.

(This exchange ended on a heavy note. Nothing Shino says will add or subtract from the issue at hand. Just a hanging air of dread, looming over their clan's future. Both of them did what they had to preserve their clans. To protect those important to them.

But this sense of kinship—to protect those that they love. Is it not what Konoha preaches to their young, too?

Or was it the reason that Konoha wants to tear apart the Aburame family ties?)

A knock on the wooden door brings an end to the brothers' conversation. The Yamanaka boy comes in, head held high.

"Lord Danzo has requested for you, Shino Aburame. Come along, now."

Shino leaves Torune in the room. Torune knows best that he should not interfere lest he wants to live a day beneath the soil.

It can be said that ROOT was an illegal form of bodyguards, acting as Danzo's personal squadron. A blatant display of political corruption, despite Danzo’s "fancy" position as Konoha's elder. The facility was well maintained, and there was never a shortage of child soldiers sent there. The clan leaders know Danzo as a demanding figure.

The Yamanaka boy—Fuu Yamanaka stops to knock at a set of tall doors. Shino stops to ponder whether he was related directly to Ino Yamanaka.

An oddly lit room opens up by Shino, displaying machines, scrolls, and different books that are perfectly arranged inside the giant walls of bookshelves. Danzo stood in the center, on a throne chair that he does not deserve.

"You may leave now, Fuu." He spoke in a low tone.

Something in Shino buzzes as he watch the Yamanaka eye him begrudgingly while he closes the door. The buzzing didn't stop after he went out.

(His bugs were reacting to something. A feeling that Shino doesn't want to name)

"You. You're the son of Shibi Aburame, aren't you?" Danzo sneers, "So the Aburames have a dojutsu now, huh? What a nuisance. What, is your dojutsu like the Uchiha's? Prompted by deep emotional pain?"

(Shino feels the buzzing again. His bugs were on guard, but for what?)

"Does Shibi have this ability, too?"

"No." Shino spouts a half-lie.

"And how did you get your hands on this? Are you saying that it just appeared out of nowhere?"

Danzo was gauging for answers. Shino was never good at communication himself, but he was naturally gifted in speaking conspicuously

"It was always in the Aburame blood. Just forgotten through time. Nothing new."

"And you vermins have been hiding this to yourselves, haven't you? Yet you wonder why Konoha has no trust in you."

"The other clans have aces up their sleeves, too. It's why they call it a Hidden Jutsu."

Shino didn't mean to sound snark. But Danzo himself might not have the mental intelligence to understand sarcasm, so Shino thinks it's okay.

"So this dojutsu of yours—The Senrigan—tell me how this is more useful than the Byakugan."

Shino bit his tongue before answering. Once more, he'll have to cherry-pick his words exceptionally well.

"I transfer my sight to my bugs. Depending on how many bugs there are and how they're aligned, my sight can reach other countries."

"The Senrigan requires one to be perfectly still, but the bugs can collect all sounds, sights, and other details without having their chakra traced. Hiding my chakra under the bug's natural chakra will make them unnoticed by sensors"

Danzo squints his eye, thinking. "Quite the useful spying tool, huh."

"Still, we need to make sure you're telling the truth. Take off your glasses."

Shino was taken aback from the sudden request,

"Now."

He does as he's told. The sunglasses are safely kept in his pockets. Shino's eyes were dark under the sunlight, and an even deeper shade of obsidian indoors.

"Let's have you demonstrate your Senrigan, shall we? I've sent Fuu to loiter around Konoha's busy streets. Locate him using the senrigan, and tell me every word he's speaking."

And without further ado, Shino created some hand seals, took a deep breath, and a swarm of kikaichu flew out of his body, travelling through the doors and crevices of the ROOT headquarters before dispersing overground. The emerald hue of Shino's eyes looked stunning in the dark.

Even from a distance, Danzo can sense an intricate, huge web of chakra dispersing from the boy's body, Undulating, stretching outwards, and going back and forth between Shino's body and his bugs. Then, as if on command, the chakra fell silent and Shino lets out a long exhale. He's successfully established the connection.

