#and yet i still found it hard to see how far ive come

[jpmarvel90]

Dont Belong Part 3

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 7175

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n POV:

These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.

I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.

But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.

"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.

The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.

"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.

"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.

"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."

Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.

I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.

"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.

"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.

As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.

"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."

I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."

Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"

"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"

I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."

"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.

Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."

As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.

But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."

"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"

With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.

Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."

"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."

"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.

But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.

"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."

I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.

"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.

"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.

Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."

"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."

Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.

"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.

She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"

"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."

"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."

As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.

__________

The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.

Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.

Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.

"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.

I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.

"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.

I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.

The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.

Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.

Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.

There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."

As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."

I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.

"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.

Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.

I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.

Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.

Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."

"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.

Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.

"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."

Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.

"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.

Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.

"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.

There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.

Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks

"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!

Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.

"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.

Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.

"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.

There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.

Nat's POV:

My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.

I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.

Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.

Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.

I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!

"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.

But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.

There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.

Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."

Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.

"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.

I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.

_________

As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.

Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.

"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.

"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.

"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.

"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.

"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.

"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.

Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."

"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.

Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.

"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.

"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.

"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.

As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.

But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.

"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"

As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.

"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality

[gummybugg]

*asking to multiple writeblrs*

I'm not sure if this is accurate, but there's a concept in Buddhist artistry where it isn't the art that is celebrated, but how the art helped/changed the artist.

So how did writing Crater City affect you? Do you have a new perspective on the world because of a character? Do you have a new interest because of research? Is there something you learned? Something life-changing? Something overly specific? Something mundane?

/not forced btw <3

Yeehaw get ready for a little ramble (thank you for this ask, I had to sit on it a bit because I'm not great with words hehe)

I like the idea of remembering the process in which something is created, like for physical art (there's some artists out there that focus on the process more than the art piece itself which I find very interesting). But hoo boy I'm not sure what anyone's gonna get out of asking me what I learned in boating school because it is not easy to answer. I had to reedit this like so many times.

So how did writing Crater City affect you?

Currently still writing it, and I have to say it's still poisoning my brain. I think it affects the way I view myself because of the inner work writing does. I discover more about myself and others, like life experiences, hindsight, identity, etc etc. I'm not sure how much Crater City has affected me since I have been going through many changes recently, but this story has stuck with me through many shitty and great times, so it played some part in my life. It's kind of like a diary at times. I add whatever new thing I discover and look back at it later like "oh yeah I remember what happened when I decided to put that in." Kinda like when you draw something and remember the time and place you did it, if you know what I mean. It's like a time capsule, I really like that part about the arts/language.

I think what affected me most was learning about fluidity, whether that means gender expression/identity, sexuality, fashion, ideas, morals, blah blah blah. The way my brain works is that it's very staunch until I have a routine epiphany that's like, "Oh yeah, I just remembered I have free will [to an extent]."

Do you have a new perspective on the world because of a character?

I've become a bit more confident in my identity thanks to really all of my characters (more specifically Blair). When I write them, I can express bits of myself and experiences that I don’t really talk about around people I know in real life. I'm a very reserved person & extremely introspective.

Blair is the polar opposite of me and tends to just be himself in general. His perspective that masculinity (or life in general) is what you make it gives me hope for a better future. I wonder if that's the point of his character, but I'm not sure.

Blair helped me realize there's more than one way to be a man than what mainstream makes it appear. He allowed me to figure out who I am freely and without much limitation because when you're alone writing a story about a character you don't percieve as a direct extension of yourself, you can create more freely and access thoughts you didn't know you had until you looks back in hindsight like "oh damn well I guess that's kinda relatable."

Blair is the first trans character I've created and at first he wasn't until it slowly crept up on me that he definitely was (which is usually the case when I create trans characters for some reason; it's like they just come out on their own). It may not seem remarkable to others, but for me it is a huge deal that he is confident and can embrace femininity without doubting his gender identity. He (and the rest of the male cast) does not shy away from makeup or wearing a dress (partly because I have created a genderless formal dress code norm).

He holds a special place in my heart. His name is Blair Heart, whether intentional or not. So I guess I'd say that he, while very flawed in every sense of the word, helped me understand who I am and want to be no matter how lame that sounds. Sometimes it takes writing the same character for years until you finally have a eureka moment.

Do you have a new interest because of research?

I've grown [more] interested in psychology. It's thanks to really every character I make (in this story, it's mostly due to Darcy, Blair, and Elijah). I love making mentally ill characters. It's what I've always focused on in my writing. It's important to me to make sure no dark corner goes unturned or that nothing is glorified when adding it to the mix. I also just like hiding little shards of "deep" shit among the light-heartedness because I think it's whimsical and clowns on life.

Playing with philosophies of the meaning of life is also kinda fun. Only got into that when I took that one philosophy course in college but of course it spiraled from there. If I were smarter I'd say that Crater City is about some philosophical rant about nihilism or hedonism or free will or whatever but I don't have TIME to talk about that in this post and even if I did, I'm not sure I have the brain power to churn out what I mean. I'm not great explaining things. But for now just accept the explanation that it's about funny little guys running around trying to find a purpose.

I'm sure there's more things, but I learn so many new things all the time that I'm too lazy to explain. Everything excites me. I learn all the time & I love it.

Is there something you learned? Something life-changing? Something overly specific? Something mundane?

Life changing: I guess like my outlook on life? Like my mind tends to be stuck in routines and shit but saying no to rigid things like how something should be has taught me to enjoy writing/hobbies/life and not treat everything like a chore. Like we all have a place somewhere but we dont have to be stuck doing the same shit forever because we're not npcs. I think that would be something writing Darcy teaches me. Not to be like him.

Something overly-specific/mundane: I'm more interested in coding now because that's Elijah's hobby (except I'm focusing on web design at the moment; he's more into video games). I'm currently learning html, css, and Java. I'm still trying to work on creating a personal web page. When I accrue enough money, I'll learn guitar again after 14 years. Thanks Elijah for these new hobbies.

...

I hope that answered most of it because I'm tired and haven't had much free time to spare lately teehee

Tl;dr: writing makes you gay

Tagging for Crater City adjacent content:

@writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23 @talesfromtheunknowable @joswriting @mysticstarlightduck

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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Despite not being comatose anymore, Danny’s health still wasn’t the greatest. After getting introductions for who everyone was they had started to explain to him what had happened. Only for him to fall asleep again before they got very far. After being assured by Bruce and Leslie that it was normal for those who had been in a coma to not be able to stay awake very long in the beginning, the others had found ways to entertain themselves while letting him rest more. When he woke up again hours later they let him orient himself again before trying to pick up where they’d left off. They had to repeat the same sequence again two more times before they got through the entire two months worth of events.

The hardest part of catching Danny up on everything had been admitting they didn’t know what had happened to Maddie and Jack. During the third time of being awake Danny had asked where they were, being confused why they hadn’t shown up to see him yet despite everything. And when Jazz had finally admitted it was because they weren’t there, and they didn’t even know if they were okay, Danny had panicked slightly. If he’d been in better health Jazz knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from running out into the city to try and find them himself. Yet at this point he couldn’t even push himself upright without help, and changing forms or even floating seemed impossible. Which had left him collapsed in Jazz’s lap, sobbing, “You don’t get it, Jazz! None of this matters at ALL if the people I care about aren’t alive! That includes mom and dad! None of this matters if they’re not okay too!”

Jazz knew that Danny really only fought to keep certain people happy. He’d protect everyone, sure. But the reason he kept going, the only real motivation he had for throwing himself in harm's way all the time, was to protect his friends and family. He did a lot of crazy heroic things, but he didn’t want to be some big time famous hero like she had learned Batman and Superman were. It was hard to not be able to tell him that he hadn’t failed. Only Sam, Tucker, and Danielle had been able to get him to calm down by reminding him how resilient Jack and Maddie were. Despite all the fights they got in, it was very rare that those two got hurt. So odds were they were still just fine after this disaster too. It had been enough to calm him down at least enough to stop crying, and allow himself to rest more. But his words still rang in Jazz’s head the next day.

Throughout the days Leslie was present more, checking Danny’s vitals, drawing a little more blood for another panel, bringing him room temperature water to sip in the afternoon. She strangely didn’t try to get Danny to eat anything until the next day. When Jazz asked about it Leslie had explained that while Danny definitely needed to eat again, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet. While the cryo stasis had helped him not deteriorate as much as anyone else would have over a two month coma, he still had. He was underweight, malnourished, and easily fatigued. And that included his digestive system. She tried to help by giving Danny another vitamin IV with a slightly different formula. But even with that the first time she’d let him try eating two plain crackers he’d ended up throwing up less than an hour later.

That was when Bruce happened to come check on them. With the biggest hurdles for now having been taken care of, most of his kids had gone back to their own homes, as they usually did. It was hard to keep them around for more than a few days, and while there was still the task of getting these displaced kids back home they all knew that could wait until Danny was feeling better. Especially after learning through bits and pieces of information that there was a government team back there that would just love to hunt him down the first chance they got. So with Duke and Damian currently at school that left the house rather empty, and Bruce found himself taking charge of checking on their visitors. He had learned a lot about them in the past two days. The kids were obviously used to helping patch Danny back up, without the help of any adults. But they still relied on Danny being okay to feel secure. Danny was the one that protected them. Danny was the one they relied on being okay to judge whether or not everything else was okay. When Danny was cracking jokes the others were at ease. But when Danny couldn’t force himself to reassure them, there was a harsh spike in their anxiety. And usually Jazz was the one that took charge, trying to keep them all calm and reassured.

It was an unfair, but understandable situation that didn’t allow for Danny to truly rest. And that was what motivated Bruce to enter the room and approach the kids this time, stopping by the connected bathroom to grab a soft towel first. Jazz was once again the only one sitting on the bed while the other three hovered nearby, waiting to be directed. Her hands were on Danny’s back and arm as he was curled over the bucket Leslie had made sure was left just in case, coughing and half heaving despite there being nothing left in his stomach. Bruce couldn’t imagine how much stress it must be to have an audience, so decided the first thing he’d do would be to get the others to disperse. When he raised his hand to Tucker’s shoulder he couldn’t blame Tucker for jumping in startle.

“D’dude! You scared me,” Tucker protested shakily.

“He’ll be alright,” Bruce chose to assure instead of apologizing for inevitably sneaking up on the kids. “Can you three go work with Alfred to find a change of clothes and bedding?”

The three almost jumped on being given something to do, a series of affirmatives before they scurried from the room. Bruce sent Alfred a text to request he keep the three of them occupied for a while then knelt down next to the bed and offered the towel to Danny. It seemed his stomach had decided to stop throwing a fit for now, and as Danny took the towel and buried his face in it Bruce relocated the bucket to the nightstand. He didn’t need to wipe his entire face, but from that angle Bruce hadn’t missed the tears, and realized Danny was hiding.

“Jazz, can you join the others?” Bruce requested on Danny’s behalf. “And find Leslie to help waterproof his injuries so he can have a bath?” Not only would that give Danny some time away from the others, but he actually really needed one too. A fact Bruce realized when he’d reached up to help pull Danny’s hair out of his face. He’d probably feel a little better after getting fully cleaned up for once too.

Jazz seemed reluctant to leave, but at least seemed to know when her presence was a detriment more than comfort. She knew her brother well, and after leaning down to give Danny a peck on the head and whisper a quick ‘I love you’ she headed out the door.

“...Am I even allowed to have a bath?” Danny’s question came after he was sure Jazz was gone, raising his head and looking and sounding as miserable and pathetic as he probably felt.

“Of course you are,” Bruce assured, using his thumb to brush away another tear that escaped when Danny blinked. “We’ll just have to waterproof your injuries and IV site. But then you should be fine to take one for as long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

The idea of getting some time to himself was welcomed, but after realizing what he was thinking Danny’s expression crumpled again, and Bruce had to raise a little to catch him as we swayed. He was a little surprised when Danny actually curled into him then, his form shaking.

“Sorry,” Danny whimpered, and Bruce couldn’t keep himself from gathering the boy up in a tight hug. “...I’m not okay.”

That sounded like it had been incredibly hard to say, and Bruce had to wonder if it was something someone had been working on with him. He’d heard from Jason that it was relatively recent that Danny’s parents even knew what he was, let alone what he’d been going through. Perhaps one of them had been the one to talk him into letting them know when he wasn’t doing well.

“...I know,” Bruce responded quietly as he moved to sit on the bed and pull Danny into a ball. Everyone knew Danny wasn’t doing well physically. But Bruce knew he wasn’t just talking about that part of his health this time. “You’re going to be okay though.”

It felt good to be held by someone he didn’t have to protect. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing for. Act like he was just fine and nothing fazed him. It had been something he had just started getting after his parents got involved with all aspects of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he would miss it until they weren’t there to give him that comfort. Jazz had a habit of calling out the fact that he was just a kid, but she was too, and couldn’t quite give him what he needed. But Bruce was an adult. And someone who seemed to have also lived through similar injuries. Hearing him say he’d be alright felt like a stated fact instead of just a confident reassurance.

It didn’t take long for Leslie to arrive and expertly shoo Jazz away again to help Alfred with the others. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Danny had thrown up, and instead just assured him he was going to be okay, and to think of it like having the stomach flu. The comparison did wonders in helping Danny calm down more, to the point he was only sniffling quietly as she took care of dressing his wounds in a waterproof covering.

“Don’t scrub too hard on the edges of the bandages when you’re washing up, okay?” Leslie directed while rubbing the said edges of the last bandage she was placing around his arm to encase the temporarily detached IV. She’d taken some time to clean the sites that would be covered so Danny would be able to feel completely clean after his bath, and was pleased to see he was healing a lot faster now that he wasn’t in some sort of stasis mode. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wounds were completely healed by the end of next week at this rate.

Danny gave a small hum in acknowledgement, understanding that he couldn’t break the seal if the bandages were going to work properly. The desire for an actual bath was strong enough that he was willing to comply with their conditions, even if it meant he had to have Bruce in the bathroom with him, just in case. It made sense considering he couldn’t go to the toilet on his own just yet, but at least Bruce had promised to stay facing towards the door as long as he could. He also had his phone with him to work on his own projects, so wouldn’t even try to get Danny to talk to him.

It was exhausting, but Danny also didn’t realize just how much it would feel good to be clean. To not have his scalp itch, and skin feel like a layer of grime was coating it. And also just to lounge in the warm water, in the silence and almost complete isolation. He was there for a little over an hour - dang fancy rich people's tubs and their ability to keep the water just right - before it became uncomfortably apparent he wasn’t just imagining the aching starting to get worse. Which led him to reluctantly using his foot to nudge the plug out to allow the water to drain and reaching out to knock his hand against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Done already?” Bruce asked easily, glancing over his shoulder halfway.

“Morphine is wearing off,” Danny admitted with a grimace, resting against the side of the tub.

“Ah,” Bruce nodded in unfortunate complete understanding, turning his phone screen off and tucking it into his pocket while grabbing the towel and soft robe to hand to Danny. “Let me know if you need help.”

Danny hummed once again to acknowledge what was said, but stubbornly took care of at least getting the bathrobe on himself on his own once the water had drained. Unfortunately he had to ask for help to get out of the tub, still too weak to lift himself up or stand. But Bruce didn’t react differently towards this than if Danny had simply asked for help opening a jar or something. It was nice.

Alfred had already brought a pair of soft pajama pants and fluffy socks when he’d returned to change the bedding as well. And once Danny was dressed Bruce had carried him back to the edge of the bed where Leslie could double check that the bandages had worked, get the IV reattached and another dose of morphine going. He found he was so worn out from the simple task, but also found that once the morphine did its job taking away the aches and pain he did feel a lot better than before. Enough that Duke pausing in the doorway while returning home from school didn’t make him feel too wary.

“Oh- First post injury bath?” Duke asked, pointing a finger at Danny as he noticed the bathrobe on the bed and Danny’s still damp hair. When Bruce nodded, Duke grinned. “Nice! Those always feel amazing somehow. You should take him to the couch next.”

“The couch?” Danny couldn’t help asking. Was it just the family room couch or something different?

“In the study. It’s quiet in there, and being stuck in bed sucks,” Duke explained. “I bet he was actually already planning on taking you there. After living here I came to find out Bruce is actually really good at helping people feel better. Even though he’s not perfect, no one is, he still makes a nice dad-”

“Duke,” Bruce interrupted, a slight scowl hiding his embarrassment. “Make sure you have enough time to finish your homework before patrol.”

Other people may have been put off by the glower, but Duke just laughed. “Sure sure. I’ll meet you in the study?”

It took Danny a moment to realize Duke was talking to him, and couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping. He didn’t really want to entertain people yet, he was already feeling physically drained on top of emotionally.

Surprisingly Duke picked up on the mood easily. “I’ll keep quiet. Promise. But trust me when I say it’s really nice,” he offered, easily picking up Danny’s anti-social vibes.

“...Sure. We can try,” Danny accepted, figuring he could at least attempt the idea since Duke didn’t seem to want to spend the time talking.

It was just a few more minutes for Leslie to finish giving him another routine checkup and add an anti nausea patch behind his ear before allowing Bruce to pick him up again. Danny inevitably felt tiny as Bruce was able to carry him with just one arm, leaving the other free to bring the IV pole with them. But he found he didn’t mind. It had only been two days of him being awake in that bedroom, but Danny found getting to leave the room was nice. The study was quite a ways down the hall, and when they reached it Alfred was already there.

