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dojunie · 3 years ago

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ITWD [CH 3]; Moonlight Rendezvous

[★]; TWO BOYS. TWO UNIVERSITIES. TWO RIVALING TEAMS. And then there’s you, stuck weightlessly in the middle of it. The time left on the clock is running out— and soon, you’re going to have to pick a side.

[itwd masterlist] [previous part] [next part]

sneak peek; “Have you eaten? You smell like sugar. You haven’t been only eating the vending machine food, right? You’ve gone home?” Jaemin does not respond as quickly as a non-guilty person would, rolling his dark, lying eyes around before muttering something rude under his breath. Before you can protest, the hand from his hoodie pocket returns, sleeve dabbing under your eyes with a softness you’d not thought possible. “Even like this, you’re so… Ah, C’mon. Lay down for me. Please?”

wc ; 11k

warnings; hospital talk/visit, mention of severe injury

a/n: (!!!) There is a flashback in this chapter, and holy bibliography batman, is it a Long Flashback. It's written as though Y/N is merely telling the story to Jeno, casually, however! I am writing the recollection as though it's a present event. Y/N is not actually telling him, word for word, what is happening in the italicized bits. It's like flashbacks in TV shows and movies: Character is telling story present day, but the viewer (that's u ;-}) is seeing the story as it actually unfolded. It will make sense when you get there, LOL.)

taglist;@aedreamzy @grassbutneo @sweetlyocs

TRUTH BE TOLD, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING.

Jeno is a seasoned, trained, currently active superhuman athlete. You picked up a ball today for the first time in a half a year, and have only just barely kept up with your cardio and work out regime in the same amount of time. There is no doubt in your mind that you’re going to suck so severely that it might make history.

Even so, as you shed your jacket to the bleacher seats and search the moon-lit gym for a lost, forgotten ball— because every gym has at least one lost, forgotten ball— you still feel the most alive you have in months.

“And you’re sure we're not going to get caught?” Jeno murmurs from behind you for the 100th time. “I know you said it’s fine but seriously, you’re positive? 100% sure?”

“Would I get you in trouble, Jeno?”

“I’ve only known you for a little over twelve hours,” Jeno says immediately, voice a little incisive. He’s not wrong. You feel offended anyway.

“Well, for someone who is apparently so wary of my decisions, you followed me in here quite nicely, methinks.”

There has to be a ball around here somewhere, right? Jeno trails after you like a lost puppy as you traverse every inch of the practice gym before you finally find what you’re looking for half hidden under a discarded volleyball net: a nice, fully inflated but slightly dusty Gamdogja Timberwolves, Nike Branded Basketball.

Your heart thrums in your chest as you hold its familiar weight in your palm, balancing it between your fingers like a trophy on a pedestal.

Perfect.

You toss it to Jeno and he catches it instinctually, eyebrows knitted.

“Will you stop frowning at me, Lee? We’re not going to get—”

“I know,” he blurts. “Well, I don’t know that, but that’s not…”

You stream past him into center court, basking in how weird it feels to be in a gym at night again. It doesn't help that none of the gym’s stadium lights are on, only the ceiling skylights that allow just enough moonlight in, which makes it feel more significant. More… sneaky. (And god knows you really should be sneaking; because even if you rightfully had a copy of the gym keys from your 'coach' status, what you were doing was still a step removed from straight up breaking and entering.

You probably shouldn't tell him that, though.)

Jeno follows, ball held tight on his hip between his inner arm and side, continuing his frown brigade. Maybe it’s time you stop being so cryptic. He’s been more than a good sport already.

“For every point you make on me,” you tell him casually, “I’ll answer one of your questions.”

He waits silently for the rest of the terms and conditions that never come. After a second his dark eyes go wide.

“Eh? That’s it? You think that’s fair?”

“...Do you want me to answer two questions for one point or something?”

“No! What? I meant…” He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, like he’s not sure how to phrase what he wants to say next. “You’ve seen me play. Shouldn’t you limit me to five points or something before I get an answer? I don’t think just one to one is… equal.”

Wow. The (oddly humble and honest?) cajones on this guy. He’s worried he’s going to blow you out of the water, but doesn’t want to just come out and say that. It’s cute, and a great change of pace from the guys who would just outright laugh at the idea when you wanted to play fairly.

The wild smile that streams across your face obviously confuses him, and the way you stalk up to him does even moreso.

"You want equal, huh?"

Before he can ask you what you’re doing you smack the ball out from under his arm and dart past his surprised yelp, dribbling upcourt and sinking an easy shot before he can even say, “Hey!”

Your excited laugh echoes around the whole gym. It’s not like anyone else besides the two of you are here anyway and you’re so giddy that any threat of being discovered simply doesn’t track right now.

“That was dirty and you know it,” Jeno says, shaking his head at the crazed grin on your face. Without another word he discards his own bomber jacket, tossing it listlessly near the bleachers— but he, interestingly enough, doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. In only a black T-Shirt and his previous blue jeans and sneakers, Jeno resituates himself over the center emblem of the court, crouched and ready, gaze almost daring you to try your little trick again. Your heart pounds a little harder at the sight.

So this is actually happening, then.

“Every two points you make, I answer one question. Every point I make, though? You lose one of yours. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re going to be talking all night,” Jeno shrugs. “Your ball.”

You mirror his stance and bounce the ball a few times at your feet, lungs practically taking up your whole body as you stare into his eyes.

Jeno is a shooting guard. He’d told you that outright earlier, but you’d noticed his skill first hand on the court during Scramble Extreme. He could make a basket, under pressure, from just about anywhere around half-court— a rare, stupidly over-powered skill— which meant once Jeno got the ball it was over for you.

Another thing you’d noticed, though, was that the shooting guard also happened to lack aggression. Jeno rarely attempted to snatch or shoulder or fight for the ball if it wasn’t dangling in his face, which is probably why his teammates always fought so hard to get it for him. You had no idea why, considering his size and speed, because he could probably take on a whole team by himself with favorable conditions if he just bullied people more, but whatever. Lee Jeno’s niceties didn’t matter.

Because right now it’s a weakness— and you’re about to use it to your advantage.

You take a tentative step right. Jeno does the same.

Okay.

You take another, wider step to the left, and as soon as he starts to follow— you dart like lightning in the opposite direction, bouncing the ball between your legs before he has time to correct, and take off up the court again. You risk a longer shot this time, lobbing it from a little under half-court into the backboard and…

Swish!

“What the hell?”

You whoop. “And that is minus one for Gamdogja’s very own Lee Jeno! The crowd goes wild, and the scoreboard explodes! How will GDSC ever recover?”

Jeno stands there when you return from fetching the ball, eyes wide before he laughs to himself in disbelief. It’s one point. You’re definitely doing too much. But the exhilaration makes it feel like you’ve just dunked on Shaquille O’Neal.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

You shrug, not taking him or the awe in his voice seriously. He’s definitely just being nice.

“I’m faster than I look. My ball again…?”

“Hell no. Not after that. Give it here.”

Snickering, you toss Jeno the basketball. You’re only remembering it now, how often exactly this used to happen to you, people offering you the ball first because of your appearance (you were never sure exactly what it was; if it was the whole ‘girl’ thing if you were playing against guys, or if it was the fact that you were admittedly not the tallest, most athletic-looking person in the world if you were playing against anyone else) but one thing was always certain:

They never volunteered you the ball again after your first point.

Jeno, like you’d predicted, basically makes the basket from where he’s standing the moment you start. Spoil sport.

“And you say I play dirty,” you mutter, but he’s too busy eye-smiling at you to hear it.

“That’s a three-pointer,” he confirms with a nod, like you don’t already know. “Which means your one point is now nil, and I have two on the board. That gets me one question, right?”

“It sure does, Lee. Do your worst.”

Jeno crosses his arms over his chest. “How old were you when you started playing?”

Oh. What?

“That’s what you want to ask?” you blurt in surprise. "Not what you'd wanted to know in the car?"

“...I was under the impression I was allowed more than one question."

"You are! I'm not saying..." Okay. A man with patience. That's something you're going to have to get used to. "Well, alright. I started playing when as soon as I could stand, really, but my first competitive team was as early as they allow in those junior-leagues, you know?”

This seems to surprise him, but you don’t know why.

“Not really. I joined my first team in high school,” he says with a shrug, “So until ten seconds ago I didn’t even know there were ‘competitive junior teams’. But that's cool, that you—”

“You what?”

Jeno blinks. “I… started playing basketball in highschool?”

“Lying is a sin.”

“I’m not lying…? What? Why is that so unbelievable?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been playing for, like, only a few years, and you’re already this good?"

His face splits into a smile as he tries not to laugh, arms still folded as he looks down, bashful. “I don’t know what to tell you. I learn quickly.”

Once his first question is fulfilled, it's back to playtime. This time when you get the ball he’s ready for your ruse, so when you try to step off again he doesn’t even give you room to breathe. You have to put a little more effort in, but hell— that’s exactly what makes it so damn fun.

You use your knowledge of his anti-confrontational style to really push him, keeping the ball out of reach with behind the back dribbles because you know he won’t go for it unless it’s easy, never keeping it in one place for too long as you slowly but surely maneuver towards the basket… but Jeno catches on. Surprising you into a yelp, the shooting guard leaps at you, getting so close that it startles you into screwing up your handling— and he gets the ball from you.

Barely a second goes by before you hear the Swish! of his two-pointer catching nothing but net.

Damn.

“Why did Coach Moon tell us you didn’t play?”

And there it is. The real desire of his curiosity.

This isn’t going to be a short story; and when you sink into a sitting position on the hardwood after a moment of deliberation, Jeno mirrors you once more before you can even tell him this. The both of you probably look like cultists, sitting so perfectly in the center of the court in the almost-darkness like this, but you don't mind the atmosphere.

“Do you want the short version or the long version? I'd choose wisely if I were you.”

He sidesteps your warning with a shrug. “It’s not like I have a curfew.”

Stifling a laugh, you pull your knees to your chest and rest your elbows atop them. Of course.

“Alrighty then, Lee. When you want to tear your ears off in a few minutes just remember that you asked for this bibliography, right?”

SIX MONTHS AGO:

It’s the fourth quarter. Your coach has just called your third— and last— time-out of the game.

Hanyang University’s pep band blasts an energetic tune for their half of the gym, the music filling the space with ease, mixing with the chatter of the crowd that fill the packed bleachers. The turnout for women's games are usually never as much as the mens but tonight that’s not true; the stadium is nearly bursting at the seams.

Cheerleaders in black and burgundy outfits are dancing their little butts off on the other team's baseline, doing flips and chants and dances to hype up the audience that’s trickling back from their time-out bathroom breaks.

Burgundy and black seems to be the main theme tonight. It’s everywhere you look, smattered on fan-jerseys and foam fingers, on the banners on the walls, on the literal ground you stand on. A big, smug looking blackbear mascot looks up at you when you glance past your sneakers, to the slatted wood of the basketball court sideline beneath your feet— and it seems like he, like just about everyone else today, is questioning you too.

Will you really be able to pull this off?

“...Ace? Ace!”

Your gaze darts up. The rest of your team— what’s left of it, anyway— peers back at you in varying states of distress. The Yonsei Warriors are two points down and there’s only twenty four seconds left in the game. You’re so close to victory that you can practically already see the gleam of the trophy in your hands, but with the odds you’re fighting against right now?

The glint is seriously starting to waver.

“Y/N-ah, we can’t afford to lose you right now,” Jihyo, your captain, says firmly. “Eyes up, yeah? I know you’re hurting right now, but—”

“I’m fine,” you spit. It comes out a little harsher than you intended. Jihyo doesn’t even flinch, already having expected the temper, and only nods before turning back to the huddle at hand. You weren’t angry at her, and she knew that. You were all just angry.

“What they’re doing is criminal,” Guyeon mutters. At her lanky 6’1, she towers over you at your right, still taller than many of the team even as she slouches for the huddle. “These damn Hanyang girls are vicious, and they’re picking us off left and right. Four of us are injured. How is this fair?”

“It isn’t,” Jihyo says simply. “But the ref doesn’t see it that way, so we can’t fight with that right now. We need to strategize.”

Always the level head. You sure as hell don’t understand it— your blood has been boiling since the first quarter when one of those brutes tried to stomp on your ankle. Guyeon is right about the team you’re playing being vicious. It’s the championship game, so it’s not like you don’t understand the desperation to clean house, especially since they’re defending winners; but playing dirty by trying to physically take out the other team?

That’s where you draw the line.

Two girls in particular, numbers 9 and 10 coincidentally, have been on your ass since you got on the court. Every time you got the ball, they were there. It’s well known to your team and people who’ve played against you in the past that you’re quick. It’s your thing. While you may not be the tallest or the strongest, you’re definitely the fastest; it’s the reason why your team always tries so hard to get you the ball. You can be up and down the court before anyone even has time to realize you’ve got the ball and in a team as defense heavy as yours, an offensive player like you has to be mobile.

It, unfortunately, didn’t take 9 & 10 long to figure this out.

“And what’s your situation, Y/N?”

“9 and 10 are all over me,” you grumble. “Can’t do anything with those two hounding me like this. If I could just get past them we could figure it out, but right now I have no idea what to do.”

“If we weren’t down Heejin and Chulsoo we could try a more offensive play, but with just you and Guyeon on the floor right now…”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking up sharply and frowning when someone somewhere blows a whistle. Shit. The entire gym charges, the people in the bleachers gearing back up for the game to continue, and your jaw clenches in a stomach churning mix of anxiety and anticipation. Your captain doesn’t say anything much after that, simply nodding her chin towards the court to urge your team back on.

All you needed was one three pointer. One three pointer. But how?

You’re thinking about this, brain foggy with agitation, when someone from the visiting bleachers calls your name.

You blink. Only now remembering in your adrenaline fueled stupor that there are even other Yonsei students here to cheer you on, you turn, trying to find the source before your eyes dart to a humongous, all white wearing blob of people dead center of the stands. Where the opposing half of the gym is practically drenched in black and burgundy, the Hanyang Blackbear colors, your school’s side is a beacon of (almost literal) light in the blackbear-infested darkness.

The Yonsei men's basketball team. They’re the ones waving and calling your name.

Jaemin is the one yelling the loudest, of course. He’s standing up on the seat with one hand cupped around his mouth. The mere sight of him melts your tunnel vision instantly. He’s got a giant blue #13 crudely painted on his white t-shirt, your jersey number (though you’re not sure why he didn’t just wear his own jersey, considering that his number was 13 too), and he’s waving like a madman.

“Keep your head up, Ace! You’ve got this!”

Oh. Wow. That’s so—

“I’m taking back your congratulatory gift if you don’t dust these losers, by the way, so you’d better figure something out!”

Your appreciation sours instantly.

Yeah. There’s your best friend. Miraculously, like most of the poor patrons within the earshot of Na Jaemin are doing right now, you manage to laugh through your agitated mood. He seems to take this as his mission accomplished because he plops down proudly, grinning widely at your smile. The rest of his teammates all ruffle him up in good nature before the warning whistle blows and you snap out of it.

You jog back onto the court, feeling a little lighter. Without the cloud of irritation hazing your judgment (the one that coincidentally started when the Hanyang Blackbears started kicking your team's collective ass) you feel like you’re seeing things for the first time again. The court feels clearer. You notice things you wouldn’t have been paying attention to if you were still trying to figure out how to immediately get your hands on the ball.

Like, for example, the surprisingly defenseless hole to the left of center court, that leads right into Hanyang offense territory.

…Huh.

It gives you an idea. You take up your place, hands on your knees as you wait for the game whistle to blow, and when it does, you do something you’ve never done before: you don’t rush to center court like everyone else does.

The clock ticks down. Less than twenty seconds now. Luckily, the toss-up isn’t a clean break. While they scramble, blue and white jerseys tumbling with black and burgundy, you lock eyes with Jihyo. She’s hovering near the back, a brick wall of defense waiting to see how things turn, but when she sees you? Alone? For the first time in half the game as the currently occupied 9 and 10 fight with their team for the ball now that you’re not a threat?

Telepathy occurs and the captain immediately catches on.

Jihyo commits treachery all at once by jumping into the ball scramble and doing something no captain in the entire world would ever do on purpose: she shoves Guyeon, your only hope of winning the toss-up, out of the way.

Without the tallest player fighting for the ball, Hanyang devours it. Their side of the gym roars with cheers. They come closer and closer, fighting with the other players of your team to make ground towards the hoop, towards you…

And when they’re just about to break into shooting formation, spreading out, you move.

You run directly into the center of the fray, and since you’re coming from friendly territory most don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.

With a deafening ‘thwack!’ you bat the ball out of one of the Blackbears hands. Holy shit.

“Offense, move back!” Jihyo shouts.

Eight seconds left. In an instant, the play changes, and so does the atmosphere in the gym. On your side of the bleachers, a deafening cheer rings out (around the middle, where your boys are, you notice absently) but you barely hear it as you juke and tear around the opposing team faster than you’ve ever run before.

It worked. It worked.

Six seconds left. The clock continues to deplete and the Hanyang players are confused, but for much less time than you’d have liked, because you’re barely a half court away before thundering footfalls begin to chase after yours. But it worked. You have the ball.

Guyeon appears in your periphery on the other side of the court, using her long arms to block the Blackbears that are trying to cut you off. The footsteps behind you, however, only grow louder. The net is so close you can almost count the threads of the nylon.

Four seconds left.

At the millisecond you’re sure you can make the shot, you slow down without a moment to waste and let it fly. It happens in slow motion, next, how it leaves your fingertips; how everything goes silent, the players, the crowd, all drowned out by the blood in your ears as you watch it go, and go, and go…

Until something blindsides you and the whole world spins, and goes black.

Lee Jeno blinks. He’s sitting forward now, hanging onto your every word, eyes as big as oranges as he watches you talk without rest, and only comes out of his trance when you clear your throat.

Jesus. How long have you been talking? Your throat hurts. Though, you’re not sure if it’s from overuse, or because of the big lump sitting in it.

“What?” Jeno blurts belatedly. “That’s it? One of those reckless girls fouled you and then what? Did you make it? Did you get her back?”

“Okay there, Mr.Revenge,” you laugh. “I never said I was done, just… I’ve been talking for a hundred years now. You’re not bored, yet? I wouldn’t want to—”

“I’m not bored,” Jeno says, shaking his head. Somewhere during your life story he’d unfurled his legs from their crossed position and settled them flat out, his untied shoes now loosely placed between your own boots from how close he’d gotten— and if you wanted to, you could probably reach forward and tie them. You actually have to fight the urge once you notice.

This is already breaching odd territory as it is, you think. Definitely don’t need to go and start adding random touching to the mix.

“What happened after that? Please tell me this story has a good ending.”

He’s so invested. It’s adorable. His fists are even clenched in what you assume is vengeance in your stead, so you decide to quickly relieve him of his stress and get back to talking.