As Shino stills his senses to callibrate himself to the beetles, he orders them to trace any signs of the familiar Yamanaka chakra signature. He steadily reduces his chakra input. When a preferable balance is reached, Shino waits in silence. Until a bug notifies him of any significant clues

(Go to the streets. He instructs them. Hover around in small swarms and don't terrify the people.

A short pause. Don't bump into anyone that I know, He commands again.)

Danzo watches as the Aburame in front of hin froze into a lotus pose. The stare in his eyes blank, but definitely buzzing with intel and chakra. There is much to be studied with this new forbidden jutsu.

Shino is notified of a sighting near Konoha's marketplace. He checks in with the bug, and once their visions link he can tell that the person had the same chakra signature.

"I've located him." Shino said. "He's using a mask and brown cloak, performing jutsus to the local children."

"And what is he saying?"

Shino tries to concentrate as hard as he can. The hand seals that Fuu was using was something he didn't recognize. Apparently memorizing while the Senrigan is activated proved to be more dizzying than he thought.

"Tori, Uma, Ne, Inu, Ne, Tori, Hitsuji, Tatsu, I, Ushi..." Shino recites slowly, making sure that he isn't wrong. "This is a variant of the Water-style technique. He's forming water spouts from his fingers."

That's absolutely correct, Fuu signals to Danzo, who had been telepathically communicating with him all this time.

"Well done, Shino. You've proven to us that you and your clan can be of use."

And with that Shino scrunches his eyes shut. A little bit disoriented from having to memorize while using the Senrigan. His beetles swiftly fly back to him, bringing him a small amount of chakra they absorbed from the villagers.

"I've done my part in reintegrating the Aburames. Give me a month and things will be back to normal. Are you ready to fulfill your side of the promise?" Danzo asked, as he stood up from his chair.

Shino gulps nervously. He didn't really plan out what to do next. But Shino was a master at lying, and with a countenance that no one can read, he was indecipherable.

"Why did you want us gone in the first place?" Shino asks, not realizing that he had voiced the thoughts out loud.

Danzo Shimura was a man who took the Second Hokage's manifesto to heart. Perhaps a bit too much. Shino had suspected, backed with the evidence and observation of his clansmen, that Danzo was pulling strings that led to the Uchiha massacre. It was easy to connect the dots, especially with Shibi and Shino's ability (they were tasked to clean it up. Shibi was fast in doing so, while Shino tended to the unconscious Sasuke.)

From the very formation of Konoha, the Aburame clan was in charge of the most tedious work. Often times having to deal with the brunt of it while Konoha lives scott-free. Border patrols, cleaning up after crimes, interrogation. The Aburames are efficient, but this efficiency ultimately lead to their public consternation.

"You Aburames are skilled, I must admit." Danzo's croaked voice echoed through the chamber. "So much so that any village would want to use you as weapons."

"And that's all there is to it, really. You bunch are too strong. Too skilled. There's too many unknown factors. The higher-ups have agreed to eliminate these threats. After all, Konoha prides itself in being a friendly nation. Your blood brings filth to our soil."

Shino knows that there is a lie slipped between those words. Danzo was not a friendly type of leader.

"The Four Noble Clans of Konoha are in need of a change. The Uchihas have proven to be evil. It is in Konoha's best interest to discard the bad, and salvage whatever is left. Haven't you noticed? The only reason we keep the Akimichi is because they're dumb enough to be controlled by the Nara and Yamanaka. And the Hyuuga's reputation are held at our mercy. You're smart enough to figure the rest." Danzo says, walking to approach Shino.

What?

Did he hear his words right? The Akimichi clan? All along, Shino had thought that the lucky title of a 'Noble Clan' are given to clans who had body modifications that cannot be replicated by other ninjas. To think that his fellow team had such a scheme hanging around their backs...Shino wants to believe that Team 10's friendship is genuine.

"Tomorrow," Danzo says, patting the chuunin's back, "You will be promoted as Jonin and will be registered as a member of the ANBU. Of course, that's a lie. Because tomorrow I will personally have you run... special errands for me."

