#also someone give Ghost a hug and some therapy

[brittleskyblue]

I’m crashing the party with angst again bc that bit of dialogue from that lost sector hit me with feels.

(Set after the angst fic I’m working on but I’m too impatient to wait till that’s done. Nelan and Ivo return to Neomuna, and it’s been a few weeks since the incident at the Veil)

* * *

The archivist, Quinn, had called this place an arcade and that these rectangle things are machines that people play games on. It was quite popular to the people of Neomuna. She can’t remember off the top of her head if such things exist in the City. She feels like they should.

Nelan studies one of these machines, wondering why the Vex had been so transfixed by it. These weren’t like the “music boxes” they had once encountered on Io years ago. The machines were colorful and made noise sometimes, but that was about it.

They tilt their head and press one of the buttons of the machine. It beeps at them. It startles her a little, but still she smiles. It was a curious thing.

She turns to make a comment to her Ghost, who apparently was absolutely baffled by the concept of arcades, but she finds him sort of staring off into space. Well, actually just at a nearby arcade machine that seemed to be reflecting his image off the blank screen. Come to think of it, he’s been pretty quiet instead of the normally chatty Ghost he is. Nelan knows that when he goes quiet like this there’s something on his mind. Given recent events…

“What’s wrong?” They ask.

Ivo looks over at the call of her voice, holds her gaze for a moment, but then casts his eye downward, the points of his shell drooping slightly. Yeah, he’s definitely got something on his mind, and Nelan can only hazard a guess as to what it is. They had a fairly good idea of it.

“I worry, Nelan, that I’m nothing more than another machine, like these games.” He tells her. “I haven’t just switched off, like during the Red War.”

‘You mean because you lost your connection to the Traveler and not Light itself?’ She thinks but holds herself back from saying. It’s still a bitter memory whenever he mentioned the Red War, and she counted herself fortunate Ivo didn’t die that day, remembering how battered he looked when they had found each other again. 

“Is that because I’m a person?” He continues, even as they hold out their hand for him and he goes to them. “Or am I just plugged into something else now? But I suppose a game machine can’t feel the absence of its creator…”

Nelan knows he means the Traveler, how it feels so distant from him since the incident at the Veil. It was widely reported among Ghosts that the presence of the Traveler for them was diminished, and yet they still had the Light it had given them; that which had given them life. Some said it was “gone” or “dead” or “silent”, even though it was still there physically above Earth. It’s “gone” and yet somehow they were still here. Ivo was still here.

They also wondered if by “plugged into something else” he means the instances of possession at the hands of the Witness. They recall that after the first time it had happened at the Luna Pyramid, he told them that he was worried that a piece of Darkness resided within himself now. He’d been afraid it would happen again. She hated to think that maybe he’d been right and neither of them knew it then; that if it had been done once it could be done again.

Nelan knew Ivo was still struggling with what happened at the Veil, how the Witness had used him as the catalyst to make the link and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. She too was still struggling with how she hadn’t noticed what was going on until it was too late; how she had been unable to protect Ivo from that dark force taking hold of him. They were both a little better now, but even a few weeks out from the convergence, neither of them were fully okay.

But it was a good thing they still had each other.

Nelan brought Ivo in close, bowed her head, and whispered to him, almost reverently.

“This unit has a soul.”

Ivo makes a confused electronic noise at them. “What?”

They raise their head peer down at their Ghost. “Something I heard in passing. I think Temperance might have said it? Don’t know where xey got it from. I just know xey said it to Fynch once.”

Ivo makes a noise that sounds like a laugh, but he goes quiet once again.

“…Do you think I have a soul?” He says at last, his voice sounding so small.

“I do.”

No hesitation. Not when it’s something she’s always firmly believed. It was true that Ghosts were beings created from the Traveler, commonly referring to them as A.I.s, but she’s always seen Ghosts as being so full of life. They were alive. They were existing. They were bits of stardust that experienced thought and feeling and were worthy of existing in this world.

“Though the Traveler is distant, and we don’t know what’s happened to it, you’re alive. You were still alive back then when the Light got taken too. Light or not, Traveler or not, nothing has changed that. You’re not- you’ve never been just a machine to me, not when you exist as your own self. Your own person. You are the person- the wandering soul- that found me. You’re alive.”

Ivo stares up at her, and then after a moment he hovers up from her hands to her eye level. He then floats forward and nudges her head.

“You know, you can be very philosophical when you want to be. Gonna make me mistake you for a Warlock.”

They chuckle. “Just because I can be philosophical does not mean I’m a Warlock. Besides, have you seen Temperance?”

“Fair point.”

She smiles and turns on her heel. Ivo follows as she makes to leave the arcade. Their bond holds steady.

“We should probably head back before Nimbus starts trying to place bets on whether the Vex got us or something.”

“Yeah.” They sense him dematerialize, his voice comes clearer in their headspace. “And… thanks.”

They smile and hope he can feel their sincerity and love through their bond.

“Anytime. We’re in this together.”

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Sagau touched starved reader but you know got trauma so not comfortable with being touched. Like staring like a cat for affection but terrified of being hugged back or things like that

You got it, Anon! Though, I will warn you a little: I'm not going to go too deep into detail with the trauma stuff. It'll be very brief.

Touch Starved! Reader Wanting Hugs From Zhongli, Diluc, and Al-Haitham...With A Twist.

Zhongli

The moment he realizes that you are touched-starved, this old man isn't exactly sure what to do. After all, you got some extreme PTSD going on after the whole "imposter-creator" fiasco.

He does try to approach it as a topic, but since you're weary of (quite literally) everyone and find suspicion in every action, you kind of catch on to his intentions. And Zhongli notices this, but he's still going to take it slow.

"I assure you, Your Grace, I will not push your boundaries lest you are uncomfortable." He's sincere and means every word. To him, this is like signing a contract. He's the God of Contracts, so this is especially important to him. What he says is solid as stone—his dedication to prove that is clear as day.

This man is also very keen—he sees how you look like a touch-starved cat when you want affection, but are too scared to approach and ask. It kind of breaks him, but he doesn't show it because he wants to prove that he's not helping out of pity, but understanding.

In the end, Zhongli will probably be able to be near you, and get in a few (with consent) head peats that you are very well aware of. It's going to take time for you to warm up to him before this guy gets to hug you.

Diluc

This guy probably understands your intense cat-staring the most. He sometimes feels like that after his father passed. He's very unsure and awkward of what to do, if I'm being honest.

After a little while, of course, Diluc feels like he should place the offer out. He feels too awkward and guilty for just noticing you like this and not doing anything about it.

"Your Grace...I hope I'm not crossing any boundaries, but please know that I am willing to offer you any assistance you need." It's only later does he realize you wanted hugs and were too scared to ask for it.

Yeah...he's not exactly that open with his emotions either, so it will definitely be awkward, but he is willing to give it a few tries. Diluc will also be the first to pull back and apologize if he realizes you are in any discomfort.

To say it took a while is only putting it in the simplest form.

Alhaitham

Oho...if you though Diluc was awkward, consider this man. He's more "thinking machine that feels" than like his roommate ("feeling machine that thinks"), so he definitely does not understand the "social cue" that is your cat-stare.

He has done research (aka read books way back in the days and remembered the contents) and understands the mental turmoil you've gone through, so he has gone through the steps of trying to get out of your way, and also try and link you to a therapist. This, of course, kind of fails.

"Your Grace...please get some therapy. It's beneficial for your mental health." Quite literally might drag Tighnari or someone else into this if he can't convince you. This is quite literally out of his expertise.

The entire "I want a hug" cue flies completely over his head, and had it not been for Kaveh (and/or Nahida), he probably wouldn't have realized his mistake.

...Yes, it took what felt like 3 eternities just for him to try and give you affection. Must I say anything else?

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: AND HERE WE ARE! Anon, I am so sorry for taking 30 years to do this, but I have finished it! Boy, I was so tired and stressed these days, but I'm kinda glad I finished this!