“Truthfully, I didn’t know what happened next until, like, a few days later. But I’ll fill you in from when I woke up.”

You come-to what feels like a few seconds later.

That can’t be right, though, because when you crack your eyes open, a myriad of things are different than you’d last remembered. You’re not laying on the ground of a basketball court, for one. The ceiling is white and much, much closer than the open venting of Hanyang’s stadium. The cheering is gone and so are the bright lights. You’re not overheating, sweaty and adrenaline pumped… you’re cold, and so deathly still and stiff that for a second you panic.

Where are you? What happened?

A sudden beeping sound to your right jolts into your consciousness. The sound is so sharp that you involuntarily flinch, shrinking into your shoulders in an attempt to escape it— but the movement instantly sends a blinding pain through your skull.

Against your better judgment, you try to force yourself into a sitting position (with possibly weakest, and yet most effort you’ve ever had to put into anything in your entire life) but don’t get very far before a flash of movement darts into your vision.

“You shouldn’t move!”

You freeze. “...Jaemin?”

Your aching muscles and pounding head applaud his instruction, but your morbid curiosity does not. In the next second, your best friend appears over your bed. (And, yes. From the few inches of visibility you’ve gained, you now catch onto the fact that you’re in a bed, along with a few other very interesting things:

The first is that Jaemin is here.

The second thing is that Jaemin is here and he looks absolutely ragged. His pale blue hair is half-bird nest, all pushed up out of his face (and it's not like it’s ever neat, if you’re being honest, but this is something different— something especially disheveled) and his eyes are red-rimmed like he hasn’t slept in years.

The last thing and most jarring thing you notice before your best friend descends upon you, is that you’re in a hospital room. Huh. That’s probably not a good sign.)

“What happened?” you murmur, voice as rough as stone. As the word leaves your lips your skull pulses once again, and you fight the urge to screw your eyes shut at the ache.

Do the lights have to be so bright in here?

“I— I didn’t mean to shout,” he apologizes quietly, staring. His eyes are huge and tracking over your face like he’s never seen you before, standing warily at your bedside like if he gets any closer you’ll explode into a hundred million pieces. “Sorry. I’m sorry, your head probably hurts, right? How do— how do you feel? You shouldn’t move too much. The doctors said you shouldn’t move too much.”

“What doctor? How long have I…?”

And then you remember. The championship. Your team, your hail-mary buzzer-beater, and then—

“The game!”

Foolishly, you spring up further, ignoring the bolt of brain torment that stems from it. Jaemin is at your side in an instant, panic overtaking his features as he watches you grit your teeth from the pain, but you ignore it as best you can and grab his arm to help leverage you into a sitting position.

“Y/N!” he hisses. He sounds horrified but helps you up anyway, already knowing you’re going to try and wriggle around with or without him. “Seriously, you shouldn’t—”

“Forget about that for a second, Jaemin, the game! Did we— Did I make the basket?!”

For a split-second, something unreadable storms over his face at your excitement. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was something like disbelief, or anger, but that had to be far off base. Jaemin? Upset? And at you, no less? Not poss—

He curls his hand away from where it’s hovering by your side.

“You’re worrying about that right now,” Jaemin says to you slowly, apalled, “When you’re like this?”

“W—What? When I’m like what? I’m alright!”

“You’re alright?”

Remissively, it’s only now that you notice something weird. He’s wearing different clothes than you’d seen him in at the game. Gone is the all white ensemble and present is his infamous mint hoodie, wrinkled and sitting oversized over a pair of black Yonsei sweatpants that you think used to belong to you at one point. You look out of the hospital room window (slowly, so as to not agitate your monster of a headache) and see that it has to be around 7, maybe 8PM, judging by the purple tint of the horizon. It had to be only a few hours after the game, right?

“Y/N, it’s been two days. You’ve been out for two days.”

Your confused smile melts as his words settle in. As you begin to understand why he’s looking at you like a fragile, ticking time bomb of a person.

Two…days?

“The doctor told me to call her if— to call her when you woke up, so just… stay still while I go get her, okay? Please?”

He turns and exits the room without another word, only looking back once, worriedly, before he shuts the door behind him.

The doctor comes by a few minutes later. After the greetings and pleasantries and the other general health checklist things like checking your IV, taking your temperature and scribbling things on her clipboard, Dr. Sho gives you the explanation you’re so desperately waiting for:

What exactly happened to have you end up here like this.

“You arrived in the Sulim ER at 7:34PM two days ago, on March 23rd, about seven minutes after you sustained your initial injury,” Dr. Sho starts factually. “And the time is currently 8:01. You sustained a hairline fracture on the Occipital bone found on the back of your skull and a severe concussion, but the most pressing issue we dealt with upon your arrival was the small brain bleed we found near the Occipital.”

The words repeat themselves in your mind, but no matter how many times you hear it, it doesn’t make sense. Brain bleed. Brain bleed, brain bleed, brain bleed. Your brain was bleeding. What?

“You went into surgery at 9:09PM on the night of your arrival and came out three hours later, and were put into a medically induced coma for about 48 hours to keep your activity low while your brain began to heal. We feared for the worst when we were told you were unresponsive to light in the field, that your eyes wouldn’t focus, but judging from your state right now? I’d say you’ve definitely risen past all our immediate expectations, Miss L/N.”

You can’t think straight. It feels like all the air has been pulled from your lungs.

Dr. Sho looks down at her clipboard for a moment, pausing before she glances back up at you with one raised eyebrow and a small smile.

“You’re not out of the woods yet, but I have to say. You’re a very lucky girl, Y/N.”

You stare at her. “My head feels like it’s been stuffed with concrete,” you say roughly. “How is that lucky?”

“It’s going to be like that for a while, unfortunately. But what I mean is that in my tenure as a trauma neurologist, I’ve seen people your age never recover properly from head injuries half as intense as yours. You hit the ground hard enough to crack the thickest bone in your skull, and that is no common feat to accomplish without life-long ailments. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re even sitting up. You’re talking. Moving. Hearing, and comprehending my words. Many are not so… lucky.”

Jesus Christ. Almost as a threatening punctuation, your head begins to throb.

“Oh,” you say eloquently.

It’s at this moment Jaemin decides to make his reappearance. He knocks, which is a first for him, and peeks in sheepishly when your doctor calls him in.

“...Is this not a good time?”

“I’m not discussing anything private, Mr. Na. If Miss L/N doesn’t mind, you can come in.”

You waste no time ushering Jaemin into the room, patting the empty spot next to you on the hospital bed weakly. He glances between you and Dr. Sho, deliberating something before he purses his lips and gives in to your frown, slipping past the doctor to join you on the blanket, though he does sit a little further down than you’d have liked. Either way, his presence is surprisingly comforting and makes what Dr. Sho is telling you feel a little more tangible. You’d grab his hand if he wasn’t half a bed away.

“Um. Sorry. What were you saying?” you ask her.

“That was essentially it for your history. The cover letter of your injuries, if you will, and the pure miracle it is that you’re even awake right now. However,” Dr. Sho’s smile weakens.

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. You may feel better now but I can assure you that it is mostly, if not entirely because of the absurd amount of ibuprofen running through your system and the fact that your most strenuous activity of the hour has been merely sitting up. Your head is going to feel… pretty terrible for the next few months, not to mention the side-effects that have yet to rear themselves.”

Your stomach sinks even further, if that’s possible.

“The side-effects?” Jaemin reiterates, voice cracking. You glance at him. His eyes are as wide as saucers. You know your own expression isn’t any better, and how foolish it is to want to comfort him when you’re the one who’s apparently been ding-dong-ditching the grim reaper’s front door, but your heart aches anyway.

How hard this must have been on him, waiting for you to wake up. Wondering if you’d ever wake up.

Dr. Sho doesn’t respond to his inquiry quickly. She doesn’t really respond at all, actually, seemingly coming to a conclusion behind those round glasses of hers; one that doesn’t include unwittingly terrorizing you and Jaemin any further.

“I think the rest of the things I need to discuss will be better explained tomorrow, after we run a few more tests. I can tell you with 100% certainty though that you will recover, Miss L/N, but for now? Just try to get some rest.”

Your doctor bows lightly and leaves as easily as she’d appeared. The room seems to drop ten degrees when she does. The walls are glowing purple from the ending dregs of sunset, casting funny shadows over everything and only serving to further bring the mood down, down, down.

What do you say? What is there to say after something like this happens? After the dust settles and you’re sitting there, true, sinking realization becoming more and more oppressive with every passing second?

You could’ve died. How stupid and unreal that sounds, even in your own head. You could’ve died from playing fucking basketball? How lame. Who does that happen to?

You could’ve…

“Y/N?”

You look up, startled, blinking hard— and look down almost just as quickly when something wet drips onto your shaking hands. When did your hands start shaking?

“I guess asking why you’re crying is pretty stupid, huh?”

Jaemin laughs weakly, but it sounds dull. It is a pretty stupid question. Momentarily forgetting your situation, you tilt your head towards the ceiling to contain the tears and receive a jolt of pain from the movement in return. You feel the bed shift instantly when you gasp, palm flying to your temple in a useless attempt to quell the ache, and when you pry your eyes open when it finally subsides, Jaemin has materialized in front of you.

He smells nice. Like laundry detergent and icing sugar. Almost artificially vanilla sweet. Has he eaten? Or has he been here, worrying over you all day?

His face is practically torn with worry as he stares, hand hovering halfway between himself and you like he’d been reaching out before he caught himself, and when he sees you looking at his hand he slowly brings it back to his hoodie pocket.

“You should rest,” Jaemin murmurs at the same time you ask, hoarsely, “You’ve eaten, right?”

He scoffs. “The last thing you need to be doing right now is worrying about me, fool. Lay down.”

“No. Have you eaten? You smell like sugar. You haven’t been only eating the vending machine food, right? You’ve gone home?”

He does not respond as quickly as a non-guilty person would, rolling his dark, lying eyes around before muttering something rude under his breath. Before you can protest, the hand from his hoodie pocket returns, sleeve dabbing under your eyes with a softness you’d not thought possible.

“Even like this, you’re so… Ah, C’mon. Lay down for me. Please?”

“Answer me first.”

You know you’re testing his patience, but you don’t care. “Mark came and made me go back to our dorm the morning after you… after your surgery. He drove my car here from Hanyang and basically forced me to leave once I knew you were out, made me eat and shower and sleep for a few hours before I drove back here yesterday night. Is that good enough for you, detective?”

So he’s been here since last night without a proper meal? “Tell me you’ve eaten something in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Do four bags of spicy doritos, a sprite, and a few twinkies count…?”

What! You’d swat him if you weren’t sure your head would explode from the sudden movement.

“But I wanted— I really wanted to be here when you woke up, so I couldn’t go to the cafeteria. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

All the fighting spirit drains out of your body, the motherly tongue-lashing you’d had prepared dissipating in your mouth like smoke. “…Oh.” Your insides swirl a little bit. It's the pain medication, probably, that's got your stomach flopping like this.

“Will you lay down now?” he adds after a second. “Or do I have to grovel some more?”

You finally allow him to help you settle back into the hospital bed, still a little stunned by the sincerity in his voice. He seems focused entirely on tucking you into the blanket as gingerly as possible and doesn't see your stare.

The general wear and tear of your extremely long few days seems to sink upon you all at once as you make yourself comfortable (slowly, of course), thanking your best friend softly when he pulls the blankets all the way up to your chin. Jaemin doesn’t sit back down though, which makes you frown. He looks pensive.

“I’m not going to die if you go get food.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“I wasn’t joking. What are you staring at me like that for?”

“I wasn't going to tell you until tomorrow, ‘cause I thought all it would do was set you off, but… you did make the basket, Y/N-ah. You’re officially a state championship winner. I don’t know if I’d say it was worth it per say, considering where you ended up, but—”

You hazard a soft laugh, entirely happy you’d taken the risk of pain when you receive a genuine smile from Jaemin for the first time in what feels like ages. Your eyes are growing heavier with every passing second, and you think he can tell. “You’re just jealous you could never make a shot like that, Nana.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely jealous of you right now,” he murmurs. “Bed-ridden and all. Listen…”

“Hmm?”

“I should probably call everyone to let them know you're alright; half the team has been blowing up my phone about you and the other half is probably a few minutes away from breaking into this hospital. I’ll be back in a little, right, Ace? Try to sleep.”

You crack one eye open from where it had fallen shut to see Jaemin retreating towards the center of the room.

“Mhm… My team or yours?”

He snickers. “You should know the answer to that. Both.”

The door opens with a soft click.

You roll onto your side to watch him leave through lidded eyes. Hit with a sudden wave of appreciation, you call out for him before he can get too far. “Hey… I probably don’t show it very well because I’m always making fun of you and stuff, but I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for staying with me, Jaem. I know waiting must’ve been burdensome.”

Once again, there's a look in his eyes you can't decipher when he smiles the tiniest smile and shakes his head before he opens the door to leave. It’s weird. You’ve always been able to tell exactly what he’s thinking. Yet, now, you don’t have a clue what’s going on in that blue head of his.

“It wasn't burdensome at all,” he says quietly. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Unbeknownst to you, as you drift off into dreams of championship trophies and vanilla twinkies, Jaemin closes the door behind him and his legs immediately give out.

He sits in the deserted hallway in front of your hospital room for what feels like hours, hands shaking, head between his knees to try and get his breathing under control before he heads downstairs to both eat something of substance and, like he’d said, report to the masses that their favorite forward was officially looking better. He’d kept it together for you as best he could in there. And now, as the crushing weight of your pain has finally lifted the tiniest bit off his shoulders, it’s all he can do to promise himself he’ll never let you get hurt again. He can’t let it happen.

He won’t.

“Wow,” Jeno breathes after a moment of silence. “You could’ve… died? Because some girl couldn’t take one loss?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Lame, right?”

He shakes his head vehemently. "Some of the guys here get pretty reckless too in the heat of the moment, but not that far. Never that far. That’s scary. I… I was wondering, though, since you didn’t mention him at all; How did your dad react?”

You avert your eyes from Jeno for the first time all night. That train of thought alone is enough to make you scowl, even half a year later.

“You said he was in an emergency with your uncle, which is why he wasn’t at the game initially, but he must’ve… I mean he’s only been my coach for a few months and I already feel like he’d lose his mind if one of us got injured like that. Much less his own kid.”

You hope your snort isn’t too blunt. "I wish he would have lost his mind. That probably would have been less painful than what he actually ended up doing."

FOUR MONTHS AGO:

To say the last two months of your life have been a ‘little rough’ is like saying the sinking of the Titanic was nothing but a ‘small boating mishap’.

Dr. Sho and her little pale green office in Sulim General has essentially become your second home. Pretty quickly, you’d found out firsthand that she wasn’t kidding about the side-effects. You didn’t think she was, of course; but only hearing them in passing the night after waking up from your coma (when you’re also hopped up on enough drugs to tranquilize a horse) is vastly different than experiencing them all set in at once in the middle of eating a jello-cup in the hospital cafeteria the next day. For the first three weeks after the championship game, if you weren’t popping ibuprofen the second that the bottle said you could, you were basically lying under every single blanket in your room at home with all the lights off waiting for the next time you could take another ibuprofen.

Dr. Sho was not joking about the side-effects. You know that now. You know it so, so well now. Traumatic brain injuries are, apparently, pretty bad in the grand scheme of things and take a while to heal from. Who would have guessed.

But the worst part about recovering from a serious injury isn’t even really the slow, slow progress, or the days where it feels like you’re going to feel terrible forever. That bit sucks, sure, but they pass. The worst part?

Or, should you say, the worst parts? Plural?

It has to be the people in your life that never really stop seeing you as the little, fragile, broken thing that they need to keep safe— even after you’ve started feeling leaps and bounds better.

Your dad was, obviously, offender number one. And for the first month, you let it slide. How couldn’t you? Even if he didn’t say it, you knew guilt was eating him up on the inside from not being able to be there for the one moment it mattered most. Hell, even the big, bad D-E-A-T-H word was on the table at one point; how could you expect him to not turn his overprotective gene to the max? To not treat you like you were ten years old again?

Yeah, the constant ‘pace yourself’ talks got pretty old after a while, but whatever right? It made sense! You almost died.

Slightly more confusing however, was offender number two in the short list of unfortunate changes— your previous partner in crime, Na Jaemin.

With him too, even though his sudden switch was much more out of character, you let it happen. He’d been there when you got hurt. He’d waited for you through a surgery he hadn’t been sure you’d awaken from. Of course he’d be a little more careful with you— of course his normal brotherly doting would practically take on a stricter edge, almost tiptoeing into helicopter hypochondriac territory— he was worried.

Mark had even told you a few days after whole debacle when he’d shown up to check on him the first night, that Jaemin had been shaking so badly in the lobby that he’d dropped the water bottle Mark had given him three times before he managed to unscrew the cap. Even then he could barely bring it to his lips without spilling it on himself.

And Jaemin, in the decade you'd known him, has never been shaken badly enough to react like that to something. Never. It had been that little secret Mark let slip that kept your mouth shut whenever Jaemin's concern got a little too overbearing.

Of course they’d be acting funny. Of course.

However… As the days went by and you slowly but surely started to get better, you began to notice that they weren’t keeping up with your progress. Well, they were keeping up with your progress on paper— Jaemin and your dad probably said the phrases ‘take your medicine’ and ‘slow down!’ and to ‘don’t do this!’, and ‘don’t do that!’, and ‘you’ll hurt yourself!’, more in the last 4 weeks than they’ve said in their whole lives— but they were absolutely lacking in the ‘give-Y/N-her-freedom’ department.

But you reiterate. Because, in the beginning, you were that fragile thing they’d grown to see you as; you let it slide.

You felt you owed it to them almost, for scaring them as such you did. It would go back to normal once you got better. Jaemin would screw around with you again. He’d stop getting that look on his face whenever you did anything more physically demanding than going up a flight of stairs. Your dad would stop pretending that the boys team needed to focus more and that the gym was closed when they were practicing. He’d stop snapping at you for attempting anything Dr. Sho didn’t officially, specifically say you were cleared to do.

Right? But it was on May 23rd, the evening after your weekly check-up— your final, weekly check-up— when you finally realized something had… shifted.

And that the two people you trusted most in the whole world had absolutely no intention of putting it back.