Shino gulped. He didn't like the close proximity.

"Make sure you say your goodbyes today. You'll be listed as dead for security reasons."

And with that, Shino is let out of the facility. He finds himself pondering aimlessly on a nearby park bench. Autumn has turned the Konohagakure into a beautiful display of warm colors. The trees looked like they've been covered in a rich, velvet cloak and the air was sublime. Shino wonders how long it'll be till he can bask in this scenery again.

First, he'd visit his father. Then, he'd visit his other family members. After that he'll visit...no one. How could Shino bear to look at his friend's faces after resolving so adamantly to despise them? After convincing himself that they've forgotten him.

(And Shino still hopes. He hopes that somehow someone will notice eventually.)

But he supposes he'll finish his priorities first. Evade a civil war, restore his clan's honor, and the rest will be his secondary concerns. It is dire that he doesn't get emotional, especially in the current state Konoha is in.

He looks at the children, playing games under a nearby tree. They were too young for the academy, of course, but if they were old enough to attend, would they all turn out like him? Cold and efficient?

Shino thinks that he used to be a perfectly good student. A good ninja, but perhaps not so good as a friend. One can see plenty of differences between Shino and the rambunctious Naruto, but do they realize how much he envies his cheerful personality?

(And Shino envies him so much. He's taken the attention of the girl he favors. And now, he has taken everyone's attention away from Shino's disappearance.

Naruto had outshined Shino. As if Shino was a shadow that should not exist.)

He's had enough of the pointless thoughts. It was almost noon and Shino has to hurry home if he wants to say proper goodbyes.

But a shrill bark had frozen him to his seat.

"Akamaru, calm down!" A familiar voice shouted.

Shino jolted at the sound. It was coming from behind him. He senses two people walking by, and a dog beside them. Shino was already certain of who they were.

"Akamaru, what's wrong boy? You shouldn't be barking at strangers." The man—Kiba himself said, as he crouched to rub Akamaru's head.

"Maybe he sees someone, Kiba-kun? I don't think anyone's back home from missions..." Hinata replied, looking around the park.

Oh heavens. If there was anyone who Shino would avoid the most, it'd be these two—Hinata and Kiba. He doesn't want to face them. He doesn't even want to be near them. Alas, everytime Shino denies this thought his heart urges him more and more. To simply turn to them. To tell them everything.

(But who was it really who had decided to forget about him in the first place? No one had bothered to ask where he went after the Chuunin exams.)

Akamaru's barking turned into a soft whine. The canine was visibly confused.

Shino has yet to move from his spot at the bench.

"Come on now. No one is here. You've mistaken him for someone else, buddy." Kiba says, sounding a little harsh for someone who claims to be Akamaru's partner.

(Shino wanted to burst out laughing. Doubting a ninja dog's nose? Especially one who has worked with Shino for years? Kiba was a bad liar.

See, even Akamaru notices! Shino thinks to himself, proud to have concluded that the fault was theirs all along.)

Akamaru still whines when Kiba motions him away from Shino's bench.

"Why are you being so difficult today?!" Kiba grunts, frustrated. "Come on Akamaru, you don't want to upset Hinata on our date!"

Oh.

So it’s like that, huh.

"K-Kiba-kun! Please don't shout in public..." Hinata whimpers, fiddling her thumbs together.

And with a little nudge, Akamaru finally moves on with them. The couple enjoying the beauty of Konoha's Autumn, oblivious to everything behind it.

It took minutes. Hours, even for Shino to compose himself enough to process the ordeal.

And those hours were filled with empty pondering. With words that were on the tip of falling out of his mouth. With feelings that he had not been brave enough to admit before. With the eternal, everlasting regret of not speaking up.

But there was nothing he could do.

A shinobi must constantly suppress their emotions, follow a strict set of rules that they decide among themselves, and avoid extraneous conflict

This is for the best. he repeats to himself. Hinata would be better off without him, he thinks.

(But he could have made her happy too. He would've given everything for her.)

