#but it's so hard to talk about the uglier bits when the reactions are so vicious

[liveontelevision]

Hallo!!! I’d just like to say to start I ADORE your work! Especially with Lucifer, the way you depict him is SO refreshing you have no idea.. your work practically canon in my eyes I love it!!! You’re super awesome.

I did also notice that in your Lucifer works you talked about his more ‘unappealing’ traits, so-to-speak. Like his temper, his possessiveness, and especially his paranoia and panic.

I suffer with a paranoia disorder and some ptsd of my own, and it was really nice to have those traits made known, but not have them severely criticized, y’know?

I understand and agree that Lucifer would need a patient partner when it comes to these things, someone to stick around and be reassuring through it all; And while they can get frustrated, not criticize or even leave him for it; something I theorize may have been a reason for Lilith’s own departure.

But what if the reason for the reader’s patience is because of their own panic issues? Or their own temper?

Now to be fair, not sure how i’d exactly want it to go. It could be them comforting him when he panics, or Lucifer when they panic, or just a simple heart-to-heart about their combined struggle and the resilience that is forged because of that…

Like while their breath quickens, hands clutching into their thighs as their brain practically screams at them to calm down through all the mind-numbing internal noise; boiling tears stream down their face as they shiver within the darkness of an empty corridor. Perhaps Lucifer steps around, bearing witness to their storming off, getting a glimpse of the uglier side of their lover. The strange, uncomfortable, terrified side of them. But that isn’t what he sees, not at all. His gaze softens as he stares into their tear-blinded irises and carefully sits in front of them. He sees a person. A real, true human being.

(hahaaa got a bit too silly sorry xP)

All I know is that I think Lucifer, while also being equally concerned, would appreciate having someone who could understand what he’s going through; Well, as close as a sinner could get to understanding it, at least.

But what do you think? Would he act any different? I’d love to know ^^ ❤️

Thank you so much for getting into these details! After reading this I realized how much I connected my own mental struggles to what I write. So just seeing that you're about to relate to it as well made me feel really good :)

This was honestly a little hard for me, trying to get into this mindset. Even though it's not super motivated by Lucifer's character, I kinda needed to write this for myself honestly :') but still, I hope you enjoy this!

---

Comfort

CW: Descriptions of depression and panic attacks, flulff, angst

You were head of heels for Lucifer. And you’d do anything for him, that goes without saying, even if you do enjoy seeing his reaction to your devotion. You knew Lucifer as the king of Hell before anything else, so your first impression of him was obviously different from the Lucifer you know and love today. He was always portrayed in media as some suave, flirtatious, powerful being. No one dared talk negatively about him, his true authority being misinterpreted as pure malicious intent. But that didn’t stop the media from tearing Charlie apart. Why didn’t he defend his daughter then? In summary, Lucifer was known for two things; incredible power and little consideration for the actual ongoings of Hell, even with whatever his daughter was involved with. At first. His saving the hotel, defending Hell on extermination day, and encouraging his daughter, was the side of him that only a handful of trusted people could experience firsthand.

Luckily, you got to be one of those people. It’s easy to take his goofy exposure and temper and make it appear that he is an aloof king. But no one can handle being a hermit for centuries without having a different view on life. And being an outcast from his original realm? Being abandoned by his brothers? Even the most powerful demon couldn't experience that without it taking a mental toll. That was obvious. Comforting Lucifer would never be an easy task, even for someone who’s experienced exactly what he has. And who knows exactly how close Lillith was to him? Was she able to see him in this state? Was it another factor of himself that he chose to bury in fear of rejection and abandonment? It was a pitiful thought, but definitely not an impossible one.

Whether or not you truly understood Lucifer's past, you wanted to be there for him. It felt good to comfort such a powerful being, being an anchor for someone who has an absurd amount of baggage. But it’s not like you always knew what you were doing. You weren’t this perfectly healthy person who knew what to say all the time. When you first got together, you had your doubts about even having feelings for him. He was an icon, a celebrity, royalty. It was great he confided in you, but was his status clouding your judgment? Were you only enjoying the dominance you had over his emotional state because of who he was? Was your admiration misconstrued as love? It took a while for you to get over this mindset. The longer you were together, the less it became you constantly praising and fawning over him, the more it became being in love with your best friend.