“I’ve provided the usual snacks for Master Duke and Master Damian. There’s also a thermos of warm broth that Dr. Thompkins has approved for Master Danny to try if he’s up for it. I will continue to keep the rest of the children occupied until supper,” Alfred informed, bringing their attention to the mentioned food on the low table in front of the very plush couch.

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce responded simply, heading further in the room to get settled.

There was a fire crackling gently in the fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm despite the autumn chill outside. There was already a slight frost on the windows, but the glass was the only thing that reflected that cold. All the colors of the room were warm, and the faux fur blanket Bruce grabbed to help bundle Danny up in only increased the cozy feeling the room had. It was quiet, as Duke had said, and comfortable. Even when Duke and Damian joined them to work on their homework they rarely spoke. And when they did it was in low voices, and to each other about their homework or school day.

Danny had accepted being brought there with the thought that he’d have to end up asking to go back to the bedroom later. But after having spent some time quietly looking around the room his gaze had settled on watching the fire. And slowly the crackle of the wood, soft scratch of pens and pencils, rustling of paper and quiet taps of technology muddled into a soft haze. Eventually Danny’s eyes drooped closed as the soft sounds and comforting warmth became a lullaby coaxing him to sleep. 

Duke was right. The couch was pretty nice.

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This entire chapter was unplanned X'DD but I ain't complaining.

Bruce was as hard to draw as Dick was 8 | my art style is too cute coded for these rugged american comic characters.

Also I am extremely distracted translating a manga that not available in english just so I can know the story |D updates might be a little slower.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[mviswidow]

in search of silence

Eloise Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: r is in an abusive marriage, angst, el to the rescue, some fluff at the end

Summary: Eloise and R are childhood best friends. When a new season begins, they find themselves reunited for the first time since R has entered her marriage that was set up by her parents.

Prompt: could i request a fic with childhood bestfriends eloise bridgerton x f!reader. eloise and reader stopped talking to each other as often because reader got married and one day eloise catches reader’s husband being mean to her (this can be physically or verbally) and eloise defends reader and they rekindle their friendship/old feelings for each other.

sidenote, ive always loved your mcu women fics and im SO glad you’re taking requests for eloise now 😭😭🫶

A/N: thank you anon!! for both the request and the compliment. i love eloise sm this was so fun to write

Muffled shouting stole Eloise’s attention when she escaped from the ballroom of this week's ball that she had been forced to attend with her family. She hadn’t wandered far enough to no longer be able to hear the string quartet playing, but the sound of a deep voice yelling angrily was hard to miss as she passed what she assumed was a drawing room.

Though Eloise knew she should not eavesdrop, she found herself unable to mind her business and stopped in her tracks, gravitating closer to the commotion.

--

“I am through with you,” Your husband shouted, face red with rage.

The moment his hand had clasped forcefully around your wrist to drag you into a room with him earlier, you knew what was coming for you.

“James, please - someone will hear,” you responded in a hushed voice, thoroughly embarrassed at the thought.

“Let them! Everyone should know the bitch of a wife you are,” he spat.

You knew better than to talk back to him, and yet, “I’ve done nothing to you at all! You’ve no reason to -”

A heavy-handed slap to your face was sure to silence you. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheek, and your hand rose shakily to cradle the side of your face. Hot tears brimmed your eyes as you breathed deeply to steady yourself.

“I’m leaving.”

“Please -” you forced yourself to say, a feeble attempt to calm him down, lest his temper worsen on his way home.

“Enough from you! I-”

The door burst open and you felt as if your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

You were astounded to see Eloise standing in the doorway, her lips in a tight line. It had been long since you’d seen her last. She was beautiful, as always. For a moment you forgot your present situation until you noted the fire in her eyes. She was furious, but she kept herself composed, “Is everything alright in here? I heard quite the commotion from outside as I was passing by.”

“We are quite fine.” He turned back to you and after a moment, he spoke, “I’ll send the carriage back around for you once I arrive home. I cannot stand the sight of you at present.”

“Lady Bridgerton,” he said curtly. Eloise barely had time to register the fact that James was walking towards her and stepped out of his way just in time.

“Lord Anderson,” she managed out, deciding to forgo her polite curtsy. She had deemed that he did not deserve it.

You both jumped at the sound of the door slamming upon his exit.

Her head felt as if it was spinning. She’d recognized your voice from outside the instant you spoke. The thought of this being the reality of the marriage your parents had arranged for you devastated her. She wouldn’t let herself imagine how horrid it was for you when you were actually at home.

Your cheek still burned from being slapped and there was no doubt in your mind about it being tinged pink. You were beyond mortified and the relief of James finally having left had tears falling down your face rapidly.

As much as you wanted to take in Eloise, who you hadn’t had a moment alone with since last season, you were lost in your mind. You dreaded your impending arrival back home and prayed that your husband would be fast asleep.

After a few more seconds you pried your eyes away from the bookcase you had been staring at and settled your gaze on Eloise.

She somehow looked more stunning than you had remembered her to be and your heart squeezed painfully. Her hair curled carefully over her shoulders in such a familiar way and it reminded you of how you used to twirl her curls in your fingers whenever she would rest her head in your lap.

The Bridgerton made her way over to you carefully. The concern on her face was evident and you knew by the way her eyebrows were crinkling together that she had much to say.

She stopped when she was just a few feet in front of you. For once, she seemed unable to form a proper sentence.

You were sure she couldn’t find the right words. You weren’t sure how you should navigate this situation yourself, but you had had enough of the silence, “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”

Eloise shook her head immediately, “You have nothing to be apologizing for.”

There was another lull of silence. All either of you could do was look into each other’s eyes. Hers looked so sad. How you hated to see them so.

“I assure you I am quite alright.”

“There is no use in lying to me, Y/n/n.”

Your bottom lip trembles at the familiar nickname and she hurries closer, engulfing you in a hug.

She felt you trembling as she held you against her. “I’m here,” she whispered, arms wrapped tightly around you.

It was not long before sobs racked your body and all she could do was rub your back and occasionally give you a few words of reassurance. Eloise felt her heart splitting into pieces the longer you cried.

You were certain that you would give anything to stay in her arms forever. There was nowhere in the world where you felt safer. Her chest radiated warmth and you took comfort in the very familiar scent of her perfume.

Once you’ve calmed slightly, you apologize again, “I’ve missed you terribly. And I have been the furthest thing from a friend to you. I’ve allowed James to drive the people closest to me out of my life and I won't stand for it any longer.”

“I can’t have you getting in trouble because of me,” she shook her head.

“Oh, hush, El,” you chuckled wetly. “I’ve been in trouble with my Mama countless times because of you.”

She knew you were joking to make light of the situation, but she found nothing humorous about it. Especially not as she reached up to wipe away the tears on your face.

“How long has it been this way?” she inquired, speaking with a gentle voice.

“A handful of months. He’s become rather frustrated by the fact that I have yet to produce an heir for him and his displeasure with me grows stronger by the second.”

Eloise’s face scrunched in indignation, “That is ridiculous.”

“It’s fair enough - that is why he was searching for a wife in the first place.”

“It’s unacceptable behavior from him regardless of that fact,” she was quick to rebuke. She took your hand in her own and squeezed gently. The feel of your skin against hers made her heart race.

“I’d like to get out of the house tomorrow. Do you think your mother should have my head if I busied you the whole day?”

“Not at all. She’s missed you quite a lot as well,” Eloise smiled.

Your heart fluttered at the admittance.

“Will you be okay tonight?”

“I will. I’m sure he’ll drink himself to sleep the second he arrives home.”

You could tell Eloise didn’t like the sound of that, but she said nothing.

She was grateful that you wanted to spend the day with her tomorrow, not only because she would be eager to see how you were but also because she’d missed your company so very much.

--

Almost two fortnights later, you’re riding in a carriage to a ball with your husband sitting across from you. He grows tired of waiting for you to finally come to be with child. Intercourse with him is nauseating and at this point, you’re praying that your courses don’t come next month for a multitude of reasons.

The ride is sour, as you’ve just had a nasty argument, ending in you being pushed into a table. Your right arm ached still, but you were sure that nothing was broken.

You were excited to escape from your husband and find your dear Eloise the moment the opportunity arose. Your feelings for her made you ever so giddy when you were around her. You felt almost childish at your eagerness to leave your husband and find your friend, but you had been swept into this marriage on your just first season out, which was only last year. It barely gave you any time to enjoy balls with her without courting.

Running around with Eloise at the last ball felt so normal, oddly enough. It was incredibly refreshing to spend the better part of the evening with her, sipping on champagne and cracking jokes. Even though you knew it was slightly improper as you were now married and should have been at your husband’s side, listening to him boast about his fortune and how impatient he was to have an heir with whoever would listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It did anger him, however. You had learned so after the last ball when he reprimanded you for almost half of an hour about your behavior as if you were his child and not his wife.

You’d decided to behave for the first hour, at least. It frustrated you so to listen to James drone on to his acquaintances, but you knew it was what needed to be done since he was already on edge from his earlier outburst.

The Bridgertons arrived after you, and you spotted Eloise immediately. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face when you saw the way her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

You squeezed James’ arm absentmindedly out of the excitement you felt. When he looked down at you, you played it off by giving him a look that should have been directed toward Eloise.

That had seemed to satisfy him well enough and he returned to his conversation, allowing you to return to observing your favorite Bridgerton from afar.

Eloise’s hair cascaded over one of her shoulders and two strands of soft curls beautifully framed the sides of her face. Her dress was blue, as it usually was, and it was embellished with embroidered flowers.

You could hardly peel your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to redirect your attention to your husband once more.

After what you deemed an appropriate amount of time, you excused yourself to find more pleasant company.

It seemed as if you had run into almost every Bridgerton before her, though. You greeted all three of her present brothers before finding Violet and Agatha in conversation and curtsying to both. Violet even extended a hand to squeeze yours for a moment, happy to see you.

As soon as you began a conversation with her and Lady Danbury, you were accosted by Eloise, who gripped your arm excitedly. You winced briefly, now bruised from your earlier encounter with the table of your drawing room.

You relaxed your expression and the pinch in your brow was gone once it settled in that you were in Eloise’s presence, she still noticed your discomfort despite your futile efforts to mask it and found herself glancing down at your arm.

Her nostrils flared at what she saw, she had half the mind to find Lord Anderson at that moment, but she looked back up to you and saw the bright grin on your face and melted, a smile of her own growing quickly.

She swiftly looped her arm through yours and began to pull you away, wanting you to herself, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal Lady Anderson away. I’ve hardly had any time with her all week.”

The older women chuckled and shook their heads, recognizing this familiar routine that the two of you had been accustomed to last year.

“Have a nice time ladies,” Violet smiled, not even bothering to remind Eloise to attempt to fill a few spots on her dance card. She knew how the girl had missed you, and didn’t have it in her to force her daughter away from you. Violet rather appreciated how cheerful Eloise happened to get whenever you were around, especially at balls, where genuine smiles from the young lady were scarce.

Eloise guided you to a corner of the ballroom, not failing to make a stop at the refreshment table and hand you a lemonade. You were relieved to be by her side at last. There was nothing you had desired more in the past week, where you had only been able to promenade with her once, as James had been irritable.

The longer you were around her, the more you felt the pressure on your chest relieve itself. You were able to breathe so easily around Eloise. You suddenly became aware of the fact that her thumb was passively rubbing your arm and you had to blink a few times, not sure if you were dreaming it.

You ached for her to touch you more. You’d once attempted to imagine that your husband’s hands were hers, but they were far too rough, and you gave up quickly.

Your mind wandered for a moment, but before it could stray too far, you snapped yourself out of it.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you pointed out, turning your head towards your best friend. It was quite unlike her.

She tilted her head in a shrug, “You seem as though you could use a little quiet.”

“You know me far too well, Eloise,” a smile returned to your lips, something she never failed to do, and you shook your head. “But please, if there’s anyone I’d like to hear ramble, it is always you.”

Eloise scoffed in mock offense, “I do not ramble.”

“You do, too,” you teased. “I like it.”

She chortles in response and the two of you hold eye contact. She looks at you with a fondness that you recognize yourself often directing toward her.

Eloise breaks it for a short moment to glance down at your lips.

When she does it once more, you’re suddenly overtaken by instinct and put your lemonade on a serving tray, taking hers and doing the same.

“What-”

Eloise is interrupted by you taking her gloved hand in your own and dragging her out of the ballroom. She doesn’t miss the way you check over your shoulder for your husband, who is heavily occupied, drinking and joking happily with his friends.

You begin making your way into the gardens when you hear Eloise chirp up from behind you.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” she says, not quite like she means it.

You roll your eyes, “Then it’s a good thing you’ve never cared for rules, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” she couldn’t be offended, it was true, and it was exhilarating to be truly alone with you for the first time in such a long while.

You stopped when you’d reached a dead end and you were sure you were not only alone but completely hidden from anyone looking outside.

Eloise tried to stop her mind from racing. She couldn’t be sure of why you had pulled her out of the ballroom. She waited with bated breath to find out, trying to suppress the excitement she felt. You could just be in search of fresh air, or actual silence, which required you to be far enough to hear the music no longer.

Your breathing quickened as you stood in front of her. She took note of it, and against her better judgment, let her eyes flicker to your chest. Then up to your lips, which were parted slightly. Her eyes lingered, before finally meeting your own.

While you badly wanted to tell her everything on your mind, you could hardly form a proper sentence, “El…”

You could hear her breath, ragged from nerves as she took a step closer to you.

There was a question in your eyes. You were grateful that you did not have to utter it. She knew.

She told you that she knew with the glassy nature of her eyes, the parting of her mouth, and her breath fanning across your face as she brought herself closer.

You closed the distance, pressing your lips to Eloise’s. The gentle kiss did not take long to turn eager, almost desperate, both of you feeling free from the sole secret you had kept from each other.

Her lips were soft and warm. They were everything you had dreamed of.

You lost yourself in Eloise, your hands finding their way to her jaw. Your body felt as if it was being lit from the inside when she pressed you into her with a firm hand at the small of your back. Your head almost spun from the contact of her chest against your own.

Despite not wanting to, you pulled away the slightest bit to catch your breath. You did not miss the way she chased your lips.

She had never looked more beautiful. Your heart swelled as she began to smile, which turned into a breathy chuckle.

You shook your head as you joined her with a giggle and let your arms wrap around your neck, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, El. So much,” you whispered.

You felt her breath hitch and her arms tightened around your waist, “I love you too. So very much. It pains me so to watch you from across a ballroom when I want nothing more than to be by your side.”

All of a sudden, your reality came flooding back to you.

“You deserve so much more than that brute that calls himself your husband. He should be honored to spend the time with you that he does. He is a fool for not seeing how precious you are.”

Tears welled in your eyes as she spoke, “I wish I had never married, El. I’m miserable.”

“I know. I’m not sure how much peace this brings you, but you should know that I am here for you, at any time of day or night. You could barge into the Bridgerton house in the late hours of the night and I shall be ready to dissolve your worries with my charming wits and whatever biscuits we can find in the kitchens.”

You found yourself laughing, as you always did in Eloise’s presence, “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” her lips quirked up.

“What are we to do now? About us, I mean.”

“We’re going to have to find a way to get you out of that house of yours however often we can. And if Lord Anderson lays another finger on you I will sic my entire family and Lady Danbury on him. We’ll see how he likes that.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’d say I’m known for being ridiculous, you shouldn’t be surprised,” she raised a brow playfully before looking over her shoulder. “I highly doubt anyone is missing us in there…”

“What might you be suggesting, Miss Eloise,” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I think you know quite well what I suggest.”

[sysmedsaresexist]

im a system trying to learn more about endos.

so far in syscourse ive only seen proof of cdds being traumagenic but they dont disprove non-cdd plurality, so what sources are there that have evidence of endogenic systems, if you have any?

Right now? There isn't any hard evidence that would satisfy anti endos. There's TONS of papers and articles talking about the recent emergence of endogenic systems, but they're mostly interview based. I debunked a lot of them when I was still anti. Small sample sizes, personal bias about dysfunction levels, all interviews. Those won't stand for those who are skeptical.

Now that I've calmed my gender neutral tits, though, I can look at where all this research is heading, and I can look back and find all the different terms that have been used to describe this same phenomenon. Those terms don't fall under psychology, they appear in journals about consciousness and self and philosophy, and they go all the way back to the 1800s, developing right alongside theories on hysteria and split personality, and the TOSD.

I don't need to do the work for you (/nm), just Google multiple self theory and fall down the rabbit hole. Trust me. One Google search, move at your own pace. It'll mean more when you find all this yourself and make the journey on your own. It was way more effective when I went alone.

That said, I'm not heartless.

The most promising research coming out is the tulpa studies.

Tanya Luhrmann and Michael Lifshitz are incredible, but it's Luhrmann who really stole my heart. She has a long list of work on religious communication with God and "others", and was a huge part of putting tulpas, and several other different voice hearing, religious communities into the fmri scanners to see what's going on. The reddit AMA is being passed around now, and it's largely being ignored by antis, without understanding what it was.

The tulpa studies began... shit, 5 years ago? Covid put a hold on the project, but it's back up and running and they're working on the final paper. The AMA was a chance for people to ask questions to the lead researchers about the project, including whether they found anything.