A stroll to wash off these thoughts. Yes, Shino thinks that all he needed was to cool his head, shrug it off, and return to his obligations tomorrow. The warm glow of sunset was eager to mask his unease.

The sunset was particularly shy that day, and had swiftly sank to allow the moon to greet him instead. It's already past six o,clock. He knows that he needs to greet his family, but Shino's distraught conscience told him to look at the sky. The moon was still as luminous as usual.

Shino had always known how beautiful the moon is. How beautiful its pearly shimmer is.

(How gentle her eyes were, radiating such a serene, pure love)

And like an opened dam, suddenly Shino feels his chest aching. Like a hole had opened inside him--one that he can't touch nor see. A hole that, no matter how hard Shino tries, would always engulf him in rain. In a downpour that feels like a thousand needles showering on him.

It feels like such a distant memory. Months ago they were still fine. Hinata was still his comrade. And now, she's floating further away from his grasp. Was there no more space for Shino in her heart?

(But Shino was a fool to believe—

A firefly can't love the moon.

Its language can't be heard,

Its wings can't reach the sky,

Its light can't compare to the sea of stars.

It can only do what a firefly does best.

Illuminate the night in its own glow.

A token of a love that falls on deaf ears.)

By the time Shino reaches the Aburame compound, his tears were already dry. Shibi waits for him near the estate gates, and without speaking a word, held his son in a deep embrace. A fitting greeting for a child who's always been forced to grow up before his time.

Shino was going to stay the night in the estate. Saying goodbyes and packing things up. Of course, no further information would be given—everyone was in a state of wary due to the constant supervision.

He had to console them the best he can. Explain the situation. Share his insights. Assure them that this is his job as the Aburame heir. And for that, he would do everything in his capacity to make sure his loved ones don't perish.

A night is never enough to tell stories. By tomorrow morning, Shibi would have said goodbye to two sons.

#shinowek2021 #Shino Aburame #aburame shino #naruto headcanons #naruto fanfiction #hinata hyuuga #kiba inuzuka #akamaru #Akamaru is the real mvp here #we love some good team angst #also...i rlly like the last sentence i wrote in this one 👁️👁️#also..i like the last sentence i wrote in this one 👁️👁️

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prairiedust · 4 years ago

Text

The Further Folklore of Supernatural

Here’s a little more folklore meta in light of how season 15 has been playing out if anyone is game. I genuinely thought that Moriah would be the end of the folklore stuff and tossed out “Folk the Author” as an “epilogue,” so this is probably less of an addendum than it is a waymarker as I try to continue to parse these themes into the last seven episodes.

Welp. *waves hands at everything* THIS is not how anyone expected 2020 to go. Things got a little bit big and I stopped thinking about Spn in light of needing that energy elsewhere. But I also don’t want this crapfest to ruin how I fan my favorite show, so here I go again. I will attempt a TL;DR, too!

If you’ve read my old “folklore” analysis here about how I think fairy tales and all their baggage fit into Supernatural season 14, you know that I believe Castiel has stepped into a Sleeping Beauty type story, and that coincidentally a few themes and symbolism from Snow White kept popping up around Dean. (I hold Sam to be a Protagonist in the modern “literary fiction” sense of the word, but emotionally, thematically, and narratively he’s always been a little inaccessible to me. I finally understood him when the death-of-the-author plot surfaced, and I’ll get to Sam eventually here. And Jack, there’s a little Jack in here, too.)

If you would rather have the TL;DR than read several thousands of words about how folklore and myth *might* be abstractly connected to an American genre show, all I can say is that I tried. The textual support is all in the folklore posts. This is as succinct a summary as I could fabricate. At least I’m not gonna talk about Sam and bricolage and freeplay! This is an almost completely theory-free post! If you don’t want to read or don’t need a refresher and just want to know how this has been working in 15, you can scroll down to “END OF TL;DR”.