You didn’t really bother to bring any of this up to him, the idea made you cringe. Would bringing up your doubts about the relationship only transfer those feelings to him as well? The moment passed, so there’s no need to get him worked up over nothing.

That’s a great example of how your mind works. You assumed that all these spiraling questions, that brought you to the brink of tears, just went away. That, because you realized how much you loved him and how much he loved you, that meant that you never needed to express these thoughts. Nothing could be done about it, those feelings were in the past. Why bring it up now?

There was also the question of how much you gave into the relationship. You gave Lucifer your all, gave him your heart and body, and yet you don’t feel comfortable enough to share your own suffering? You could've blamed Lucifer if you wanted. He should be supporting you the same way you support him. Or you could blame yourself. Obviously, if you wanted support you should feel comfortable asking for it. But why do you have to ask? Lucifer never asked for it. Why don’t you feel comfortable sharing your feelings? Your own trauma? What’s wrong with you?

That ended up being your downfall. Nothing ever just goes away. How could you constantly comfort Lucifer and push him to let out what he needs to, yet refuse to express anything that truly upset you? Demons are essentially immortal, these feelings couldn't be bottled up forever. But they can be bottled up until you break.

Lucifer had an especially rough day, he was looking forward to finding his sweetheart and venting about how shitty his meetings went and how Alastor pissed him off, along with some other daily struggles. That’s all it was; a daily vent session that helped him decompress. What he wasn’t realizing was how much that affected you. It wasn’t really his fault, or he wasn't doing it on purpose at least. You weren’t really the type to share your own struggles, you mentioned that to him once or twice. You felt that crying and letting it all out, venting about struggles that simply don’t need to be discussed, none of that really helped you when you were struggling. But today, you were struggling. 

“Ugh! That tacky son of a bitch made fun of my suit today, can you believe it? Like - I mean - C’mon! We basically wear the same things but in different colors, I don’t know what he’s on about. Oh, and I had to go to the Embassy today. Luckily I didn’t need to meet with anyone but I - “ As Lucifer started his long-winded complaints, he stripped himself of his boots, hat, and jacket, then approached you. You were lying in bed, which wouldn't exactly be strange if it were early in the morning or late at night, but it was nearly dinner time. You were wearing your usual pajamas and had been scrolling through your phone for who knows how long. Did you have anything to do today? You didn’t have time to think about that.

Lucifer placed a quick kiss on your forehead, then between words, one on each cheek, then a final, slightly lingering, kiss on your lips. He finally plopped down and laid perpendicular to your lounging body, laying his head in your lap and looking into the ceiling as he went on. You set your phone aside, that had been plugged in and turned on since late last night, leaving it hot to the touch in your hand. You had become numb to it at this point.

None of this seemed to really come off as an issue to you. Who doesn't have a day or two where they can't get out of bed? You were sure you’d be ready to get back to work the next day, so it’s not a problem. Plus, Lucifer was here! You could get some quality time in with him and convince yourself that you weren't wasting a whole day. He went on and on. Talking about the Embassy got him on the topic of Heaven, which led to him sharing a story of how his brothers weren’t supportive of a specific invention he was sharing. “It was really something, you know. If I could've just been accepted by them, if they supported me.. like you do! maybe things could've been different. Maybe - “ Plop. Lucifer flinched at the sudden drop of water that hit his cheek. He wiped it away before finally discovering its source.

You were crying. It was silent, and you were holding your breath to prevent it from turning you into a heaving, sobbing, mess. Lucifer was quick to sit up, seating himself on his knees as he tried to question your disposition. He was finally noticing your overall situation. You are in the same spot that he left you in this morning, wearing the same pajamas, scrolling through the same phone that never left the nightstand. He started to feel ashamed that he didn’t notice any of this sooner. You had shifted your gaze downwards, picking at your clawed fingers like you would your skin when you were alive. This is embarrassing. You don’t want him to see you this way, you look like a mess. You tried your best to keep tears from coming from your eyes, but the fact that Lucifer was sitting near you in absolute silence somehow made it worse. You hitched your breath, trying to control your emotions in any way, then let out a shaky exhale that made your body shrink.