And they did.

The brains of tulpamancers and other practitioners lit up in unexpected areas and outside of conscious control (very basic overview).

Luhrmann also wrote about how this kind of research can help other voice hearers, and could potentially point to some new therapy opportunities for those struggling.

No, Luhrmann and Lifshitz are not dissociative specialists. Endogenic systems have screamed for decades about how they don't have CDDs and we just refuse to listen. This research is occurring in other areas and specialities. They don't need to be dissociative specialists to work fmri machines and see there's something happening.

My hope is that once the final results are published, we'll see some very quick movements comparing CDDs and endogenic systems. We're not there yet, but I think we'll actually have firm answers within the next couple years.

And after looking into other areas of research, and seeing the potential positives, and that they DID see some unexpected things on the scans...

Not to mention that I've spoken with Colin Ross, THE dissociative expert, who in the 1980s, wrote about "endogenous multiplicity," a subsection of those with MPD that had no trauma history, no dysfunction, no amnesia, etc, and he still stands by that to this very day. I've spoken with several other experts. Go look at Jamie Marich on Twitter and see all her colleagues in the notes.

Anti endo is a dying stance.

Learn nuance while you can (CDDs and endogenic plurality are different, occasionally overlapping), and jump ship before it's too late to take the harm back.

Happy googling and good luck!

[maraudereestauderelb]

What are the Chances IV (Troy Otto)

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts :)

Tag list: @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

Part I Part II Part III

Masterlist

The next few days after Y/N’s conversation with Jeremiah were a blur of hard work and anticipation. The shift system hadn’t been implemented yet, but Y/N could sense the wheels turning. People were still exhausted by mid-afternoon, and every time she saw Jeremiah observing them from a distance, she knew he was considering her idea. 

One afternoon, after the day’s work had slowed to a crawl under the brutal sun, Troy approached her. “You ever fired a gun before?” he asked, leaning against the fence with that familiar smirk. 

Y/N hesitated. "I mean, I’ve used that little revolver a few times when we were on the road, but I’m not exactly an expert." 

"Thought so. You’ve been lucky so far, but luck runs out. I’ve seen it." His eyes flickered with something darker before he waved a hand. "Come on. I’ll show you how to really use one." 

They walked out to a quiet area near the edge of the ranch, a makeshift target set up against a tree. He handed her a rifle—heavier than the revolver she was used to—and took a step closer. “Alright, first things first,” Troy said, his voice low and instructive. “So you hold it like this,” he explained, moving her arms and hands until they were in the correct positions. 

His touch was firm, but gentle, guiding her hands into place, and it sent an unexpected shiver through her body. Y/N struggled to focus on what he was saying, feeling the warmth of his body behind her. His breath tickled her ear, and she had to remind herself to breathe. 

"And then you just pull the trigger," Troy said, stepping back just enough to give her space. 

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she looked down the barrel of the gun. Her target—a rough circle drawn onto a board—seemed further away than it actually was. She focused, exhaling slowly as she pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back slightly, the shot ringing out in the still air. It wasn’t a perfect hit, just on the edge of the target, but for her first try with a rifle, it wasn’t terrible. 

"Not bad," Troy commented, his voice close enough to remind her just how near he was. 

She quickly lowered the gun and flicked on the safety, turning around slowly to face him. He hadn’t moved away at all, and as she looked up, she found herself staring into his intense blue eyes. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Troy's gaze flickered down to her lips for a brief second before snapping back up to meet her eyes. The air between them was thick with something unspoken. 

"Had I known you didn’t know how to shoot," Troy started, trying to break the tension, "I would’ve been more cautious and nice when I found you." 

Y/N’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Wouldn’t have shot you even if I had known,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. Her eyes drifted to his lips before she could stop herself, the charged atmosphere making it impossible not to notice the closeness between them. 

Troy’s smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes darkening as he stared back at her, the space between them seeming to shrink without either of them moving. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, her pulse loud in her ears. 

But before anything more could happen, Leona’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. “Oh Jesus, there you are, Y/N!” 

Both Y/N and Troy jumped, stepping back from each other quickly as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Y/N’s face flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun, and she turned to see Leona approaching, hands on her hips. 

"I’ve been looking for you everywhere!" Leona said, exasperation in her voice. "You said you were just gonna grab some water, and then you disappear? What are you two doing?" 

"Uh, just some target practice," Y/N stammered, glancing back at Troy, who was suddenly busy cleaning the rifle like nothing had happened. 

Leona gave them both a suspicious look but shrugged it off. "Well, Jeremiah’s looking for you. I think he’s going to try your shift idea." 

Y/N blinked, her mind still racing from the close encounter with Troy. "Really?" 

"Yeah, he wants to talk to you about it." 

Y/N nodded, trying to shake off the lingering tension and refocus. "Okay, I’ll head over." She turned to Troy, who gave her a subtle nod, his expression back to its usual unreadable self. 

As she and Leona walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but sneak one last glance over her shoulder at Troy. He was watching her, his journal tucked under his arm, the same thoughtful look on his face. 

Part V

[monster-slxt]

You are the personal maid to the youngest omega prince of the kingdom. Unknown to everyone, you are also the prince's lover. By day, you both played the role of a kind master and loyal servant. By night, you throw off your masks as well as your clothes and indulge in each other's bodies. Being an ordinary beta, no one even suspects that a lowly maid like you would be sleeping with the very prince you serve.

Then the king sells the prince off to the cruel monster king to prevent a possible war. Not willing to be separated from your beloved prince, you are the only servant to volunteer to accompany the prince on the journey.

While at the monster king's palace, you stick close to the prince refusing to leave his side for even a minute. Even sleeping in the Prince's bed at night. Yet strangely, the cruel monster has not made a single pass at your lover. You think perhaps the monster doesn't find humans attractive.

If only you knew.

If only you knew that the king had already knotted and bed on the very first night you arrived. That every night after, your precious omega lover would fuck himself on the king's massive, veiny cock right next to your sleeping body.

If only you knew, the king's plan to make you his cute little mate as well. He knows both of you will make lovely broodmares~

Aww this is kinda sweet ngl🥰

The big monster king can of course tell how his new toy prince feels about the cute little maid who volunteered to go with the prince, and figures well might as well take two toys for the price of one. A beta isn't as good an option for a broodmare, but the king's not too worried. In fact he sees a wonderful opportunity to play with his new toys.

The single time I was separated from my prince, the king offered him a proposition. He knows about our little relationship, and will allow me to continue to dote over the prince, even to sleep in their marriage bed, so long as the prince let's the king freely use his holes at night. The prince is so relieved that he can keep seeing me that he happily agrees. And so the king makes sure to pound into the prince as hard as he can without waking me, always cumming deep in his womb to make sure the prince gives him an heir.

By the time the prince is undeniably showing, we've both grown quite found of the monster king. He's an amiable host and quite charming in his own way. The prince was completely enamored with his new husband, no doubt helped by how often he was getting absolutely destroyed on his cock. And though surprised at first I was also taken in when the king started courting me as well.

It still completely surprised me one night when the king woke me up by crawling on top of me and ripping off my night gown.

"Finally," the king growled into my ear, the prince covering my mouth with his soft hand, "Ive waited far too long to claim you." Without even prepping me he starts rutting his giant cock against my hole, the smell of an alpha in rut sending my body into overdrive.

The prince leans down to kiss me while the king starts forcing me open around him. "I'm sorry I tried to stop him from taking you," the prince mutter between sloppy kisses, "It feels good I promise."

I'm sure he's lying. The stretch is the worst thing I've ever felt. As a beta my body isn't as ready to accept massive insertions like this, but it still gets wet as the king finally bottoms out inside me. He gives a few experiential thrusts before quickly picking up a brutal speed, all without giving me a moment to adjust. The kings beastial nature fully comes out in this moment, finally allowed to let go and properly breed his new broodmares.

"You'll be so pretty pregnant like me," the prince is grinding against his pillows now, and I just finally connect the dots that he's pregnant. I can't tell if that thought makes me moan or if pleasure is finally starting to overtake the pain of the kings brutal pace.

It's not long before he's filling me up, and some part of me knows I'm already knocked up. That I'm just the kings fucktoy now, just like my prince. My king pulls out and starts fucking my prince as I collapse onto my stomach. Maybe this future won't be too bad.

[we-out-here-simping]

Chapter 1: Three inches minimum.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Warnings: y/n might or might not be used; no pronouns used (gn!reader); flashbacks within a flashback; suggestivenes (no smut); trauma; might be canon divergent in future (cuz screw the canon) ; very questionable food choices on readers part (don't ask me I have no idea why I put it in)

word count: 9.5k

A/n: alright gang! we start all over again and imma do this right this time. i really am liking doing this rewrite/revamp of the old stuff now that i know where to take this story. so ive added new stuff that i really wanted to and got rid of some stuff as well.

i dont write smut but this is an 18+ blog mdni

promises series masterlist

...

Life in Hawkins was not a normal one. But then again, what did you know about the norm anyway?

You ran away from the Hawkins lab in 1980. Even after all these years, its memories still haunted you. You still got nightmares, they had never really stopped.

It was hard to forget, you in your dirty hospital gown, the cloth had still smelled of smoke. You had been lethargic, exhausted, but you had a goal in mind. Find Eight. 

You didn't know where she was, but she was your best bet. In the lab, she was the closest thing you had had to a friend. she was your sister. She told you about what her life was like before she had been taken to the lab, she had remembered a lot from then, you on the other hand, didn't. she used tell you all she remembered from outside.

it had been so long since you had last seen her. two years. 1978.

“Come with me”, she had almost begged, holding your hands in her, “we’ll do all that we wanted to. We’ll be free”

You don't know why you couldn't do it then. 

“Please. We’ll have names, we’ll find your real parents, we'll find mine, we’ll be together, we'll be free, that's what you wanted too, didnt you?” she swallowed, desperate, chest heaving. the alarms had been ringing through the halls. The clang of the heavy metal doors and boots stomping rang in the air— they were coming, Papa was coming. you were running out of time. you could run far far away. But you were stuck, your throat dry.

“I.. we can’t”, was all that came out. Your words betrayed you because Eight was right, it was all you wanted. It was all both of you wanted. More than anything. But in the heat of the moment, everything was scary, you were so damn scared. 

Eight stared at you, she stepped back, your shaky hands slipping out of her own. The noise got louder, the stomps closer. The betrayal and confusion on her features quickly morphed into a stoic expression.

“Maybe he’s right.” she swallowed, shaking her head, “You are too weak”, she turned and started walking away. you wanted to call after her but nothing came out. she stopped– the guards were so close– she turned her head a little yet still not showing you her face.

“Goodbye, seven.”

You had to find her because despite what she had said, she was your only hope. two years later, it was a shot in the dark at best, but what other choice did you have?

you tried looking for her, but the void was nothing but emptiness, yet crowded as a maze. she wouldn't let you see her. She was hiding, or rather, just not letting you in. you just hoped she was okay.

You weren't sure how, but you managed to stay out of suspicion for a week before an old woman found you trying to ‘steal’ clothes– a jacket more specifically. 

That's when you met Jim hopper.

“Ok, kid. How about you start by telling me your name?” a low gruff in the man’s voice. You stayed silent as you looked down to your hands in your lap, there was dirt beneath your nails. Water was hard to come across when you're on the run, especially in this cold.

“How about, where you're from, ‘cause I know you're not from around here” Hopper spoke up again. You pulled the sleeves of your full sleeved t-shirt further down, palms sweaty.

“Listen, kid”, he sighs, “ you’ve gotta give me something” you infact continued to give him nothing. you tuck your cold fingers under your thighs, trying your best to hold back the shivers. The ill-fitted t-shirt and joggers you'd found the day after you'd run away didn't do much in matters of protecting you from the cold. That was why you had tried to get that thick jacket. the very same you were caught ‘stealing’ that had brought you here.

“Mrs. Lauter wanted me to arrest you, y’know?” he tried to prompt you. you didn't look up from the tattered shoes you wore– they didn't fit you, they weren't yours.

“Hey!”, he raised his voice a little, your gaze snapped to his– eyes panicking. “look at me when I am talking to you!” he said sternly.

His gaze softened up along with his voice. “don't have to worry though. I got it under cover. Dumpster diving isn't much of an offense. But you gotta tell me where you came from so i can take you back home”

“No”, you finally speak up with a finality that he hadn't expected.

“Oh, so you do speak”, he leaned back in his chair, looking at you, analysing every detail about you. you avoided eye contact, your frame shivering, the dirt on your skin, your hair, “What's with the whole buzz cut, huh? Last time i checked, that wasn't what the kids were doing these days”

you wrapped your arms around your body, eyes still trained down. “C'mon kid you gotta give me something”, he huffed.

the only movement he got from you was you blinking down at your shoes. “Fine”, Frustrated, he got up, his chair pushed behind him, “then i guess you wouldn't mind being locked up in juvie then”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, brows knotted, not understanding what he said meant.

“That's little people jail”, realisation flashed across your face and he waited for you to say something but when you didn't say anything, he picked up his hat from the table with a deep sigh and moved to walk out.

Just when he was about to push the door to head outside his office, “I need to find my sister”, came a quivering voice behind him, your eyes finally looking at him. 

There it is, he thought to himself. 

“So”, he started, walking back to his chair, “this sister of yours. What's her name?”

“I– I don't know”, you stuttered, gaze moving back to your hands. You mentally berated yourself for letting it slip. you weren't even sure why you trusted him enough with that information, maybe that was just your 14 year old brain being stupid. you wondered what her name was now.

“You don't know? Your own sister's name?” he waited for an answer, leaning against the table, “what did I say about looking at me when I talk to you?”

You looked at him apprehensively, arms wrapping tighter around yourself, trying your best to not shiver. 

He sighed again, voice low, “Listen kid, it's late. So I'd appreciate it if you gave some answers.”

No response.

You weren't sure why, but Jim was willing to help you. you lived under his roof for two weeks, during which he considered what to do with you. 

Whenever he inquired about your past, he would be greeted with nothing but silence. He tried asking about the sister you mentioned– nothing.

He decided calling child protective services was the best choice but you knew that as soon as Hopper would make it that call, your Papa would be at his door– ready to take you back to the lab. 

Just when he was about to do it, you had grabbed Hopper's hand before he could dial the number and made him forget all about it. 

you needed time. you had to find your sister. and for some reason this man wanted to help you, for some reason you felt safe. you felt guilty, using him as just a means to your end. you promised yourself to not use your powers on him ever again.

Hopper didn't adopt you. He was aware that he was a drunk smoker and his place wasn't exactly the most child friendly place, filled with unprescribed medication that he popped like candy.

Hopper did find you the cheapest place in Hawkins, paid your rent until you could get a job, and even enrolled you into school. 

Speaking of which– School was fun….. for the first five days– those five days you'd managed to stay invisible, making sure to not draw attention to yourself. But on the sixth day, you realised that you were behind, classes were hard, neither the students nor the teachers were kind. 

So you'd get in fights, and the principal would tell you to call your parents and you would call over Hopper– him being the closest thing to it. Hopper would make you promise that you won't repeat your actions, but you would break that promise too.

Then the year 1983 came and Hopper came across the upside down. He instinctively hid the true story of the missing Byer's kid from you– adamant to keep you away from danger. not knowing that you had always been part of it.

You had taken up a job at a gift shop near melvalds. And were now finally making somewhat of an income to survive but now no longer in as much contact as before with Hopper. You were blissfully unaware of your troublesome past lurking only two steps behind you.

The following year, you somehow got roped into the madness of the upside down. When you found out about Eleven and her powers, and you couldn't lie anymore. You recounted your past with Hopper and the young girl who you shared a similar past with. 

Hopper had forced you to stay with the kids at the Byer's house with a boy from your school year. Steve Harrington. You knew Steve, he was given titles like "the hair" or "king". Far more better than the titles you were given. 

That night you both stood up against Billy, a rage-filled moron. When Steve was down, and he was closing in on the kids, you decided to step in between– shielding them. You had extended your hand, palm splayed across his chest. While pushing him away, you had tried to use your powers, control his mind, maybe just make him faint– you’d done it before. You had done much worse in the past.

Much to your horror, though– your powers didn't work, they were gone. 

as soon as the realisation had hit, there had been a pause. Billy had looked at where your palm touched him and then back to your face. He had smirked. 

The situation spiralled out of control. You then helped the kids with their plan sporting a broken left arm and dragging along a very concussed Steve.  

At the snowball, hopper told you that he was planning on adopting both you and Eleven. Ecstatic, you dropped Eleven off to Mike so they could have their much earned time. Nancy, to whom you'd talked to once, was sharing a dance with Dustin. And Jonathan clicked everyone's pictures. You had decided it was better you wait outside with Hopper. 

On your way out, you noticed a familiar car– looking in closely, you realised that it was Steve– his face no longer covered in scars and bruises. The sudden urge to go over, talk and maybe even thank him for helping you back there with the Billy situation. You looked over to Hopper, as if silently asking for permission to go over to him. After he had given a slight nod, you walked over to the car and knocked on the window. He cranked down the glass.

"Hey”, he smiled.

…

Eleven was out again with Mike. Hopper had left for the station and now you were all alone. No one to talk to. You found it ironic how you'd lived in loneliness almost all your life yet you still weren't used to it. 