For anyone waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia Pt. 2, please have some patience—I currently do not have much motivation to work on that series. Instead, feel free to dump requests in my mailbox!

Also—feel free to dump any HSR requests into my mailbox! I want to give them a try :)

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[captain-mj]

The Journal

I don't know. Cw: Ghost's backstory

Soap found the unassuming book on his desk. The edges of the paper had turned slightly yellow and they were clearly flipped through quite often. He frowned at it, wondering who went into his room and set this there. It felt... almost threatening.

Soap gently opened the book to look at the first page.

I'm writing this journal as a "therapy" exercise. Frankly I think it's fucking bollocks. I'm fine. I dream about nothing.

Well. That wasn't very helpful. The handwriting was odd. Almost scrawling, like the person who was writing had shaky hands but also couldn't be bothered to hold the pen properly.

Soap frowned. This seemed a rather personal thing to give to a person. But it was in his room.

Just one more page.

Apparently I'm supposed to introduce myself. Fine. My name is Simon Riley. I belong to the SAS. I was a POW for a couple of months. I keep hearing numbers but none of them feel right. I think parts of me are still down there.

I hurt. Everywhere. Especially when people touch me. I can't sleep. Can barely eat. My mum is worried. So does Tommy. I want to tell them to fuck off. I have. But they keep worrying. I wonder if this is how Beth felt.

On the page was a polaroid. A baby faced Simon with nasty scars on his face, still fresh and angry. He looked half dead. Dark circles under his eyes and an expression nothing like his usual. Someone had their hand on his shoulder, but he could only see their arm.

Soap sucked in a breath. There was no way Ghost gave this to him. No fucking way.

He got up and grabbed the book, going straight for Ghost's quarters, planning on returning it immediately and pretending he had found it and couldn't find Price to turn it in.

Ghost's quarters were empty. His knives were missing, but his clothes were still there, meaning he was on a mission.

Fuck.

Soap paused and tapped his foot. He wasn't sure if Price was around. How did someone get this? If he left it in his room, he was worried someone would find it. He'd have to keep it. Just to be sure.

Soap set it back on his desk. When he saw Price, he'd talk to him.

After a minute of staring at it, Soap shoved the book into a drawer and closed it tight. He left to talk to Gaz to distract himself for a few hours.

Gaz was nice enough to tell him that Ghost and Price were on a mission together and that they wouldn't be back for a few days.

No big deal.

A few days with a book that potentially had a lot of answers to some questions he had about Ghost.

Soap didn't make it the night before he was reading more pages. He never claimed to have great self control.

Good morning. I feel like a teen, writing in a diary. I've been put on new medication today. Supposed to help. It makes me dizzy for some reason.

My mum keeps making me tea. She wants to make sure I'm real. I see her hands hovering around me. If I wasn't such a shit son, I'd tell her she can hug me. The thought makes my skin crawl. I see her dead body in my dreams. I see the skull they said was hers. I want to tell her I'm okay, but I don't want to lie.

Soap felt sick. There was a drawing. It was crude, clearly done out of boredom and with no real care behind it. Soap was pretty sure it was a skull that was dripping something. Maybe blood. The ink was all black so there was no way to tell. "Mum" was written several times around it.

I dreamed about her again.

That caught Soap's attention. Her? Was Ghost into women? That seemed unlikely.

She used to speak so soothingly in spanish to me. I wonder if she was like me. Did Roba rape her too?

Soap shut the book and shoved it under his pillow. Enough of that. Nope. He didn't want to think of those words and what they meant.

Fucking too.

No.

No...

No!

The idea of something like that happening to his Lieutenant was... It just... didn't happen.

Soap pulled the book out and kept reading. Just... to prove it wasn't real.

I don't know. It's not a nice thought. Maybe I want someone else to hurt too. I tried to jack off the other day and ended up scrubbing myself raw afterward from how it made me feel. How pathetic right?

Not sure what this is doing. What benefit this has. I'm writing my thoughts. Trying to feel better. Tommy joked about me buying a hooker. I had a panic attack. it was like i was back in high school again. fucking baby.

There was a picture of someone, presumably Tommy, and Simon hanging out. They were both smoking and Tommy was making a sign with his hands. He had a giant grin on his face. Simon had a carved out Glasgow smile that looked like it hurt. Raw. it looked to be after the earlier polaroid. The dark circles hadn't gotten better, but there was more color and flesh in his face.

My mum wants me to talk to my dad. I don't know why. I don't know want to see him. Can't let him see me right now. Maybe when I'm recovered. Last time I saw him, I beat his ass. Doubt he's going to forgive me.

Bastard is pure evil. He gets off on hurting people. Got off on hurting me. I think he's trying to use the cancer as an excuse to get close to my mum again. I'll beat his ass again. I'm putting on more weight. I'll fucking do it.

There was a little stick man drawing labeled 'Simon' and 'Bitch' with Simon beating him to death. Soap thought the blood was rather well drawn, even if the stick figures wasn't.

As the week went on, he kept reading a few pages at a time. He learned... things.

Ghost liked Vanilla tea.

Ghost had been assaulted by more than one person.

Ghost's father had beaten him. A lot.

Ghost was scared of snakes.

Ghost loved his Mum.

Ghost hated most mystery movies.

Tommy was Ghost's brother and was the second most important in his life.

And that they were all dead. All of them.

He wrote an explanation of everything there. In a clinical, harsh detail.

I wish I had died down there in Mexico. I wish I had laid down in that grave and died. It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.

It kept repeating and then he had just started over and wrote over the first layer.

Soap was crying. He couldn't help it. Tommy was so... young. Not to mention the descriptions Ghost gave of his family in general. The pages after that were mostly drawings or scribbles, all made with heavy hands.

Simon knocked. He could tell by the sound he made when he knocked. "Johnny?"

"When did you get back?"

"...Just now. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Soap wiped his face so he'd look... normal. "Yeah come in."

Ghost stepped inside and saw the book. "Enjoy it?"

"What?"

"I left it for you."

"Why?"

Ghost hummed. "Thought it would be the easiest way to let you in."

Soap swallowed. "You don't do anything half assed do you?"

Ghost's eyes stared at him. Answer enough right there.

[halloweensqueen-supreme]

my pressing questions after AAA

obviously spoilers:

so can she control her powers? I’m not sure. I think that maybe at the time she killed her og coven with her mom and all that she couldn’t. But I don’t know. As Billy says, she does have feelings. But I can’t tell to what extent in terms of Alice. I think that her mom did show up and possess her, but I can’t tell if she actually tried to kill Alice or not. I think it’s better for Alice’s story at least that Agatha couldn’t control it, and that Alice died protecting someone worthy of protection. And maybe Agatha taking credit for Alice’s death is so that Billy won’t feel so bad about it. Like yes Agatha needs someone to blast her to take their powers, but she also has to want to take their power to some extent. Maybe she knew she didn’t actually want to take Alice’s powers so she just kinda ended up killing her?

also rio felt so different in the last 2 episodes. Like she didn’t really feel like the same character, she went from hi I’m rio and this is my situationship Agatha who I love and care for deeply -also I am kinda death, just like an fyi but no biggie, to I am Death! I I feel nothing! I am so bad but you can’t actually get rid of me cause it’s just how it is! I OWN Agatha! There is no escape and she will be mine forever cause I’m twisted and this clearly is a very toxic (and abusive) relationship! Like before it felt a lot more like she truly cared about Agatha, and that they were pretty equal. She did what she did cause she had to, not cause she wanted to. But now it seems a lot more controlling. Like she was stalking her ex. And it seems so much more like Agatha just wants to be rid of her and Rio is just always there and knows that Agatha can’t escape from her. It just feels so much more like abuse than just a mutually toxic relationship.

and lastly, I just really wish that Agatha actually told Billy what actually happened with Nicky. Like if she didn’t say that the song had no meaning. Or if that flashback we had could’ve actually been her telling Billy what really happened. Ngl I just really want her to 1 get therapy 2 be honest with this boy 3 give him a hug, cause I want her to give him a hug, and 4 I want Billy to make her a sort of artificial body at some point. Like how Wanda just kinda fabricated people. Like she’s still technically dead, she just doesn’t look like a ghost anymore cause ngl I hate her looking like a ghost, like maybe she can only really do the basic people things,l and she’ll still be Kathryn Hahn, but she’ll be solid, cause ghost-y Aggie is weirding me out. Also she can’t give the kid a hug without a body.

but those are my questions/wonders cause I don’t have the time to write all my thoughts but those will come at some point

and pls pls tell me what you think cause no one I know watches Agatha and I need the input on my thoughts

[raya-rhaenyra-ahsoka]

My thoughts on Ep.5 - A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers, A rant (Spoilers Ahead!)