So, to catch up, I’m not talking about the folklore and mythology that this show has always relied on for plot and MOTWs. I wasn’t drilling down into urban legends like Hook Man or world folk monsters like shtrigas or pishtacos. By “folklore” I mean the study of storytelling tropes and tale types that have been with us for ages. One of the many subtexts of the end of the series. I’ve been tracking this because I think it’s fun to see how fairy tale imagery and mythology might layer preconscious suggestions into the text of the show. I personally think it was loud enough to be seen easily, but more than likely viewers felt unsettled, felt cheered, or felt like they knew what was coming? I’m curious to know. Anyway.

When we found out that Kelly Kline was going to name her baby “Jack” waaaaay back in season 12, things started chiming. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack the Giant Killer. Jack Tales. Jack is a powerful Western character, sort of a cross between a noble hero and a trickster, featuring in stories that often blur lines and boundaries. He is both the poor man’s youngest son and the equal to King Arthur’s heir. Jack is both everyman and extraordinary. Jack is so cool, I wish I had more time to parse that but his qualities are not subtle in the text/subtext, anyway.

But back to my half-crack reading of seasons 14 and 15.

Once upon a time in Supernatural, there were two fairy tales being told. Both fairy tales are found all over the world and in many forms, but they all can be grouped together because they all contain shared elements of the same basic plot or shared themes, and these two in particular are sister stories. So when I mention “Sleeping Beauty,” I’m talking about lots of different versions of the folk tale, and the same for “Snow White,” which can be found in one form or another in storytelling traditions all over the place. It is both helpful and irritating that these are both Disney movies, too.

Jack makes an allusion to Sleeping Beauty in 14x03 The Scar while talking to Castiel-- it’s the kind of subtextual flash that in and of itself means little and proves nothing, but then beginning with The Scar we got three stories in a row that dealt with “sleepers” of some sort-- Lora in 14x03 doomed to die because of a witch’s spell, Stuart in 14x04 Mint Condition in a coma because of a ghost attack, and Sasha’s father in 14x05 Nightmare Logic under the spell of a clever djinn. It’s powerful subtext, like a soft light that bathes these episodes in the color of fairy tale and makes Jack’s Dramatic Swoon at the end of Optimism all the more Dramatic-- subtext amplifying the plot. Jack goes to Heaven, but is eventually cornered by the Shadow, who wants him in the Empty where he will sleep forever-- the Shadow being an entity who has claimed the husks of dead angels since their inception and thus implies a “curse” laid on Jack from the moment he came into being-- but Castiel, who is ever a thief in oh so many ways, makes a bargain with the Shadow and essentially takes over the consequences of Jack’s Sleeping Beauty story (hence my rarely used but hilarious tag “Castiel Thief of Endings.”)

Now that we know from 14x20 Moriah that the Shadow and Billie the Reaper are, if not allies, at least working together when Jack is awakened in the Empty, does that mean that Castiel’s deal is still on the table, or has that fate been thwarted? *pounds table* Was Jack’s death and Chuck’s rise as a “greater threat” in 14x20 enough to shift Castiel’s ending? It’s the kind of subtextual question that lends tension to the narrative and it’s what I am here for.

Well, speaking of thwarted expectations, Dean’s arc was being shadowed by a Snow White tale type. We all know Snow White but why don’t I sum it up anyway, since Disney messed up the folktale ending lol. Snow White is cast out of her home by her jealous stepmother (and echoes of the stepmother’s magic mirror show up in 15x02 Gods and Monsters) who sends her huntsman to kill her; the dude can’t do it and turns the girl loose in the forest instead. Snow White joins a band of outsiders who live in the forest-- in the Disney movie and the Grimms’ tale they are dwarfs, in some versions she happens upon a band of robbers-- and they love her very much and we presume she’s safe for the rest of her life; Michael mysteriously turns Dean loose to join Sam’s gathering of hunters, however we know, like Stepmom, Michael is still out there. The stepmother finds out that Snow White is actually alive and contrives to kill her herself. Eventually succeeding, Snow White appears to die and is usually laid to rest in a crystal casket/glass coffin. Her stepmother’s machinations have _stolen her agency_ (further paralleling Dean’s possession by AU!Michael.) A Handsome Prince stumbles upon Snow White, is besmitten with her, and he asks her protectors if he can have her, as one does. Leaving the Disney adaptation aside, Snow White awakens when whatever item that has caused her death-like state is dislodged (piece of apple in her throat) or removed (magic corset) or withdrawn (poisoned hairpin) by her protectors. Snow White is a story about the community of the dwarves of band of robbers or adopted family caring deeply for her, and when Dean starts making his own crystal casket, the ma’lak box, in which he will ride out eternity in tormented symbiosis with Apocalypse Michael, he has to rely on his family to help him see the plan through. However, here’s where Jack-- who is as much a chaos engine as his surrogate father Castiel if not more so-- steps in and ruins the ending. Jack smites Michael. Dean Winchester is saved. Again. To put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, Jack later destroys the ma’lek box entirely.