You didn't even want to bother calling anyone because literally everyone had gotten either a job or internship over the summer– Steve at scoops ahoy, Nancy and Jonathan at the Hawkins Post and- well you didn't have any other friends who were your age. 

So here you were, in the quiet of Hopper's cabin– save for the chittering of the squirrel Eleven had named Mr. Fibbly. You were alone with nothing to do so might as well do some sort of chores. After racking your brain for what chore to settle on, you decided– Laundry, it is. 

Your mind went on autopilot as you gathered the laundry from your adopted father's and sister's room. As you padded to the room with the washing machine, you felt a disturbance. Come to think of it, you had also felt something the night prior as well.

A headache, it was a much milder version of the headache you felt when you used to use your powers but you had lost your powers almost a year ago. So, you brushed it off as your mind playing tricks on you– which you found hilariously ironic, considering that it used to be you who used to play tricks on the mind.

As you unloaded the laundry basket, you felt something again. This time, it wasn't a headache but it felt as though there was a presence. Your actions stopped as the past year's memories came flooding back. The fear that those things could be back weighed heavily on you. Your heartbeat picked up its speed. You had almost been mauled by those demo-dogs, you were traumatised to say the least.

The whisper of wood creaking reached your ears and your throat went dry. Perhaps what's scarier than being alone is realising that you never were. but you're in the cabin, it's safe here. It's supposed to be safe here.

then you heard it again– another creak. You wanted to run and hide yet you also wanted to look at the intruder but your legs wouldn't budge, as if stuck to the floor. 

When you finally managed to move your feet and turn around, you were suddenly engulfed in arms and a scent that you've grown all too familiar with.

"STEVE!", you let out a yelp as you turned around to face him, "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!", you smacked his shoulder as he laughed but then atleast he had the decency to give you a sheepish smile and breathe out a quiet "sorry". 

Before you knew it, his lips caught yours, heart still beating loudly against your ribs and lips moving with a rhythm that you'd now gotten used to. 

Kissing wasn't really your strongest suit as you'd never really done it before Steve stumbled into your life but you'd gotten a lot of practice in the last seven days.

A smile crept onto your face as he kissed you deeper, his hand held the back of your head. Your hands dropped the shirt that you were holding back in the laundry basket and instead held his jaw as your thumbs rubbed against his cheeks– the skin warm under your fingertips. 

"Missed you so much", he mumbled between kisses. Heat crept up your neck as you giggled through the kisses, "you were here yesterday."

"Yeah, so?", he pulled away– not too far though, your noses still touching, "i just wanna be with my favourite person." He planted another small kiss on your lips as if to punctuate his sentence. Another giggle erupted from your throat as he pulled you impossibly closer. 

"I thought Dustin was your favourite person"

"Let's not bring Henderson into this, he's barely a person. besides, I'm not interested in kissing him"

Your hands went up to Steve's hair, fingers mindlessly playing with the brown strands that fell on his forehead. "How exactly did you get in?", you asked with an arched eyebrow. 

"Same as always– your bedroom window", he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You didn't fall again did you?”

“What? No– no, I'm too agile for that”, he paused when you looked at him with raised eyebrows, "who am I kidding? I almost fell. again" he said as his head hung in embarrassment.

"you could've just used the main door– you know no one's home except me", you laughed.

"Where's El?"

"With Mike", you said with a slight scowl, "God, she's with him all the time and they're always swapping spit!"

"Bit like us, isn't it?", He wiggled his brows and you rolled your eyes, "just let her be– she's a kid. Y'know hormones 'n stuff"

"Yeah, I know– it's just– she's barely home and I'm just worried about her, y'know?"

"Yeah, and it's completely okay to be worried", Steve started drawing circles on your shoulder with his fingers perhaps to provide some semblance of comfort, "but you know that she can't always be here right?"

"But I am always here."

"you don't have to be", he frowned and slightly shook his head– looking right in your eyes. This wasn't the first time Steve had mentioned this. He would try to convince you to visit him at the mall, to which you'd mention Hopper's rules and that it was too many people. He would then ask you to come over at his house, since it was always empty, you would again say no– never elaborating.

"But it's like the only place I feel safe, since everything that happened…. Last year", that was only partially a lie. The truth was it was the only place where you had felt safe ever.

"Hey", he held your face in his hands, "those things are gone, okay? Your dad made sure of it." You nodded, choosing not to tell him about the apprehension you've felt in the last couple days– knowing full well that telling him of your anxieties would inadvertently lead to you having to tell him about your now non-existent powers and your past in the lab. The past that you've left behind and have decided to pass off as nothing but a bad dream. 

You make a note to maybe tell Hopper or Eleven about all of that though.

A lazy smile adorned Steve's lips as his thumb swiped back and forth on your cheeks. "You look so cute when you're worried", he said with a smirk, as he held your chin with his thumb and forefinger. The smile on your lips grew wide, the corners of your mouth morphing into a suppressed smile. You wanted to say something, your lips even parted to tell him how much you think he's cute and handsome and pretty and how much you were glad that he was there with you but nothing came out. And he didn't need you to. He lifted your chin up to his and you were kissing again– this time more slower and softer than the last. 

In that moment, when your bodies were pressed together, you felt like you were in one of those movies that you and Eleven would watch with Hopper on movie nights and then your father would leave around the 30 minute mark, saying that it was too 'awkward'. cheesy rom-coms, that's what he had called them.

Everytime felt better than the last with Steve. As your lips moved in tandem, his arms wrapped tighter than ever around your waist, slightly lifting you off the floor for a second. You gasped into the kiss and your hands slid down from his hair to his chest, laying flat above his heart. 

"Steve-" you whispered in between kisses, "Steve I-", he just kept kissing you, "Steve- Harrington!-", you whisper-shouted. The boy let out a hum against your lips, the sound so warm that it was sure to melt you up into warm and happy goo. You almost wanted to give in to him, be engulfed in his scent and warmth while he kissed all your anxieties away. Yet you reluctantly nudged his chest away from yours. Your faces were merely inches away– his warm breath breezed against your cheeks and when your eyes met his, you saw his pupils dilated and lips swollen. His chest heaved a little as he steadied his breath– he was still staring at your lips.

"Steve, I have to do the laundry", you breathed out. 

"C'mon you do that like every day", he huffed as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, well there's new laundry every day", you begrudgingly moved out of his arms.

"That's preposterous."

"I don't even know what that means", you said with a laugh.

"Neither do I, honestly–", he said with a chuckle, "Dustin used that word and I was like 'I have to use it', so I can fool you into thinking that you actually have a smart boyfriend."

"C'mon you are smart."

"Only to you." He sighed.

“You have to stop talking about yourself like that…. I mean it, Steve." you frowned with a sigh. “You are smart"

"Yeah, that's exactly why I'm scooping ice cream for a job"

"Smartness isn't all about school or marks or jobs or any of that bullshit." You ranted as Steve looked at you with enamoured eyes, "you are smart. You are strong. Last year when everything went to shit, you were the one who made sure of the kids even with a concussion. You looked after them and me. You took Billy Hargrove's beating to make sure the rest of us were okay-"

"That's not what smartness is–"

"-shut up! I don't wanna listen to you putting yourself down." You huffed in frustration, "you protected Dustin, Max and everyone else, you saved me! You make such a huge impact– if it wasn't for you, someone could've died, Steve. But you were there, you made sure that that didn't happen. You aren't weak. And you are a hero. D'you understand?"

Steve nodded, almost dumbfounded as it was probably the most you'd said in one sentence, ever. a faint smile painted itself on his face, his cheeks rosy.

You nodded, “good”, pecked the tip of his nose. you turned around, facing the washing machine– getting back to laundry. 

You picked up Hopper’s shirts, checking the pockets in case there were any bills or coins hidden in them– your only form of income. Steve once again tightened his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder– nuzzling into your neck. His warm breath fanned against your collarbone. “Don’t mind me”, his chest rumbled as he spoke through a smile. You let out a playful sigh and continued your work. 

Both of you stayed that way for a while. You checked the pockets of shirts and trousers, separating colours from white just like Hopper had taught you. All the while, Steve landed lazy kisses on your cheek, neck and collarbone. You'd wish you could stay that way forever– so warm, so comfortable, so nice. Maybe it was the fact that it was your first relationship ever and had only now felt safe enough to think of someone in a romantic way but you wanted it to last forever. 

Feelings were weird and hard to talk about, and you weren't the best at conveying them. The past week you've wanted nothing more than to tell Hopper and Eleven about yourself and Steve. But your communication skills (or lack thereof) prevented you. 

Steve loved watching you just doing normal everyday things, it reminded him of his mother– back when she was around more. So whenever he was not at work or being used as a valet driver by Dustin, he was sneaking over to your cabin. Before you both started dating, he would call you– making sure that Hopper wasn't home and then come barging in with a new cassette tape or to make you try some new ice cream flavour. It took him a couple months to realise that he was essentially looking for excuses to be around you– to feel that lovely and fuzzy feeling that he felt whenever he was with you. 

So, eight days prior, he finally built up the courage. 

Staring at the wood grain of the cabin door, your favourite ice cream and some flowers in hand, Steve was starting to consider backtracking a little. He really didn't want to mess things up between you two. And as he knocked on your cabin's door, he was contemplating the entire thing but before he could turn around and disappear, the door opened. And there you were, in a plaid shirt that probably belonged to Hopper at some point, hair sticking up in places. 

"Steve?"

"H-hey", His cheeks turned pink when your eyes met his and then your gaze trailed down to the flowers and ice cream held out in front of him. The corners of your mouth curving into a smile. That smile– the one he'd couldn't get enough of. "You didn't call today, hopper could've been here”, you said, looking back up at him. he wondered if you could tell how nervous he was.

"Yeah, sorry, I uh- I bought this", he held up the ice cream cup and then the bouquet, "and- and these f- for you", he stuttered as he handed you both. God, whatever happened to the harrington charm?

You let out a giggle as you hugged the flowers close to your chest, "yeah, well duh", you joked, not truly understanding the meaning behind his gesture. It was pretty common for Steve to bring you ice cream anyway, the flowers didn't make sense but then again you weren't the greatest at grasping social cues.

You turned on your heel, socked feet moving toward the kitchen so you could grab a spoon for the ice cream. Steve was still stuck, standing at the doorway, face bright red.

You started rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen to try and find two spoons. When you found them, you held the pair up in the air, one for him to take, “Here,” looking back up at him, you saw that he was already looking at you as if about to say something.

say it.

“You okay?” you asked, brows pulled together.

okay, maybe don't say it.

“Steve? Why do you look so–”

fuck it.

"I like you", Steve blurted out– like he was ripping a bandaid. You stopped in your tracks and stared at him, the easy smile on your face fell. He fucked up, didn't he? He has ruined everything, and now he has lost another friend–

You burst into laughter, “yeah, I know Steve. I like you too." you playfully hit his upper arm before holding up the spoon again, "Here.”

the utensil still stayed in your hand, the deep furrow in his brow hadn't disappeared, only, it grew deeper.

"What?" you asked with an uneasy laugh.

“That not what I… meant”, he paused, "I- I like you."

You blinked, processing it, all that came out was, “oh.”

He calls out your name. He let out a deep breath, you however looked like you had forgotten how to breathe. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, mentally berating himself for being so nervous– it was a first for him.

you looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, he could almost see the cogs and gears turning in your head. after a few seconds you spoke up, “We’re… we’re best friends...” your voice barely a whisper.

Steve swallowed, trying his best not to show any disappointment on his features, nodding slowly before before turning to rush out of the door and get the hell out of there.

“Steve?” he heard behind him and despite his mind telling him to leave, his heart echoed. he swallowed, turning around hesitantly. and there you were, hair still messy, clothes wrinkled as always, hands fidgeting by your sides, you looked as if you were preparing yourself to say something.

You walked towards him and as you stood infront of him, you gulped. but you didn't say anything.

next thing he knew your lips were on his and the moment after it they were gone. it ended as quickly as he felt it.

You looked at him with doe eyes, Steve knew he probably had the stupidest grin on his face. a shy toothy smile grew on your face too. he extended his hand to you, you took it and he realised that you were trembling. He squeezed your hand. His gaze trailed down to your lips, you bit your lips before speaking up in barely above a whisper. "I think... that I like you too."

Steve let out another exacerbated breath as he smiled wider. His face was all red, and his stupid dopey smile that probably looked as though he'd won a lottery.

He murmured your name through bated breath. "Yeah, Steve?"

"Can I- uh- do that again?", His fingers intertwined with yours almost as if to make sure that this was actually happening.

You nodded quickly.

Your eyes fluttered close as he landed a chaste kiss on your lips. Steve made sure that the kiss was light and soft, almost as if dipping his toe to test the waters. And before you knew it, it was already over. He pulled back eyes wandering over your features, looking to make sure that you were okay with this. You looked back up at him with your lips slightly parted– in an unreadable expression.

"You okay?", He asked quietly. You nodded, "yeah, you okay?"

"never better."

...

That was the start of something big, Steve knew that. Although it had only been a week since the incident, he knew he didn't just like you– there was way more. There was care, there was understanding, there was trust and more.

Memories swirled in both your heads while your hands worked on their own accord, still doing the laundry. You picked up Hopper's dirty uniform pants, following the routine of checking the pockets. Then you reached for the shirt of the pair in the basket yet it was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Stevie", you piped up and he let out a small hum behind you. "Could you go and get Hopper's shirt from his room?"

"Sure can." He mumbled before pecking your cheek and then he went to Hopper's room to retrieve the shirt. He was back within mere seconds, "here ya go, your highness", he said, handing you the shirt that reeked of way too much sweat, cigarettes and beer.

You continued with the work, taking out the cigarettes from the pocket with a sigh. Hopper had promised that he'd quit smoking so much– guess he broke that promise. 

Steve picked up the pack and took one in his mouth, searching for a lighter. You took the cigarette out from between his lips and the pack in his hand and threw it in the trash. "C'mon don't be like Hopper" you said with a frown, "he literally can't stay away from those."

“One smoke wont hurt. Besides I haven't smoked in more than a year now”, Steve said returning to his previous position of holding you, "don't wanna be a bad role model for the kids, I guess."

"Wow, now you really sound like a dad", you let out a chuckle.

"I'm not their dad", he groaned.

"So, mom, huh?"

"I wont kiss you if you keep calling me that", he mumbled behind your ear– a giggle erupting at the ticklish feeling and what was now an inside joke between you two. "Let's just stick with ‘role model’" you nodded.

"I'd say that they look up to you…. Especially Dustin"

".....Y' think so?"

You hummed in response. It didn't take a genius to notice the bond between Dustin and Steve. Sure, it was a bit out of normal to befriend someone five years younger than oneself but then again none of the circumstances they'd been through were normal. And ever since the previous year's events, Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson had developed a sort of brotherly bond.

"cool", he muttered nonchalantly.

Comfortable silence once again fell between the two of you. Steve drew circles on the exposed skin beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers leaving sparks along the surface. In all honesty, you wanted to drop all your laundry and just let him hold you, kiss you.

You and Steve had only been together for more than a week at this point– only going as far as kissing. You were still incredibly new to all relationship stuff, so Steve (despite being quite a horndog) had given you plenty of space. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe– and you were grateful for that. However, it was hard to ignore the attraction you both felt for each other. In ways both emotional and physical. Hopper hadn't ever truly given you the birds and bees talk, so you were a little clueless in the process of it all. Yet you knew that you felt something when it came to Steve Harrington. Something that you've never felt before. 

You put in the last shirt in the machine, with the detergent and started it. You turned around in Steve's arms as you wrapped yours around his neck. 

His hair was short of a mess, but it was still a pretty mess and stray strands bounced against his forehead. You both were so close that you could count all the moles and freckles on his face. Your gaze ran over all his features, taking it all in, engraving it to memory. Because you didn’t want to forget about the slight pinkish hue of his cheeks, the small bump on his nose that might’ve been the result of being hit a few times too many, or his lips. His soft, pink, warm, yet slightly chapped lips. The very same that had been on yours just a bit ago. Your proximity even allowed you to see the scars that the previous years had brought to him, they were small and barely noticeable now but they were there and you wanted to trace them and kiss them all. 

“Y’know I would’ve called you creepy for staring so intently, if you weren’t so cute”, Steve smirked.

You tried to hide your face in his chest to hide your embarrassed features. He kissed the top of your head, mumbling a little, “you’re so cute”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking….”, your voice tapered off as you tried to look for the right words.

“Yeah, what were you thinking?”

“Y’know… Thinking about... us?”

His breath hitched as the worst case scenarios started racing through his mind. Did you want to break up? Did you not feel the same? Were you going to leave? Were you-

"And…. I think that–", you gestured vaguely with your hands, trying your best to convey what you were trying to say without really saying it but Steve's mind was running a million miles a second. You could almost see the gears turning in his brain, and perhaps he was starting to understand what you were saying but still wanted you to say it out loud, "I'm y'know– Ready?"

"Ready for?"

"Y'know! Ready for…", you fidgeted with his hair, your eyes not meeting his, "Sex?" 

"Oh." Steve let out a breath of relief as his concerns drifted away.

"If u want to, obviously", you quickly added.

"Oh, I want to but are you sure? We don't have to rush, and we won't do anything unless you're sure of it, you know right?"

"Yeah, I– I know "

"So? Are you sure?"