[Message to ‘Best Point Guardz In Da Whol Wide Univerze… and I’m here too I guess’ Group Chat] [You, 5:23PM] GUESS WHO’S OFFICIALLY DONE W WEEKLY CHECK-UUUUUPS!!!!!!!! [You, 5:23PM] TOTO, I’M A WHOLE GIRL AGAIN!!!! [You, 5:23PM] what do you say to some celebratory dinner, im omw back to campus right now!!! [Nana, 5:23] That’s awesome! :) [Nana, 5:24] What did Dr.Sho say tho? Any final update from her? [You, 5:25PM] she said the same thing she’s been saying ;-P that i’m on a really good track right now for like full recovery and what not. Says i should be good by the beginning of june WHICH MEANS I'M BASICALLY CLEARED FOR SUMMER BASKETBALL CAAAMMPP!!!!!!! [Nana, 5:25] You told her about your last migraine, right? From a few days ago? [You, 5:25PM] don’t call them that, it makes it sound worse than it is ;-/// [You, 5:25PM] they’re just headaches [Papa Point Guard, 5:26] Dinner sounds like a good idea, there’s something I want to talk about with you anyway. And answer Jaemin’s question, please. [You, 5:27PM] ugh, yes, obv i told her. she said it was normal for residual migraines and side effects like dizziness and all that other stuff to linger for a few months after a TBI, it’s not weird [You, 5:27PM] so….. where r we eating, i'm starving :-D

The three of you decide on Yuqi’s, a Japanese style restaurant, and it’s not too long after your final text that you pull up to the restaurant. You’re seated and scrolling through stupid posts on your twitter, liking a few from your favorite NBA players and sending them to Guyeon and Chulsoo), when your hair is suddenly being ruffled by a hand.

Jaemin is there when you turn around, grinning widely at your startled eyes, and you can’t help but smile a little bit when your dad is right behind him.

“What, are you an uber service now, Coach?”

“Hush,” your dad says, poking you between the eyes as he passes you to sit on the opposite side of the booth. You’re in such a good mood from Dr.Sho’s (mostly) clean bill of health that you don’t even care that he’s just jabbed you.

“We were both leaving the gym, so it was convenient. You know I don’t trust Na’s street hazard of a car to get us anywhere, so I drove.”

You whistle, feigning the sizzle of oil in a pan. Jaemin only grimaces.

“Yeah. Sure, rag on my ride. Whatever. At least mine is paid off,” Jaemin mutters at you playfully, plucking the menu from your hands. There’s another one literally an inch in front of him in the little menu basket, pretty and folded and untouched, but you just roll your eyes and let him have it.

You all decide on an everything platter for the whole table since you’re all but ravenous and can’t decide on what you want. You’re halfway through your plate, (Jaemin oddly only picking at his, even though he loves beef, and is usually even hungrier than you are after practice) when things start to turn a little… dour.

“What exactly did Dr. Sho say to you this time, Ace?” your father asks.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You probably heard Dr. Sho’s name more than you heard your own at this point. Right now, though, you can’t be mad at it. This is going to be the last time in a while that you do, and that thought alone cheers you up immensely.

“She said that I’ve been improving ‘rather impressively’, and that in about two months I should be seeing a drastic, if not complete drop in any side-effects at all,” you say proudly. Your father manages a smile at this, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “She also says that all the, uh… the dizziness and stuff is normal. And it’s not even that bad anymore. So you both can stop hounding me every time I close my eyes for longer than half a second.”

“Y/N,” he says warningly, and you immediately shrug your shoulders in defense.

“What! Am I lying? You guys still get so weird about it. I’m just saying.”

You glance at Jaemin to get a gauge on his reaction, only to find that his eyes are still trained on his food. Your dad clears his throat and you turn back to him, but not after nudging your best friend with your knee under the table. What’s his problem?

“You told Dr. Sho about next month’s training camp,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a question, but you nod anyway.

“And I assume you told her about how demanding it is for even fully fleshed athletes. What did she say about that?”

Oof. This question. You’re going to have to phrase the next words out of your mouth very carefully. You thought you would’ve had longer to think about this, not at all expecting the sudden interrogation; you thought they would’ve been just as excited as you were. You’re feeling better now. Isn’t that what they wanted? What’s with this atmosphere?

“She… she said that as long as I kept myself in check, and listened to my body and all that, then I should be… fine for—”

“Should be?” Jaemin echoes. They’re the first words he’s said in the entire conversation and yet, when your eyes dart to his, he’s still just staring at his stupid plate.

“Quite frankly, just ‘fine’ isn’t good enough for me, Y/N. And I’m a little disappointed that it’s good enough for you.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing between the two of them like you’ve missed out on something incredibly important. What the hell? “What… is this? What are you trying to say?”

Your father puts his chopsticks down on the edge of his napkin.

“I don’t want you participating in the training camp.”

A very, very long silence stretches over the three of you. Ten million thoughts run through your mind. From the entire spectrum of them—’What?’ ‘Is this a joke?’ ‘This must be a joke’ ‘Did you hear him right?’ ‘Why isn’t he laughing yet?’ ‘No, no, you must’ve misheard,’— not one feels palpable enough to comprehend, none of them sound right.

“...I don’t understand,” you attempt, laughing awkwardly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not ready for that type of physical activity. It’s too soon. You remember how intensive that camp was last year, how exhausting it was, how often you’d come home with scrapes and bruises from being worked so hard— and you think it’s going to be any different next month? Especially when you’re like this?”

Like a floundering fish, your mouth probably opens and closes a hundred times before you remember how to speak. “But… dad, you said once I got cleared—”

“What Dr. Sho told you was not a clearance for full activity, Y/N. You know that,” he chastises.

“And what I said was that once you were officially cleared, it would be alright for you to ease back into basketball— not jump right into a two week long conditioning intensive. You’re not ready.”

“Says who?” you spit. Your father furrows his eyebrows, not surprised by your tone but not quite accepting of it either. The warning on his face is as clear as day but hell if you care about that right now. “You’ve barely even let me look at a basketball in the last two months, much less seen with your own two eyes what I’m able or not able to do. How do you know that I’m not ready?”

He shakes his head, not saying anything, but you’re not done. The dam is flowing now.

“It was two months ago! You’re just going to sit and coddle me for the rest of the season because you’re worried for no reason, is that it? I haven’t had an episode in over two weeks, the dizziness barely affects me anymore! If you would’ve just asked instead of assumed that I’m still—”

“What happened in the gym two nights ago?”

Your raging train of thought vanishes into thin air at the sudden question.

At first you don’t even comprehend what he’s asking you, too angry to even remember. What? The gym…? And then Jaemin makes a funny sound next to you, like all the air has been squeezed out of his lungs at once, and you glance at him absently. You’d half forgotten he was even here. It’s here, now, as you stare stupidly at the very stiff boy beside you, that you finally understand.

The gym. A few days ago when you’d snuck into the Yonsei practice gym. But… but there’s no way he should know about that. Unless…

You want so badly to turn back to your father, to ask him what he’s talking about, but all at once you put the pieces together and you can't tear your eyes from your best friend.

Your dad continues. “If I’d just asked you would have told me, right? So I'm asking. Two nights ago, when you broke into the gym to mess around and you collapsed trying to run a phantom play—”

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin croaks suddenly. Your stomach rolls.

“You didn't.”

He looks up, looking panicked, shaking his head, but he doesn’t say no. “What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I found you there, practically curled into a ball on the basketball court like you’d been when— when—”

“You didn’t find me,” you cry, incensed. “You followed me there! You followed me because you didn’t trust me, and I still let it go! I let it go because I thought you understood, I thought you— you promised you’d keep your mouth shut!”

“Jaemin did the right thing,” your father says softly. “He was worried about you. Rightfully so. You don’t get to tell your body when it feels better, Ace. The fact that you didn’t tell me yourself that you almost fainted…” he shakes his head. “It just proves that you’re not ready. You’re not going to that camp. I’m sorry.”

Your hands ball into fists. There isn’t even any time for you to be embarrassed about being caught in a lie, or for you to be furious with Jaemin for ratting you out, because you’ve just remembered something. Something even more awful than both of those things.

“But… But this camp is mandatory for prospective Yonsei players. If I don’t attend then I can’t be on the team next season. Coach Myo is considering me for vice captain, you can’t…”

Neither of them say anything. Jaemin’s head hangs low. Your father doesn’t look even the tiniest bit surprised, but he does avert his eyes down to his folded hands as he nods.

He knew. They both knew.

They’d known how this dinner was going to go from the start.

“Y/N…” Jaemin starts weakly, “You have to understand—”

You laugh in disbelief and he shuts up immediately, big, dark eyes wide as he watches you rise from the table. You can’t even meet his eyes as you maneuver out of your seat. Wordlessly, you step out from the booth and with trembling fingers you pull out your wallet from your jacket pocket, placing the cost of the entire meal on the tabletop before you turn on your heel and make for the exit.

Somehow while you were talking, you and Jeno ended up laying side-by-side on the gym floor. There’s probably only enough room to fit a cone or two between you both but the proximity doesn’t bother you— and it doesn’t seem to bother him either, considering how comfortable he looks. Jeno only raises an eyebrow as you glance at him, head resting firmly on his palm, looking thoughtful.

“So Coach and your ‘friend’ basically ambushed you to break the news,” he simplifies slowly. “I… Man, I can’t even begin to think about what I’d do. It definitely wouldn’t have been as calm as just leaving. That must’ve sucked.”

“It did,” you nod. “Pretty severely. I mean, Jaemin and I didn’t talk for nearly a week, which is basically unheard of for us. But eventually I kind of…”

“Realized they were right?” Jeno supplies, and you frown at him.

“Okay. At least try to sound a little more on my side?”

“Why should I?” Jeno says with a raised eyebrow. “They definitely could’ve done it a little better but they were right. You were being blinded by your hot, burning passion for… getting sweaty and throwing a ball into a circle—”

You shove him, laughing, and he snickers as he rolls over to catch himself. Of course he’d say that. You’d learned during dinner at DDeumi’s that if Jeno didn’t get an offer for a full-ride basketball scholarship here, he would’ve stopped playing basketball in highschool. He obviously didn’t care for the sport as much as you or some of the others did. (And yet he was still so good. God really did have favorites.)

“—And, if you really did get sick whenever you moved too much, maybe… Well, maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you know? Health comes first.”

You fall quiet for a moment, taking in his words.

You know that now. Deep down, you think you even knew it back when the whole big kerfuffle happened in the first place. You weren’t going to disregard your feelings back then though, simply because you stood by the fact that many things about that conversation could have been done better— but with six months of hindsight, you knew now that they’d just been looking out for you.

“And… the migraines and side-effects and stuff,” Jeno continues, getting a little more serious. “All that is done now? Like you’re not going to drop dead on me or anything if we keep playing, right?”

“Nah,” you say easily. “Coach just gets worried, you know? He tells everyone I don’t play so they don’t roughhouse with me, but I’m perfectly fine now.”

The artificial sweetness in your voice sounds honest even in your own ears.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice what you said, Lee. ‘Keep playing’? You haven’t had your ego bruised enough for one night?”

“Bruised?” Jeno asks. He eyes you warily, sitting up fully when you maneuver to your feet. “Let's not get too overzealous. We’re only tied right now because I was going easy on you.”

“You were going easy on me. Like, five points ago. There was sweat on your forehead when I sank my last basket.”

“It’s hot in here.”

Before Jeno even has a chance to stretch after he stands as well, you’re lobbing the basketball at him. His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t look surprised. Good. He’s starting to understand you.

“The AC is blasting, 01. Try again.”

The hollow thud of the basketball against the wood, a noise you think he’s exaggerating just to intimidate you, only makes you grin. You’ve missed this. You think he can tell.

“And here I was thinking the new co-coach would be a breeze,” he sighs playfully, crouching. “Where’s the girl that was worrying about my calves earlier? You know, because I have a game next week, and I shouldn’t overwork myself?”

“You’re pretty bad at offense, so I’m not really worried about you overworking yourself right now.”

You shrug, trying to keep your face neutral as his eyebrows furrow at your back-handed reassurance. Where’s that competitive spirit you were tugging at earlier? “Oh! No offense though, of course. At least this game will be quick, right?”

“Try to be a little less obvious,” Jeno says, rolling his eyes, but you don’t miss how his tongue rolls across his cheek. “You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t played a proper game in like, half a year.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Prove me wrong?”

The shooting guard only rolls his shoulders in response, a small, knowing smile on his lips. For the next however long he proceeds to do just that: prove you wrong.

You get a few baskets in, of course, as your pride would allow for nothing else. As you push your defense to brick-wall levels of impassibility, Jeno actually has to start employing stronger tactics to get the ball— which the coach side of you is ecstatic about, even if you pout after he inevitably makes his shots— and the game pretty much ends at a very convenient 7-7 when he accidentally blocks too hard and sends the both of you, tangled, tripping over his two feet.

He suggests calling it a night after this, which you second.

It’s hot. You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. And you’re sweatier than what is probably very sightly, but at least he is too. Jeno’s sleeves are rolled up and he’s fanning the hem of his shirt wildly to cool himself down as he follows you to the bleachers to collect your things, black hair clumped together in front of his eyes as he tracks over his phone screen.

“Hope you don’t have an early class tomorrow,” he says absently. His collar is pulled up around his nose, presumably wiping the sweat from his face, but the first thing you notice when you turn to face him is the pale, flat expanse of his stomach.

It’s nothing you’re not used to since you’re around half naked basketball players practically all the time, but your eyes dart away anyway. Decency and all. Yeah… decency. That’s it.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s midnight.”

“Mid—Holy shit. Really?” You snatch your own phone from the bleacher bench, temporarily ignoring the myriad of notifications on the lockscreen. “Jeez, I didn’t think it had gotten that late— it feels like we just got here.”

“I know. Hey— What direction are you headed from here?”

“B-Block dorms, near the cafeteria. Not too far. You too?”

Jeno shakes his head. “G-Block. Other side of campus.”

The two of you wordlessly shuck back on your jackets, which is probably pretty stupid since it’s early August and you’re both still sweating from your little excursion, but you find that the night is surprisingly breezy when he holds the door open for you to slip through.

“Wait— where are you going? I thought you said you didn’t live on this side?”

He snorts like you’ve just said something funny. “I don’t. But I’m not letting you walk to your dorm by yourself at midnight. Come on.”

Oh. You blink at him, and all he does is continue down the path towards B-Block without you.

“You don’t have to do that. And you’re going to have to walk all the way back,” you attempt, picking up your speed to reach an equal pace. Isn’t he tired? You’ve basically monopolized his entire day. “It’s really not that far.”

“Then it shouldn’t take very long.”

“Lee.”

“Y/N.”

“Ugh. From how docile you were this morning, I thought you would’ve been a good listener. Why are you going around messing up all of my expectations?”

Jeno only turns to smile down at you, and for the first time, you get to see the trademarked 'Samoyed Smile', as Donghyuck called it in DDeumi’s, full force. His eyes practically disappear into two tilted crescents, coincidentally a spitting image of the waxing moon hovering in the sky above you at this exact moment. You’re so drawn in by how sweet he looks that you trip on a crack in the asphalt, nearly eating shit before Jeno’s strong grip snatches you by your arm.

He corrects you without even slowing down in his stride.

“It’s funny you say that,” Jeno says casually. “Because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

[itwd masterlist] [previous part] [next part]

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impdidnothingwrong · 3 years ago

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So because I'm hit with writers block have this lol. I'm still trying to decide if I should do wildbows style of first person stream of consciousness or if I should just write it in the style I'm used to for ease. Anyway:

I was no stranger at waking up in foreign places, by any means, especially with the life I had lead, but with what happened prior to my loss of consciousness it wasn't surprising how much panic surged through me once I realized I was alive. I jolted upright, my senses more bug than human, mapping out my location and, "You're up, thank god. I know she said no hospital, but any longer and I would be sending you to Recovery Girl" I knew Contessa worked in mysterious ways against unsurmountable odds, but that was Japanese, pure and simple, and had understood all of it.

I had known a little, with the ABBs chokehold on the areas surrounding the Docks, from trips Mom and I would take to visit Dad at work, but none of this was part of it. In all her wisdom, or path to it, she'd given me a new language. It would have to mean something about the path she had given me.

He stepped closer and my hands splayed out in front of me, desperately, almost, to keep him back. Hands. Just another thing I owed Contessa for. I just had to hope I had something to give if she ever came to collect. He stopped immediately, as if expecting that reaction, before his own hands crept up into a similar position.

He was tall, even to me, making him appear slimmer than he was. Even with his baggy clothes I could tell by his stance he was no stranger to strength. His shoulders were wide and set. He looked, above all else, sturdy, hands wide and visibly calloused. That, however spoke nothing regarding the rest of him. He wore a scarf of sorts around his neck, a light grey that contrasted with the dark of the rest of his ensemble. The only flash of color coming from the goggles around his neck. He looked unkempt, but not the unkempt that came from poor hygiene, like I had seen out of Greg, where unwashed hair would go uncombed, and sweatstains lingered on graphic tees with fraying necklines, although I'm sure that was partially because of the dark color he wore. I could tell from experience alone how dirty and stained it was, with dust and ash and probably blood, but there was no sign of fraying or holes. His hair, while greasy, was combed back into a messy ponytail, no doubt a well practiced maneuver. With his hair out of his face I could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble that shaded his mouth and jaw looked, among other things, unintentional.

I had a fleeting thought that he resembled Defiant, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I couldn't recognize at the time, but now, remembering how he felt, and the way his face was every time I took control, I realized: he had never been afraid of me.

The man had reached the foot of the bed I was on, palms facing down on the mattress as he lowered himself to his knees. Eyes never leaving mine as he sunk to my level. "Are you alright?" I blinked at him before opening my mouth to speak.

"I'm fine." I had expected my voice to croak, so I was surprised how normal it sounded.

"Kid, a strange woman dropped you off in my apartment without entering it, only spoke to tell me not to take you to a hospital, and you've been unconscious for the better half of the night. I'm not gonna believe you're fine." I was fine, but arguing was pointless, so i just nodded. Asking questions would get me farther, even if he didn't answer them.

"Who are you?" The polite thing to do would probably be to introduce myself first, but I was unmasked, and I really didn't think he'd mind.

"I'm Pro Hero Eraserhead, kid. Although you probably wouldn't recognize me. I try to keep it that way." So he was a hero, and he didn't know me. It was almost too good to be true. And it would be, if it werent for who exactly put me here. "And what about you, kid?"

There it was again, the kid? How old did he think I was? Even Defiant hadn't spoken to me that way except for our worst meeting, and even then it was condescension, pure and simple. "I'm Taylor, why do you keep calling me kid?"

"Because you are?"

"I'm 18" The look he leveled at me was incredulous, like he couldn't possibly believe it, but he didn't push that either.

"Now, do you want to go to the hospital?" Hospitals required records, and I didn't exist on this earth, as I knew. Too many questions from authorities right off the back, and I couldn't go on the run. Not so soon. It would all but ruin my chances here.

"No hospital, please."

"Ok, but I am taking you to Recovery Girl. If she says you need the hospital after"

#chapter 1 draft #parahumans #worm #taylor hebert

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elliotoille · 5 years ago

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Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing.