That was quite the surprise ending… for one of the stories.

Was the end of season 14 the end of the Sleeping Beauty theme, also?

END OF TL;DR

I quit writing about “folklore” for a while, but that doesn’t mean it stopped being a theme. It just stopped being fun to write about as the story got more and more dark, and when it transmuted into two parallel themes of “folklore” or storytelling by the people versus Death of the Author--or storytelling by a lauded authority-- and there was so much angst about the boundaries of Chuck’s powers, I just wanted to sit back and enjoy that. I did distill my thoughts about Sam’s new arc in the DotA plot, which I thought would subsume the folktale themes but hey, we still have folktales around, too. I mean, we have Sam and we have Dean, and we have two “literary” subtexts, or maybe rather two subjects about the nature of story, something that I thought was a little bit of a surprise.

Storytelling was a Feature of 15x07 Last Call, both in the sense that Lee and Dean swap new stories and tell old tales of their adventures together as they catch up, but also in the sense that we got additional “text”-- hints of a backstory where John and Dean hunted with Lee in that swampy long-ago “Stanford era,” and again we get storytelling when _Lee recounts how he ended up keeping a marid in his basement_. There is also an allusion to the Thousand and One Arabian Nights in that episode that I yelled about in a meta that I never put on the interwebs, but the “marid” is in a specific tale in many editions of that collection, and thus calls in not only a different folktale tradition but the concept of a framed/nested narrative, which I believe will be important to understanding the last episodes of the series, but that’s an aside. In 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t In Heaven, Castiel _tells Michael the story_ of how everyone ended up where they are now to convince him to help. And Michael and Adam’s allyship, if not friendship, was probably the best subversion of any “storytelling” expectation we’ve ever had on this show. Belphagor set us up for “room full of crazy” or something, but, no. We got symbiosis.

That almost sums up how I’ve been viewing the last “era” of spn. This wasn’t in the master post, but I shouted a lot about underworlds before 15x09 Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory, and then stopped shouting because I had to ferment for a while. Also, as has been mentioned, the world turned to crap. But talking to other meta writers during the ramp up to the resumption of the season helped me realize just why this reading of myth to folktales to literature feels so right.

Underworlds and Otherworlds…. Everybody has crossed into an “underworld” or three in Supernatural, it’s really nbd. It was actually surface-level plot in season 13. By the time 15x09 rolled around, our heroes are just, like, strolling in and out of “sealed off” Hell after doing a level one spell and chilling with Billie in the Empty and even that Purgatory trip didn’t have the same feeling of danger that, say, crossing into the AU did. But also, we’re at the point where subtext is leading us to a _satisfactory_ ending. Where before we had serial text, like a cumulative tale type-- “The House that Jack Built”-- which just kept adding more and more plot, we’re hurtling o’er the apex of Freytag’s pyramid now and things are getting loud.

But they’re also getting very shifty.

I wrote a little bit about Sam Winchester successfully reviving Eileen in 15x06 Golden Time and the “Orpheus and Eurydice” symbolism of him keeping his back to her. (I’m not linking it because it’s so, so rough.) But because Sam is not an underworld hero, not completely-- I see him as a modern Protagonist coming to terms in a psychoanalytical model with things like mortality, fallibility, and mastery-- maybe bildungsroman, even -- he was able to subvert the tragic ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice because it is not “his” story. But if I were pressed to find a mythic or folk tale type to measure Sam against, I could. I would probably sideye “the sorcerer’s apprentice” trope (ATU 325-The Magician and his Pupil :D ) which began as a poem that entered European folklore on different fronts. (and weirdly, that story was also Disnified in Fantasia. That’s probably more my own limitation as a gen x american lol than anything coming from the writer’s room.)