"I think so, yeah", you mumbled in the most unconvincing way, you really weren’t sure if you were being honest. Steve frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"How 'bout you sit on this idea a bit more, ok? And if and when you're sure then and only then will we do it, ok?"

You nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Can I still get a kiss, though?"

"Of course your highness", he murmured with a smile as he leaned his head to kiss you. Your hands went to his hair again and his went to hold your cheeks. He held you so softly as if you'd break if you were to slip out of his hands. His palms helped in tilting your head sideways so he could kiss you deeper. But before you could continue, there was a knock at the door. You both immediately moved away as a reflex. 

"I thought you were going to be alone", Steve ran his fingers through his hair to fix his brown locks.

"It's probably El", you reason while fixing your own hair, "Please hide in my room?"

"But–"

"Steve, if she finds out about us she'll tell Hopper, and I wanna tell him myself please?"

"Ok ok, Jesus."

"Thanks", you mutter before landing a quick kiss on his cheek and then jogging to the front door of the cabin. There you are met with the faces of your little sister and her boyfriend. 

“Hey guys! You are–”

“We’re late, we know”, Mike huffed out, annoyed.

“Yeah, so late”, you hadn't even noticed that they were late.

“Are you mad at me?”, Eleven looked at you with such puppy-dog eyes that your heart immediately melted– you could never truly be angry at El. Mike however-

“No, El. I’m not mad, don’t worry”, Eleven grins at you and then hugs you tightly– squeezing you mercilessly. Suddenly, the young girl stills. When she pulled away, you noticed that her eyebrows were knitted together– her eyes were roaming around the cabin as if looking for something. 

"What's wrong?"

"There's something– I felt something" she spoke with a cautious tone as she walked to the middle of the room– next to the coffee table– looking for any signs of the upside down, demogorgons or demo-dogs. You weren't the only one traumatized, Eleven perhaps more so than you– not that it was a competition. The girl had single-handedly fought interdimensional monsters multiple times already and she wasn't even fourteen yet. The hair on her hand arose in goosebumps, "there's something in here."

Your mind went back to the previous night and the uneasiness you'd felt. You'd chalked it up to your imagination and anxiety– there's no way they were back– but what if they were? Eleven sure as hell was feeling something and you felt it the night before too– it couldn't be a coincidence. Perhaps Steve Harrington was wrong. Perhaps those things are still out there, waiting for the correct moment to attack– ready to tear you apart, the moment you look away.

Eleven walked towards your rooms, Mike following behind her. The short-haired girl's steps stopped right in front of your room. The same room you'd felt that thing last night. The same room in which Steve was hiding. Steve.

Steve.

Uh oh.

"El– it's probably nothing–", you tried to stop her from discovering your scandalous affair but before you could complete your sentence, the superpowered girl used her powers to open the door wide open. Your gaze darted across the room– no Steve Harrington in sight. "See? told you", a sigh of relief left your lips, he had probably gone out the window, "its nothing."

But Eleven's posture was still stiff, she took careful and cautious steps towards your closet, eyeing the thing as if it was your poor hand-me-downs who she fought against the previous years.

"Eleven–"

Mike shushed you. Eleven moved closer to the closet, she braced her legs and held out her arm, ready to use her powers.

"El–"

Eleven yanked her hand and the doors to the closet flew open and from between your clothes emerged none other than Steve Harrington– in all his messy hair glory. "Woah, woah woah woah!--" His back slammed against the wall and he let out a pained grunt. 

"Steve?!" Both Eleven and Mike questioned.

"hey", he whimpered.

"Oh god, are you okay?" You walked over to him, helping him stand up, checking for any bruises or signs of injury.

"What is Steve doing here?" Eleven inquired.

"He's here because.. Because I- I called him" he nodded along to you "I was kinda bored" you added

"And why was he hiding?" Mike interrogated with a cocked brow. 

"Well—"

"I wasn't hiding—"

"El, you know how Hopper feels about people visiting the cabin", you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt, "he'd get mad."

Eleven knew. She knew how much convincing it took for Hopper to allow Mike to visit her at the cabin– it took him weeks. So she knew how you felt. "Okay", She nodded. She held Mike's arm and started pulling him to her room.

"Okay– uh— El, D'you need anything to eat or something?"

"Eggos!", she said over her shoulder.

"Soda f'me!", mike shouted back.

"Okay."

El closed the door behind her, let go of Mike's arm as she went to wipe the droplet of blood that was on her upper lip. 

"So are (y/n) and Steve like, fucking?" Mike asked with a disgusted look.

"F–fucking?" She repeated, confused.

"Um— you know like…", Mike scratched the back of his neck, "are they dating? Like us?"

"I don't know."

"Cuz I'm pretty sure they are."

"Fucking?"

"uh..... Sure", he was going to regret teaching El that word, most definitely.

...

"I think Wheeler might be onto us."

Steve was sitting on the countertop as you loaded the toaster with eggos. 

"Of course he is– of all people—"

"I swear that kid hates me."

"I mean— you are his sister's ex so it's a little bit weird"

"Yeah, I guess"

You walked over to the fridge, taking out the whipped cream, chocolate and candies.

"Oh, am I about to witness the triple decker eggo extravaganza?"

"No. The eggo extravaganza is made specifically by Hop for when El is mad at him. This is the eggo spectacular sandwich", you state while setting down the ingredients, "my recipe!" You added with a proud grin.

"Wow, so I guess eggo is to El, what ice cream is to you?", He suggested with a small smile.

"I suppose."

"I wanna know the secret recipe"

"You can't! It's a secret!"

You both let out a laugh. the radio from Eleven's room started blasting "good old-fashioned loverboy" by Queen. Steve then hopped down form the counter, running his hands through his hair. He stood right beside you on the counter, knocking his hips with your— you returned the action. Giggling at your antics. The brunette boy started singing along to the lyrics. He brought your hand up to his shoulder and held the other one with his. His right hand rested on your back as you danced goofily. He started kissing you.

You pull away when the eggos pop up from the toaster. You quickly assemble two eggo spectacular sandwiches and carry the two plates to Eleven's room. "Oh shit— Steve? Grab the soda for Mike please?"

Steve took out a can of coke from the refrigerator, kicking the door close behind him as he followed behind you.

"And here's your eggo sandwiches!", You announced with enthusiasm.

"Here's your coke, man", Steve muttered without an atom of enthusiasm while tossing the can in Mike's general direction— the black haired boy barely managed to catch it. The boy looked at you and then Steve with narrow eyes as he opened the tab, he maintained eye contact while he took the first couple sips of the fizzy drink. Both you and Steve tried your best to avert your gaze.

"Uh– okay I'll be in the TV room if you guys need me", you uttered awkwardly before pushing yourself and Steve out of the room's confinement.

"God, I swear if Wheeler figures out about us, he will tell Will, Lucas, Max, and Dustin. And that kid won't ever shut up about it", Steve said— rubbing his face in frustration. "And if Hopper finds out about this? I am screwed!"

"Please Hop wouldn't do that", you stated, "and I'm thinking of telling him and El today, anyway."

"Wait, seriously?"

You nodded.

"You think I should be there?"

"No no no, I wanna do it with just them around"

"Oh, okay", he fixed his hair— gaze falling on the wall clock, "Oh, shit I gotta go" he pecked your cheek, "or I'll be late…. Again "

"It wasn't my fault last time and it isn't my fault this time either ", you commented behind him as he picked his jacket up, slinging it over his shoulder. He muttered a quick "bye" before he was out the door— off to the mall, to his job.

You let out a deep sigh— reminiscent of your old deadbeat job you had at the gift shop near Melvald's when you lived in the camp next to the Munson's. Although Jim had gotten you a place to live you still needed money, so you'd gotten yourself a job— wrapping gifts and bouquets for people. It would always flutter your heart when people would tell you and ramble a bit about their lives, then you'd spend hours filling in the gaps— wondering how the day turned out for them. You reckoned it was one of the reasons why you were so infatuated by the idea of love. Up until recently it had been such a familiar yet alienating feeling.

But now here you were! Sure, you were unemployed now, but you had a father, a sister and an amazing and beautiful boyfriend and you weren't alone. But the more you thought about it the more you realised that you were— alone, that is.

You still locked yourself in the cabin, telling yourself that it could be still dangerous— and you weren't willing to take a risk.

It wasn't always like this, there was a time when you would actually go out with Steve— sometimes to his house, sometimes to Dustins, or the arcade or anywhere. But ever since you graduated with Steve, you'd made rules for yourself. You won't leave the house anymore, it was too dangerous anyway. You quit your job because it was shitty and you didn't want people seeing you. And although you'd made those decisions, you still wished for a job, missing all the stories you'd make up about the people who visited you. 

You spent the next couple hours going through a cardboard box that was filled up with all things Steve and you. Whether it be the graduation hat you wore, or the beer cans from when you got drunk for the first time, or polaroids of you both, flowers he'd bought you, and everything else that tied you two together.

A couple hours passed by, Jim made his presence known with a knock at the front door. You went up to open the door. And as you looked up at Hopper you noticed the bags and dark circles under his eyes— he looked tired and smelled of beer and cigarettes. "Hey, kid", he muttered through his bushy moustache. You let out a sigh and went in to get him some water. 

"El back yet?"

"Yeah", you said giving him the glass, "in her room with Mike", you pointed towards the door with your thumb.

"Wheeler's here?"

"When's he not?" You rolled your eyes. The man handed you the glass back and took off his shoes and went into his room. He emerged out within a few minutes.

"Movie night?", He offered

"But El is with Mike."

"What about just us two, huh? Haven't done that in a while"

You agreed and before you knew it you were Cozied up in a blanket while hopper was on the lazyboy. You both watched a random movie while sharing chips, candy and soda. After about thirty minutes into the movie, you noticed Hopper was distracted, the muffled music from Eleven's room was in fact breaking your immersion too. He shoved a handful of chips in his mouth while downing some beer from the can. You turned your gaze back to the TV screen. 

"Hey!" Your eyes averted from the screen to him who was now looking at Eleven's now shut door with seething anger. He got up quickly, shouting, "HEY! Three inch minimum! Leave the door open three inches!" He went for the locked door handle, "El? Open this door", he said with gritted teeth, "Open. This. Door—"

The door opened but El and Mike weren't kissing, they were just reading magazines. "What's wrong?", You tried to hold in your laughter at noticing that Mike was holding his upside down. Hopper clearly noticed too.

"Thank God, you don't have a partner," he said pointing at you, "I can't imagine another stupid, undeserving boy hogging up my child." You bit your tongue at his anger. There went your chance to talk about Steve.

It was 12:30 a.m. and you really didn't feel like sleeping. You'd been feeling the headache, again.  You went to the kitchen, heading straight to the fridge— taking out the peanut butter jar and pineapple can. Right when you put a spoonful of the mixture in your mouth the light of the kitchen switched on.

"Why in the hell are you up so late?", Hopper interrogated.

You let out a loud yelp, cringing at the sound— the volume sure to wake up neighbours, if you had any. Through the three inch opening of Eleven's room's door, you could see that the light also turned on. 

"What are you doing?", The man asked, tucking his gun in his waist belt— surely he had thought of your midnight snack sounds for an interdimensional monster's sounds.

“Nofhing”, you said through a mouthful.

Hopper had known you since you were fourteen, he knew it might've had something to do with a nightmare. “Did you have another one?”

You stopped mid chew, avoiding his eyes– a tell.

“Same thing?”

Before you could say anything, the door to Eleven's room creaked and the short haired girl slowly stepped out, said hair sticking up as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Everything okay?", She asked.

"Yeah, El shorry.", You apologised.

"Oh, it's okay," she said with a soft smile.

"It's not okay, what are you doing up so late?"

"I was Exshpanding my taste horizons", you stated, looking at Hopper like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"With peanut butter and pineapple at 12 in the morning?" He asked with narrow eyes.

"Please don't question my methods, Hop. I was hungry and wanted to try something new"

“How's that working out for you?”

“I... haven't decided yet.”

"I want to expand my taste ho- horizons too", Eleven imparted, struggling with the pronunciation of the new word.

"See? El gets me."

"Sure, whatever." Jim waved his hand off, "expand whatever, but you both better be asleep within thirty minutes", he ordered before going back to his room.

"Let's go to my room."

You and Eleven were lying on your bed now, covered in blankets. Much to your dismay Eleven wasn't a big fan of the food combo so you took her remaining portion too. Eleven looked around the room, eyes bouncing from one thing to another. It had dawned on you now that eleven had never been in your room for this long.

She got up from her place and picked up a brown teddy bear with a blue ribbon around its neck that was kept on top of your room's table.

"Oh, you found Mr. Arnold Bearenbearer"

"Arnold, w- what?"

"You can just call him Mr. Arnold", you laughed at the stupid name Hopper had given to the soft toy, "Hop gave it to me the first time I was here. I didn't have a place to live, so he took me in for a few"

"I remember being so scared that the bad men were going to get me or worse", you smile soon faded at the thought of the people from the lab and the amount of fear you had felt. "I'm sure Hop noticed and he gave me Mr. Arnold— I think he belonged to Sarah"

"Sarah? Hopper's daughter?"

You nodded with a hum. 

"I don't know what it is about Mr. Arnold. It's like he has powers— just holding him makes you feel so safe"

"Mr. Arnold has powers? Like us?"

"Just like us— he uses his powers to help others who get a little scared or lonely, with a hug!"

Eleven gave the soft toy a tight squeezing hug and she visibly relaxed.

"He smells like you and Steve", she whispered into the fur of the bear.

"Yeah, well, don't tell this to anyone but Steve gets scared sometimes too."

"He does?", She asked with wide eyes as if what you'd told her was the most unbelievable thing.

You hummed "Everybody gets scared every once in a while, it's completely okay too." An image of Steve hugging Mr. Arnold tightly like a scared little boy flashed in your head. How he'd once visited you in the middle of the night with red eyes and disheveled hair-- saying he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. You'd told Steve about Mr. Arnold and just an hour later he was asleep-- free from all the bad dreams.

Eleven came underneath the blanket with Mr. Arnold snug in her arms. She lied down on her side while you lied on your back. after a moment of settling in, she called out your name softly.

"Yeah?", You turned your head slightly towards her.

"Are…. Are you and Steve fucking?", She asked with the most earnest look.

"... what– what did you say?"

"Fucking?"

"D'you know what that word means?"

"Kissing and dating?"

"Who told you that?" trying your best to not laugh, El was a sensitive girl, you didn't want her to think that you were making fun of her– you could never.

"Mike told me."

"Of course he did", you mumbled to yourself before turning on your side— towards her. "Why don't you ask Mike what that means again tomorrow, huh?"

"Okay", she paused as if making a mental note to do so, "So are you and Steve….."

"Yeah, yeah we are."

"You're like me and Mike?"

"Yep."

"why did you not tell me or Hopper?"

"Steve and I have been together for like a week and I was planning on telling both you and Hopper today— but I don't think now's the right time y'know?"

"You will not tell Hop?"

"I will, I just need some time, okay? you know now, I'll tell hopper soon too, I promise", you really were tired of sneaking around, you wanted Hopper to know. tomorrow- you promise yourself. "Promise you won't tell Hopper till then?" its not like you didn't trust her but she isn't the best at hiding something.

"But friends don't lie."

"I'm not lying El, its keeping a secret. I'll tell him but I want to be the one who tells him. you know how I don't tell Hopper if you sneak off with mike without telling him or something like that–"

"So I don't tell Hopper?"

"Yeah", you looked at her with anticipation.

she looked at you, mulling over it before nodding and saying a whispered, "Okay."

silence settles over the two of you. you were almost asleep when eleven's voice saying your name brought you back to consciousness. "Does Steve kiss you?"

you cleared your throat, heat rushed to your cheeks, "uh, yeah, that's what boyfriends do."

"D'you like it?"

"Sure do."

"I like it too, when mike does it."

You hummed, you weren't really sure how to respond. Both you and Eleven fell silent for a bit. your eyes started drooping again.

you heard the girl say your name again, you hummed, "Yeah, El?"

"I think Steve's nice."

"You think so?", You smiled. she nodded in response, a smile of her own.

"... Do you think Mike is nice?"

"I don't really know him that well, but he seems nice, he really does care for you." you really didn't know how to feel about the boy. he seemed to really care about your sister, but you didn't know why, you didn't trust him. not in a he's-gonna-betray-my-sister kind of way but rather, i-don't-know-if he's-right-for her. but maybe you just needed to give both of them a break, they weren't even fourteen, for god's sake.

Your name was called again, you hummed.

“You're awake because you had a nightmare again, aren't you?” the sleepy smile on your face slipped, you looked at her. she looked at you expectantly.

friends don't lie, “...yeah", your voice came as all but a whisper, before the girl could say anything you quickly added, gaze back at the ceiling, "but i don't feel like talking about it right now.”

"Okay", she said, suppressing a yawn.

"Let's get you to bed okay?"

"Here", she wrapped an arm around your torso and mumbled into the pillow, "I wanna sleep here."

"Okay, 'night kiddo", You put your palm behind her head, playing with her hair, scratching her scalp lightly.

She let out a sleepy hum before breathing out a "'night" herself. You continued carding your fingers through her slightly tangled hair as her soft snores floated in the air— before drifting off to sleep yourself.