First of all, the chaos with what happened in the Arch was expected, but Annabeth seeing the Fates was not expected.

Annabeth insisting that Percy is alive, and went to find him near the water.

Percy casually greeting them hi. Like he wasn’t stung by the Chimera and fell off the St. Louis Arch. This will never be not funny.

Annabeth rushing to hug Percy and didn’t even care that he was soaked.

Me, internally: PERCABETH! PERCABETH! PERCABETH! 😍🎉

Percy just now realizing that a god could not have stolen the master bolt and might have been helped by someone. Grover and Annabeth looking at him like, seriously?

This convo:

Percy: Why are you being weird with me again? I thought we’re not doing that anymore.

Annabeth: I’m not being weird.

Percy: Yes, you are. You’ve been weird since we left the Arch.

Again, that’s their relationship.

Percy assuming it’s because of the hug. And Annabeth being like, No idiot I saw the Fates! Percy, honey, you’re the one being weird about it.

At this point, Imma give Grover some popcorn while he watches them argue.

Biker Ares casually asking 3 kids if they need help. Definitely not sus.

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover hiding behind the road barrier like, uh, no, we’re good. Idk, but that’s funny to me.

Ares snorting and saying they’re behind schedule and offering to help his little cousin.

Ares immediately recognizing Annabeth as Athena’s kid. Ares being like, Omfg she sounds just like my sister. That’s definitely her kid.

So a biker offering to help 3 minors in the middle of nowhere and offering them food. In other people’s perspective, that’s definitely sus.

Ares being a Twitter Troll is something I never knew I need.

Percy and Annabeth being so unimpressed with Ares was so funny. Like, so this is the god of war? Really?

Gabe painting Percy as a fugitive, and Percy being pissed about it. Not surprised.

Ares being pumped that there’s a war coming.

Percy and Annabeth fucking ready to fight Ares, and Grover’s just there like, let’s all calm down.

You left your sheild? Like, forgot it on a merry-go-round? Girl, you’re talking to a god.

Negotiating with Ares 101:

Ares: Okay, the satyr stays here while you two get my shield.

Percy and Annabeth: No!

Grover: Okay, sure.

Percy and Annabeth: wtf

The Waterland giving off steampunk/horror movie vibes is something I’m here for.

Percy making plans to take Annabeth to see a movie in the middle of their death quest just because she admitted to never having seen one is just so sweet. PERCABETH!😍

Annabeth being fascinated by Hephaestus’ engineering.

Grover’s therapy session with Ares to get more info is also something I never knew I needed.

The f*cking Thrill Ride O’ Love! IT’S HAPPENING!

Book fans rn:

Annabeth: Don’t you even try to tell me not to be weird about this.

Percy: I didn’t say anything.

Annabeth: I can feel you thinking it.

Oh, my babies. PERCABETH! 😍

Percy calling the Thrill Ride O’ Love a ghost ride is something I agree on.

The awkward silence while they ride the rowboat though, and then suddenly you hear, WHAT IS LOVE? BABY DON’T HURT ME... That shit cracked me up.

The light projections in the tunnel telling Hephaestus’ story.

The ride turning into a horror boat ride to a whitewater rafting ride was so unexpected. I’d pay to see that kind of boat ride rather than an actual tunnel-of-love ride.

Them having to jump and Percy unknowingly pulling Annabeth to safety with his water superpowers. He’s a waterbender and he doesn’t know it. LOL

Ares, the literal god of war, just ranting off to a random satyr he found in the middle of nowhere about his overachiever sister and her feathered pet will never be not funny.

Annabeth not hesitating to sit on the chair, and Percy stopping her.

SEAWEED BRAIN! SEAWEED BRAIN! SEAWEED BRAIN! SHE SAID THE THING! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

Book fans:

[Spoiler] To non-book-readers, that's her nickname for him.

Percabeth arguing about a life/death decision. This is their relationship.

Percy giving Annabeth Riptide. He trusts her. Aww. 😍

Percy having to sit on the chair, while Annabeth gets the shield.

Annabeth nearly backing out at the last second, while Percy assures her that he’s okay while trying not to cry.

Annabeth ignoring the shield then immediately and desperately tries to free Percy.

Annabeth bargaining with Hephaestus. Maybe, I was that way once, but I don’t wanna be that way anymore. I won’t be like all of you.

Hephaestus releasing Percy was definitely his way of saying, Girl, same. You’re a good kid. Imma make sure you’re Mom knows that.

THIS PIC! THIS IS HISTORICAL RIGHT HERE! GO BACK TO THIS POST AFTER THIS SHOW HAS SEVERAL SEASONS AND MOUNT ST. HELENS ERUPTS. *wink-wink

Percy and Annabeth going back to the diner with the shield casually, and then like, we got your shield, now where tf is our ride?

Ares’ ride: The Kindness Internation truck a.k.a. illegal animals smuggling van.

Thank you for the emotional abuse and the cheeseburgers and the ride! ~ Grover Underwood. Iconic!

Grover telling Percy and Annabeth about his therapy session with Ares: I know who stole the master bolt!

Of course, it’s a cliffhanger. But nothing will beat the HoO:MoA one.

Bruh, the amount of Percabeth content in this episode is just *chef’s kiss*. It’s all coming together. I can’t even fathom how much of an emotional rollercoaster I was watching this episode. It just keeps getting better and better! 😍

[onceuponalegendbg]

Alright alright alright. Time for me to really get my thoughts down for the penultimate episode of Owl House.

I really enjoyed it. I think I liked the premiere a bit better but this was still so good. Dana and the crew did a fantastic job hitting the story beats they needed to in such a condensed amount of time.

Let’s try to hit this by character for some sense of organization.

I’ll hit Amity first since she took a little bit of a back seat this episode. Which is fair. She’s arguably gotten the second most amount of screen time as a whole after all.

She had some nice moments though, especially her moment with Luz at the Owl House and a couple of funny moments. Really nice to hear how she woke Ghost.

Gus got to show off why he’s such a good friend to both Willow and Hunter. His banter with Matt was great. I love this little dude so much. Confirmation that he knew about Hunter being a Grimmwalker. Like Amity there isn’t a whole lot to get into here but he played his role well.

Hunter, man I just feel bad for this kid. He’s still trying to figure himself out and he’s not really properly grieving for Flap yet. He’s still processing which is fair. Also, Huntlow.

Willow, sweetheart, precious bean. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Like, I get it. This girl bottled her emotions even before Luz showed up but that was back when she was being bullied. Now, she’s still bottling things up in an effort to prove how strong she’s become and that people can rely on her. It sucks. Her admitting that she missed her dads really just puts into perspective that these are all just kids who are going to need so much therapy when this is over (someone call Sasha!) and I want to hug them so bad. I also just love seeing her stand up to Boscha more and that they’re not suddenly friends because Boscha sort of kind of had a somewhat change of heart.

Camila is kind of the MVP of season three if I’m being honest. I love everything about this woman. She’s a pure, kind soul and seeing her being a mom to all these kids is so heartwarming. But especially seeing her interactions with Luz just… it’s the best. Also, her admitting to being a secret nerd. We been knew.

Luz. Oh my baby girl. Camila really hit this one on the head though. “She just seems determined to make herself sad.” Oh honey. I’m so proud of this kid, though. She finally figured out what it really is that she wanted, and the animation for that was gorgeous. The look on her face. Man. I got so emotional. Also, String Bean is precious and I will protect them with my life. Seriously so cute.