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs.

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully.

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

#god im long winded as usual #Anonymous

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dreamsclock · 4 years ago

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i think ive read almost all your meta and im trying my best to catch up to the lore since im very new to the fandom but i just dont seem to understand exactly why c!dream is in prision ??? like. from what i can gather he's done nothing that other characters haven't done too ? like murder, manipulation, physical abuse, etc. are all things that as far as i can tell at least someone else has done at some point or another?? and if he's in prision solely bc that is the only way to "contain" him does he have powers/abilities that the others don't ? bc they didn't know about him being able to revive people before the prision right ?? im just really confused as to why he's the only one there or even why they're so afraid of him.

also and this might actually be a really dumb question but like. when is murder okay in the smp ?? like why is it okay for c!sam to threaten to murder c!tommy but c!dream killing c!tommy is unforgivable? if c!sam killed c!tommy would the others see him as much of a monster as c!dream? is the how they get killed whats important ??

(pls feel free to ignore this if they're dumb question/you've already answered !! love your blog and writing!)

hi!! so these are all really good questions and half of them i don’t have, like. a definite answer to, so some of them will just be my best guess or opinion based off canon, but i wanted to touch on them all anyway because they’re all super interesting to me!!

(below the cut bc i rambled KDKFDJVNKD)

why is c!dream in prison?

i’m p certain it was the only other alternative (in the eyes of the characters) to death for c!dream. it was between taking his last life or locking him up, and, after c!dream revealed the revive book to them just before he was imprisoned (in the season two finale stream!), c!tommy, in the hopes of bringing c!wilbur back, kept c!dream alive and decided to lock him in the prison instead. of course, c!tommy then MET c!wilbur, and realised he didn’t want him back At All, but i digress lol dsbcksdjk

c!dream has done nothing that the other characters haven’t also done

VERY true !! however, by the point he was locked up in the end of season two, i,,, genuinely, for that stream, thought it would be the best thing. i’m one of the bigger supporters of c!dream, and even before i became sympathetic to him i was a huge fan of his General Villainy, but the shit he did to c!tommy was absolutely horrific. until i actually saw the prison and the inside of it, i was convinced locking him away was the Best Option - for him and for the rest of the server.

HOWEVER !! although he went too far, his “going too far” was sort of a culmination of ,,, other atrocities others have committed on the server ?? murder, manipulation, gaslighting (dubious that c!dream did this considering how twisted his own sense of reality/real life is), destroying things/buildings, blowing up countries/buildings ,,, like, everyone else on the server has Also Done Those Things. and i mention this, i think, in my long-ass monster essay i wrote on the dream smp, but c!dream in that season felt a lot like a moral line, if that makes any sense? like the audience were beginning to get annoyed by c!tommy’s actions + begin to see him as less of a hero, UNTIL c!dream exiled him and abused him like he did. so even though c!tommy’s actions were bad, c!dream’s were WORSE, pushing c!tommy into a more heroic spotlight, i guess? if that makes any sense? so everyone else automatically looks better in comparison to c!dream, because yeah, sure, they manipulated their fiancé into suicide-bombing the monarch’s castle and tried to initiate war between the two sides while also manipulate the new president so much that said manipulator is basically president, but hey, don’t worry, they would NEVER hurt one of our favourite characters (yes c!quackity, i’m looking at you).

so even though these other characters have done bad things (and i’m certain this is something that will be explored thoroughly in this season coming up, considering it already is!), compared to c!dream in season two, they (and the audience) can reassure themselves that they are Good compared to c!dream’ Bad, hence the lack of punishment for the rest of them. and also, because their moral boundaries of what’s right and what’s wrong just seem to be so skewed LMAO.

if he's in prision solely bc that is the only way to "contain" him does he have powers/abilities that the others don't ? bc they didn't know about him being able to revive people before the prison right ?

they actually did know, yeah !! though most didn’t believe him, apparently, which is interesting in hindsight, c!dream revealed his revive book knowledge in the finale stream to bargain for his life !! but yeah i basically think the prison is just a containment - and an awful punishment for his crimes - until they needed him to revive c!wilbur. of course, now, with c!wilbur revived, there technically should be no need to keep him alive in the eyes of the server ,,,,,, EXCEPT, of course, that a lot of them are low on lives. EXCEPT, of course, now c!q knows the revive book works, and wants to get his hands on it too.

when is murder okay in the smp ? if c!sam killed c!tommy would the others see him as much of a monster as c!dream? is the how they get killed what's important ??

ANON THIS IS SUCH A GOOD POINT !!!! yeah !!! and once again it comes down to the skewed ideas of “right” and “wrong” in the server, and it comes down to who has been immortalised as a hero or villain in the L’Manburg Narrative (my beloved, my detested). because c!dream went against l’manburg/c!wilbur/c!tommy, he was made out to be the villain (same kind of idea w/ c!schlatt), and as villains, their actions, no matter how good or noble they can be at times, are viewed as evil and manipulative. in contrast, everything one of the Heroes TM (c!tommy, c!tubbo, c!wilbur,,,, even c!puffy ig?, etc) is viewed as good, or them trying to be good. this is super apparent in the reactions of the characters + audience to c!sam - c!sam was canonically starving + neglecting c!dream for days and days, and was still classed as “good”, cut off c!ponk’s arm, and was still (by a lot of the fandom) classed as “good” - it took him yelling and threatening to kill c!tommy for the fandom + all characters to see him as corrupt or, in some cases (the fandom/c!tommy), evil. i think he’s a really good example of the polarised ideas of good and evil and how inaccurate they actually are !!

BUT YEAH LOL SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE !!!! i find all this stuff super interesting and can’t help but talk about it for ages - the dream smp is so interesting in terms of morality + its views of good and evil and i love talking about it so tysm for giving me the chance to !! i hope these answered your questions :DD remember, these are only my analyses / opinions and may not be accurate !!

#> my asks !!#> my analysis !!#> analysis !!#tw manipulation #tw abuse #tw torture #tw starvation #tw neglect #tw exile arc #tw prison arc #tw death #tw murder #tw amputation #tw limb loss #tw violence

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years ago

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Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone.

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley.

So, where the hell is she?

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please.

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door.

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming.

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?”

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries.

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation.

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.”

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps.

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out.

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one.

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire.

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario.

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong.

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function.

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out?

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her.

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction.

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own.

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her.

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep.

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?”

Riley groans. “No.”

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit.

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.”

“I’m not hangry.”

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.”

“I was hiding from you.”

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.”

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?”

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink.

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.”

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade.

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning.

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.”

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.”

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this.

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns.

"Go right ahead."

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private.

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them.

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish.

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet.

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish.

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too.

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things.

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings.

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself.

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?"

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?"

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes.

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further.

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works.

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand.

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.”

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice.

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course.

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair."

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley.

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone.

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too."

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash.

"So if we eliminate him…"

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake.

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that.

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind.

"What?"

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out."

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right."

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?"

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me.

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet.

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin.

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him.

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit.

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against.

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp.

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?”

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room.

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.”

“I told you it was an accident!”

“Betrayal.”

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.”

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.”

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on.

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head.

Right.

The dog.

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too.

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis

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snorlaxlovesme · 4 years ago

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full thoughts on the chaos walking movie? I want to hear more about it lol I haven’t seen it yet

it just...it felt like TKONLG but without EVERY GOOD PART, you know?

scene-wise, the closest individual scene we had to anything in the book was maybe the scene where Viola read Todd’s mother’s book to him? (even that wasn’t the same bc that was also the scene where we find out he’s illiterate, and he lets her read it right away, so there was no deep-rooted embarrassment about not being able to read). also it happened in Farbranch. BUT, like it captured the emotion of the OG scene a little, where Viola is reading to Todd and he’s hearing his ma’s words and getting emotional about it.

but all the stand-out scenes from the book, i.e. saying goodbye to Ben and Cillian, meeting the girl and getting hit in the head with a branch and bandaging her anyway, ALL of the Aaron fights, the bridge, the massacre of Farbranch, the song of Here, the Spackle, Todd’s illness, the waterfall scene, Haven, NONE of that was in the movie. so imagine all the really important and powerful moments gone

also all the overarching themes? those are gone too. todd becoming a man is HUGE deal in the books. even in his horrible awful town he just wants to feel like he BELONGS and he’s the one person in the entire town being ostracized. two of the biggest secrets in Todd’s whole world are kept from him for the majority of the book because he’s “not yet a man”. it’s important to him. and once todd realizes the connection between Prentisstown maturity and murder, he spends the rest of that book WISHING he could be a killer. wishing he could have that kind of strength and seeing himself weak for not being able to kill.

all of that?? gone. movie!Todd often chants the familiar “I am Todd Hewitt” (and sometimes “be a man”) when he’s nervous or trying to cover something in his Noise, and has a little tiff with Ben and Cillian at the beginning of the movie bc the Mayor sees Todd as a man while Ben and Cillian do not. (that’s a weird little bit though bc the movie never really explains why the Mayor had such an interest in Todd). but that’s about it in terms of coming-of-age material in the movie. and about murder. seeing as he doesn’t. kill. the. Spackle. let that sink in.

also like. the Noise is shown as a CONCEPT but not as a theme. the THEME of Noise is that, and I quote

“In this world of information overload, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.”

or perhaps

“Knowing a man’s thoughts ain’t knowing a man.”

or even

“Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world changes, whether I want it to or not.”

in this movie, Noise would be described as like. a nuisance at worst and a superpower at best. you can hear most of every man’s thoughts in the movie, though not a constant, never ending stream. just just bits sporadically at either plot-convenient or comedic times. the Mayor (and at one point Ben, and at one point Todd) uses his Noise to construct illusions around people kind of similar to that Jake Gyllenhaal villain in Spiderman: Far From Home.

but neither of these two main examples really SHOW the themes that Patrick Ness showed us in the books. that Noise is powerfully ANNOYING; that it can quickly break down relationships between groups of people; that it can be manipulated making large lies still possible.

like, remember when in the books, Todd and Viola get to Farbranch and poor Todd is absolutely GOBSMACKED that 1. the women are ALIVE and 2. the men and women are living together?? in harmony?? what the eff?? and you see Hildy in Tam’s Noise and just how much they genuinely love each other and Todd is like “damn we ain’t in Prentisstown anymore Manchee”. and you can just see based on the contrast that Prentisstown people are a whole different breed compared to the kindness of Farbranch?

in the movie Todd has a few moments of inner dialogue where he’s like “oh man that’s a woman. that’s nuts” and then we move on. his world should be turned upside down here and its not. and the difference between the two towns is that they kinda just made it seem like, yeah, Noise is annoying so we have the men sleep separately from the women so we all get a little peace, and it’s fine. that’s how Farbranch deals with it. it all just feels very blasé

(i can’t remember specifically where this happens, probably either in Farbranch or cutting back to the Prentisstown men getting ready to march, but at some point a leader ends up saying something to a crowd of people and you can see how just one sentence spreads through an entire group of men and how they all start amplifying it and getting more and more panicked and i did think the mob mentality was cool. it reminded me of the beginning of The Ask and the Answer were the Mayor is addressing the citizens of Haven and you get that moment where the whole crowd flinches over the words of one man.)

and in all of this I’ve barely mentioned Viola. my wonderful girl. how they’ve massacred her story. god.

all of Viola’s development for the first half of the book is tanked from the start bc you SEE the crash, you see her stealing food from Ben and Cillian’s house (that’s the inciting incident of the movie), she talks to the Mayor in Prentisstown almost immediately after Todd finds her and his Noise helps everyone locate her, she talks to Todd a lot before getting to Farbranch after they escape Prentissown. the book does a LOT of work for Viola by having her mute and scared for the beginning and slowly showing how she comes to trust Todd. and how even after their incessent bickering in Farbranch they still choose to escape together because they know the army is after them specifically and they’re all the other has. that progression is really important in the book, as well as afterwards when we see how snarky Viola can actually be when speaking, how she thinks this entire planet is BACKWARDS and she can’t wait til her ship comes and shows them a thing or two about how to live.

movie Viola, well. she wants to find a way to communicate with her ship. she’s under the impression that since her scout ship crashed they’re gonna assume she’s dead and leave her behind. even though the Mayor brings up the settlers a lot after he learns about them, Viola curiously never really brings them up in any other context besides they need to come and get her. like it really made it sound like she planned on calling them, having them scoop her, and then they’d all just fucking leave, i guess. i don’t know what her end goal was besides CALLING HER PEOPLE which became the main point of the movie. the Mayor trying to find Todd and Viola so he could....use her to contact the ship?? that was also kind of unclear. and Viola trying to get to a communicator possibly so she could get the hell out of dodge. idk if that was her actual plan, but it was certainly what Todd was thinking, enough to where I was wondering if he was going to sabotage her mission in order to force her to stay (yeah. yeah. he had that energy about him and it was grosss)

and quickly, since all the animals couldn’t talk the way they do in the book, Manchee was more of a cute prop than anything. i could have gotten over it if he was useful in any way, but he never even like attacked a dude to save Todd or anything like that. so when he died it was sad on a dog-level but not a character level, since besides sitting next to Viola like twice while she cried he really added nothing to the story. also the shock of animal death was greatly reduced already since Todd’s horse that he used to escape Prentisstown from got a broken leg after he rode him off a cliff, so Todd used the knife (off-screen, thank god) to put him down. so Manchee getting killed was kind of lessened a little since my man Whiskey got nixed like 40 min earlier in the film.

this is getting long so I’ll cut it here since I’m gonna probably post about this a thousand more times. but yeah. if you watched it completely divorced from the books you would probably think “that was a cool concept but also what was the point of any of that” which is basically what most people thought based on the review headlines i’ve read. and if you are an avid book fan you’re gonna think you’re watching something else entirely.

#chaos walking #chaos walking movie #cw movie #chaos walking spoilers #violaeade #long post #ill def be posting about this more bc its all ive thought about for days #@ everyone i am always willing to discuss chaos walking #if you wanna send me an ask or DM me im open for business #kelly got an ask

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

Text

Firestorm Part 20: Found Family

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

They were never really your family anyway. You have all the family you need.

A/N: THERE WILL BE NO CHAPTER NEXT WEEK (11/19) but we will be back after that no problem! Just need a week to plan/work on stuff and take care of myself. Blew out my shoulders, lol so sore as hell.

Start From the Beginning << Previous Chapter Chapter Index

You were floating.

Weightless.

In the darkness.

Shadow cradled you but not with loving arms. They cradled you with a cold chill of fever and ache. You couldn’t see anything but it felt like you were moving, like the darkness was passing you along through many arms until you were upside down, hair falling around you. It was less like you were falling and more like you were asleep in a vast ocean of shadow.

Then a blinding spotlight shone beneath you and within it laid your mother on the cold stone, her cheeks streaming with tears. Her attacker leaned over her, examining her like she was an object.

But he wasn’t a creature anymore. He was a man. A man in armor. The man you had met in the cemetery who had held you captive. Gray skin. Horned hat.

A man you knew was your real father.

You’d never asked for this. To be alive. Your mother had made the decision to bring you into this world and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Yet you felt guilty.

Guilty that this had happened to your mother and that you had been the end result. You’d felt the agony your mother had felt. The fear. Thankfully not the entire act. You weren’t sure how you would have recovered from that. Even so, it had shaken you.

The man crept around your mother who closed her eyes and feigned unconsciousness. You could tell she was pretending because her chest was still shuddering with sobs. You knew what she was thinking. If she pretended well enough then the man would leave her be. You had thought that before but never of someone who was out to hurt you. You at least understood it.

If you pretended everything was okay then it would be.

If you pretended that you were normal then you could be.

But this was definitive proof that no amount of pretending would make you normal. In fact, you were nowhere near normal. You were half whatever that monster was.

He pushed your mother’s hair away from her shoulder, long fingernails tracing beneath the chain of the locket around her neck. Heart-shaped and cheap. The gold paint had scraped off of whatever metal was beneath and there was a tarnished line around your mother’s neck from the chain. She must have loved it.

As if he hadn’t taken enough from her, he took that from her too. He held the chain over his index finger and examined it in the night. Then he tucked it away in his armor and disappeared, leaving your mother shuddering, and sobbing alone in the street.

Darkness swallowed you again, cold achy hands passing you around, hands you couldn’t fight. Wherever they took you, you would let them. Resisting only made you feel worse. You were a victim to your gift, a word you used very loosely to describe what was happening to you.

All those times that your father had told you that you weren’t any daughter of his had stung. Who else’s daughter were you? You had only ever wanted his love. Now it was a different kind of painful. He’d been rubbing the truth in your face without telling you. Had your mother hurt hearing him say that? In a far different way, you were sure.

Not that she had ever felt ownership of you but because she would have to remember how it had happened.

That thing.

That demon creature.

That was your father.

You were worse than a witch. You were a devil.

They had been right.

Maybe you really were the blight that they’d accused you of being. It didn’t feel like you were. You didn’t feel like a monster.

The frigid hands stopped passing you around and laid you down. Blankets rested on top of you and there was tremendous warmth on either side of you. Even so, you were frigid, your lips tingling with numbness. You sat upright- the movement painful. If you slept then you’d see it again. You’d feel that helplessness and fear again. That was the last thing you needed.

You refused to be a victim.

Your vision was blurred with tears which you wiped furiously only to find them quickly replaced by more. You took slow careful breaths to calm down. You were back at the inn. The boys had brought you back. And there was no doubt of that since they were asleep on either side of you with you sandwiched in the middle.

This was definitely not what Chen had pictured when you’d implied that you should let them both have their way with you. You laughed at yourself, face red, tears still dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes were on fire and your nose was stuffed from crying. Even though Chen wasn’t there, she’d given you a good laugh in a moment where you weren’t certain you’d ever smile again.

That was dramatic, you knew you would smile again. But still.

If this was your reality then what did it mean? What were you? What else about you wasn’t normal? How fragile was your life? Would you ever be free of him? The answer was no. You knew that. He was your father. He was manipulating you and that connection was far deeper than you could have ever guessed. Was there a way you could untether from him? You didn’t know. You had to talk to Raiden. He was the only one who could possibly have any answers if that.

Had he chosen to bring you into this world? This devil-man? Maybe it hadn’t been on purpose. Maybe hunting and torturing humans was a sport for him and you had been an unfortunate result.

He’d said he hadn’t wanted you to see. But why? Why didn’t he want you to see?

And if he didn’t want you to see then why wouldn’t he have just killed you?

If you’d been in his shoes then you would have just killed you when you had the chance. He’d had you in his grasp. His fingernails had pressed to your throat. Just like your mother. He hadn’t crushed the life from you. A sharp blade had nicked you. One flick of his wrist and it would have been the end.

So why keep you alive?

To use you, maybe?

Was any of what he’d done with intent or were you just another loose end?