Hopper wanted to be resting but he also wanted his two kids to be fast asleep at a reasonable time. he was trying his hardest to be the best father he could be— emphasis on trying. So, thirty minutes after he'd found you in the kitchen, shoving pineapple covered in peanut butter in your mouth, he went to check both your rooms to make sure you both were back in bed.

When he saw Eleven's room empty, he felt the beginnings of anger rising in his head. He then looked through the three inch gap of your room's door and saw both you and Eleven cuddled up and sound asleep. Any amount of anger or worry simmered down as he noticed your calm and serene faces— both your gentle snores muffled by the quilt. 

He felt a smile creeping onto his features. He then turned back towards his room— footsteps as quiet as possible and went back to slumber himself.

...

A/n: i hope the time jumps weren't too confusing. if they were let me know! i'll try to explain them <3

[wc-confessions]

I've recently REALLY attached myself to Clear Sky and Thunder from DotC because I've been rewriting the arc, and all the while, I have been experiencing a lot of really stressful things with my own father. I also feel connected with a semi-oc character I've written as a fusion of Bright Stream and Storm: Bright Storm, which was originally inspired by Bonefall, along with a lot of the foundations of my changes.

In my Rewrite Clear Sky's dad went missing and was never found. This was originally a Bonefall-inspired change, but now I feel deeply connected to it as my own thing because it's happening with my dad right now. He's been missing for over two months, and so far we've found nothing. Ive written Clear Sky to be sort of crushed by a feeling that nobody else cares, like his dad was brushed under the rug and forgotten, and i can share that feeling with him for somewhat more justifiable reasons from people around me.

Also in my Rewrite, Thunder feels a lot of disdain for Clear Sky for what he did to him and his mother, but can't help but grapple to the fantasy of a Good Dad and Happy Family, especially after him and himself nearly dying in that fire. I feel this really hard, and I added those feelings as a way of projecting, but I especially connect to it now that I know my dad could be gone for good after so long of never seeing him. Second, I wrote Thunder being disabled, just as Bonefall did, and I find the change really really important on that surface-level message against ableism, but I also write it as an analogy for being queer, and how i feel about my identity as such. This is because I wanted to be able to keep that message of yk don't be fucking ableist, but also include symbolic messages of homophobia and transphobia, because I refuse to just summon the actual issue out of thin air and make it a thing in my Rewrite.

Anyways, when it comes to Bright Storm herself, she's a bit of an outlier, because i dont relate her to me, i relate her to my mom, who fought with her relationship with my dad for years, getting in and out of it for her, my, and my siblings' sakes'. She seemingly also grappled with the idea of the Happy Family American Dream. I've written Bright Storm near the beginning of the books as being in that stage of confliction that my mom was when I was young (hopeful yet broken, and somewhat desperate), and over the arc she'll move on and recover just as my mom has, growing into herself and her confidence, and accepting she doesnt need Clear Sky, and doesnt have to forgive him for any reason, no matter how much he changes, because he still hurt her and her kit regardless. I see my own mother in her, so I'm really attached, there, too.

Basically what I'm saying is that while I feel really cringey about it, this series, especially DotC, has grown to be something I find a lot of connection to on a deeper level, and hold really close to me, especially in regards to how I Rewrite it. That's my confession.

.

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Chapter 11

Synopsis:

A sleepless night leaves Y/N grappling with the growing distance between her and Hank. As her day unfolds, the weight of uncertainty and loss settles in. When Hank finally reaches out, Y/N realises that things between them may be more complicated than she thought.

Word count: 4,690

Masterlist

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it did nothing to chase away the heaviness that had settled in my chest. I hadn’t slept well, if I’d slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hank—stumbling, drunk, and so far from the man I thought I knew. I’d never seen him like that before, it felt like something had cracked inside him, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach him.

I knew something had shifted recently, ever since that night at the bar with Natalie. But we’d only been together for a little over a month, and I’d brushed off the little things—his hesitation, the way he’d seemed distant when Natalie called him a “total catch.” He’d laughed it off at the time, but I’d seen it, that flicker of something behind his eyes. Doubt.

Last night had been a disaster. I’d managed to get him home, barely. He was so drunk, I couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out of him. And now, I was left wondering what the hell had gone wrong.

I glanced at my phone. Still nothing. No messages, no missed calls. Just silence.

I felt the ache of uncertainty, twisting tighter with each passing hour. I kept asking myself if this was just his way of pulling back, of deciding he didn’t want things to go any further. We hadn’t been together long, so maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Maybe I’d read too much into the connection we had. But it didn’t feel that way. This felt different—special, even if it was still new. I wasn’t ready to give up on that, not yet. But what if he was?

Pushing the thought away, I forced myself out of bed. I had a shift at the clinic, and if there was one thing that could distract me from the mess in my personal life, it was work. I threw on my scrubs, grabbed my bag, and headed out, the dread still lingering at the edges of my mind.

The clinic was already busy when I arrived, the usual bustle of appointments and emergencies filling the air. I threw myself into the work, trying to push away the thoughts of Hank, but it was hard. My mind kept drifting back to last night, to the image of him barely able to stand, his words slurring together.

I moved through the motions—checking charts, giving medications, talking to worried pet owners—but none of it felt real. It was like I was operating on autopilot, my body going through the motions while my mind was somewhere else entirely.

Then, just after lunch, the shelter brought in a dog. The moment I saw him, my heart sank. He was emaciated, ribs visible through his matted fur, his breathing shallow and weak.

“He was abandoned,” the shelter volunteer said, her voice tight with worry. “We found him in a yard. He’s barely hanging on.”

I nodded, my throat tightening as I knelt beside the dog. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I saw something there—a spark, a fight still left in him. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Maybe we can save him.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic activity. IV fluids, oxygen, medications—I threw everything I had at him, desperate to pull him back from the brink. Every time his vitals dipped, I felt my heart race, my chest tightening with the fear that we were losing him.

For a while, it seemed like we might have a chance. His breathing steadied, his heart rate picked up, and I started to believe we could save him. I clung to that hope, trying to convince myself that we were turning a corner. That he might pull through.

But just as quickly as it had come, that hope slipped away.

His body gave out, collapsing under the weight of too much neglect. I could see it in his eyes—the spark that had been there before was gone. He had nothing left to fight with.

I stood there, my hands trembling as I watched him slip away. We’d done everything we could, but it hadn’t been enough. It never felt like enough.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the lifeless body on the table. My throat felt tight, my chest heavy with the familiar ache of loss.

I’d seen animals die before—it was part of the job. But today, it hit harder than usual. Maybe it was because I’d let myself believe he had a chance. Or maybe it was because, deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing something else too.

Hank.

I tried to push the thought away, but it stuck to me like a shadow. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape the gnawing fear that I was watching something slip away, something I couldn’t save.

I pulled off my gloves, tossing them in the bin, and took a shaky breath. The clinic was still buzzing around me, but I felt disconnected from it all. Like I was moving through a fog, the noise and movement around me blurred into the background.

It wasn’t until I was finally heading out the door that I glanced at my phone. The screen lit up with a message, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Hank’s name.

I’m sorry about last night. I have the night off. Can we talk?

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the words. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or terrified. Part of me had been dreading this conversation, but I knew we couldn’t avoid it. I needed to know where his head was at, why he’d been pulling away. Why he had let things get this bad.

I typed out a quick reply, my hands trembling as I hit send.

Yeah, come over when you can.

As I started walking home, the weight of the day pressed down on me. The loss of the rescue dog lingered at the edges of my mind, blending with my fear of losing Hank. I didn’t know if I could handle another loss, especially not him.

When I heard the knock at the door, my heart jumped into my throat. I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, trying to steady my breathing. This was it. The conversation I’d been dreading all day. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

I opened the door to see Hank standing there, looking just as tired and worn down as I felt. He gave me a small, almost apologetic smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in. The air between us felt thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

Hank walked into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know where to start. I sat down on the couch, waiting for him to join me. He hesitated for a second, then sat across from me, leaving a noticeable gap between us.

The silence stretched out, neither of us wanting to break it. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You wanted to talk?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Hank nodded, but he didn’t look at me right away. He stared at the floor, his hands resting on his knees as if he was trying to figure out how to explain himself. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “About last night. About… all of it. I know I messed up.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Yeah, you did,” I said softly. “What happened, Hank? Why did you get like that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… it’s been building up. Everything.”

“Since Natalie?” I asked, the question hanging in the air between us.

He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “Yeah. I didn’t realise it at first, but when she said that stuff… called me a ‘total catch,’ I just… it hit me. I’m not a catch, Y/N. I’m a mess.”

I blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and frustration. “You don’t know everything about me. You don’t know the shit I’ve done, the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve been trying to hold it together, trying to be someone I’m not, but it’s getting harder.”

I felt my heart tighten in my chest. “Hank, you don’t have to be perfect. I never expected you to be. I just… I need you to talk to me. I need you to let me in.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away again, his hands balling into fists on his knees. “I’m scared,” he said quietly. “I’m scared that once you know everything, you’ll leave. You’ll see what a screw-up I really am, and you’ll walk away. And I can’t… I can’t handle that.”

I shook my head, feeling the tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “You don’t get it, Hank. I’m already scared. I’ve been scared since the minute you started pulling away. You not talking to me, not letting me in… that’s what’s hurting me. Not your past.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes filled with so much pain, it made my heart ache. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

I reached out, placing my hand on his arm. “Then stop pushing. Let me help.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might. His eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch. But then, just as quickly, the walls went back up.

“I’m going back to San Francisco,” he said suddenly, his voice flat. “Just for a week or so. I need to clear my head.”

I pulled my hand back, shocked. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded, his expression pained. “Yeah. I need space. I need time to figure things out.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was just… leaving? After everything, after this conversation, he was still walking away?

“What about us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What happens when you come back?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice thick. “I just… I need to get my head straight before I drag you down with me.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “And you think leaving is going to fix that?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, sounding defeated. “I’m a mess, Y/N. I don’t know how to fix it.”

I shook my head, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “You’re not a mess, Hank. You’re just scared. But you’re not going to fix anything by running away.”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes closing for a moment. “I just need time.”

A part of me wanted to scream, to tell him that I needed him to stay, that I couldn’t handle him leaving. But another part—the one I hated admitting existed—whispered that maybe this was my fault. Maybe I wasn’t enough to keep him here. I’d always been too quiet, too reserved, not good enough at communicating. I’d been through this before. People left when they realised I wasn’t what they wanted, when I didn’t say the right things, or open up enough.

I took a shaky breath, my voice breaking slightly as I asked, “Is this because of me? Am I the reason you’re pulling away?”

Hank’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately shook his head. “No. God, no, Y/N, this isn’t about you. It’s me. It’s all the shit I’ve been carrying around for years. I just didn’t want you to see it.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “But that’s the problem, Hank. You’re not letting me in. And I keep wondering if I’m not enough. If I’m not saying the right things or being the person you need. Every time someone’s left before, it’s because I wasn’t enough.”

His expression softened, and he reached for my hand, his touch warm and gentle. “That’s not it. You’re more than enough. I’m the one who’s screwed up here. I’m the one who’s afraid you’ll figure out that I’m not good enough for you.”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes closing for a moment. “I just need time.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “What about Bud? Do you want me to take care of him while you’re gone?”

His eyes opened, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he looked surprised. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” I said softly. “I want to help, Hank. Even if you’re leaving.”

He gave me a small, tired smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice firm. “But I want to.”

He nodded, his smile fading. “Thanks. I’ll figure out the rest when I get back.”

*

The next morning came faster than I expected. I woke up to the sound of a soft knock at my door. My heart skipped as I sat up, already knowing it was Hank. He’d messaged me late last night, saying he’d drop Bud off before heading to the airport.

I pulled on a hoodie and opened the door to see him standing there, holding Bud’s carrier. Hank looked as worn out as I felt, shadows under his eyes and an exhausted slump to his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said quietly, offering me a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in.

Bud was quiet, peeking out from the carrier, and as Hank set it down, the silence between us felt thick, like everything from last night was hanging in the air. Neither of us knew how to navigate this. It wasn’t just Bud that was being left behind—it felt like pieces of Hank were too.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if searching for something to say. “I’ll be back in a week or so… depending.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, not knowing what else to add.

There was a long pause, both of us standing there, not quite able to say goodbye but knowing it was inevitable. I felt like I should reach for him, pull him into a hug or at least tell him it was okay—but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t know how to offer comfort when I was just as lost.

Hank exhaled deeply, his eyes lingering on me before he picked up his bag. “Take care of Bud,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will,” I promised, my throat tightening.

For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—something more—but then he just nodded and walked toward the door.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Hank… I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

He froze for a moment, his hand on the door handle, and without turning around, he said, “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, he was gone.

I stood there for a long time after the door closed, the silence in the apartment feeling louder than it had ever been. Bud meowed softly from his carrier, pulling me out of my thoughts. I crouched down, opening the door to let him out, and he padded over to me, rubbing against my leg.

At least I wasn’t completely alone.

I needed air. I needed to move. Anything to clear my head from the suffocating fog that had settled over me. I pulled on my running shoes and grabbed my keys, hoping that maybe a run would help me process everything—or at least make me feel something other than the numbness that had taken root in my chest.

The morning was cool, the crisp air biting at my skin as I started down the street. I focused on the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the steady thud-thud-thud that echoed in my ears. For a while, I let myself get lost in the movement, trying to outrun the thoughts swirling in my mind.

Was he really going to come back?

I didn’t know. And that terrified me.

It felt like he’d left more than just Bud behind—he’d left a part of himself. The part that had started to open up, the part I was falling for. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe he wouldn’t come back. That this “week” was just a way to let things drift apart, to leave without saying it out loud.

I picked up my pace, pushing harder, the burn in my legs distracting me from the ache in my chest. But no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t escape the fear that was gnawing at me.

Without realising it, I found myself slowing to a stop. My breath came in sharp bursts, my legs aching from the exertion. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. It wasn’t until I straightened up and glanced around that I realised where I was.

Paul’s.

The faded neon sign hung above the door, the windows dark. I hadn’t even noticed I’d ended up here. Of all the places. I stared at the entrance for a moment, memories of the nights I’d spent with Hank at this bar flooding back. This was where we’d met, where everything had started.

And now, it felt like I was standing outside a closed chapter.

I let out a shaky breath, debating whether to keep running or just turn back. But before I could decide, a voice called out from behind me.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

I turned around to see a woman walking toward me, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a Paul’s T-shirt. Her eyes were curious, though there was something in her expression that I couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” I said cautiously. “That’s me.”

She gave a small smile, stopping a few steps away. “I thought so. I recognise you from the photo Hank showed me. I’m Yvonne.”

I froze for a second, trying to process the fact that this was her. Yvonne. She and Hank had a thing, though it was over long before I came into the picture. But meeting her in person? I hadn’t expected this.

“Right, yeah. I’ve heard about you too,” I said, shaking her hand.

She smiled again, but there was something unreadable in her expression—an understanding, maybe. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. Hank and I are friends now, just friends.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say. Standing here, in front of Hank’s work, talking to Yvonne of all people… it was surreal. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She laughed softly, a sound that felt surprisingly genuine. “Well, I work here sometimes too. So, you know, bound to happen eventually.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “You okay? You seem a little… out of it.”

I forced a smile, feeling the weight of the last few days bearing down on me. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Yvonne gave me a knowing look. “Hank?”

I hesitated but nodded. There was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

She smiled knowingly, as if she understood. “Yeah, I get that.” She glanced back at Paul’s for a second before turning her attention back to me. “I’ve seen you with Hank a couple of times. He talks about you.”

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. I hadn’t expected her to mention Hank right away, especially given their history. “He does?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “I mean, we’re friends now. We’ve been through our ups and downs, but we’ve stayed close.” There was a flicker of something in her expression—an old memory, perhaps. “He’s not exactly great at opening up to people, but… He’s been different since he met you.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her honesty. “Different?”

Yvonne tilted her head slightly, studying me for a moment before she spoke again. “He’s been happier.”

I frowned, not sure if I believed her. “Happier? He hasn’t seemed that way lately.”

She let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know he’s going through something right now, but trust me—he was. Ever since you came into his life, there’s been a change in him. I’ve known Hank for a long time, and I’ve never seen him talk about anyone the way he talks about you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t realised how much I needed to hear that—that Hank had talked about me, that I mattered to him in ways I hadn’t known.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him right now,” Yvonne continued, her voice gentler. “But I do know one thing: he cares about you. A lot. I don’t think he’s trying to push you away because he doesn’t want you. It’s just… Hank’s got his demons. He’s always been that way.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew Hank had been carrying something—something he hadn’t shared with me yet. But hearing it from Yvonne, someone who had known him for longer, made it feel more real. More urgent.

“He hasn’t opened up to me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not fully. I don’t even know what it is.”

Yvonne looked at me, her gaze softening. “Don’t take it personally. Hank doesn’t open up to anyone, not really. He’s always been good at keeping things to himself. But whatever it is, it’s not about you. Trust me on that.”

I nodded slowly, appreciating her reassurance even if it didn’t make the ache in my chest any lighter. “It’s hard, though. Not knowing if he’s ever going to let me in.”

Yvonne shrugged. “That’s Hank. He’s complicated. But from what I’ve seen, he cares about you. A lot. More than I’ve seen him care about anyone in a long time.”