I do want to kind of throw Boscha and Kiki here, because there’s not any major development with them but there’s a couple things worth mentioning. It’s hinted at in the credits that while Boscha was actually very upset about her team (friends) getting captured Kiki snuck in and kind of took advantage of that. Really preyed on this teenager’s own insecurity. More like Belos than I thought, there, Kiki. I also just want to, once again, admit to being a moron and not even recognizing Kiki in disguise. Did not even occur to me.

So, I’ve always liked Boscha for the kind of role she filled in once Amity got her redemption. There’s been a couple moments that kind of show “oh yeah, she’s still a kid” (her reaction to actually getting her palisman comes to mind), and it was kind of nice to have this reinforced here. Have to give credit to the voice actress for really selling the scared and desperate kid (specifically when Boscha thinks Amity left/disappeared again). I wish we had the time to explore this side of Boscha a little more. See how she actually viewed the relationship between her and Amity, and between her and her team. I don’t know. She’s a very minor side character so I get why they didn’t of course. It’s just something I’ve always been a little curious about but never expected them to touch at all. This is really more than I ever expected from Boscha’s character really and it’s not even that much.

Belos…. Oh Belos. You really are just the absolute worst. Got to say though, the animation for his goop monster form and the way it all just basically melts off his bones… oh boy. And now with him taking possession of Raine, I see so much angst in the future. I’m actually really glad he still seems like the final boss of all this.

I really don’t have to much to say about the Collector and the rest of the Owl Gang. I love the new designs but other than that not a whole lot to comment on.

The OST slapped so hard though. Beginning to end.

I honestly don’t even know what to expect for the finale, man.

[fromasgardandback]

Healing Together // Max Mayfield Sister Headcanon

masterlist | oneshots

undoubtfully Max is hurting in more ways than one and needs help

I have tried everything I could think of to help her. I go to therapy to which I come home and help Max understand why things happen and how to handle them

Max tries to act like nothing’s wrong or nothing happened, but being her older sister, I see everything

I see her tossing and turning in the middle of the night, I see her stare out into the abyss as if she’s seen a ghost, I see her at school passing through everyone co-existing; it hurts to see someone you’re close to in so much pain

“Tonight is just you and me, so I picked up a movie from Family Movie, ordered dinner, and picked up some snacks as well.” I placed the items in my hand down on the coffee table.

“Why are you doing this?” Max looked at me confused.

“Because I have tried everything, Max. I know you’re hurting and going through some really tough things. But I am here to help you, love you, support you, and not just because you’re my sister, but because you’re one of my best friends.” I huffed placing my hands on my hips.

Max didn’t know what to say, she stood there frozen until I felt a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you.” That is all she said. I wrapped my arms around her giving her a bone-crushing hug back.

we watched at least three movies before falling asleep on the couch. Chinese containers on the coffee table along with half-opened snacks and empty drinks

somewhere around six in the morning I woke up and took in the sight and mess we left and there I saw Max sleeping and holding the stuffed elephant I won her at the fair this past summer

I placed a blanket over her sleeping body and cleaned up the mess before our mom got home to scream at us as she normally does

I’ve been teaching Max that our mom’s reactions and outbursts have nothing to do with us, but her own problems. Yes, it’s hard not to think your mother hates you, but it’s also easier to think that it’s not because of you.

I took a shower and got ready for the day while Max was still sleeping. I called Lucas to let him know that his surprise is still a go for today

they rekindled their love and relationship, so Lucas wanted to take her on a very special date while I was at home cooking her favorite meal for dinner

it’s the little things that matter the most, and it may take a while, but I am determined to help Max see her potential and worth

“I’m blessed to have a sister like you, Y/N. Most people just see right through me, you don’t.” She said standing in the kitchen while I made coffee.

“I see you for you, munchkin.” I hugged her. “I see you.”

[oonajaeadira]

Baby when you get back and the mood strikes, reader has been traveling, how does PATS help her out? (Also to my romantic heart, he probably missed her, but can’t say that because he’s a ✨professional✨)

Thank you, lovely. I needed this ask. Because I did a lot of walking and my backpack was heav-vy. I feel like I've been away for a year and my head is foggy about what it is to be HERE again. So I'm excited to see what Pedro ATS has for us.

PATS and Homecoming Treatment Post-Travel

FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)

If he misses you or not, he wouldn’t confirm or deny it. He’s got a professional distance to keep.

But say you’ve been away for a few weeks. You do have to log into the portal and submit STD testing, as well as answer some required info. One of those would probably be the number of sexual partners you’ve had since you last saw him.

And if that number is zero? Well then. He’s got an excuse to give you a welcome home treatment, because it’s been a while for you. Might as well make it a joyful homecoming.

This means picking you up in a bear-hug, using the pressure and your own weight to lengthen and align your spine. No disrobing yet, just up on the table you get. He’s gonna sit on the end, pull off your shoes and put your feet in his lap to give you an extra long foot massage while you answer questions about your trip. The questions might feel superficial, but he’s gathering information. How much walking did you do vs. actual relaxation? What hurts and where? Any shift in sleep habits because of schedule or bedding or noise levels? This will inform him where to concentrate just gentle massage, while you pour out the details of your trip. Because when you’ve seen new places and done new things, it also unburdens you to share them with someone, to prove you were there.

As he works up your legs—still in his lap—his hands ghosting over your core--maybe pausing to warm you on his way to the other side--pulling your focus to being here with him, he will ask you if and when you felt the shift where you were looking forward to coming home. If you thought about this session. If he can help you to move from your getaway mindset back to the things that are good about being right here, right now.

Then he might focus on your back or neck, whatever might have gotten tightened in your out-of-normal routine.

When the first hour is over, he stands you up and gives you a rakish grin before softly growling a teasing “welcome back.” Then it’s suddenly all palms and lips wherever they can reach, your clothes being stripped from you with as much skin touching yours as possible, whether that’s him wrapping arms around you and pushing palms up and under your shirt up your back--your torso revealing itself against his own bare chest--or pressing his cheek against your thighs as your pants come down. He works swiftly and surprisingly, but with purpose, lingering here and there just a bit before swiftly moving on, just to make you loose your breath a little, to pull you into this present, getting your clothes off you in a manner that borders on impatient but stays on this side of sensual before pushing you back onto the bed.

It is in this instance he might bring out a little less control, a bit more fun and mischief, a bit more rolling around and playfulness and flesh-stifled groans and chatter. After a vacation is the moment when you’re the most stress free, when you don’t really need the therapy, when you’re just keeping an appointment, so he’ll use it to pull easy smiles out of you and put a cap on your joy. There may be be little nips and light spanks that end in a clutch and a growl, that universal sign of “I’ve been needing this and you brought it back to me.”

Whether or not he missed you is beside the point. It’s his job to make you feel welcomed back, to make you feel like someone at home is here and ready to rail you, to make you feel that your absence was noticed.

But the fact that he needs to pull back after about five minutes and just focus on your pleasure, the way he just…needs a minute before he can enter back into the fray…that maybe he has a little trouble keeping his excitement in check…well. Perhaps he's just really good at putting on a good show. Perhaps.

There's nothing on your chart this time but the recommendation that you return to regular visits for a while to rebalance and maintain that sense of calm--or homecoming--that you've gained. It's scribbled fast as if he didn't think about it too hard, just had to write something down absently...and...did he sign off with a quick smiley face? What?

___

___

NEXT

SERIES MASTERLIST

[jojotier]

ok. finished the book and i figured it out.

like listen, there's a lot of things i can give a pass to bc it inevitably plays into the themes the author was going for.

Not a huge fan of the fact that the protag, Wallace, is such a piece of shit in life and get's essentially a month long redemption arc where he conveniently doesn't have to address any of the lives he ruined while alive, sans the one life we saw him ruin on screen in the beginning, because the conceit of the book is that everyone has a chance at redemption, you do not have to atone for every sin to be worthy of trying to become a better person, and death is the great equalizer. ok.