The moment seemed to go on forever. It felt like his eyes were burning into you. You had to do something. Anything. “I’m okay! I’m okay, Luci. Sorry, J-Just a rough day. But it's over now! We can just relax now. Promise.” You quickly said, your voice raspy due to it being the first words you had spoken today. You shifted yourself over, pulling the blanket aside and patting the spot next to you. Lucifer didn’t know how to respond. He’s seen you like this before, everyone has rough days. And why would you lie to him? You could go to him for anything. You knew that, right? He reluctantly moved into the bed, holding his arm out to allow you to snuggle into his side, finally resting your head on the center of his chest. Your eyes looked vacantly towards the other side of the room, as your finger mindlessly traced the seems on the side of his shirt. A monotonous task that kept your mind on anything other than how you were feeling. Today was just one of those days where every little problem you’d encounter was tipping you over the edge, sending you into a spiraling mess.

He knew something was wrong. He didn’t push you away, you clearly needed the contact, but the warm spot that you created from staying in bed all day was apparent when he went in to hold you. Sure, he’s seen you like this before. But this was different. “Darling..? Erm.. Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to - I should’ve.. How was your day, love? Wanna.. talk about it?” He always struggled with words. It’d take him a while, but he’d always manage to get what he intended when he spoke. “Oh, um.. It was good.. My day was good. Didn’t do much, but that’s okay. Just a relaxation day I suppose.” Ah, relaxation. You’ve used that word before. He always wondered; How come relaxation never meant going to a spa or doing something legitimately soothing? Was laying in bed all day really what you considered relaxing?

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. Go on, you were talking about your brothers? What were you - “ Your diversion was immediately noticed. Before you could even finish your question, Lucifer had taken your chin and angled your head upward to look at him. It was a struggle for you to meet his eyes. You gulped, and no matter how much you wanted to pull away from his grasp, you didn’t. Tears were welling in your eyes the whole time, and even though your breath had calmed, you still seemed winded. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Please. Let me help.” It seemed like everything just fell into place. Lucifer finally picked up on things you never realized came from your insecurities and paranoia. And he wanted to fix it, not stop it, actually fix it. You hated how the idea of it surprised you. It shouldn't, of course, he’d do this for you.

“ I-I promise it’s nothing.. I’ve just been feeling off today, I just want to be close to you. That always helps.” You smiled up at him. No matter how forced, he returned your smile. “Well.. Do you think.. Talking would help?” You tensed up as he spoke, an obvious sensation to Lucifer since you laid suddenly uncomfortably on his chest. “Hun, you know that stuff really isn’t for me… I don’t benefit from that, I think. So don’t worry. Just - be here. For me? Can you do that?” You began to sound agitated. It wasn’t an aggressive plea, more like a plea for this conversation to be over. He wasn’t a huge fan of how you spoke, it came off as a sort of insult to him. Did you not think he could help you in the same way you did for him? He could try. He wanted to try.

He planted a small kiss on your forehead, then traced his hand up and down your back, feeling your tension melt as he did so. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head and picked up your hand in his. He traced your palm, running along the wrinkles and folds of your skin, then lightly grazed his claw up the length of each of your fingers. He sent a starfish motion across the entirety of your hand before finally interlacing your fingers. You stared at his movements the whole time, watching only for a moment before your eyes glazed over, leaving you in a sort of mindless state. He squeezed your hand after giving it attention, which brought you back to reality. Your eyes had continued to drip, leaving a few small specks of wetness on the part of his shirt that sat below your face. With the newfound grip he had on your hand, he pulled your still clasped hands up to his face, rubbing his cheek on the back of your hand before pressing gentle kisses across your knuckles. His eyes looked at you, half-lidded, with your hands still held to his lips.

Well, you weren't lying when you said being around him helped. Just the sight of him caring for you in this way, calmed your mood. You managed to accept that your actions today wernt like you. That something had taken over in your mind to keep you weighed down in your shared bed. “Thank you.” It barely came out as a whisper when you said it, bringing your clasped hands to your own lips and pressing a kiss on his own knuckles in response. “Of course, love. Anything for you. I mean it.” These actions weren't exactly new to the two of you, these were methods you occasionally used to help Lucifer fall asleep, or calm him down after a rough day. But he was using it on you. He had learned how to take care of you, by watching what you do. Noticing how you act on a daily basis and how that contrasts from the version of you he’s seeing right now. It was a subconscious transaction that you two had. But when you did notice it happening, you could hardly contain the mixed emotions you felt. Embarrassment, Pride, Love.. 