This was too much. Your head was spinning and you were on the verge of hyperventilating.

Liu sat suddenly upright, awake and alert though he looked exhausted. He searched the room as if uncertain of why he was awake but his gaze stopped on you.

“Y/N.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest without you having to say a word. Sure, you were crying, but you knew that wasn’t the reason he held you. His arms were so strong and his body warm and comforting. He smelled of embers and sweat and pulled you tighter, hands tangled into your hair. You trembled and he buried himself against you, face close to yours. You could feel his warm breath, his hands as they grasped you a bit tighter.

And you sobbed.

You didn’t want to sob, you didn’t want to cry, but his arms were so comforting. This intense hug, intense embrace, you’d needed it so badly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly, but his voice was weary and shaky. The bed shifted behind you. Kung Lao was awake now too.

“Y/N…” His voice was just as tired and his warm hand was now on your back, offering you comfort. They had no idea how much you needed. They had no idea what you’d seen and the truths you’d learned. Maybe they’d needed to hold you too after having been afraid of losing you.

Liu’s grip relaxed on you after a few minutes.

You hadn’t realized just how tightly he’d been holding you until he was relaxing. You could have sat forever in his arms. The sobs that had overtaken you had at long last subsided. Your eyes were puffy and painful. You wiped them as he let you sit back, though his hand still rested on your arm.

But then Kung Lao pulled you into a hug and you couldn’t help but laugh though it was short lived. They’d had to hold you. After everything you had felt worthless. They made you feel valuable.

“Are you okay?” Liu cleared his throat then picked up your left hand to take your vitals. Kung Lao relaxed his arms around you and allowed you to sit upright. You didn’t need their help but you would gladly take it. Liu was counting silently while he checked your pulse. Then he tilted your chin up and brushed his fingers over the mark left there. Your face was red. Kung Lao reached behind him for a notebook that had been on the nightstand and then handed it to Liu who then scribbled notes into it. You peered at his writing.

They’d been keeping track of your health since you’d arrived. Chen had probably asked them to. Like with everyone else he did, Liu Kang went above and beyond to make sure it got done. He’d been discreet about it since you just now noticed he was doing it.

“I’m okay.” You placed your hand over his that was writing and the pen left a blot of ink. Your neck was sore now that you noticed it. It’d been bandaged. It mustn’t have been too bad or they would have taken you to a hospital. Liu gave you a look to let you know that he was going to do this whether you wanted him to or not. Then he rested the back of his hand to your forehead to feel your temperature then touched over the sides of your neck. You tried to swat his hand away but Kung Lao rested his hand on your shoulder.

“Give us a break. You were… distressed in your sleep.”

You averted your eyes and felt the sudden weight of everything on your shoulders. Briefly, it’d been easy to forget about it.

“Oh, so you knew you were?” Lao climbed so that he was seated next to you rather than behind you. This bed was definitely not big enough for the three of you. Chen would have had a field day.

“No. I just know why I would have been.” You were suddenly exhausted, like you could have done nothing but sleep for a week. And you meant real sleep, not this bullshit nightmare crap that kept happening.

“What? What is it?” Liu set down the notebook and then gently clasped your forearm, urging your hand to his arm. “Did he hurt you?” He seemed as tired as you were. You needed a vacation. A real vacation where nothing bad happened and everything was fine. Nothing but the sun, the sand, and the waves. What a pipedream.

How were you supposed to say it? You’d never considered having to explain it. You knew that Raiden would have seen it eventually but it was still different than you having to say it. Your hesitation was so obvious that both Liu and Lao were suddenly overcome with worry. Oh, how you hated worrying them. Your vision blurred with tears again.

“That… that file we found in the hospital. The one about my mom.” You began. Even thinking about it made your stomach sick and you held it. Liu Kang’s eyes followed your hand and he jotted down another note.

“What about it?” Lao took your hand and held it between both of his. You were trapped. Trapped by the two most important people in your life.

“It wasn’t my dad who hurt her.”

“This again? Y/N, come on, it’s… all there and…”

“No, no… it was that… thing. That thing in the graveyard. He… I saw it. I…” You pulled your hands away from them both. Being touched was too much. You needed the space. It was difficult to breathe. Like you couldn’t properly exhale and inhaling only made it worse. “I saw it.”

“You saw it?” Kung Lao didn’t get it. Neither did Liu. They were just confused and concerned. You would have to say it.

“He… he attacked my mom. He attacked her and that’s why I… it’s… why there’s no record of me. She probably hoped I would die before she gave birth or while she gave birth… I… Because I… was… just another reminder of what he did to her. I was the ultimate end of what he did. I haunted her. A shadow of what he did.” That had to be enough, right? Lao’s mouth hung open just enough and Liu stared. His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed the truth.

Your face flushed and you shrunk into yourself, holding your hands close to your chest.

Then Liu’s arms were around you again, notebook and pen abandoned as he held you to him. He held you tight, hand grasping your hair, urging your body to rest against his. Kung Lao, on the other hand, was steaming to your right. Seething with fury. Then he was out of bed and pacing.

You didn’t fight Liu Kang who pulled you practically into his lap. He needed to hold you and you wanted to be held. Held and comforted.

Frustration was palpable. Tense in the air.

Two men who would have never in their lives dreamt of hurting another human being like that struggled to wrap their minds around what you’d told them. You were suddenly more grateful for them than anything in your life. They had saved you. All without realizing.

“You saw it?” Liu whispered but you heard Lao stop pacing as he asked. You buried yourself against his chest, grasping at his shirt. You were a terrible liar but you didn’t want to say the truth. They were already so upset. You shuddered and Liu stiffened up. Heat was suddenly radiating from him, like he’d caught fire just knowing the truth. He knew without you having to say it. Somehow after the short time you’d known each other, he could tell what you meant to say without you having to say it.

He urged your head to rest on his shoulder, arms wrapped around you so firmly you felt cocooned. Protected. That’s what this was. He wanted to keep you safe. No one had ever protected you like this, not even when you’d been a child. It was an unfamiliar but comforting feeling. So comforting that you were overwhelmed. Never before had you felt completely safe in the arms of anyone. It was an alien feeling but also a wonderful one. You were trembling.

This was so much at once.

“That son of a bitch…” Kung Lao was pacing again. You were sure he had plenty more to say on the matter. You lifted your head just enough to catch Kung Lao’s gaze and he stopped his pacing again. Then, as if realizing how much his anger didn’t matter, he softened.

A rare soft Kung Lao.

He sat down and rested his hand on your arm, looking very much like he wished to snatch you right from Liu Kang’s arms but he restrained himself. You sat there comforting each other in silence.

You urged yourself back from Liu’s arms but he didn’t let you go. You avoided their eyes as they watched you with concern. Then you cleared your throat. You couldn’t sit there in silence forever. And you were feeling so vulnerable and raw that you were terrified. So much that you’d experienced that day had been terrifying.

“It turns out that I’m not Chinese.” You broke the silence. Kung Lao stared at you in awe. Reverence, perhaps? For the fact that you’d managed to joke after having experienced something so awful and emotional. Liu Kang closed his eyes and winced. “What? I’m just trying to break the tension. This is…” Your eyes watered to betray you, your voice cracking. You clasped your mouth tightly shut. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “I’m not good… at… this.”

“Worse than me, I think.” Kung Lao smiled but it was forced. At least he tried to play along.

“Beginning to think it might be diagnosable.” Liu Kang managed to joke but he couldn’t smile.

“I don’t know what any of it really means. I don’t know who he is or what he is or what this makes me. And there was more I didn’t interpret, I’m sure. So much that I don’t understand. I’m a terrible seer. I don’t think he should be all that threatened by me.” You smiled a little. Your gift. A unique gift that you wished you could be rid of. But you were reminded that maybe you were meant to handle it when no one else could. “Raiden will understand it better than I do, I’m sure.”

“He will.” Liu had more to say but he didn’t. “You have a fever.” He finally managed a smile. You pouted.

“But I feel okay.” You didn’t. That was a terrible lie. You were under so much stress at this point that you had no idea what your body was feeling. You weren’t sure what normal was anymore. Not you, that was for sure.

“Your opinion of a fever is no longer dependable, I’m afraid. You’ve been sick for too long.”

Kung Lao burst into laughter and you stared at him in mock aghast.

“Sorry. You got told.”

“We should go back to the temple… for a number of reasons.” Liu’s hand rested gently on your knee. His touch was consistent and you were so grateful for it. It was like he was afraid to let you go. If you were alone, he would have held you right in his lap the entire time, you were sure of it. You longed for that.

Suddenly you were afraid of what they’d think of you. Were you a monster to them?

“I’m… exhausted. Can we stay here? Just for the night? We already have the rooms and…” You really were tired. The idea of having to relieve that again with Raiden made you want to crawl in a dark hole and hide. “I’m not ready.”

“Let’s just rest here for tonight.” Lao argued on your behalf. “This has been an ordeal, even for the two of us and… well, I just… I don’t know. I think we earned a night here.”

“Hey, you don’t have to argue with me… I was going to agree.” Liu Kang laughed. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his shoulder and you could feel him melting beneath you. It was nice. To know that he wanted to hold you as much as you wanted to be held.

“Food, right? We should get food.” This seemed to be Kung Lao’s solution to everything. It wasn’t the worst solution, honestly.

“How can you think about eating after all of this?”

“I need something to do and food is comforting.”

“Food is a good idea.” You chimed in, lifting your head from Liu’s shoulder. His hand was still clasped on your knee, thumb gently brushing against it. Kung Lao beamed, pleased to be useful.

“If you can eat, then we’ll order food.” Liu agreed but there was a longing behind those dark eyes that you were often lost in. He wanted to hold you. To comfort you. More so than he was permitted to in the presence of Kung Lao, what with you having not made a real decision of any kind. For now you’d take any distraction available.

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aubreyprc · 4 years ago

Text

In My Veins Final 2

part one part two part three part four part five(happy)

Find the first half of this here

Again... very sorry. also i know i said tomorrow but... oh well lol😀✋

once again, tagging those who have read from the start, yall really🥰😎 hell yeah besties @hotchnisscardigan @florenceremingtonthethird @olivinesea @eprcntiss @jetaime-jespere @petit97

another big shoutout of course to @suckerforhotchniss. this was all her idea and actually if you’re going to come for anyone come for her okay?:)

TW! for/ mentions of depression, drugs, death and suicide. please read with caution if these things could trigger you, but they are only mentions. nothing graphic.

They bury her on a warm day in the fall. Jack stands in front of his father, the man’s hands over his shoulder as she’s lowered down. There are tears down his face but Hotch remains standing straight, holding back his emotions, watching with a broken heart as she lowered to the ground for the second, but final time.

JJ grips Will’s hand tightly as she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, Garcia then loops her hand in hers and the woman faces her and nods, before turning back.

Penelope has tears streaming down her face as she watches, she looks over to the Hotchner’s and just wishes there was something she could do for them, but the only thing they want is her back and that is something she just can not do, no matter how much she wishes she could. She wants to hug Hotch and tell him it’s okay, that she forgives him but she can’t. All she can think about is the fact that her friend died and he didnt let her say goodbye. Again.

Spencer is standing a few feet away from her, staring at the casket being lowered into the ground as he holds his breath. He can feel Morgan inches from him and all he wants is to reach out and grab his hand but he doesn't know if he can. Ever since Emily died they’ve been… different. Spencer knows that Morgan blames him and he accepts that. It’s his fault anyway.

As the casket lowers into the ground, Hotch feels the grief for two, because along side Emily in that casket is their baby, their baby that will never be. The baby they will never hold, or name or watch grow up. He will never tell anyone about them. They don’t deserve the right, simply due to the fact that she never knew. Emily will never, ever know that they had created a life together before hers was taken, alongside theirs.

As the casket reaches the bottom with a small thud, as he and jack place some mud into the grave, along with some flowers, as he watches his team do the same, he can’t help but feel like his future is buried right there with her, and he doesn't see a way through it.

One month after Emily dies, he goes back to work. Jack’s started sleeping through the night again and there are no more nightmares.

Every Sunday night it’s no longer one candle the young boy lights, it’s two. Haley and Emily.

He and Aaron will sit on the floor in the living room, place the candles on the table and Jack tells them both about his week, about school, he’ll tell them he still misses them everyday and that he is still so sad but that he’s going to be strong for them. He tells them he loves them and he looks to his Dad, who will then do the same.

He’ll share a funny, but PG story about something one of the team did at work for Emily and then a funny story about Jack or Jessica for Haley. He’ll tell them he misses and loves them and Jack will blow the candles out and smile at the smoke.

Jack will go to bed then and like every other night previously, Aaron will sit on the couch, grab Emily’s jumper he keeps under it, bring it too his face and he will cry for her. For their baby. For them.

Everything in the apartment reminded him of her. Her smell still lingered in their bed, her shampoo and body wash remained exactly where she had left them, her clothes remained in his draws, unmoved. The coat she'd left still hung up next to his, her shoes still on the stand.

He knows JJ and Penelope had cleaned out her apartment weeks ago because they’d handed Dave the clothes he had scattered around there and with a sad look in his eyes, he gave them back to him.

Those clothes remained in the laundry room of his apartment. He won’t wash them. He won’t wear them again.

The mug she had drank out of the morning they had left for North Carolina still stood unwashed and untouched in his sink. Her lipstick still on the rim of the mug and he remembers the way she had smiled at him from under it as he spoke to her that morning. The way she chuckled lightly when he winked at her before trying to get Jack ready for school.

He remembers that he’d kissed her quickly before he left like he would do it for the rest of his life. He remembers it all. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. He doesn’t want too.

Two months after Emily dies Hotch is no better. His smiles, however rare they were in the first place, are now non existent. The team brings up depression and they talk about how he should see someone about his grief but he pushes them away with a single “I'm fine” and ends the conversation.

Jack struggles to bring his father out of his grief, he spends most of his time with Jessica, but every now and then Aaron will take his son to the park, or to the beach and they will smile, they will laugh and everything would feel like it was before.

Sometimes Jack can hear his father crying, so he jumps from his bed and walks into his bedroom, jumping onto the bed and laying next to him. Hotch will take a breath and hold back the remainder of his tears and Jack will lean over to wipe them.

“You did this for me when I was having my nightmares,” He whispers to him when he wipes a tear from his face and Aaron chuckles.

“Thank you, buddy.” He whispers back and the boy smiles.

Aaron’s grief consumes him. It’s overwhelming the way he loves her and it’s overbearing the way he misses her. Grief is all he feels. Grief, heartbreak, loss, emptiness and anger.

He wants to get over this for the sake of his son and he tries but he just can’t. It’s overtaken him and he can not get out of the pit the loss of her has put him in. He feels like he can’t even breathe without her. Everything feels harder than it should and he just can’t do it. He’s trying for Jack but it’s starting to eat him alive, the guilt, the loss, the memories, everything.

It’s a Thursday night as he stares at the bottom of an empty bottle with tears running down his face, a picture of him and Emily in his hands that he becomes haunted by the thought that his own son might not even be enough to get him through this.

Three months after Emily Prentiss died a man named Peter Lewis enters his life and from the moment the killer sets eyes on Agent Hotchner he knows that’s the one whose mind he can break easily. That’s the one who he can snap in half. With a grim smile he watches, and plans his attack.

Three weeks and two days later Aaron Hotchner is walking from the parking lot towards his car when there is a sharp needle in his neck and a voice behind him. He’s falling to the floor slowly as his mind clouds over and all he can think about is that the whole thing is sort of...peaceful.

Peter Lewis places the mask over Hotch’s mouth and let’s the drugs do their job, leaning over him and whispering..

“When you wake up.. Your precious son will be dead, you watched me kill him before I brought you here.” He smiles to himself, “You will see the person you love the most and when they hand you the gun.. you’ll know what you have to do.��

What he thinks will happen is he will see Jack’s mother, he thinks she will tell him to kill his team when they walk through the doors and that he’ll do it, before his brain snaps like everyone else’s and he’ll become Mr Scratch, leaving Peter Lewis to roam free.

What he doesn’t expect is for Aaron Hotchner to be depressed and in love with a dead woman named Emily Prentiss. What he doesn’t expect is for the man to be suicidal, the grief of losing the woman he loves and their baby almost too much for him to handle.

What he doesn’t is expect that his son was the last thing keeping him holding on.

He doesn’t expect a lot of things that he should have.

Aaron wakes with a gasp and looks around the room. He sits up and feels for his gun to find himself without it.

Looking around again he notices that he’s in a house he does not recognise and doesn’t know how he got to. He feels a slight twinge in his neck and it jolts something inside of his mind. He sees flashes of a man breaking into his house, he can hear his son screaming for him and he… he remembers fighting a man who was going after his little boy. He closes his eyes as he tries to force himself to remember more when there’s a loud sound from another room. He stands up and walks towards it, only to freeze when he’s met with the man he sees in his flashes.

“Where is my son?” Aaron asks the man, who laughs in response.

“You don’t remember?” He asks, “Think.” He tells him, and Hotch looks around his unfamiliar surroundings again.

“What have you done with him?” Aaron asks, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“You really don’t remember?” Peter Lewis questions and he steps towards him. Hotch watches every move the man takes but he won’t step back. Not until he finds his son. “He’s dead Agent Hotchner.” He smiles and Aaron didn’t think he could ever, ever, feel anymore pain but he was wrong. Those words slash through him like a knife. He steps backwards and takes a breath, shaking his head and looking around the room.

“You were there, remember?” Peter Lewis pushes, Hotch looks around. “A bullet.. right between his eyes. You watched…” As he hears the words Hotch’s mind starts to piece it together and… he can see his son lay on the floor, his eyes open, staring blankly at him and he remembers trying to get to him before being pulled under by whatever was put into his neck.

“You.. you killed my son?” Hotch asks, tears running down his face.

Peter Lewis just smiles before walking off slowly and Hotch wants to go after him but he can’t. His mind is foggy and it’s putting pieces together, sending him dizzy. He hits the floor with a thud as his mind clouds over once again.

The team realise he’s missing an hour and a half after he left that night after a call from Jessica to Rossi, asking if Hotch had left yet because Jack can’t sleep unless Aaron puts him to bed.

The CCTV footage from the parking garage tells them all they need to know and they’re working immediately.

“This is bad, Rossi.” Morgan tells them as they stare at the board, “The man’s mind is already…” He pauses, “Whatever happens to him, whatever Peter Lewis does to him.. I don’t see him coming back from it. He still hasn’t come back from losing Emily.”

Aaron comes to again a few moments later and with a foggy mind, dizzy and confused he sits up and stands. In his mind all he can see is Peter Lewis in his apartment, Peter Lewis holding a gun up to his screaming little boy and firing. He can see Jack staring blankly at him before he sees nothing.

His phone rings then and he frowns in confusion about how he still has it.