Not a huge fan of the fact that at some points the dialogue between characters is just a lot of therapy-speak, even between characters who don't necessarily seem like the type to fall into that, but Wallace is in fact coming to terms with being very dead and everyone in the house is trying to help him with that. Hugo, Mei and Nelson are essentially social workers in that way. I can understand why that was done.

I even understand that the murder victim being done dirty was kind of necessary. Personally, I would've liked to see more of Alex (might be getting the name wrong it's been a while gvjh) and his entire deal because unlike the rest of the characters, he was bitter. Angry. He didn't want to accept help unless it was in finding his killer because he died alone and bleeding out in an alley getting mugged screaming for help while everyone passed him by, and it's described in this visceral fuckin' way, and just when the characters are backed into a corner with him threatening to kill someone- he gets deus exed away and forcibly passes on.Fine. It's fine. (and yeah, the point is supposed to be that he was forced to pass on too early and he deserved to have times to come to grips no matter how angry, hateful, etc, but there's this little taste of the message of 'if you aren't the perfect victim'-)

(also. could've done without the weird costume change gag. iykyk)

But- and I cannot stress this enough- why the fuck does Hugo fall in love with Wallace?

and like sure, if the book was Only about Wallace's journey of accepting his death, this wouldn't be such a major thing. But the thing is, the romance between Hugo and Wallace is positioned as a Central Pillar to the story and its conflict. Their relationship as Ferryman and Newly Dead is supposed to be front and center. And while I can believe they're both friends, found family even, and I can believe they've made a connection, and I can definitely believe Wallace falls for Hugo because Hugo is literally written to be a warm hug of tea as a person, I cannot for the life of me figure out what Wallace brings to the table.

Wallace, bitter, bitchy, self-absorbed, and only opening up in bits and pieces. Dude doesn't become truly tolerable to others until he starts fucking with that medium and even then that seems to be pretty far into the month long stay. Yet by the end of that month these two are banging.

The thing that's really tripping me up is that Hugo is written as this careful sort of character. Careful of others, careful of himself, careful to a fault because he doesn't want to fail anyone in this job which he's given his life to. Sure, you could say he connected with Wallace, but what connection did he have to Wallace that he didn't have to literally any of the other ghosts who have stayed with him over his tenure? Spontaneity? Are you saying that only Wallace has had these kinds of spontaneous reactions or tried to become closer with the ferryman over the years?

I think what's really tripping me is the fact that it was a month. Like, I'm not saying Hugo and Wallace don't work as a couple- as Wallace becomes a better person, he becomes someone who can balance out Hugo excellently- but in a book that prides itself on this tone of being pretty down to earth, the romance was just way too... underdeveloped. as if you as the reader are just supposed to see these two and just assume they're gonna fall in love. and it fell literally so fuckin flat, dude

tl;dr: Reading the book itself was an enjoyable experience, loved the characters and all, but man if you're looking for a romance between slightly older gay men that feels more realized and genuine, read House On The Cerulean Sea instead.

Listen under the whispering door has been well written and pretty good so far its just. There's something Bugging me about it and the main character that makes it hard to put into words. Like there's something to be said about a main character who's unlikable but like. This guy in life was just an out and out capitalist. Like when he fires a woman he makes it a point to rescind her daughter's scholarship. And now we're supposed to want him to be with this cute empathetic teashop owner....?

[gangrenados]

I roast you based on which batboy you're crushed on

Don't take this too seriously lol

Damian Wayne

•You probably tell little boys that they're gonna be hot when they get older .-.

•You want someone cold who can take the lead so you can stay behind since taking control scares you...but you're not gonna admit this.

•Go to therapy and talk about your emotions and family issues please

Tim Drake:

•You watch anime and probably you had a phase were you had a really cringey username with some Japanese words

•In a friend group your probably the one who's more easy to forget.

Like when you're hanging out with them and then you just walking to see if someone will notice, but that doesn't happen or when you're telling some story and they talk over you...poor thing.

•Idk why but I feel like you have some goth vibes, like you own a lot of dark clothes or are into darkwave/ post punk music idk

Jason Todd:

•My dude you want to feel safe, don't you? You want someone stronger to have your back.

•Idk why but I feel like you have a size kink.

•Also you're not that interesting, stop with your superiority complex.

•For a long time you had that "I'm gonna save the bad boy" mindset, bro that's hard af. Don't waste your time and mental health

•You're really fucking hype, like Energizer bunny vibes who's a little sunshine or are a shy introverted who's nice once they're not afraid of talking

•You tend to read a lot as a kid but now it's hard to even finish the first pages of a book.

Dick Grayson:

•You were lonely as a kid and always dreamed to have best friend that would be always by your side no matter what.

•You probably forget a lot about your needs and focus on others to feel useful.

•Go and hug something fluffy please, you need some love.

•Ahh you probably crushed on someone who treaded you all nice, that made you feel in heaven once just to find out they were that way with everyone. You hadn't recovered from that one and know you don't know if someone is being friendly cuz they are that way or if they're being flirty

•You're kinda basic, but that's okay. Everyone is a little bit basic in more than one aspect

•You should talk more about how you're feeling rather than vanishing from the world and ghosting everyone.

•Idk but you give me crybaby vibes, like there's a sad part on a movie -or worst, amusic video- and you're sobbing right away.

[writefightandflightclub]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

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

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

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

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

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

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

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

She could come back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s true though.

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

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

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

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

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

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

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

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

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

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

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

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

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

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

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

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

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

Fucking Caleb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

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

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

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

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

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

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

Finally.

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

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

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

You take his words in. You listen.

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

But it is enough.

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

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

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

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

It is.

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

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

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

And you…

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

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

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

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

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

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

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

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

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

And now, here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

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

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

You comfort him.

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

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

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

He wants you with him.

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

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

But he wants it to be.

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

[cjsmalley]

Miroku Meets the Phantoms: AN: I'm back! San Diego was Lovely.

Miroku balked, pausing mid-step, “The Ghost King? The Ghost King is your father? I am going to meet the Ghost King? Lord Inu—”

“Knock it off, I ain’t no Lord,” InuYasha snorted as he and Anakin led the group through the palace, “first off, me and Anakin here are technically just wards. So we don’t get titles—”

“But you are a Lord through your biological father’s side,” Anakin sottoed.

“Shut up, Anakin. You’re not helping.”

“Who said I wanted to help?”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I’m your brother and you love me?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that,” InuYasha grumbled, seeing that the comedy routine had caused to monk to relax some and catch up, before raising his voice, “Dad just likes to know who we’re running with; besides, you’re my packmate now, that makes you family.”

“Just like that?” Miroku voiced, surprised.

“Just like that,” a new voice said as a man and woman joined them.

“Mom, Dad,” Anakin said, going in for hugs; InuYasha followed suit then Shippo.

Kagome bowed deeply but quickly.

“Mom, Dad,” InuYasha spoke “this’s my new packmate, Miroku. He’s a Buddhist monk whose family line’s been cursed by Naraku. He wants revenge of course, and to end the curse. Miroku, Ghost King Danny and Ghost Queen Sam Phantom.”

Miroku bowed so deeply he nearly banged his head on the floor, “Your Majesties.”

“None of that,” Sam sighed, “we don’t require formalities for family. Hi, cousin Miroku.”

Miroku blinked, “That’s it? Your sons bring you someone and you declare them family?”

“Yep,” Danny nodded, “that’s it. We really don’t care about anything except that you are family. Also, you’re going into therapy. Welcome to the family, kid.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Enter Bill Weasley, Curse Breaker:

“Miroku,” Harry said, “this’s Bill Weasley, he’s a Curse Breaker. He’s willing to give his opinion.”

Bill smiled, “I hear you have a bloodline curse, father to son? I mainly work tombs but I’ve done cursed items before.”

Miroku nodded and held out his right hand.

Bill got to work, “The beads keep it at bay, you said, Harry? Yes, I see it now. Nasty curse, this is. Hmm…”

He poked and prodded at the covered Wind Tunnel, eventually pulling out a set of tools beyond his wand, “I’ve seen something like this in a book once.”