I swallowed, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat. “I just wish I could help him.”

She gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You are helping him. He probably just doesn’t know how to let you see it yet.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the noise from the street filling the space between us. Then Yvonne glanced back at the bar, her expression softening. “Just… don’t give up on him, okay? Hank’s a good guy. Messed up, sure. But he’s good. He just needs time.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “I won’t. I mean, I don’t want to give up on him.”

Yvonne smiled, this time with more warmth. “Good. Because I think he’s finally met someone who can keep up with him. And that’s saying something.”

As she stepped back toward the door, she gave me one last look, her eyes filled with a quiet kind of understanding. “Take care of yourself too, though. It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re trying to help someone else.”

With that, she disappeared inside, leaving me standing there on the pavement, my mind buzzing with everything she’d said. I didn’t know what the future held for me and Hank, but for the first time in days, I felt like I wasn’t completely alone in this. Yvonne’s words lingered with me as I turned and continued down the street, the weight on my chest just a little bit lighter.

The apartment was quiet when I got back, the familiar space feeling both comforting and isolating at the same time. Bud padded over to greet me, his soft purring a small but welcome distraction. I knelt down, scratching behind his ears, grateful for the company, even if it wasn’t the one I truly wanted.

After my run and the unexpected conversation with Yvonne, my mind was still spinning. I’d hoped that being out in the fresh air, moving, would have cleared some of the fog, but instead, it felt like everything had only gotten more complicated. Yvonne’s words kept echoing in my head, offering a strange sense of comfort, but also bringing more questions.

Hank cares about you.

Did he? I knew that he did, but it was hard to hold onto that when he kept pulling away, closing off whenever I got too close. I thought about everything we’d shared in the past month—how easy it had been in the beginning, how natural we’d felt together. But now… now it felt like I was chasing after something that was always just out of reach.

I sighed, flopping onto the couch, still in my running leggings and hoodie. Bud jumped up beside me, curling up against my leg, his warmth seeping through the fabric. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his fur, my thoughts drifting back to Hank again.

Yvonne had said not to give up on him. That he needed time. But how much time? How long was I supposed to wait for him to figure things out? It wasn’t like I expected him to have all the answers right away—God knows I didn’t. But the silence, the distance… it was suffocating.

I stared at my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. I’d been checking it obsessively since this morning, half-expecting some kind of message from Hank. But there was nothing. And the longer it stayed that way, the more I wondered if maybe I should be the one to reach out. Let him know that I was still here, even if he wasn’t ready to be.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my messages. The blank text box stared back at me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to push him, didn’t want to make him feel like I was waiting for an answer he couldn’t give yet. But I also didn’t want him to think that I was walking away. Because I wasn’t.

I typed slowly, choosing my words carefully, each one carrying the weight of everything I hadn’t been able to say in person.

Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I’m giving you the space you need. But I’m still here, Hank. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.

I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the send button. Was this the right thing to say? Would it make things worse? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t keep waiting for something that might never come if I didn’t let him know where I stood.

With a deep breath, I hit send.

The message disappeared, and with it, a small weight lifted from my chest. I’d done all I could for now. The ball was in his court. I couldn’t control what he did next, couldn’t force him to open up if he wasn’t ready. But at least he knew I wasn’t giving up on him. Not yet.

Bud stirred beside me, stretching out before curling back into a tighter ball. I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, my mind still tangled in a mess of emotions. I didn’t know what would happen when Hank came back. I didn’t even know if he’d respond to my message. But for the first time in days, I felt a small sense of peace—like maybe, just maybe, things weren’t completely out of my control.

As the evening slipped into night, I found myself clinging to that small hope, trying to believe that giving him space didn’t mean losing him for good.

Masterlist

[wishful-seeker]

My friend recently asked me how ive accepted that my illness will be like this forever.

Admittedly, i haven't, my peace comes from knowing and trusting the fact that everything is always changing, that im headed for change, and its impossible for things to stay the same forever.

I can't say if it'll get worse or better, but it won't be the same forever. There is peace in that.

I still have other treatments to try, this isn't the end, its okay to have hope. Its okay to be optimistic, its okay to trust.

Its also okay to choose not to get your hopes up to protect yourself. I AM hopeful for something better, but in the meantime ive accepted this body and pain.

Part of what helped me accept this, to be okay with this, is to learn what my illness was to me, to put a face on the beast. This view shifted multiple times. My physical illness used to be a rotting pit, i was sinking, i could see the light above me growing smaller. My mental illness was an ocean, i sank into that too, but rather than grasping for the surface like the pit, i couldn't resist. The waves took over, the sinking was somewhat silent, peaceful. With my physical illness it was not. I was screaming, clawing for freedom, for air. And then one day i didn't see it as a pit anymore, i thought "maybe its a cave" a dark, cold, hard to navigate place, but there is LIFE there, even if its small, there are still crystals on the wall to be found. It was really hard to see it differently, but it was part of my acceptance. And now i say, there is a cave at the center of the heart, and when we decide to wander through that cave we find ourselves, who we REALLY are, deep at the core. I now say the cave is my home, and although i WILL find a way out, its not a place to run from. Freedom is not far from the cave, but something found within it. Im not gonna obtain freedom just by being more abled and less sick, it has to something found inside me.

When i was abled i wasn't happy, but i had freedom. My goal now is obtaining freedom AND happiness. So what does that look like for someone whos bedridden with a progressive disease? I don't quite know yet. But i think a part of it is loveing myself and life as it is, even if nothing changes, while still striving for change. Striving for change, but not desperately grasping for it, but gently guiding myself to it.

[fiercefauna]

@tiredsn0w here are parts 10 - 12 of If Found Call 6118 - though I’m considering something more like - I Can’t Take You Anywhere - focusing more on the Doctor’s antics then on the fact he’s missing. I’m posting this because I schedule these along side releases of my other art -

Note to others - what follows is part of a tale - chapters 10-12 featuring 049 and SCP 6118 - the other parts aren’t much further down, this marks the half way point of the story.

Part 10.

“I need to see him.” said the stern face of everyone’s favorite underdog.  

Forby was one of the few who had known 5a82 prior to the experiment that had defeated the Federation’s bio-weapon, the Sentinel Sovereign, back when he was special operations, ie, a professional murderer rather than the savior of millions, ie, “the cure” and yet learning that his escape to Earth had resulted in a relationship so - so bizarre, was jarring. Earth people were humans, what the hell was 049? 

“He’s resting, see?” Normally Forby wouldn’t film an unconscious non- consenting person but proving to the Asu that the man from Earth was still alive and receiving care was currently vital to the fragile peace facilitated by the hero’s return. There was another voice over the view screen, “I was authorized only to let you speak with 049! Who is this?” The connection was cut off. 

The urge to throw down the view screen and swear loudly was hard to resist, but this could have woken the Doctor so Forby returned it to its case. The Two paused and thought of weather or not to put the lock up before stepping out for awhile. The currant door did not lock naturally and the suction powered cross-board was a big ugly thing, recalling accusations of cruelty. It went up anyway, not like the door was sound-proof or anything. Not that the lock couldn’t be removed. The Doctor’s attempt to lobotomize himself raised concerns of what he might be capable of doing to other people. 

The beaked figure laying atop the sheets of the bed opened his left eye at the sound of a latch sliding into place. Being feared and derided was something he’d long grown accustomed to. Rest and medicine and eventually, food would surely convince them he was well enough to return to his project but those things oft called self-care, were insufferably tedious, especially when things were nearing so pivotal a stage. What was that sound? No! He undid the IV and treated the wound, still not knowing quite how to respond. The mere act of trying the door could escalate things too far with the mind he had awakened and its desire to come to his defense. 

*****************

Tasha took aim, missed, swore, reloaded and managed to get the fourth dart into the translucent tripod as it dragged its tentacles through the woody tide flats in search of prey. Seedy slowed the fan blades of the air boat, trying hard not to run aground on the tangled roots of the marsh trees in the dark. 

“Are you sure you got it under?” 

Tasha leapt onto her quarry and planted the transmitter, straightening out the wire. “Yeah but it won’t be out for long!” She injected the antidote and dropped into the shallow craft as it came back around.  

“Easy there, this ain’t Earth! Shit’s heavy!” 

“Just get us outta here.”

This could possibly work if it had only been a few weeks. The implant only responded when it detected a signal, signals were only sent out occasionally, and a number of things could cause them to be lost. It was where an answer might come from, and where it might have last been sent from, that was so concerning. 

The Global Resistance were right across the street. It was their largest installation and it currently housed the Asu. The Feds would be paying a lot of attention to every single, little thing that happened here. 

Seedy started to switch off the blades, though it seemed a little early to pull back in to the eel farm. Tasha’s good mood was giving way to slight annoyance. “What’s wrong?” “Do you hear that?” They drifted under the overhang that sheltered the docks. The loading door to the greenhouse cold vault was torn and crumpled away, groaning back and forth on a twisted, aluminum beam.

Part 11.

Sparing with the largest dummy in the row, and smelling of a certain astringent beverage was a One who’s proximity to “the Asu” meant they were probably a guard. His first instinct was to avoid such people as such people had raised him (poorly) - not that Twos were physically ever children in the same sense that it was for Ones. 

His pocket messenger had absolutely no news, probably because he was simply, “too important” to view content unfiltered. It had been weeks since he’d last spoken to 049. That his Doctor was “busy” was no longer a valid excuse. 

Five-aye returned for his things after finishing the daily required exercise, being sure to collect the guard’s pocket messenger from their unattended leggings. 

A hand hard as brick seized his arm. The confident tone Five-aye had been encouraged to use collapsed into his usual stutter, “I, I won’t tell anyone you, you were drunk.” 

Smiling, the guard made a show of unlocking their phone so it would be accessible. Surprisingly, he was allowed to return to his quarters with the stolen device. An internet that wasn’t a minefield of soul-destroying hate-speech had been positively therapeutic, but if he hoped to discover the whereabouts of the man who loved him there was no way out but through. 

Rumor had it that the “Mad Doctor” had either become seriously ill, died, was cheating on the Asu - aka the “Murder-Messiah” (with a Zero of all things) or he had gone missing. Whispers of how foolish it had been to allow the 049 alien to leave the Northern Headquarters at all, let alone with a Federation Two unit and a famous explorer with Federation ties cast blame squarely on 7cb7 and seemed ignorant of his own suggestion that the Doctor be given a “tour.” Instead, “The Pathra’s” past employment with the Federation fueled suspicions they had given the Earthen Paramore away to be used as a bargaining chip.

Damn, if he’d known about the accusations of treachery being flung at 7cb7, he wouldn’t have been so hard on them about the Doctor. Why couldn’t they just tell him things!

There was a knock and he bolted into a chair beside the door, tossing the guard’s device under the bed. 

It was the usual medic. Digestive tracts compelled the more primitively bodied Ones to take breaks for meals and elimination, but the lack of them sometimes caused Twos to forget that they still needed nourishment of a kind. It made the absence of the Doctor, who usually set up the IV, that much more painful.

The medic casually pulled down the window shade, rousing his growing apprehension, and impatience for the procedure to be over. 

Eventually he was able to peer past the shade into the small enclosed garden, where a scant strip of sky peeked in between bomb deflection awnings. A  custodian was climbing down from a ladder in the beam of soft light. Held tightly in their gloved hand was a scrap of bleeding, black fabric impaled upon what looked like the back half of a spear. 

That fabric made sleep unattainable. 

Part 12. 

He had the door guard escort him to the General’s Lounge, a room that was luxurious by rebel standards, it having lots of space and a truly stunning view. The large, wispy leaves of the sprawling mangroves glowed faintly pinkish-white until the sun finished setting, and the planet’s iridescent rings faded slowly into view catching the shadow of the third small moon. According to his device, this region was Uhmish-Ewyss. Why he’d never heard of these forested tide flats was probably because he had never been tasked with executing a tree.  

The glow of the foliage was the combustion of excess glucose. This was due to the weather being unusually clear. Winds from drier regions (or what passed for them on Kepler) would be stripping away the usual cloud cover for the next few days, a bad omen on a planet where military endeavors depended on the ever present concealment of the mists. 

Dead or alive the Doctor was out there. Whatever fate he found would be due to the direct actions of the person who just played along when it was decided “the angel” should come home. 

Blue, copper-ringed eyes that had witnessed many unspeakable things narrowed as movement registered in the water outside. Something was drifting, turning in odd ways as though something else wanted to keep the top of it dry. It stopped and rose into position, a root-runner log with one of those giant, pink mangrove leaves tacked atop it, and torn into the crude shape of a plague mask. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

A soft hiss was followed by the loud crack of a Bhenschkeel (Night Vigil). The post was split in two; the halves bent and curled, arms reached out from behind and carried him back toward what was beginning to feel like a new prison. The stolen pocket messenger no longer let him in, and his own device had nothing to say about odd signage in the vicinity of the Northern Headquarters. 

With a snarl of disgust he pulled a dark blue, hooded cape from a closet. Capes were worn by sub-adults in historic times, and still worn occasionally, especially by sub-adult femmes, who wanted to look “Cute.” He’d acquired it simply by asking a councilor’s daughter, honestly saying it was a “spy disguise.”  

Twos were officially “its” but the person that raised him had employed “she” as a reference to his very noticeable and disappointing height, though most femme adults were at least twice his size, with many being bigger than that. 

A new set of guards with even more impressive uniforms gave him suspicious glances when he seemed to want to leave his room again, but they remained silent. He’d expected more resistance from his caretakers considering the recent incident. It was almost enough to make him reconsider his plan. Not that Five-aye really had one. 

He grabbed the ammo and weapon he’d stashed in his gym locker, having pilfered it previously for other reasons, mostly paranoia. In the gym there was a malfunctioning camera, a piece of information overheard and tucked away in an assassin’s brain. He was glad to see the drunk from before would be babysitting him again and he called them over to the blind spot. Nothing fancy, just return the guy’s sorely missed phone and - walk away. 

He donned the hooded cape after slipping into an unlocked maintenance hall. It was … a bit big on him. Careful steps would be needed to avoid tripping. He just needed to see if there was some kind of message still attached that post, no need to get too close or do anything stupid. 

[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter IV " One Day "

Series Description : The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : Y/n Targaryen comforts her brother after their brother and nephews play a cruel joke on him in the Dragonpit.

Warnings : none in this chapter

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 2.2k

“It will happen to you sooner than you may think, little sister,” Rhaenyra’s voice was always a welcomed sound to Y/n, though Aemond seemed disinterested in their sister’s presence in the sitting area. 

It was an area of the family living quarters that was usually only frequented by Aemond and Y/n. The loveseats and lounges covered with blankets and pillows that had been lazily strewn about. Candles lit to give the room light in the very early hours of the morning when the sun had yet to rise. The two Targaryen children had been restless, and had chosen to come to their favorite seating area in the whole castle. There were many someone could have their choice of, but the two children had always been rather fond of this one, overlooking Blackwater Bay, where they could look out and see the ships that came and went. Where they would play games and try to guess where the ship was going, and what they had on board. A game that Y/n had once heard of in a dream many years ago, and decided she wanted to play it. 

Tonight however, Rhaenyra had also been restless, and had found her younger half siblings sitting quietly, Aemond with a large book in his lap, and Y/n with her needlework, and Rhaenyra had taken her spot comfortably next to her sister. Though, from Y/n’s perspective, Rhaenyra never seemed to be too comfortable at all anymore. ‘The babe is growing, little sister, she makes it hard for me to move about as I wish.’ is what Rhaenyra would always say whenever Y/n made her concerns known to her older sister. 

“What do you mean?” Y/n questioned as she continued her needlework, trying her best to embroider the material with a gold rose. Lord and Lady Tyrell had visited court not long ago, and their ornate embroidery on their clothing, clearly identifying them as the Tyrells had inspired her in her needlework, and well, the Tyrell rose was far easier to embroider than the Targaryen three headed dragon. 

“Having a babe of your own.” Rhaenyra said it so casually that both Y/n and Aemond looked at her puzzled. Y/n was still only nine, she wouldn’t be having a child for many years to come. Math wasn’t exactly Y/n’s strong suit, however she knew that her own mother had Aegon when she was six and ten years of age.  That was an eternity away for the young princess. “I feel as though one day I was only just a child of my own, and then I blinked and I was holding Jace after he was born.” She went on to explain.

Though, it still didn’t make any sense to Y/n. How could years pass so quickly for someone? Y/n decided that her sister was only exaggerating. That it truly wasn’t such. That time would forever pass as it in her whole nine years of life. Adults frequently said things that were untrue, or that were half truths. This must have been one of them. 

“The babe is due any day now, according to the maesters. . . I’ll be staying in our wing of the Keep until the babe arrives.” by our, Rhaenyra had meant her, Laenor, and her sons’ wing of the keep. Y/n had known that Rhaenyra would take her rest before the babe was to arrive, but the prospect of not seeing her sister wandering the halls throughout the day disappointed her nevertheless. “Promise me, you will keep up with your archery lessons? Theobrand would be very upset if you let your mother get her way.” Y/n knew it was just Rhaenyra teasing her, but she could sense an underlying tone to her jest.