Dean got his moment in Purgatory where he was able to finally come to grips with his anger and heal the rift between himself and Castiel because Purgatory is a different kind of underworld. Dean is a successful threshold-crosser, having crossed that boundary out of Purgatory before, but in 15x09, his prayer to Castiel is all a subtextual evocation of doing the emotional and mental work of therapy, which Sam, as a modern protagonist, is usually caught up in. The mythic hero also deals with mortality, failibilty, and mastery, but in different terms. I hope I’m doing an okay job peeling apart these nuances that I’m seeing.

Since Castiel accompanied Dean to Purgatory, and in the past made his own wildly successful incursion into and out of Hell with Dean’s soul, and was the one in The Trap who actually retrieved the Leviathan blossom, Castiel counts as an underworld hero, too, but you can pull the lever and send the tumblers spinning again and make him a fairy tale character in that he has made this Bargain with the Empty which is both in the “modern” tradition of subverting a fairy tale, and the tale type “deal with the devil.” Or he could be seen as a modern protagonist in that he’s lowkey grappling with questions of selfhood and identification. “I am an angel of the lord.” “I am no one.” “It’s Steve, now.” “You are nothing.” “I am an angel.”

We even got an episode that playfully explored the concept of “hero” by subverting our expectations (Sam and Dean were rescued by, of all people, an upgraded Garth.) It was called The Hero’s Journey, after the Joseph Campbell book about mythic heroes.... !!! Like, what??? !!!! I didn’t even have anything to say about that episode, it just rocked. The “meta” was just all out there in plot, like the olives and boiled eggs in a 1950’s gelatin recipe.

Some of this slipperiness in the subtext points right at the study of folklore and the (admittedly Eurocentric at first) efforts to transform a “soft science” into something approaching scientific rigor. The Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale index is today a codifying or cataloguing tool, with which anthropologists and literature scholars can line up stories based on the motifs found within them-- it is useful for cataloguing tales, making comparative studies, and for trying to trace these stories back through human history to find the One First Story of that type, for instance the ur-story that led to Snow White. When did people first start telling that tale, where, how did it spread, and why are we still telling it today? The danger in using the ATU index is that by stripping a story down to it’s bones, we lose the story, if that makes sense. The beauty of using the ATU index is that you find many, many more interconnected stories. It’s sort of a paradox. Some scholars criticize the ATU, claiming that one could take a random selection of these motifs and shuffle them to create a story and, you sort of could? That’s the beauty of the system.

So that brings us to Jack. I feel like Jack, as in Jack of all Trades, is anything that the narrative needs him to be. As far as I can find, “Jack” is not a “tale type.” He shows up alongside any number of them-- sometimes as a trickster, sometimes as a hero, almost always as a kind of slippery character. In the first folklore post, I invested many words in exploring Dabb’s obsession with threes-- AU Michael asks three beings what they desire, asks his human victim to guess his name three times, then we follow three sleeper stories, and so on. The original TFW was three people. But Jack makes four.

What is Jack’s story going to be?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And speaking for a sec about the origins of myth and folklore-- what about ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE in the world? Are they lowkey churning the matrix of reality on their own and generating their own content, like Becky and her AO3 stories and mackettes?

*¯\_(ツ)_/¯ intensifies*

It all just feels so good at this point, even the peril that I feel surrounding Castiel.

I *think* this will be the last of the longform metas before the end of the series. I mean, I can only hope so. I’ll drop some stuff about individual episodes that might be applicable as I rewatch, and I might clean up my post about Last Call and drop it on here, but I just wanted to kind of hold this up as a mile marker before the Final Seven air.

#the folklore of supernatural #idk even what to tag this

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