“Answer it,” He hears Peter Lewis say from somewhere.

“Hello?” He says down the phone, looking around the room he’s in.

“Aaron?” The voice says and Aaron stops, “It’s Dave.”

“Dave?” He questions, “What-“

“Tell us where you are.” Dave commands and Aaron looks around once again, searching for windows, maybe a front door but there is nothing.

“I don’t know…” He mumbles, “He...he killed Jack.” His voice cracks and he wants to scream.

“What?” Dave questions, “Who did?”

“Peter Lewis. He’s here.. somewhere. I don’t know. But I saw it… I saw him…”

“Aaron.. listen to me.” Dave tells him sternly, “Listen.”

“Okay…” He whispers, sinking down onto the floor.

“Mr Scratch did not kill your son. Jack is not dead.”

“What?” He says, confused and shaking his head. “But-”

“But you saw it, I know. That’s what he does. He drugs people into seeing whatever he wants them to. You know this, Aaron. Fight it.”

Hotch doesn’t say anything, just remains silent while his mind shatters to pieces. Imagines of him and Emily flash before him, her laughing, smiling then her under a car. Then it’s him and Jack and they’re smiling and laughing but then… but then Peter Lewis kills his son. He see’s it happen and it looks so real.

“Aaron!” Dave shouts again, “Fight it. Fight it.”

Aaron goes to speak when theres a noise from somewhere infront of him and when he opens his eyes.. he see’s her.

“Emily?” He questions, almost as if he doesn’t believe his own eyes. She smiles and bends down in front of him. His breath catches in his throat as she looks at him.

“Hi.” She says softly, “Don’t listen to them. They’re lying.” She tells him. He just stares at her and reaches out to touch her, and when his fingers touch her skin he quickly pulls them back.

“How.. what?”

“Aaron!” Rossi shouts down the phone again and Hotch puts it back to his ear.

“Yeah..” He says but it’s obvious in the way he says it that the hallucination of Emily has his complete attention, not that they blame him, some of them even wish it was them seeing her.

“Listen to me, okay? Listen.”

“I am..” He says, still looking at Emily as she sits in front of him, a smile on her lips and he reaches out to touch her once again before freezing just before his fingers reach her cheek.

“That is not Emily.” Are the words that freeze him, “Jack isn’t dead and that is not Emily and you need to find a way out of there.” Rossi shouts.

“Why?” He whispers, “It’s her. She’s here. I can see her…”

“It’s not her, Aaron. Emily is dead, Aaron. She isn’t there. You know that.”

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know that. He was already so broken before Peter Lewis drugged him that his mind had now shattered completely and to him what he was seeing was true. It was true and she was here. His son was dead and she was here. He had nothing left to fight for.

“Emily..” Aaron whispers again, before putting the phone down.

“Aaron you need to get out of there,” Rossi tells his sternly, “Even though the thought of a life without Emily is heart breaking and I know how much pain you’re in, there is a six year old waiting for you at home who’s going through the same thing. He needs you, Aaron.” He says, “Jack isnt dead and that is not Emily.”

There is silence for a few moments before Hotch ends the call, as as the beep of the loss of singal echos around the room, Rossi stands.

“Track that call!”

She smiles as he ends the call and puts the phone of the floor, his eyes transfixed on her.

“I’ve missed you.” She tells him, reaching for his hand and when she takes it and he feels it on his own, tears fall from his eyes because she’s here. she’s back.

“I missed you too.” He whispers, smiling at her. He looks at her and tilts his head into her hand when she cups his cheek and he can’t help but notice just how cold she is. He intertwines her fingers with his as they rest of his cheek and he sighs.

“Jack’s dead?” He whispers, and Emily nods softly.

“Yeah…” She replies, “I’m sorry, honey”

“He killed him..” He says and Emily nods her head again. She pulls her hand from her cheek slowly, but keeps their fingers locked together as she starts to stand. He follows her actions and when they’re stood, he stares at her.

“Do you trust me?” She asks with a smile while she locks their hands together, he nods.

“Always.” He tells her and she smiles.

“Follow me.” She says and leads him into a different room. They stand in front of a closed door and before she opens it she looks back at him.

“What’s this?” He asks her and she smiles, opening it and he looks inside. “Is that-”

“That’s our daughter.” She tells him, unlocking her fingers from his and walking towards the little girl sat on the floor. Emily crouches down next to her and they both stare at him.

“How?” He whispers, he walks in and bends down in front of them both. “They said you didn’t know..”

“I didn’t..” She says, “But I know now.”

“She looks just like you.” He tells her with a smile and she nods.

“Come on,” She says and grabs his hand again, pulling him away from the little girl who waves goodbye to him, he’s still looking behind him as they leave the room.

“Emily.. what is going on?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, standing in front of him in what looks to be a living room. It’s not one he recognises.

“How are you here?” He whispers, “You’re.. you’re dead.”

Emily stands in front of him and rests both her cold hands on his face and nods.

“Yeah.” She whispers, “But I really missed you.”

“I miss you too, god.. you have no idea.” He tells her but she’s pulling away and he wants to follow her but he can’t move.

“It’s so cold, Aaron.” She tells him, there’s tears in her eyes, “It’s so cold, and it’s so dark.” She whispers, “I’m cold…” She says again, looking at him.

“Emily-” He starts to say but he can’t finish it because he remembers her saying this the first time. How when she coded in the ambulance all she felt was darkness and cold and it’s been haunting him for months thinking what if she’s cold where she is? What if it’s dark? And to have her say the words to him breaks his already shattered heart.

“Aaron,” She whispers and he looks at her, there’s blood down her face and coming from her mouth and he’s seeing flashes of her once again pinned under a car. “I need you.” She tells him, “You’re the only place I feel safe. I don’t feel safe here. Its so cold. It’s so dark. It’s so lonely.”

He loves her so much that this is torture for him to hear this. To hear that this whole time she has been in the dark, cold and alone. He reaches out for her but he can’t reach her.

“Let me help you. Please.”

She walks towards him and presses something heavy in his hard and he looks down to find a gun. His eyes snap up to hers and she’s smiling, nodding her head.

“I love you.” She tells him, “Please. Help me.”

“But-” He wants to say what about Jack but then he remembers that his little boy was dead. His son was gone, taken by the man who’d brought him here and he had nothing left now.

He loved her so much and she’s cold, she’s scared and she’s alone. There is a gun in his hand and in one click it’s all over he can join Emily where she is and she won’t have to be cold and alone anymore. He can join Jack.. and Haley and they can all be together.

“It’s okay,” She nods as she lifts the gun for him, it’s balanced against his temples and her hands are on his cheeks and she’s so cold, he can feel it on his skin and it makes him shiver. He’s starting at her but he’s not afraid, he smiles at her and she’s smiling right back. “We’re waiting for you.” She says and then there’s people behind her. Not just people but, Jack, his little boy, he’s in his mother’s arms, who’s nodding her head in his direction and then there’s the little girl with dark hair that looked much like him and Emily he could not believe it.

He stares at Emily once more and she smiles at him.

“I love you.” She whispers to him, he sighs, nodding his head and the gun goes off.

His hallucinations fade away just as he does.

He dies instantly.

The team rush into the building to find Peter Lewis waiting from them on a chair in the middle of the abandoned building, laughing.

“He was more broken than I thought.” He laughs, “I can’t even be angry that I’ve been caught. Watching him so..shattered, was better than I could have imagined.”

“Where is he?” Rossi shouts as Morgan picks the guy of the chair and handcuffs him.

Peter Lewis laughs and looks at him, “If you thought everybody you loved was dead, and the one person you loved more than anything was telling you how cold they were.. where would you go?”

Everyone freezes, before taking off in a run. Peter Lewis is handed to local PD as they search the house.

JJ runs into an empty room and spots his legs, he’s lay on the floor and for a moment she lets out a sigh of relief until she realises he isn’t moving. She walks slowly towards him, her heart hammering against her chest and she can’t breathe because surely, surely this isn’t happening. It can’t be.

“Hotch?” She calls, taking slow steps, “Hotch..” She says again when she reaches him and at first glance it just looks like he’s lay there, but then she spots the gun in his hand and the bullet hole is his head and he’s staring so blankly at her she feels like she might throw up. All she can do is scream.

It’s JJ’s scream that gives them all his location and as the blonde woman falls backwards into Morgan’s arms, they all see the sight she had.

Aaron Hotchner lay dead, a bullet hole in his temple, a gun in his hand in the middle of the floor of an abandoned building.

Rossi walks over and bends down, closing the man’s eye while he ignores the cries of JJ as Morgan holds her tightly.

“It’s okay,” He whispers to the dead man, “You rest now.”

They all arrive back at the BAU and the first person they break news to is Garcia.

Morgan is the one to tell her and when the words leave his mouth all Garcia can do is scream before almost dropping to the floor, collapsing in Morgan’s arms as he holds her up and brings her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“He can’t be dead!” She cries, “He can’t be…he can’t die thinking I hated him.” She's sobbing into his chest and Morgan holds back his own tears as he holds her close.

“He didn’t think that.” He whispers, rubbing a hand down her back.

“He did!” She cries, “He died thinking that I couldn’t forgive but I did.”

“He knows, Penelope.” Morgan reassures her, “He knows.”

Jessica and Jack walk into the BAU with no idea what to expect.

Dave guides Jessica into his office while JJ sits with Jack. They have no idea how to break the news to the six year old who is now an orphan. Every parental figure he has gone.

“He’s dead, isn’t he.” Jessica says, looking at Dave. The man nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“His name was Peter Lewis. He.. he drugged Aaron and-”

“I don’t need to know the specifics.” She tells him, shaking her head and looking at Jack as he talks to JJ.

“What do I tell him?” She whispers, “How are they all dead?”

“Life is cruel.” He says to her, “I find peace in that he’s with Emily.”

“Where’s Jack’s peace?” She questions, looking at the older man, “He lost three parents in two years. How does a little boy get through that?”

“With time.” Rossi says softly, “With help.”

Jessica and Dave look back to the boy who sits and waits for them, not knowing that his dad had joined his mother and Emily. Not knowing he was alone.

In the end it’s Dave who breaks the news to him because Jessica just can’t do it. She tries, but as the boy’s eyes stare into hers she just can’t.

Dave takes over and crouch’s down in front of the boy, smiling sadly at him.

“Hey Jack.” He whispers and Jack just looks at him and he already knows what is coming. He’s been through this twice now.

“Is Daddy gone?” He asks, “Did he join Emmy?”

“Yeah, buddy.” Dave says after a few moments, “I’m sorry.”

Jack looks down, tears burning in his eyes. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Dave.

“He promised me.. Uncle Dave. He promised me he wouldn’t go away like everyone else. Why did he lie?” Jack cries into his neck and Dave just holds the boy tighter.

“He tried very hard to stay for you, Jack. Really really hard.” He lies to the boy because he doesn’t need the truth. He wouldn’t understand it. He’s better without it. There’s movement behind Dave and Jack looks up to find JJ standing there. He slowly pulls away from him and heads towards the woman. Looking at her with wide eyes and she smiles, bending down to be eye level with him.

“He lied, Miss Jennifer..” He whispers to her and she shakes her head, wiping his tears with her thumb.

“Come here,” She whispers and scoops the boy into her, holding him tightly as she stands. The boy cries into her neck because what she forgot was that she was wearing Emily’s perfume and all the boy could smell while he rested in her arms was Emily.

“You smell like her.” Jack whispers as he rests his head on her shoulder. “I miss them.”

“Me too, baby.” She says, kissing his head.

Jessica takes the boy home an hour later and as they lay in her bed, him resting softly next to her, he asks her a question that breaks her in half.

“Is it just me and you now Aunt Jess?” He asks her. She turns to face him and runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah baby,” She tells him, “Just me and you.”

“You’re not going to leave?”

“No.” She shakes her head, “I’m right here.”

The two candles turn into three and as he tells his parents about his day, Jessica watches with a sad smile and just hopes that the young boy makes it through this.

They bury Hotch next to Emily four months and two days after her funeral. Jack stands in front of Jessica, watching as another casket is lowered to the ground. Spencer and Morgan stand two feet away, hands grasped together and they hold back their tears, Penelope’s hand wrapped in Morgan’s other, tears falling freely from her face. JJ and Will stand two feet away from them, Will holds her close as they watch. JJ can’t take her eyes away from Jack, the little boy who lost so much so quickly.

As the boy places a rose on each grave, the team cry silently.

“Let’s go give the other rose to mommy.” They hear Jessica whisper to him after a few moments and the boy nods, taking her hand and letting her guide him through the small walk of the cemetery to where his Mother was buried in the Brookes plot.

The team come by and visit Jack for a few months after Aaron and Emily’s deaths. They go to as many of his soccer games that they can, they try to take him on days out and make him feel as though he’s still a part of their family. He has play dates with Henry and for a few months they’re doing what they know Aaron and Emily would have done for them and try and help Jack through the process.

Yet, one by one the team just stopped coming over to see him. It’s too hard. He has Haley’s eyes and Hotch’s face but he also has Emily’s mannerisms and it’s too hard for them to see it. He reminds them of all they’ve lost and soon no one comes to see him anymore and he’s never understood why everyone always leaves him.

Why didn’t anybody ever stay?

So when Jack snaps at sixteen because everybody he loves is dead and everybody else left him alone to deal with the repercussions, it’s the team he goes after.

He manages to get all of them apart from one before they catch him.

Rossi is first because.. that was Uncle Dave. That was Uncle Dave and why didn’t he stay? Why did he leave?

He shoots him in the chest because it’s his first one and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet. Dave looks at him and takes a hollow breath,

“It’s okay, kid. I get it. I’m sorry I left you. I forgive you..” and he won’t stop talking. Jack shoots him in the head and just like that there’s silence. He bends down and looks at the older man. “It didn’t have to be this way Dave, but you didn’t stay. Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t anybody just stay?”

Spencer is next because he was like a brother to Emily and a man his own father treated more of like a son than he did him and it has always upset him that after just two months without them he put them and him in the past and moved on. When he’s done Spencer, a gun shot to the chest, he moves onto Morgan because he was supposed to be the protector of the group and he had promised him he would be there but then once again had chosen Spencer. Just like he had done with his father, like he had Emily.

As they're both dying, gripping each other’s hand as they take their final breaths he scoffs because “Why should you get to die together when they didn’t?” They bring Emily and Aaron. They being him and his family.

It’s JJ next because he can’t believe that after everything Emily did for her she just left him when he was just a child with no parents. She even has a child herself and Henry was his friend and so why did no one help him?

He doesn’t make it to Penelope before he’s caught. When he’s asked by detectives and Agents why he did what he did he looks them straight in the eye before answering.

“Because they made promises they couldn’t keep, and they left me. My parents died for them and they couldn’t keep their promises.”

Garcia buries all of her friends in the fall and when a leaf falls over the middle of where Emily and Aaron have lay for the last ten years, she thinks maybe Jack sparing her what their way of saying they forgive her for not being there for him and takes it as a sign to be there for him now.

Penelope visits Jack in prison every week for five years. She bumps into Jessica every now and then and they talk about their lost friends. About Jack.

Jack spends the rest of his life in prison. Forever missing his parents and forever holding a grudge against those who left him on their own accord. He doesn’t forgive those he killed and he doesn’t think he ever will.

He has a picture of him and his mother on the wall, as well as a picture of him, his father and Emily.

“I miss you,” He whispers to their pictures one night three years later, “I’ll see you soon.”

fin

#hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #in my veins

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legoshi-plz · 5 years ago

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Cynic (Legoshi x Reader)

Legoshi x Canine! Reader

Warning: NSFW (+18), minor mention of Rape/ Sexual Assault

Summary: Maybe you and a certain Grey Wolf are more alike than you thought.

A/N: So I decided to change up these requests just a little so that I could combine them ! I hope you guys like it! These started off as Headcanons but i got a little carried away lol also Characters are all over 18 in this fic

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You weren’t exactly what people would call a ‘happy’ animal.

Okay that was an understatement, you could be downright depressing at times. It’s not like you actually meant to be such a downer, you just considered yourself a realist and being a Carnivore in today’s society was the farthest thing from a ‘happy’ existence.

People profiled Carnivores wherever they went, always quick to see your kind as natural aggressors and when they weren’t clutching their purses ready to call animal control on you all for just being alive, they were quick to go over the top to prove they saw “all animals equally”, which usually was just a ploy for ‘progressive points’.

Being a Domesticated Dog, you recognized your privilege was a double edged sword in one of the worst ways possible. You had Herbivores constantly in your face telling you “You’re one of the good ones” while other Carnivores mostly saw dogs as ‘sellouts’ who were willing to whore themselves out (socially and in... other ways) for even the slightest scrap of attention. It was infuriating just living in such a society and you constantly felt on the verge of snapping but if you did, you’d just prove to be everything they already thought you were.

So needless to say, you kept to yourself. You just couldn’t bring yourself to put on the false pretense of cheerfulness that domesticated animals were expected to uphold so you tried to keep to yourself. No one understood you nor did they try. They were too caught up in their own charades and you were beyond the point of explaining how screwed up this world was. They knew, they didn’t care.

You were convinced you would spend your entire high school career in the shadows, not making an impression (good or bad) on anyone or anything and for a while it seemed that way. Until your final year.

For the most part, keeping to yourself gave you a lot of time to observe others, rarely were you the one technically being ‘observed’. Which is why you couldn’t understand why a certain Grey Wolf couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He was painfully obvious, his awkward attempts to hide his little obsession whenever his eyes met yours was almost comical.

You chalked it all up to him probably being another sick fuck with a fetish for submissive animals. It was more common than most people like to address and Domesticated female dogs were the leading demographic of rape/ sexual assault victims from wolves. It was mainly the close proximity of their biology that made it so hard for wolves to control themselves (if you could say they had any control to begin with.) They preyed on smaller dogs because in comparison to them it was the closest they could get to defiling a Herbivore without the internalized shame and disgust. Also female Carnivores were often not believed when it came to these crimes because they were perceived as stronger/ more aggressive and should have been able to defend themselves. Yet another flaw in this fucked up animal judicial system.

You decided to ignore the Wolf and hope he just moved on. There weren’t many dogs at Cherryton but there were a few others who would probably be more than happy to tame the beast that lie within him. Or between his legs.

But weeks turned into months and his interest in you failed to cease. You decided to confront him. You decided to do so after class once the rest of the class filed out. He usually drug his feet so it wouldn’t be hard to catch him. Best case scenario, he was embarrassed about getting caught and promised to stop. Worst case scenario, he can’t control himself and takes you right then and there. You were apathetic either way, there were worst things out there than fucking a Wolf right?

You approached his desk as he was scrambling to shove his things into his shoulder bag, the rest of the class had long filed out by now.

“H-Hi,” he said looking up at you, his ears tilted downwards.