Y/n had begun to catch onto the distaste her mother and her sister had for one another, as well as the distaste her brothers seemed to have for their nephews, though that distaste seemed to be a majority from Aemond. Though, she didn’t know if she could blame him. She knew of the cruel jokes they made out of her beloved older brother. They never gave him reprieve. He was the only one out of the boys who didn’t have a dragon, and they never let him forget it. Y/n wasn’t so slow to be unaware of the fact that Aemond found comfort with her. She was his only friend in the keep, and for that as well, the boys never let him forget it. 

It was clear to Y/n the rivalry between the two was festering in a negative light more so than the previous years of her life. With the way Rhaenyra made vaguely snide comments about Alicent even with Y/n with her, and the way that Alicent would speak in hushed whispers to her maids with her children in the room about Jacaerys and Lucerys being bastards sired by Harwin Strong, Y/n would hear as Aegon and Aemond whispered to each other at the dining table morning and evening, the word ‘bastard’ scarecly above that of a murmer, but she could always hear it. 

Y/n was conflicted. She loved her mother, and wished to please her. She wore the colors she wished, and the exact dresses she wanted, she wore her hair the way Alicent liked, and did a majority of what made her mother happy, but she also loved her sister. And she knew her sister loved her, despite her indifference to the rest of their siblings.

Though, those words stayed in Y/n’s mind two weeks later, as she sat on the opposite side of the room from Helaena and her mother, once more, She had her needle work in hand, but this time, she was attempting the three headed dragon of house Targaryen, all the while, Helaena had her collection of bugs out. It was clear to Y/n, by the conversation, that their lady mother was dreadfully bored of being shown the insects, but at least Helaena was actually speaking. Y/n had been silent since she heard of the arrival of her newborn nephew. She and Rhaenyra both had hoped for a girl. 

Y/n was unaware as to why she was so disappointed by the news, yet at the same time, relieved. It didn’t make sense. She’d wished to have a niece, but had instead a nephew was yet again sired. She didn’t understand her emotions to the situation. 

Aemond was always the one better with his words. Had he been with her with one of his books the same thickness as Y/n’s own head instead of at the dragonpit, he could have helped her better understand the conflict. 

“This one has 60 rings. . .” Helaena spoke, all the while Y/n kept accidentally pricing her finger tips with a needle. She hated needle work the more she thought about it. “And two pairs of legs on each. That’s 240.” 

A brief silence occurred before their mother replied; “Yes, it is.”

“It has eyes. . . though, I don’t believe it can see”

“And why is that so, do you think?”

Alicent frequently had these conversations with Helaena. Trying to get to better know her by indulging her. It Y/n understood that out of the children, she and Aemond were the easiest for their mother to understand. Aegon was what many of the maids whispered and spoke of as a ‘drunk letcher.’ with every sense of ‘depravity’ that even the ladies on the street of silk couldn’t satiate his appetite. Y/n didn’t understand exactly what it was that Aegon had an appetite for, but she knew it was something her mother disapproved of. Helaena was odd, quiet, and happy to remain on the ground playing with multi-legged insects all day rather than speak to other people. Aemond and Y/n were the most sociable with their mother. The only two who she truly seemed to somewhat like. Daeron was always off doing something. 

“It is beyond our understanding.”

“I suppose you’re right. Some things just are.”

That was a phrase that was familiar to Y/n. When she had asked her mother why Aegon and Helaena were to wed when the faith of the seven forbade incest, and why she were to allow it when she was so devoted to her faith. ‘Some things just are, darling’ 

It had been a non-answer to the question. 

The door to the room opened, and Y/n’s eyes flickered over to the entry as a guard strode in, holding Aemond’s wrist. He was covered in dirt and soot. His lightly padded gambeson with a popped thread on the shoulder. Y/n stood to her feet within a moment, the needle work forgotten as their mother stood to her feet as well. 

“Aemond,” She called going over to him. “What have you done?” “He did it again.” 

Both Alicent and Y/n knew what it meant when she said it. He went down into the depths of the dragon pit yet again. It always worried Y/n when he did such things. His dseparation to have a dragon was going to eat at him, and it made him do reckless things that their mother would scold him for. 

“After how many times you’ve been warned, must have you confined to your chambers?!” their mother demanded, raising her voice at him. 

“They made me do it!” He defended, raising his voice as a defense, to get her to listen to him. 

“As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” Y/n had always been heavily in tune with the fact that her mother disliked a majority of things ‘Targaryen’ and that included dragons, despite it being part of Targaryen family history, tradition. Aemond was obsessed with them because he had to constantly be around the other boys training their own dragons whose eggs had been laid in the cradle with them, while Aemond’s had never hatched, and as a result, he had none to train. Helaena had claimed Dreamfyre when she was young, and had begun riding her by the time was eleven, much to Alicent’s dismay. But Y/n stayed away from the dragons, and the dragon pits, as her mother’s wish. 

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond yelled as their mother grabbed his shoulders firmly, holding him still. 

“A what?” 

“They said they had a dragon for me,” He began, while Helaena had lost interest in what their brother had just experiences and was instead focused back on the bug that was crawling on her hands. “But it was a pig.” Y/n began a slow approach to her mother and brother. 

“You will have a dragon one day. “ Alicent tried to comfort. 

“He’ll have to close an eye.” Helaena mumbled to her insect. 

“I know it.” Their mother continued. As Y/n finally reached the two, she grabbed Aemond’s hand and held it tightly within her own.

She hated to see him this way. Defeated and resigned to the treatment of their brother and nephews. He was always sensitive to how others treated him, and not being excepted by the other boys? It was always clear to Y/n how it upset and affected him. 

Their mother pulled him in for a hug, but Aemond and Y/n remained with hands interlocked.

It was never fair to her. How Aegon and their nephews always got away with their treatment, but if Aemond were to retaliate? He’d get into trouble.

“I shall handle this.” Their mother spoke, pulling away from Aemond, placing both hands on the sides of his face and kissing his forehead before stepping away. “I shall speak to your father.” And with that, their mother had left the three children in the room with the guard alone, and Y/n had quickly wrapped her arms around her brother, her chin resting on his shoulder. He had in turn, tightly encaptured her frame between his arms, squeezing her close to him, hiding his face in her shoulders. 

“Mother’s right,” Y/n spoke softly. She could smell the dragonpit stench clinging to him like a young child would cling to their mother’s skirts during their first excursion at court, being surrounded by tall and intimidating knights, and lords, dragons frequently seen overhead as someone from the Targaryen family decided to take flight over King’s Landing. But much like the scent clung to him, her sweet brother clung to the idea of dragons. 

The books he read to her when they slept in the same bed were more oft than not about dragons and their lords. Stories about Old Valyria, the blood magic, and the theories of how the Doom occurred. He was fascinated with all things Valyrian. He was trying to live the life their ancestors once lived hundreds of years ago. When dragons were always the size of Belarion the Black Dread and there more dragons than you could count. That was no longer the case.

Y/n had never been overtly interested in the idea of claiming a dragon. she had excepted that the powder blue dragon egg that had been put with her in her cradle was never going to hatch, and that she would be without a dragon. She saw no need for seeking one out. Especially when most dragons had already been claimed. Her mother never liked her going to the dragon pit anyway, and the majority of available dragons, were wild, and loose on Dragonstone. 

“You will have a dragon one day, brother. I’m sure of it.” 

At that, Aemond squeezed her just a little tighter, comfortably resting his head on her shoulder.

Add yourself to the taglist !!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @winxschester

[a-b-riddle]

Hey, i hope you've had a good day so far/will have a good day. And i hope you get better soon <3

Im sorry if this is considered trauma dumping and if u wanna ignore this, totally understandable ! Im just very very lost and idk what to do so i thought it wouldn't hurt to ask for advice ?

Im about to be 25 y/o in july and ive only had one relationship (circa 2019) that lasted a year and then fizzled out (i found out later that it was bcz i was getting cheated on) and I haven't met anyone or connected with anyone ever since. I moved into a new city too after finishing university and i have no friends or social circle in this new town (i still keep in contact with my friends from my old city but it kinda feels like every relationship i have is slowly dying) and i feel like I'm stuck in this limbo place where no matter how much i try i always feel like life is passing by infront of my eyes and i haven't lived it yet (idk if that makes sense) so i was wondering if you have any advice how get out this mindset ?

Thank you for at least reading this if u did, im sorry if i triggered you or if i burdened you with my feelings, and i wish you all the best ❤️

I met my now fiance a little under four weeks before I turned 25. Before him, I had gotten my heart broken and I was just done with hooking up with someone and expecting more, but that meant not being in the same phase as my friends who still wanted that.

When we started dating I had to come to face the hard reality that not all of my friendships were healthy and not everyone I was friends with were people I should have in my life for more than a season. So I had to sit and take a hard look at my life. Keep these college friends I've had for almost four years... Or start from scratch?

So starting from scratch, I started with one person. My fiance. I liked him. I respected his morals and his ethic. I loved how kind he was to others and always the one to lend a hand. So with him, I made friends with his friends and their girlfriends. Because my fiance was a good person, he often kept the same company.

So with him I found people that I could see having in our lives for more than just a season. Through loss and triumphs. To celebrate and to grieve with.

Now I'm using my fiance just as an example, but you don't need a romantic partner to do this. You can start with one person. And even if it doesn't go beyond that, you still have a person. You still made one new connection with another soul that you wouldn't have done before.

My dad found his own community with his coworkers. My mom found hers with those who have lost a child. My sister found hers in cosplay. My other sister found hers with those who had the same area of study. I found friends through a facebook group that loved the ACOTAR series that lived in my major city. I found one of my closest friends on bumble bff.

Unfortunately, relationships are the hardest things in life we will ever have to work for because it's not just about creating them, but maintaining them, and enriching them with personal experiences to help them grow. We just assume since they had come so easily when we were in tight knit circles like high school and college they come easily.

But as adults, we have to find new ways to engage and that is a scary thing to do when it's not something we've done before. So the first step to stop existing and start living is to connect.

Volunteer. Join clubs. Reach out. Engage. As someone who has a constant fear of being rejected, it is terrifying. But the worst thing anyone can ever say to you is no. The world won't stop. You'll survive it. Buy from it, you move on.

Another recommendation I have is to listen to The Last Lecture.

It is an hour long, but the ending always gets me. Basically lecturers at Carnegie Mellon would give "last lectures." It was the last lecture they would give working in academics at the university. When asked what his Last Lecture would be about Professor Randy Pausch basically said, "funny you should ask. I have pancreatic cancer and have about six months left so this really is my last lecture."

[jiamiuxin]

daiya no ace anime reflection/review

**spoilers!!**

im at a point in my life where i have a lot of free time at the end of the day and i find myself filling that slot with anime.

for the past two weeks, ace of the diamond has taken up a big portion of my mind as i found myself falling in love with the team and its players.

about a month ago was when i started a roll on watching sports anime. i caught up on haikyuu, binged blue lock and ao ashi, and finally spent another good chunk of time on free!!. ace of the diamond was no new title to me, yet for some reason i kept it on the back burner. i dont know why; whether it was the art style, the then-seemingly long list of episodes, or the fact that it was baseball. maybe it was all of them. when i burned myself out trying to find another anime, i finally settled on giving DnA a chance.

today, as i have finished all 176 episodes (no OVAs yet!) i confidently say it's one of my top, if not the top, anime ive seen so far.

i noted a few things as i progressed through the series: strong points, cons, favorite characters, and a few personal thoughts.

i will start off with the cons head on. daiya's is, i guess i could say, notorious? for its "annoying, loud, benchwarmer" MC. one genuine complaint i do have is the lack of animation quality in the third season. there were many still shots with voice overs, though i felt a little more satisfied with the animation towards the end. also, to a smaller extent, the anime is not as complete as the manga.

anyway, i think the slow burn is actually a strong point, as many others point out. indeed, it is the very low lows that make the highs so high. don't get me wrong, i love a stupidly powerful MC, such as mob psycho 100 or OPM, but the realism gives DnA its charm and relatability. when others say "season 1 is bad, season 2 is good, season 3 is amazing," they are not lying.

DnA's charm not only lies in its realism, but also its character development and character interactions. brotherhood, leadership, and teamwork are all themes throughout the anime. the way the third years cared for their juniors and the way the juniors fought to elongate their seniors' summers was beautiful, heart-wrenching, and gut-punching to me, a recent college graduate. these types of moments are not uncommon in sports anime, but something about DnA's execution made it so much more..emotional? relatable? whether it was due to convenient timing or the fact that the sheer amount of episodes made me feel like they were actually my own friends, i just felt so much more compelled when watching daiya.

on the topic of my personal emotions, as i said, the themes of graduating/retiring really hit home for me. but that made daiya all the more special to me. both personal relatability and just watching everyone's hard work made it so easy to sympathize with their determination. maybe it was the countless scenes of them heaving and gasping for air; or the scenes where TJ made their frustrations so visible and vulnerable. as a watcher, i did not see myself rooting for some characters in a show; normally, i'd take a normal stance with the expectations that the "of course, the MC team will win." i saw myself rooting for my friends. in addition, knowing TJ, we can never be too sure on how seido's games will actually go. everything comes down to the realism. it's daiya's realism that made me feel their passion, made them so relatable, and made it feel like they were actually at high stakes. i truly, rarely never cry when watching an anime. besides assassination classroom, no other anime has made me so emotional. not only that, but daiya made me cry several times. the amount of immersion is insane.

to no surprise, my favorite character is miyuki. he was the know-it-all. he was essentially the rock of seido with his calls. i often found myself wondering how strong seido would be without miyuki. no disrespect to ono; as he proved, and as kataoka also believes, ono is also reliable. but miyuki was just built different bro. anyway, i appreciated his character for not only baseball iq, but his rapid maturity into the captain role, and his flexibility with his juniors. i found his personality very admirable and his logical approach to situations both relatable and reliable. other characters i particularly were fond of were chris and kuramochi. if okumura had more screen time, i could also see him climbing up my list. as someone who had no prior baseball knowledge, daiya/seido as a whole, but particularly chris and miyuki, gave me a newfound respect for and fundmental understanding of baseball.

i think one last thing i wanted to note was that i really don't read manga. but for daiya, im definitely gonna pick up the manga now. i have never done this before for an anime, even others i really liked--hxh, haikyuu, one punch man, etc. i just never felt compelled to read the story further beyond the anime. but for daiya, this is something im willing to do. i just love it that much.

if you are having second thoughts or are debating on watching DnA, def watch it if you do not mind slow burn and can take a realistic approach. on the other hand, i do not recommend if you want to see an OP MC.

~

i am truly a nobody, especially not a professional anime critic LMFAO but i just wanted to vent my thoughts of daiya somewhere :) these are just my personal opinions

[trainingdummyrabbit]

OC ask game woohoo!!!

3, 20, 29, 30?

gooooodmorning!! back at it ^_^/

3. What inspired you to make a certain character?

honestly ? for th funy lc cast, itwas mostly just seeing other folks running around w their ocs :] iliked seeing peoples little beasts, so i wanted some little beasts to play too. thats how istarted making cocoa! she was supposed t just be a silly lil thang but uhhhhhhhhh . As One Does ^_^

20. Do any of your OCs have pets? What kind? NAME?

EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT MY GUY heres yui again. he has a very totally normal rat named chestnut that was pawned off on given to him by a . fffriend ? yeah. 👍 ilu chestnut

29. Do any of your OCs have AU designs/stories?

a few, yeah!! aus are my favorite favorite thing t toss around in th whole world, so like uh uh well. They Keep Happening <33 like what if character lives? what if character makes a different decision? (though its kinda cheating bc i already cant decide what happens so everything is kinda quasi-canon till i get it together dfjgndk) theres one with rose and wolfe that is Killing Me To Death but i Still havent laid down the baseline so i CANT . SAY ANYTHING YET. orz though also theres one ive had in my pocket i hadnt found th chance to pull up yet, so ykno uh . ^_^ heehoo

Oops ! All Distortion. heres not!cocoa. nameless as of right now, partially bc i havent found something that fits, and partially because i think its funny (<- mean) anyway woe. tfw youre just trying t navigate being alive after experiencing ego death and everyone keeps trying to yank you in different directions and shape you into something else entirely when you can barely hold a shape on your own so you simply decide to become nothing at all. sad ! oh well, theres other uh. uhhhhh.. hm. this is kind of th Worst of what can come of cocoa and luci's whatever-the-hell. luci is completely convinced she understands cocoa's character and actively pushes the worst parts of them forward in the name of some sort of "self actualization," in response to their complete and total shutting off at. just about everything. unfortunately, she completely misreads what exactly that manifests As due to her preoccupation with her Own self actualization-- and instead of drawing forth any buried emotion or desire, all it really does is kinda... shut them down completely. their desire wasnt to lash out at anything, it was simply to get things to stop. and stop they did. theyre not much of anything anymore. nobody is happy with this.

30. Which OC has been the hardest to develop/design so far?

HIM.

hes really important to everything bc hes kind of. a catalyst, in a way, to The Bullshit. the issue is i know most of the What, its just the How and Why thats such an issue. also unfortunately, i started writing him before i started watching thru limbus, but once i did i realized hes kinda just like sinclair but to the left a little bit which. head in hands. Unfortunate; so its once again a balancing act of getting things together while tying threads and also Avoiding Making Character 2. which is Hard bc this is just!!!! what hes like!!! iknow i probably shouldnt worry abt it too much but this is like the fourth or fifth time ive accidentally just made Character But Again and i just. GRABS. SHAKES. UGH THE ISSUES.