He was casual as he spoke.

“What did the book say?” Harry prompted.

“Origins unknown. Cursed person was eventually swallowed by it.”

“That is how my father and his father died,” Miroku nodded again.

“You said a demon did this?”

“Not a demon like Satan demons,” Harry jumped in, “youkai. That’s more like…the fae. Not necessarily good or evil.”

“I see,” Bill nodded seriously, “I’m guessing this was a bad…youkai?”

“Yes, an evil being known as Naraku,” Miroku explained, “we’ve been told that the only way to end the curse is to slay Naraku. If I do not, I shall die as my father and grandfather did. Consumed by the Wind Tunnel itself.”

Bill nodded again, “That tracks. Whatever set this curse didn’t mean for it to end…I’m sorry, Miroku. There’s nothing I can do…I can ask around the other Curse Breakers. I’ve got scans of it now so I can show it around, say it’s a favor to my brother’s friend’s brother’s friend.”

“That would be welcomed, Mister Weasley,” Miroku sighed, unsurprised at the outcome but disappointed all the same.

“Would the Healers at Saint Mungo’s help?” Harry questioned.

“Probably not,” Bill admitted, “they would likely call for a Curse Breaker.”

“Dammit. Sorry Miroku.”

“It is alright, Harry.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tale of Midoriko (or loopholes and the Jewel):

“It’s worse than you think,” Sango said before telling them the tale of Midoriko.

Everyone wore grave expressions indeed when she finished.

“This is beyond the Realms’,” Danny admitted, “but very troubling all the same. Well, boys and girls, you complete the jewel and bring it here. We’ll toss everything we have at it.”

“Even the—” InuYasha began.

“Especially Plagg and Tikki,” Danny nodded shortly, “this’s a matter of great importance. I don’t want to think how dangerous a demon like Naraku might become with this Jewel. Let alone a ghost. If the story’s true and Midoriko’s spirit is still trying to defeat the youkai, then we might be able to work something out.”

“What can you do?” Sango questioned.

“I’m the King of ghosts, spirits, and other incorporeal undead,” Danny explained, “but it’s really not what I can do, but my children. Already you’ve met two of my sons and know they hold great power on their own. All my children are similar. I hope, that by working together, perhaps in combination with Kagome, Kikyo, and Miroku, we might be able to destroy the jewel for good.”

Miroku nodded, followed by Kagome; they would, if called upon, work their own powers for the goal. And each could see why Kikyo might be called upon as well.

To destroy the jewel without a Wish would take a great deal of power indeed.

“I can ask the Lineage for help,” Anakin spoke, “I think something like this falls under the Jedi mandate.”

Danny nodded, “Good idea. Kagome, don’t worry about the Well closing. Clockwork has made the portal permanent until you close it yourself.”

“Thank you,” she bowed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Technically, Technically (or Kohaku, Rescued Early):

They ran through the palace, the stretcher between them; everyone else followed.

Danny and Sam appeared, “You have him?”

“Got ‘im,” InuYasha nodded, “still has the shard in his back, it’s keeping him alive.”

Both Royals swore as one, “Anakin?”

“His spirit’s still in there but it’s…muted,” Anakin supplied, “like it’s being suppressed.”

“We’ll get him to the Far Frozen,” Danny explained, “Frostbite might be able to help. Even if he can’t, we can keep Kohaku and his shard safe in the Zone until we can figure out what to do.”

“You can help him?” Sango demanded.

“One of our vassals might be able to help,” Sam explained, “might. No promises.”

"Wished Away" Long Post 3 (or Another Expansion of the Super Long Posts)

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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[lol-im-done]

The Avenger & Baron of Sokovia: Part Two

Part One

Hi! Here is part two, I honestly got carried away again and will do a few more parts to this! Enjoy!

Those five years were a deep slumber somewhere in the cosmos but you didn’t dream. You were barely conscious, no concept of the time that had been passing by. When you ‘blipped’ back there was no moment to reunite with Helmut, it took you a few moments to regain consciousness. In the chaos you had been dragged out from your chair by security, crying out for Helmut completely confused by what had happened. Helmut looked like he had seen a ghost, not quite believing he had seen you reappear from thin air. It wasn’t until someone had mentioned it in passing what happened did he actually believe it and it made him crazy that you had slipped out of his reach just like that. In the utter chaos that had been caused by the snap of the Infinity Gauntlet, you remembered the portal opening in front of you on that chaotic street, people screaming and running around you. Through the golden sparks you could see Steve, standing there bloodied and beaten on the battlefield and when he caught your eye you could see the relief spread through his face. Without a second thought you jumped through the portal to join him, hands ready and eyes bright green with power. All you knew is that you had to be by your team's side. You hadn’t been there to fight in Wakanda but you were going to make damn sure you gave it all this time. Even in your civilian clothing you fought with such fervor that a suit of pure telekinetic energy covered your body. Waves of your power brought down hundreds of enemies, and in a split second you had used your abilities to bring Thanos to his knees giving Tony enough time to take the Infinity Stones. That was the last time you saw him alive, barely managing to bid him goodbye.

In the aftermath you found out that Natasha hadn’t made it and you felt like you had fallen into a pit of despair. Regret burned deep in your soul, you should have been there with them, gotten a chance to see one of your oldest friends one last time. What happened next was perhaps the most surprising thing out of all of this.

“He wants to talk to you,” Sam murmured as he passed by you, holding Steve’s shield. Taking a deep breath you made your way over to the old man on the bench.

“Steve?” you asked tentatively. He turned around with a gentle smile.

“(Y/N),” Steve said, tapping the seat next to him. Sitting down next to him, he took your hand into his. What were once the strong calloused hands of a soldier were now signs of old age but they still comforted you.

“I know you retired after Sokovia-,” Steve began.

“Steve I’m sorry for abandoning the team,” you cried out unable to stop yourself, tears gathering in your eyes but he shook his head.

“We understood why you did it (Y/N). Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, all of them understood. What matters is that you were there with us to fight one last time. You’ll be one of the few original Avengers left,” Steve said solemnly. “With that comes responsibility. I know how much Sokovia affected you but you’re stronger than you think. I can’t make you lead what's left of the team, you’re going to find your way in the world but I will ask you one thing,” Steve continued.

“Anything Steve,” you gulped.

“Take care of Bucky. He might not ever forgive me for what I’ve done but I need to make sure he’s taken care of. Look after the others as well. We often lead lonely lives and right now more than ever you all need to support each other. Can you promise to do that to the best of your ability,” Steve finished. His words stunned you but Steve was right.

“Don’t you worry about anything Steve. I promise,” you promised giving him a hug, the familiar scent of his cologne filled your nose. That would be one of the last times you saw him.

Trying to find your place in a world that had moved on without you was proving more difficult than you thought. As a past member of the Avengers, it fell onto your shoulders to try and regain some control, to help and advise alongside Rhodey and Sam mainly. The government had decided to keep a close eye on you as well, you were enhanced and in this new world you had come back to they seemed to not trust you the same way as before. You had even been sucked into Wanda’s Westview anomaly when you had tried to help her out after Tony’s funeral. Through all of this you hadn’t returned to see Helmut, the fact that he was still alive and well in his cell a small reassurance. You had been making plans to see him again, your plane ticket booked for Berlin but your paths would cross sooner than you thought as a knock on your door made you get up from your desk one day.

“Hey,” Sam greeted when you opened the door. Behind him was Bucky who gave you a sheepish smile and wave. He was still a bit nervous around you but you had made it a point to see him as regularly as you could taking your promise to Steve incredibly seriously. You had been the one to make sure he got mandated therapy sessions as part of his pardon.

“Sam! Bucky!” you smiled, ushering them into your apartment. Bucky was a bit surprised when you pulled him into a hug but he accepted it. After feeding them some lunch and catching up you got down to business.

“You need my help don’t you,” you stated, crossing your arms with a small smirk. Sam and Bucky exchanged a look before Bucky scarfed down some more fries.