“You got a problem with me or something?” You can tell by the way his ears tugged down even further that your voice came off a little harsh but that was just the way you were.

“W-Why would I have a problem with you, YLN-san?” He was avoiding your cold stare. He was a Grey Wolf for crying out loud, what was wrong with him? Wolves were a lot of things but skittish wasn’t one of them.

“Drop the formalities. You stare me down day in and day out but now you’re afraid to look me in the eye? What are you playing at?” Okay maybe you did sound a little harsh but you didn’t believe in skipping around the topic.

“I just... noticed we were kind of... the same, y’know....” he grimaced. You left out a dry laugh. He knew nothing about you but he thought the two of you were the same? This definitely had to be some sort of ploy. He wanted something from you and sooner or later you’d find out what that something was.

But that later never came. He began to explain himself, explain how he was pretty bleak too and that he couldn’t help but notice that someone else seemed just as paused in life as he was. At first you thought he was just churning out bullshit but the more you sat and listened to him, the more you hung around him, you began to see the undeniable similarities between you two.

He would express the struggles he faced with his own existence as a Wolf, how he felt like he could never truly be himself, or even know what being himself actually meant because he was so busy trying to make people unafraid of him. It was like you had met your other half. He understood what had been gnawing at you from inside for years now because he was going through the exact same thing. And so the two of you became fast friends, nearly inseparable from one another.

You tried to deny it but you were slowly becoming more and more infatuated with the Grey Wolf every day. Legoshi was so kind and reserved at times but you found those traits all the more endearing. He showed such vast wisdom and maturity despite his own social awkwardness and you found yourself overwhelmingly comfortable in his presence. Comfortable and safe, his naturally huge physique and protective instincts which should give you every right to fear him actually proving to do just the opposite.

Speaking of Physique, you had to admit that Legoshi was undeniably attractive. Tall, beautiful coat, all lean muscle, a thick healthy tail you had found yourself drooling over near-constantly. He was any Canine’s kryptonite and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before now. Maybe it was just because you were so enamoured by his mind that your attraction to him physically was inevitable. Either way, you found yourself daydreaming about mounting him more times than you’d like to admit.

You thought that perhaps what you felt for Legoshi might be mutual until you found out he used to date a tiny Herbivore . And not just any Herbivore, a rabbit. The daintiest of them all. So he was just another sick psychopath with a fixation on innocence. You were heartbroken to say the least. What probably hurt the most was that you were no where near his type if Rabbits were his thing. You never stood a chance. But then again that wasn’t a surprise. You were nothing special prior to meeting Legoshi so why would yo expect anything to be different now.

That being said, it didn’t make you want Legoshi any less physically. You might not be his ideal mate but you knew there was still a part of him in there that had a desire for sexual release, a desire that Canine felt especially compelled to with other Canine, and you were going to capitalize off of that.

You found him in his usual spot in the art department after dark. He was always the last to leave.

“Y/N! Where’ve you been? H-have you been avoiding me?” He asked his tail tucked between his legs. You hadn’t seen him in about four days and giving the nearly inseparable friendship the two of you had over the past few months, it was out of character.

“I was,” you said bluntly. His ears lowered immediately.

“O-oh... did I do something wrong?”

“Yes,”

“... what was-”

“You fuck rabbits, Legoshi.” You saw his fur visibly stand on end and his eyes turn wide as saucers.

“Y/N I-”

“Look I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” you deadpanned, stepping forward, “I wanna have sex with you.”

“You WHAT?!”

“I’m attracted to you Legoshi. I might not be your type but I am small and I can make you feel good.” You didn’t wait for his response as you dropped to you knees in front of him.

“Y/N wait please,” he was tense all over but you were already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. Surprisingly, he went commando.

You pulled him out of his pants to see his knot was already beginning to swell at your touch and he was painfully hard. You licked your hand and began to stroke his impressive length. Guess it was true what they say, the thicker the tail, the thicker the-

“Y/N please just give me a second!” Legoshi asked cupping your face between both his large hands. You craned your neck up to meet his gaze but continued to pump his aching cock.

“Just relax, Legoshi. It’s okay if you have to pretend I’m a rabbit, I don’t really care. I know I’m not much to look at anyway,” you said, wrapping your mouth around his angry tip that was currently streaming out pre-cum. You moaned at the flavor as Legoshi shuddered above you.

“Y/N please stop, this can’t happen like this, okay.” He said slightly more forcefully as he pulled you off of him and began to tuck himself into his pants, his cock straining against the fabric defiantly creating an enormous bulge.

“Really? That unattracted to me, huh? Well, I guess it is what it is,” you said in your usually monotone voice while standing up and brushing off your skirt. You turned, about to make your exit when Legoshi grabbed your arm.

“Wait, Y/N, look I didn’t- it’s not that- I just-” Legoshi was flustered and looked as if he was ready to pass out at any moment.

“Spit it out, Wolf boy,” you said , trying to hide the fact that your feelings were pretty hurt.

“I just- I like you Y/N, really I do but-”

“You just don’t like me in that way. I heard you loud any clear. It’s whatever, Legoshi. Don’t stress it,” you said attempting to shrug out of his grip.

“Hold on, can we talk about this?!”

“There’s nothing to talk about, I wanted to have sex and you don’t.”

“I- I do w- of course I want to have sex with you, Y/N. I like you, a lot. You’re actually all I’ve been able to think about for a long time. But you’re so.... so.... indifferent towards even the slightest romantic implications, I didn’t think I had a shot in Hell...” he sighed.

“If you like me then why’d you stop me?” You asked evenly. You weren’t about to get your hopes up, that just wasn’t your style.

“Because I like you. If there’s even a chance you feel how I do then I wanna do this right. Ask you out properly, ask you to be my girlfriend, ask if I can kiss you, y’know the right steps before...”

“I suck your dick?” You offered, a small smirk playing at your lips. His still very much present hard-on twitched visibly at its mention.

“God, Y/N,” Legoshi groaned attempting to cover himself. You fought back the urge to giggle at his shyness despite the fact he was in your mouth less than two minutes ago.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I want to do it. Don’t you want me to?” You bit your lip in what you hoped was a seductive way.

“So fucking bad,” Legoshi groaned again unable to avert his eyes. You took this as an opportunity to step forward once more.

“Then why don’t we let this one slide, huh? And then we can do things your way?” You whispered palming him through his pants. He unconsciously began to grind lightly against your hand.

“Y/N, I’m in.... Male mode.... if we start, I might not be able to stop,” Legoshi voice was straining from trying to keep his own pleasure at bay. You dropped back down to your knees, once again pulling him out.

“Then don’t. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to ride you, Legoshi? Let’s allow this one free-pass then you can start all the courting processes you want,” you said before taking him into your mouth. Legoshi felt his eyes roll back into his head as he thrust softly into your warm, wet throat.

“W-Wait, one more thing” he moaned, once again taking away what was quickly becoming your new favorite treat.

You were about to protest when he kneeled down to your level, again cupping your face in both his hands in order to place the sweetest kiss imaginable on your lips. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment, before pulling away to see you with the dopiest grin on your face.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

#beastars #legoshi x reader #legoshi x you #beastars legoshi #beastars legoshi x reader

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years ago

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12, 14 and 18☺️

Thanks for asking <333

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

There's lots to be honest, but something I still can't believe I haven't written is a horse riding au. Like, that's half a lie bc I have a few thousand words written for a Simon/Baz horse rider au that I might never finish, but I'd really like to write one for Naruto. But I always decide not to because I don't know all the words and I hate googling stuff while I write. But one day! Surely!

14. If you were stuck on a desert island with only two characters, which would you pick?

Honestly? Kirk and Spock. They'd find a way to get us out of there. And if not, it would at least be cool to meet them.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

You really had to pick such a difficult question... I can never decide on any particular line/scene. So I opened up The sun within me and looked at the chapters and thought I'd pick something that could be interesting to comment on. And in this case, it's a bit about how Naruto, Sasuke, and Charasuke have changed and their different relationships with each other. So! Here's a bit of commentary for a scene in chapter 40 (under the cut bc it's fairly long lol):

[For clarification, this is right after Naruto and Sasuke come back home from Sasuke's mission where he fought Menma and Menma then disappeared. I'm skipping ahead to the part where they arrive at the orphanage and Charasuke is waiting in their room (Naruto's POV). My comments will be written in bold text.]

The clone’s memories dropped into his head like a puff of smoke, and he groaned out loud, making a face. Sasuke gave him a concerned look, but Naruto sighed and shook his head.

“Let’s go,” he said, feeling very reluctant as he grabbed Sasuke’s arm.

He supposed he could have teleported them somewhere else, but Charasuke had seemed prepared to wait until they returned. Maybe Sasuke could deal with him while Naruto sort of… drifted away and hid in the kitchen.

Naruto is acting very childishly in this scene, mostly because he's still wary of Charasuke, and also because he's just spent two days in Sasuke's company but pretending to be Menma, which means no cuddles/kisses or anything. He's kind of clingy, isn't he? Haha. And also, he doesn't really want to admit to himself that Menma disappearing for Charasuke is the parallel to his worst fear, that Sasuke will disappear.

“Where is he?” Charasuke demanded the second they arrived in the bedroom.

“Ah, Sasuke, maybe you can explain?” he suggested, inching towards the door, but Sasuke nailed him to the floor with a single glare.

“He could be anywhere,” Sasuke said, continuing to glare until he was sure that Naruto wouldn’t escape. “I didn’t manage to get a good look through the portal.”

“The portal?” Charasuke seemed to waver, arms wrapped around himself as he looked between them. “Tell me what happened.”

You can tell that Sasuke has really started to care about Charasuke here. He's not entirely open with him yet, but he recognizes a lot of himself in Charasuke and he puts himself in Menma's position, thinking about when he left the village and Naruto was left behind. He doesn't want Charasuke to hurt the way he knows Naruto was hurting back then.

While Sasuke described the mission, including what he called ‘Naruto’s dumb interference’, Naruto dug through his closet for the shirt he would make Sasuke wear. He was absolutely sure that Sasuke would argue about it – especially since he’d sent a clone to Akatsuki and not himself – but if he talked fast enough and relented that it would be enough if Sasuke slept in it for one night…

“He really is gone, then,” Charasuke said, his voice toneless. “I’ll never see him again.”

“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” Naruto said, contemplating the pros and cons of a t-shirt versus long sleeves. “Whoever grabbed him and hauled him off probably just wanted to keep him out of Sasuke’s reach. He gets awfully strong when he’s irritated.”

Naruto is definitely acting a bit heartless here, again, because he doesn't want to think about his own feelings or feel forced to recognize that Charasuke is a person Sasuke cares about, that he should also care about. I think he can get a bit closed off when there's too much going on in his own life, and that makes it hard to focus on other people, especially since he still wants to leave the other dimension and doesn't want to think about Sasuke caring about his family here - meaning Sasuke might want to stay.

When he turned back from the closet, he found Sasuke giving him a disappointed look.

“What?”

“You’re taking this lightly,” he said, glancing at the shirt in Naruto’s hand and apparently deciding to ignore it.

“Well, unless we figure out how to dimension-hop after him, I don’t think there’s a lot we can do.”

Now that he was back to being himself, all Naruto really wanted was to curl up in bed with Sasuke and not think about the outside world at all. Charasuke, on the other hand, seemed on the verge of tears.

“And what would you have done if I was the one who disappeared?” Sasuke asked, an icy note to the question.

“How would I know? It hasn’t happened yet.”

A bit of foreshadowing lol. Except Sasuke is the one left reacting when Naruto leaves, but Naruto really is trying to keep a tight grip in his emotions here and absolutely not think about the fact that Sasuke could have disappeared with Menma, and he wouldn't have known what happened to him.

“You could have let me follow after him and we’d know where he went.”

Naruto straightened up, face hardening.

“No, you might have known where he went, but the rest of us wouldn’t. Besides, he was trying to kill you. I went through too much trouble to keep you alive to just let you jump into some unknown enemy territory.”

As you can see, putting a lot of emphasis on Naruto's fear of losing Sasuke again.

Silent tears now streaming down his cheeks, Charasuke sat down on the bed and clenched his fists over his lap. It was obvious that he didn’t like what they were saying, but Naruto pushed his feelings of sympathy aside. Sasuke was his top priority, and that hadn’t changed simply because there was another one of him now.

“I told him I never want to see him again,” Charasuke sniffled, and it was really disturbing to watch someone with Sasuke’s face – well, a version of Sasuke, really – crying out in heartache.

Meanwhile poor Charasuke is having a background breakdown. To Naruto, it's hard to see a version of Sasuke like this. Charasuke is coming face to face with the realization that he's A: definitely not over Menma, B: he really handled things badly and never even stopped to think about why Menma was doing things.

“If he survives, you can apologize,” Naruto told him, trying to sound comforting. “Hell knows Sasuke said a lot worse stuff to me.”

To his great surprise, Sasuke went over to sit beside Charasuke, frowning as his hand twitched to reach out to him.

“This isn’t about you and me, Naruto,” he said, settling for an awkward hand on Charasuke’s shoulder. “And it could be our fault, anyway.”

“You know, Sasuke,” Naruto said as the initial shock wore off, “that sounds scarily like you’ve started caring about other people.”

Naruto and Sasuke having a small fight about Charasuke... Naruto knew Sasuke cared about Charasuke, but this is when he realizes that Charasuke is becoming a person that Sasuke wants to protect. And for Sasuke it's a small step towards opening his heart for more people than just Naruto. Sasuke is honestly mad at Naruto for taking things so lightly, for treating this other dimension as something that doesn't affect them. Besides, I really wanted Charasuke to be comforted by Sasuke haha.

Charasuke kept crying, and the look Sasuke directed at him clearly said what he thought of Naruto right then.

“Moron. I care about other people, just not anyone in our own dimension.”

Naruto knew that to be a lie, but decided not to say anything. Having Sasuke admitting to something like having feelings was a huge enough step on its own. Instead he sighed, grabbed something to sleep in, and headed for the door.

“I’ll just sleep on a couch,” he mumbled.

Does Sasuke care about anyone back in their own dimension? Maybe, but you wouldn't really see him act like this with canon Sakura, not before they left for the RTN dimension at least. It's a big thing that Sasuke is starting to voice his feelings out loud, and acknowledge them more. Naruto is feeling jealous actually, because he wanted to finally have Sasuke to himself, and also he feels guilty for being jealous, and also he's hoping that if he pouts enough Sasuke will comfort him instead of Charasuke lol. Not always the most mature person, but who is?

Coward, Kurama accused as he headed towards the living room, but Naruto was too tired to argue with him. Something about Charasuke always rubbed him wrong, and maybe it had to do with how he displayed his emotions openly and so obviously thought of himself as weak. If Sasuke wanted to handle it, fine. Naruto didn’t have the patience for people who sat around crying, and a small part of him didn’t like that he had such problems with caring about Menma, either. Menma had everything, a loving family, a Sasuke who cared about him, but he was still feared and treated differently. Even in this world people treated the bijuu as something dangerous, and he wondered how much of the whole story of them losing consciousness and turning into beasts was true, and how much was justification to treat them badly.

It's a bit of 'my problems are worse than yours so you shouldn't be so upset'. In the movie, we really got to see how much it hurt Naruto to see this other world where he had everything he wanted, and then acknowledge that it wasn't real. Even if he can recognize that the bijuu were still treated badly here, he can't quite make peace with the way Charasuke and Menma can't appreciate what they have. It makes it really hard for him to sympathize with them.

Am I supposed to feel touched? Kurama snorted as Naruto rearranged pillows into an acceptable bed on one couch. You didn’t care much for us either before you figured out the truth.

No, but everything was supposed to be the opposite here, right? Well, this part isn’t the opposite, it’s the same.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Naruto blinked his eyes open in front of Kurama’s open cage. There was water sloshing around his ankles, and everything was clouded in some sort of yellowish haze.

“Oh, come on,” he complained, but Kurama tsk’ed at him with his head supported by one giant paw.

“I hate to admit it, but you might be onto something, kid.”

“Uh-huh, well I don’t know about you but I want to sleep.”

Kurama reached out and poked him in the stomach with a sharp claw, eyes narrowing to slits. Even if they were friends, Naruto didn’t feel like testing the limits of that friendship with those claws so close to him.

“Sometimes you say things in such a stupid voice that I miss how important it might be. Now shut up and listen,” Kurama growled, three of his tails swishing angrily behind him. “This world is supposed to be opposite, right?”

“I don’t know, but everything seems opposite.”

“Let’s pretend we know it’s true. So, everything and everybody is the opposite more or less. But, the prejudice against the bijuu is still there. And we were told that it was only recently that they became unable to control. So, where does that leave us?”

Naruto pouted, not bothering to answer. Obviously Kurama already knew what he wanted to say.

“I think it means that anything that is the same, is something that somebody has tampered with.”

I was going to do more with this, but it was also a bit of 'what sort of theories would they have for what was really going on?' and this one is accurate in a way, because Hagoromo did tamper with the bijuu which in turn made them become feared and badly treated. So it's definitely hinting at there being someone behind the scenes manipulating the bijuu.

“Huh?”

Kurama rolled his eyes, sighing so deeply that Naruto felt the wind from it tear at his clothes.

“Think, boy! If this is a mirror-world or whatever, people shouldn’t be afraid of me and my siblings. But they are, and it only started a while ago. Obviously someone made us go crazy. And Menma has me inside him, but a crazy version of me, so wouldn’t it be logical that whoever did something to the me inside Menma, could also do something to Menma?”

He thought about it, hard enough that his head started hurting. Sasuke would probably know, but he was busy with Charasuke.

“I guess,” he said eventually, huffing a little. “But even if you’re right, it doesn’t help us figuring out who’s behind it all.”

“Does it matter?” Kurama scoffed, and then his lips spread in a terribly evil grin. “We’re going to kill them anyway, aren’t we?”

“This is why you have such a bad reputation,” Naruto sighed.

Kurama only laughed.

I really love Kurama... His and Naruto's weird friendship gives me life. His solutions to problems are always very straightforward heh.