“I know you put your superhero life behind you (Y/N) but you’re the only one I thought of to help us with this,” Sam explained.

“Where to?” you asked.

“Berlin. We have to talk to Helmut Zemo. You remember him right?” Bucky asked. At his words your heart stopped, eyes going wide. They wanted to talk to Helmut?

“(Y/N)?” Sam asked, eyebrows crinkled in worry. Memories of Helmut flooded your mind for a few seconds.

“Yeah I remember him,” you whispered, holding a hand to your chest to steady your heartbeat.

“Wait, you visited him a few times right?” Sam asked, remembering what Steve had told him years ago.

“Well- um more than a few times,” you shrugged, turning away to hide your blush.

“Care to explain?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Let me pack and I’ll explain on the way there,” you sighed. Sam nodded and got up to help you, Bucky staying at the table staring at the framed picture of you and Steve, his heart clenching in nostalgia.

“Why can’t I go in with you?” you frowned, feeling increasingly agitated. Bucky sighed and pulled you aside for a second in the white hallway.

“Don’t tell Sam but you’ll have your chance to see him after this I promise,” Bucky whispered. Pressing your lips tightly together you nodded slowly, understanding his words.

“Everything good?” Sam asked.

“All good,” you murmured as Bucky followed the guard down the long hallway into the maze of the prison. It had been so long since you had been here but everything was familiar to you, you could probably find your way to Helmut’s cell blindfolded. It took every ounce of willpower not to go in running after Bucky to see Helmut. Sam watched as you chewed on your lip, foot tapping in anxiousness.

“Why do you call him Helmut?” Sam suddenly asked. You turned to face him in a surprised manner.

“Because that’s his name?” you tilted your head, confused by his question.

“We all call him Zemo but you call him Helmut. It's more personal,” Sam stated.

“Like I explained on the plane....we got close. Like friends after all that time I came to visit him. It stemmed from Sokovia really but I got to understand him and he understood me too,” you whispered, emotion filling your voice. Sam decided not to press it but he was still confused on why you had decided to get so close to the man who had divided the team so horribly. You asked yourself that same question but as time went on with Helmut you could tell he was seeing things from a new perspective. He had even planned on asking Steve to meet him when he was no longer on the run, to talk and ask for forgiveness. Suddenly the door at the end of the hall opened and Bucky walked calmly back to you and Sam.

“C’mon I have somewhere for us to check out,” Bucky said, leading you all out. It felt nice to feel the breeze and walk around like a tourist again, your arm tucked under Bucky’s. He had changed a lot since you had first met him, feeling comfortable enough around you to accept physical affection. It was like having a brother, much like Sam, two brothers you had to keep an eye on at all times you thought with a smile. Finally you reached a large garage filled with darkness.

“Careful,” you warned Sam, pulling him back before he smacked his face into a metal anvil. You used your powers like a candle to illuminate the area until Bucky found the light switch.

“Why are we here?” you asked Bucky who gave you a knowing look. Is this what he meant earlier, about seeing Helmut soon? Your heart sped up a bit as you looked around ignoring Sam and Bucky’s bickering.

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam asked incredulously.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky countered.

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars,” Sam snapped.

“And we also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose,” Bucky replied.

“Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense,” Sam shook his head.

“Offense. Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code. Anyways if what (Y/N) said is right then he’s not as crazy as he once was,” Bucky tried to reason. Suddenly there was movement by the garage doors and you felt the air leave your lungs. The moment he walked in you wasted no time in running towards him, ignoring Sam’s protests as you crashed into Helmut’s open arms. Tears gathered in your eyes as you held him like he was a life raft in an ocean working to drown you. You hadn’t realized you had started crying until Helmut was softly comforting you, stroking your hair. Finally you pulled back, Helmut’s arms still encircling your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried but Helmut shook his head, wiping the tears from your red cheeks.

“Don’t apologize miláčik. None of that matters now,” Helmut smiled, through his own tears feeling a relief so strong it almost made him fall to his knees. Sam and Bucky were stunned at what they were witnessing, they knew you had history with Zemo but never knew the reality of your relationship. To be honest you didn’t know what your relationship was but there was a connection, there was something and you could see it in his eyes. But there was no time for words, Sam had made it clear you had to leave now. Every moment from that garage to the moment you were up in the air in Helmut’s private jet, you were attached to his side like a magnet. Helmut had been so touch starved, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never touch your smooth skin while he was incarcerated but now having you with him, he didn’t want you far from him. It was clear how protective you were of him as well, when Bucky had lunged at Helmut with his metal arm, a wall of green energy erupted between them making Bucky bounce back and fall into his seat.

“Enough,” you snapped, giving each of them a stern look before relaxing. “Helmut please refrain from pushing their buttons. We are here for one thing and we have to work together. Please for me,” you asked. Helmut sighed but nodded, muttering an apology to Bucky. With a satisfied smile you reached across and held Helmut’s hand, feeling him relax into your touch. You couldn’t stop smiling and it made Sam a bit nervous, seeing you so happy around a criminal like Zemo. Soon the conversation turned a bit more serious.

“You must have really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals,” Helmut began.

“Watch your step, Zemo,” Sam warned.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?” Helmut went on in his tangent.

“(Y/N)’s enhanced. Why don’t you hate her?” Sam asked sarcastically. Zemo’s eyes hardened, eyes flickering over to you as you waited for his response.

“In the time I spent speaking with her my views have shifted. I no longer see things as so black and white. There is a grey area in these matters, nuance,” Zemo admitted. You couldn’t help but smile slightly at that, he had changed.

“There are threats, people who regardless of super serum or mutant abilities are up to no good. If this has to do with HYDRA we have to end it,” you said. That seemed to shut the door to that conversation, Bucky nodding at your words. Before Madripoor you all made a stop to rest in Hong Kong. Helmut had gotten a reservation at a luxurious hotel for the night but none of that mattered to you all you wanted was time to speak with him properly and a hot shower. As you waited alongside Bucky and Sam in the lobby wondering what the sleeping arrangements would be, heat rushed to your cheeks when you heard Helmut get the room keys for only two rooms and his intention became clear when he took your hand into his in the elevator. Bucky looking at your intertwined hands a bit like a brother would seeing his sister with her new boyfriend. The elevators opened and before you could walk off with Helmut to your room at the end of the hall, Sam grabbed your arm gently.

“Wait you’re sharing a room with him?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, still not trusting Helmut.

“Of course I am,” you replied with a questioning tilt of your head.

“She’ll be fine Sam,” Bucky murmured, opening the door to their room so Sam could follow him in. Sam pursed his lips but nodded as you gave Bucky a grateful smile.

“Goodnight Bucky. If you need anything you just shoot me a text,” you waved. The door closed behind them, Helmut quiet at your side as he led you to your shared room.

“A text?” Helmut asked casually as you entered the grand room. Walking over to the bed you sat down, relishing in the feeling of the bed.

“Yes. Bucky experiences nightmares from time to time as one would having experienced the trauma he’s been through. I always make sure I’m there in case he needs to talk to someone,” you explained, reclining on the comfortable pillows.

“Why?” Helmut asked, as he took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Because he’s my friend. I also promised Steve to look after him, to look after all of them,” you murmured.

“Is that why you didn’t come back?” Helmut whispered. Slowly you kicked off your boots before you curled up into the pillows, facing Helmut.

“I wanted to but after fighting against Thanos I had to catch up on the past five years. I got stuck in Wanda’s alternate world, I had to try and make my own way with the government breathing down my neck,” you began. Helmut nodded in understanding, he couldn’t blame you. “If Steve were still here or Nat or Tony they would have led us all through it but the rest of us had to figure it out,” you sighed. Helmut curled up on the bed as well as he reached across to stroke your cheek. Looking into his handsome face you felt warmth fill your body, those warm brown eyes you missed so much.

“That day that I disappeared I wanted to explain something to you,” you said a bit nervously. Helmut kept his hand on your cheek in a reassuring manner. “I know I should hate you the way that you hated us after Sokovia but after spending time with you I found myself doing quite the opposite,” you admitted. Helmut stayed silent allowing you to continue, his eyes full of emotion.