Well, that's that :3

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cr-s01 · 3 years ago

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incoming uni lore rambles under the cut i realize after writing this out that this is very long and incomprehensible. somehow even more incomprehensible than usual lol

im still mad about hyde being written pretty out of character at some points in bbtag but at the same time it makes total sense from a uni lore standpoint with the whole exs influences your personality thing which actually makes it worse. i mean it could be an excuse for changes in writing over time but it's still really tragic. for characters like hilda and merkava (maybe kuon too) you really gotta wonder what their personalities were like before ...stuff happened

i mean theres so much inconsistency with like the actual world stuff of uni, like it's been stated multiple times that you cant like. die fr fr in the hollow night but other statements say you can. and its not even canon changing over time they basically alternate explanations. and also parts of inbirth-ness apparently carry over to the waking world? messed up being basically like. half of you isn't even "real", not alive nor dead. idk why it gives you cool powers but lets not focus on that though like if we were talking about someone whos lost their exs or void stuff or whatever bc they dont use it for roughly a decade (yes thats a thing that happens) still. you dont get your real, human existence back. youre just a vessel. who knows the lasting effects of exs either. presumably it has some mental and physical effects on your body (or i guess vessel) considering other contexts

man deep uni lore is screwed. in my heart i know merkava is just a silly dude and not a man cursed to share a body with a horrendous, bloodthirsty beast, being forced to see through its unblinking eyes as it, as he, preys upon innocent, lost, terrified people. maybe even people he once knew even if he doesnt recognize it. that's his entire life. sleep, maim, repeat. no break from it, only able to dread the next time this wild animal of a body gets peckish. can't even starve himself to death, and god knows if that'd even work in the first place

he just has nothing else to do, before the events of his chronicle mode he presumably hasnt spoken to anyone who hasnt wanted to slay him, seeing him as nothing more than the beast he appears to be. hasnt been given an ounce of kindness, he hasnt even been treated as a human, a man. hell if he knows if he's even human at all anymore. he can't even remember anything besides all the violence, maybe he's just a beast with delusions of a previous life

random bout of prose aside, deep uni lore is either something similar to "hyde's powers and everything are probably very related to voids and considering past foreshadowing. Oh No" or "merkava canonically uses timotei shampoo" and theres absolutely no in-between its so funny

speaking of void stuff and also the insulator. hey did you know that the insulator is basically just a normal blade but It Just Explodes with EXS or something. also the insulator is red and black bc raw EXS is red-ish usually? also hyde's favorite color is black :) (not entirely sure about these its been a while since ive transcribed and translated the information station stream this info is from)

either way this also implies that the colors of the rest of the cast's abilities are just their favorite colors which is an absolutely incredible piece of information

also hyde can summon the insulator from any surface on his body(? either his body or just like any surface idk again the devstream isnt clear lets just go with his body), not just his palms which is how he usually summons it. probably a good party trick (see below)

anyways yeah uni lore is wild. dont be like me and dont waste your sanity on stuff like this 👍

#[monologuing]#post that you realistically should not stare at i dont know how i wrote all this in like 5 minutes

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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Hauntober day 7 prompt Haunted FYI these hauntober drabbles are written straight on tunglr so ignore the grammar lol. I’m just doing them for fun.

Nalu drabble requested by @phoneboxfairy yeah this story just did what it wanted to 🤣

Lucy looks around her kitchen as she stood in the middle of it, unsure of how she’d ended up there. ‘What am I doing back home?’ The last thing she remembered was leaving for work that morning, frustrated for having over slept. If it wasn’t for Natsu pinching her, she probably wouldn’t have gotten up at all. Guess having a ghost for a roommate had its advantages.

When she’d bought the cozy house, the realtor had warned her that it had some quirks to it; aka haunted. Back then she didn’t really believe in ghosts or spirits, but now she did. It was weird at first, and he’d definitely done his best to scare her away. But eventually they’d grown accustomed to each other’s presence and even enjoyed it. She wasn’t lonely anymore and neither was he.

In fact, she rather enjoyed some of the moments they shared. Natsu could be a little handsy at times, loved to tease or tickle her, and she swore he was sleeping next to her in bed despite his denials. Okay, so maybe she didn’t mind the attention and purposely taunted him while she changed. It was the only action she was getting lately and who was he going to spill to? It’s not like a ghost could leak nude pictures of her on the internet like some real life creep.

It took a lot of effort for Natsu to ‘talk’ to her or touch things. He’d told her at certain times of the month it was easier to gather the energy necessary or if he was riled up, he was able to pull it off. Natsu told her he’d been stuck there for a ‘long time.’ How long he couldn’t say exactly, but before ‘those electronic thingys.’ When Lucy found out he couldn’t leave the property, she was sad for him. To be stuck somewhere all alone, but at least according to him it was a place he had loved in life.

She often tried to picture what he looked like based on his own descriptions. Natsu claimed to be taller by about a foot, green eyes, and when he died he was only 24 years old, 1 year older than Lucy was now. He sounded cute or maybe she just hoped he was since she was starting to like him. Crazy, yes, to develop feelings for a ghost but when you spend so much time with someone, is it really a crazy idea? They say people should fall for a personality and not looks, so well, guess this fit the bill. A long distance boyfriend just instead of another State he was in another dimension.

They talked about a lot of things, their lives, friends, family, hobbies, but the only thing he refused to talk about was how he died. Natsu said he didn’t know exactly what happened, only that they’d been ambushed and there was a loud explosion. It made her wonder if Natsu had been a soldier during the Civil War or maybe even the American Revolution. Regardless, the records for this area were sparse and she couldn’t find anything about a Natsu living there at any point in time.

‘What time is it?’ Maybe she’d only dreamt up going to work this morning. It is Monday, right?! Wow, had she drank too much at the party last night and now her brain is only half working? “Ugh, I should’a listened to...”

“Lucy?”

“Natsu?” She whips around at such a strong voice. He’s never come through so well before! It was almost as if, “how are you standing there?!” He was right in front of her. Not translucent but as if he was, “alive?!”

The half smile on his face withers away as he shakes his head ‘no,’ he wasn’t alive. But that would mean?! Lucy races to the back door and throws it open... tried to anyways. Her hand slips right through the door knob. “N-Natsu?!” Lucy turns around slowly to find him closer now.

“I’m sorry,” he pulls her into a hug, gently cradling her head. “I’m so sorry Lucy.”

“D-did I die?!” The tears trickle out into a full-blown sob. This was all too much take!

“I can only assume so.”

His voice was soft and full of empathy. Of course, he couldn’t know since he can’t leave either. Was it a car accident? ‘Oh, no maybe I’d been rushing and got into an accident!’ “Why can’t I remember?” Lucy cries harder.

“Sometimes vague stuff comes back or if you hear or see information about it.” He rests his head against hers, “but I got ya Lucy, I’ll help you get through this.”

At that moment, another presence makes itself known. Lucy raises her head up and sees her dog Plue standing in the doorway to the living room staring at them. “Plue?!” She pushes away from Natsu and drops before the animal, but it continues to stare forward as if it can’t see her. “H-he can’t see me, can he?” The words choke through sobs.

“No, but animals sense us.”

Her head hangs lower as her body collapses. “Oh, Plue...” but is again buffered by Natsu as he holds her close against his body. Her fingers grip tightly to his shirt as she buries her face into his chest.

“Shh,” he gently runs his fingers through her hair and rubs circles on her back. “You’ll be okay, Lucy, I’m here for you.”

As Natsu soothes a sobbing Lucy, they hear the front door open and a familiar voice yelling for Plue. The dog takes off running towards it, and Lucy scrambles to her feet as well. “It’s Levy.” When they reach the front of the house they see the woman clinging to Plue, tears streaming down her face. Levy was her best friend, and despite the pain of her circumstances, Lucy was glad to see she’d come for Plue, however was torn by the pain her friend was in. “It really sucks I can’t comfort her.”

Lucy watches quietly as Levy puts Plue’s leash on and after taking a few silent moments, leaves again. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

“Your friends a tough one, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right.” Lucy let’s out a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Natsu. I can’t even imagine how it was for you to be alone all these years.”

“It wasn’t... easy— I was angry for a long time, but hey,” he throws on a silly smile, “at least we’ll both have company from now on.”

“Pfft!” As poor in taste it was under the circumstances, his smile brought out one from her too. “So, now what do we do? Like, how does this all work?”

He chuckles, “well we don’t need to eat or sleep, but other than that we go on with our lives here. We can interact with each other as if were physical, it’s just the living we can’t touch, you know, like how I’d explained before.” Natsu shrugs. “Just takes getting used to.”

She steps closer, facing him, staring at his face, each second ticking by like a contest of who’ll blink first.

“Um, Lucy?”

She places her hands on the sides of his cheeks, her fingers almost testing the surface and exploring his features. Head tipping, studying, as his eyes look back widened and confused.

“Lucy, you’re being weird now.”

“You are handsome. I’d always wondered if you were.”

Heat flood his cheeks. “Um, thank you?”

“Since we’re stuck with each other, might as well make the most of it.”

“O—okay...”

Lucy giggles at his innocence and confusion. She pulls his face down and places a kiss on his lips. ‘Oooh, their soft!’ When she pulls away, Natsu still looks completely shocked. Guess it was understandable considering how long ago it must have been since he’s kissed a girl. She giggles again. “I’m really happy you’re here with me Natsu.”

“I mean, so am I Lucy, but what’s with the kiss?”

“Just checking...” her eyes flit lower for a second, “...which parts of your body still work.”

“What... par— oh, oh! That one still works, yes, why?”

“How do you know for sure?”

#hauntober #haunted prompt #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #ghost au #fairy tail #nalu drabble #nalu fan fic

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f-117-nighthawk · 3 years ago

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Playlist Update? From MY Brain? More Likely Than You Think

can't remember the last time I posted these all together but I just put a few new songs in. I've been playing Arknights bc STARSET songs keep being used in the trailers, and then I was listening to Transmissions while making dinner, and uhhhhh there's two new Transmissions songs on the playlists, plus whatever else the spotify links needed to update to my ever-changing apple versions.

This is just the main playlist, because this one is now 3h 40m, and the other three playlists are about an hour each. I’ll give them their own post tomorrow. Under the cut, because it's also Write Random Snippits and Include Important Lyrics time

Dark Matter

Surprise surprise, this one’s got probably the most work done on it. A lot of that is moving things around, a few deletions, and the additions.

DM now starts with Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds. Turn the Lights Out still kinda applies, but I stopped vibing with it starting everything, and wasn’t really sure where else it should go so it got dropped. It’s role is sort of picked up by a UtA song later? Anyway, the opening three are still very much about not only the birth of [REDACTED], but the birth of the universe itself. And that’s why it feels better to start out with YWWF. Because it is the start.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Remnants of Stars is a hook to Filaments at this point, but stays way up here because the thing it’s about connects back up to those three ^ and is something slowly realized by the Paladins throughout the series. There’s kinda three different points that they realize something new about this (at the moment, I Am the One, Cosmic Vertigo, and Centigrade).

(Shed all you know and make way for a galaxy of light/Answers found hidden inside the smallest stone/Bringing forth a new way of life/Open your heart to the sky)

Apocalypse 1992 hasn’t changed. Still about The Fall, still the turning point for the entire damn war. Still about poor Krolia. Still the Rogue One of DM. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

Apex is the final moments of Apocalypse 1992 from the Red Lion’s perspective, and connects nicely (just as in the albums lol) to the next UtA songs. Which we’ll get to in a bit.

(Brother mountain/Now we sleep/For a thousand years/I will see you again/Something is coming/Coming for me)

You Keep What You Kill covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won’t be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Glory and the Scum is partially here bc I missed having Delain, I’ll freely admit that. (Delain split up! Like six months ago! I’m still sad!) Here, it’s (most) of the reason why Krolia isn’t around until MGHM. Think Winter Soldier-ish. It’s also from Krolia’s perspective as she’s talking to Kolivan in a conversation I implied in Shatterpoint. Perhaps it shall see the light of day.

(Look at what we've done/Take a step back/Shake your head at what we have become/We're the glory and the scum)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Also the thing about the Pleiades has kinda become A Thing associated with my two favorite halfbloods.

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They’d fall to Earth to grant a child’s dream/But I’m still waiting)

Starlight is the Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I’ll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I’ll fall in love with you again)

Waking Dream and Abyss are Awakenings. They’re specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall (and, also, an accidental hook to the end of Filaments just by virtue of being on the same UtA album…)

(Centuries like flowing streams as years go rushing by/Waiting in the dark for afterlife)

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I’m surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It’s not in my mind/It’s here at my side/Go tell the world that I’m still alive)

Then there’s The End of the Beginning. Which is, well, the eponymous fic. And don’t forget the String Theory connection! Fun fact: part of the last chapter leads directly into part of String Theory at the moment.

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I’m caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

A Simple Plan is about anything but a simple plan. Lotor is making his secret bid for the construction of the Sinkline ships, but there’s one more thing he needs before it can come to fruition. Haggar has suspicions, and knows one thing that she needs to keep from both him and Voltron. Team Voltron is still struggling to fit into their new roles, especially with a Black Paladin who adamantly does not want to be Black Paladin, and is in desperate need of one thing to fix the last of the damage done during the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula.

(How long can we hold off ending?/How long can we pretend we’re ok?/No one goes on fighting it forever/I know I’m better this way)

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met. Such a short song for such an important fic. It skips all the way over Naxzela to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter. And more Pleiades stuff!

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can’t see your face but I’m trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven’t met yet who’s wished upon the Pleiades?)

There’s another fic in here that I’m still waiting for a song to catch my ear, but it’s pretty big so I’m putting it in here. For the moment, it’s called MGHM 2.0: Electric Paladinloo. Featuring the Whispers, Voltron, and a few mullets.

And then. Hoh boy. The beast of beats. TRIALS (reimagine), Dark On Me, String Theory, and I Am the One. We’ve got [REDACTED], we’ve got [spoiler], we’ve got the first major turning point in the entire war, and the first revelation of the true nature of [REDACTED]. Hence the honor of being the separation point of my two main DM folders. TRIALS is the first part, the horrifying realization. Dark On Me and String Theory itself are from Shiro’s perspective. I Am the One is… an image song? I guess? That’s all I’ll say on that. (I would like to note that the STARSET songs bar OWtT tend to be about the Shiroganes…)

(Hear me from the bottom/Forged in regret, I'm the silversmith/Doomsday, you we had it coming/Marching the streets with an iron fist/Obey no more in silence/The steel in our hearts will be monuments/Today, they'll hear the violence/We'll rise from the dark like Lazarus)

(You're the cause/The antidote/The sinking ship that I could not let go/You led my way, then disappeared/How could you just walk away and leave me here?/Light the night up, you're my dark star/And now you're falling away)

(You don’t believe in space/You don’t believe in light/You don’t believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We’re never going anywhere we’ve never been before)

(I am the one/I am the architect to rule your fate)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! It’s about family, never letting go of something you care about, and the slow act of trusting.

(So I’ll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we’re up in flames/I’d burn here if that’s what it takes/To let you know I won’t let go of you)

Belgrade is The klance song! It is a) a bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to me bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction. Belgrade also leads almost directly into…

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it’s time to move on/When there’s nothing left to prove/I’m coming to get you)

Iron is the third Closure fic (the second is End of the Beginning, forgot to mention that. They’ve slowly moved away from actually being related to it in anything but name and general idea). It’s about Keith coming to terms with parts of himself, and learning how to use them to great effect. Also has a huge info dump about the Blade.

(You can’t live without the fire/It’s the heat that makes you strong/‘Cause you’re born to live/And fight it all the way/You can’t hide what lies inside you/It’s the only thing you know/You’re embracing that, never walk away)

The second major turning point in the war is Monarch, Birthright, and Firewall. I really recommend reading the whole lyrics for Monarch, because the entire thing is very much a Lotor song. I had a bit of trouble picking a lyric to use here. Monarch is here because Lotor is also the ‘singer’ of Birthright, and both songs are to a very specific high-level target of the Coalition. Firewall is a little different as it’s a Team Voltron song not a Lotor song, but happens because of the same thing the other two do. They’re all not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it, and then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(I am not the person you remember from before/The one you patronized and stepped on, the one you hurt/And I have pulled the arrows, now my skin has become stone/No longer am I prisoner to your empty fucking words)

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can’t take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Supersonic is here… kinda as a placeholder? Things have shifted around since its original purpose, and frankly it’s here still as a framework for what I like to call The Meme Battle. It’s generally about the increase in Coalition support and general winning as they go after warlords in the aftermath of Feyiv, culminating in I Need a Hero which is, of course, The Meme Battle.

Yes, it’s the Shrek version. It’s the Meme Battle.

(Supersonic, polyphonic, this is our war/Mustering the armies, marching faster than before)

(I need a hero/I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast/And he's gotta be fresh from the fight)

But Tonight We Dance isn’t exactly a klance song, but it’s here for them. On a diplomatic mission gone wrong, the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron uncover a literally-buried government conspiracy, a rebel cell, and nearly die. A normal days work for the two of them. But they’ve really gotta stop having relationship milestones in the middle of a warzone.

Another reason it’s here is Tonight We Dance is a very aro song to me. “A language universal, but I speak not its tongue” hits hard. I felt like I needed a bit in here to remind listeners/readers that romance isn’t a language Keith speaks. And it becomes very explicit in this fic, just like Belgrade.

(Tomorrow we might wake in servitude and silence/I will give you everything if only you would have me/Tomorrow we will sweat and toil/Our hands will quiver, caked with soil/Tomorrow we'll give it one last chance/But tonight we dance/But tonight we dance!)

But Tonight We Dance is the last of the Closure fics, which is why it’s here. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Then we step back into the universe-level action with Soulbound. Revelations from String Theory and Firewall swing back in with a vengeance on a joint Whispers-Voltron mission, leaving them reeling and Krolia questioning her very identity.

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don’t drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

About three months after that is My Darkest Hour and Faster Than Light. Haggar realizes something and goes searching for her fifth [spoiler], sending the Blade and the rest of the Coalition scrambling. These also lead directly, and I mean directly, into…

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

(Once more we’re flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can’t outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It’s plain to see she’s coming for us all)

Cosmic Vertigo and Other Worlds Than These. Together they are the second of two revelations in what, exactly, is [REDACTED]

(Banish me like burned down planets/Write my fate with sparkling lies/I am the universe; you're just one sky)

(Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won’t shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is Team Voltron, well, hunting for gods, even as one of them disappears.

(She’s been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter’s coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she’s slain the gods before)

Trophy Hunter, Ember, and Redemption are the culmination of Godhunter. I’ve been thinking of them as akin to the suicide mission in Mass Effect 2, if that gives you an idea of what the hell they run into. Also I switched which specific Redemption is on the playlist, because I was listening to Red Handed Denial again and their Redemption was vibing way more than the Hammerfall one. They link up to Godhunter and Soulbound in subject matter, and lead directly into…

(You, you won’t escape me, I’ll rise from the deep/In this final moment, no words left to say/I can’t let you be when a life fades away/You, you won’t escape me ‘cause I’ll set you free)

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Remember me not for the mess I’ve made/But who I could have been/Finally I’m going home)

World On Fire, This is a Call, The Reckoning, The Wind That Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words. Switched the order up a bit so it makes more sense chronologically, because the message ‘sent by forces beyond salvation’ has to get there before the reckoning can begin.

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We’ll see the day of reckoning)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #dm playlists #guess who spent two hours on this! again!#as usual!#long post #i'm teaching in the morning and it's one am #oops

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