“I’ve fallen in love with you Helmut. When I came back after all those years I was scared you never felt the same in the first place or that you weren’t ready to feel the same-,” you began to ramble but were cut off by Helmut rushing forward to capture your lips into a heated kiss. After years of waiting and hoping to have you in his arms Helmut couldn’t wait another second to feel your soft lips against his. Breaking for air he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed with overwhelming emotions.

“Watching you disappear in front of my eyes with no way of stopping it, was one of the worst pains of my life. I’ve lost my family already once before and I didn’t think I was going to survive that and after five years of waiting, thinking of nothing but you, I didn’t think I was going to survive that either,” Helmut admitted sadly. “Those months after Sokovia I was already falling in love with you before I was consumed with vengeance. I love you miláčik,” Helmut finished. It was your turn to kiss him which quickly turned into clothes coming off, breathless whispers of love and cries of pleasure filling the room. As you cuddled into his bare chest you pushed away any anxiety riddled thoughts of him returning to prison and simply appreciated having the man you loved in your arms.

Tag List: @hollmarch @lam-ila @anxious-alto @sagyunaro @thenewlarislynn @booklover2929 @husherstan @breadsquash @x-ximenas

[missmitchieg]

Julie And The Phantoms: A (Unhelpful) Guide For The Newbies - Part 2

Nick Danforth-Evans:

- Played by: Sacha Carlson

- Julie's friend

- Guitar Boy #2

- Bisexual

- Adopted child of Chad and Ryan Danforth-Evans

- Can. Not. Dance. but it's fine

- Stans Julie And The Phantoms

- Julie used to have a crush on him

- Now he has a crush on her

- Also has a crush on that curly blond boy on the lacrosse team

- Dated a lesbian once, oops

- ✨ Vibes ✨ with her music, though

- Literally everyone likes him

- A respectful King

- Some shit goes down with him in the finale, it wild

Carrie Wilson:

- Played by: Savannah Lee May

- Nicknames: Pink, Demon

- Julie and Flynn's ex friend/'bully'

- Still refers to Julie as 'one of her oldest friends', though

- Her mom is seemingly not around, unclear if divorced or dead

- Lead singer of her group, Dirty Candy

- Is the lesbian Nick dated

- Barbie Girl in a Barbie World

- Could use a hug

- Is in love with Flynn and kinda mad about it

- It's mutual, but neither of them know

- They haven't discussed it

- Stans Julie And The Phantoms

- Compliments Julie

- Is just there at every Julie And The Phantoms performance

- Fashion icon

- HER SOUL IS MADE OF PINK GLITTER

- Her vocals slay tbh

- Baby girl can dance

- Makes everyone say wow

- Saturn necklace

- Always looks good

Bobby Shaw/Trevor Wilson:

- Played by: Taylor Kare (Teen) & Steve Bacic (Adult)

- Former Rhythm guitarist of Sunset Curve

- Current solo artist

- Carrie's dad

- Pretty cool fashion sense

- Lion Necklace

- Is in therapy and meditates

- Needs a nap tbh

- Has a giant thing with his face on it on the wall

- Helicopter with his face on it

- SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG

- Red, black and white like Reggie

- Liked to jam with Reggie

- Also flirted with Rose

- However was lowkey jealous of Rose when Reggie was flirting with her

- They never discussed it

- Stole Sunset Curve's music to kickstart his career

- Not on Luke's song writing level, but it's fine

Mitch Patterson:

- Played by: Michael Ryan

- Luke's dad

- Seems like a Christian

- Unclear if unsupportive or indifferent to Luke being in a band

- Reads

- Plaid

- I feel like he watches old black and white shows

Emily Patterson:

- Played by: Jennifer-Juniper Angeli

- Luke's mom

- Sweet lady

- Watches I Love Lucy re-runs

- Bakes cake for Luke's birthday

- Knits

- Definitely Christian

- Loudly unsupportive of Luke being in a band

Mrs. Harrison:

- Played by: Marci T. House

- Julie's music teacher

- Prays for Julie

- Stans Aretha Franklin and Etta James

- Fashion icon

- Nice lady

- Deserves a cookie for being cool

- Has a corgi named Stuart

- Probably wlw

Willie:

- Played by: Booboo Stewart

- Handsome Ghost Boy #4

- Alex's boyfriend/Soulmate

- Gay Sk8er Boi

- *Seductive hair flip*

- Touch starved

- Would stab in retaliation

- Was that kid that takes in strays and nurses them back to health

- An Angel

- Crop tops & cute socks

- Had a shark phase

- Good vibes all around

- Has done nothing wrong ever in his life or afterlife

- Be Gay Do Crimes*

- ACAB

- Used to have an orange lava lamp

- *Confessed to breaking and entering, grand theft auto, kidnapping, and obstruction of justice

- Screams in museums

- Literally crashes into Alex and proceeds to flirt with him

- Falls in love immediately

- Not subtle about that love at all

- Would do anything for Alex

- Good Boy

Caleb Covington:

- Played by: Cheyenne Jackson

- Gay AF

- Evil ghost magician

- Fabulous

- Literal Actual Demon

- Puts on a good show

- Lowkey a cult leader ngl

- Sparkly

- Dramatic AF

- Would stab as a warning

- Terrifying

- Conscience? Is That a spice?

- W O R L D D O M I N A T I O N

- Master manipulator

- Pipes McGee

- Creepy AF

- Would enslave teenage boys for his own benefit

- Would also kill teenage boys for not joining his cult

- Is a little bitch

- Deserves to be sucker punched

[ailendolin]

-one aspect about them i love

If you have already answered for Pat then I sincerely apologize!

Also *tights hugs* for stressful day at work! I hope you can relax now or soon!

💜💜💜💜💜

Thanks, dear! 💙 I only realized your ask was about one part and not the whole thing after I had already written down my answers so you get all of them (well, with the exception of one) - whether you want them or not 😂

One aspect about them I love: How much of a team player he is. He probably took one look at the other ghosts after his death and was like, “Yeah, these folk need some group activities.” I also love how patient he is when he’s teaching or explaining something. We know he's good with kids and that definitely comes in handy here because let's face it - more often than not, the ghosts behave like actual children.

One aspect I wish more people understood about them: I’m drawing a blank here, sorry. Maybe that he also has a darker side? I mean, he literally tells Alison to murder his wife, so ...

One (or more) headcanon(s) I have about this character: Pat died hungry. He skipped breakfast the day he died, and because you stay how you die he has this fixation on food the other ghosts don’t have.

One character I love seeing them interact with: The Captain. Look, I just love that moment when Pat gives him the badge after they go camping. He knows Cap so well and found the perfect way to tell him he did a good job despite not knowing the right names for the knots etc. And I think, should Cap ever come out to one of the ghosts (as opposed to all of them at once like he almost did during the group therapy session), Pat would be the one he would confide in.

One character I wish they would interact with/interact with more: Why was my first thought Barclay’s dogs? Lol. I’m going to go with Humphrey for this one because for all the effort Pat puts into group activities Humphrey still gets forgotten a lot and that’s not okay. I think it would be very in-character for Pat to notice that and do something about it. I can totally see him going looking for Humphrey before their next club starts (except when it’s Improv Club. Humphrey is forever banned from Improv Club).

One (or more) headcanon(s) I have that involve them and one other character: As we’ve seen in the latest Christmas Special, Pat’s knowledge of the others is only rivalled by Fanny’s. And for that reason I think he knows about the Captain’s pillow talk and one day, maybe just before the Captain’s birthday, he asks Alison to get Cap a dog-shaped pillow so Cap can actually talk to someone (well, more or less – it’s still a pillow but at least it’s now one in the shape of a friend). Contrary to Alison's belief, Cap doesn’t call the pillow Barry – that would be like trying to replace his beloved dog and he would never do that . So he calls it Larry instead 😉 And Pat's the only one who knows.

Next up: Kitty and Vex

Already answered: Nigel and Thomas and Robin

Ask game can be found here.