“ I mean it.” He repeated, snapping you from whatever state of mind you caught yourself in, “You know that, don’t you? You know I can help you, right? ” Now, this was new. He’s never questioned you like this. For some reason, it became difficult to respond. To admit that you knew he had your best interest in mind. “Tell me.” He wasn’t demanding, he seemed genuinely concerned as he spoke. Your cheeks flushed, feeling some sort of embarrassment. “Y-Yeah, I know.” You were quiet, still.

Lucifer didn’t seem completely convinced. “I’m sure you do. But can’t you just.. I want to know what goes on in your head.. If that makes sense. I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking this - No, I want you to try and talk to me. Just try?” You almost scoffed, trying to play it off as some kind of joke. “It’s not important, I’m feeling better now, that’s what’s important.” 

That’s when he became agitated. He gently sat up, lifting you up with him. “No! It still matters. Tell me how you feel. Or - how you felt, I don’t know..! Talk to me. Please.” He had a tight grasp on your arms, almost shaking you as he spoke. You tried to calm down, you really did, but you felt forced into talking. Not in a negative manner, just in the way that your instinct to isolate yourself in this state was being challenged. You were physically reacting, tensing under his touch and lowering your eyes to the point he couldn't see them. You rubbed your hands against your thighs, trying to figure out what to say. It seemed like it took too long for you to respond. When you did it came out in the form of broken sobs, your hands moved from your thighs to your cheeks, running your forearm across your face to wipe tears. You broke.

You finally open up about your day. About how today, you felt like you didn't have any reason to get out of bed, how it felt okay to just rot there. You tried your best to describe what makes you this way, but you really weren't all that sure yourself. And despite how much Lucifer struggles with his own words, you were almost silent when it came to describing how you felt. He would nod his head and keep a calm composure, just like you do for him. It took everything in him to just hold you as tight as he could, to repeat I'm so sorry and it'll be okay and I love you so much. But that's not what you'd do at this moment, and he realized how much he'd hate that for himself. It’d feel disingenuous. You loved physical affections, even the slightest intimate moments were improved by a simple hand-holding, or just sitting close to Lucifer. And right now, you felt ashamed for wanting to push him away. But you didn't.

He cooed you, and pulled you in close, his arms engulfing your curled up body. He continued to rub your back, just like you’d do for him, and would ask if you needed anything multiple times, even if you politely rejected each time. Just to be safe. You let out a gross mixture of sobs and apologies, and possibly some things that you’d regret saying later, but the dam was broken at this point. After you had calmed down, he loosened his grasp to let you sit up, your body stiff from holding it in that position for so long. He was quick to create some tissues out of thin air and hand them to you, catching sight of your reddened eyes and nose, but he also made it a point to not stare at you. He’d turn his gaze to the floor, or to your hands, or he’d rest his head on top of yours. “So..? How are you doing?” He almost sounded nervous when he asked as if he might have messed up at some point. “I feel disgusting.” You said bluntly, your voice nasally due to your nose being so stuffed up. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I told you this stuff doesn't work for me, I feel awful still.” A bittersweet smile hit his face, but you were still making it a point to keep your eyes away. “I know, love. But, I’m glad you did it. I’m.. well, I’m glad you’re talking to me - I know it was hard.. So.. thank you, I suppose. You did good.” His words were choppy as if he was still figuring out what he wanted to say. He said what he needed to though.

You let out an absolutely exhausted sigh and leaned back into his chest, bringing both of you back down onto the bed. After a bit more backrubbing and hums of affection, you finally lift your head to look up at him. He was absolutely glowing. The smile on his face brought you butterflies that you didn't realize could resurface after being with someone for so long. “You did so well~” He said in a low tone, keeping his eyes locked on yours, and keeping your head turned upwards by gently holding your chin. “W-Well, don’t say it like that.. Perv..” You let your suddenly dirtied mind blurt out a nervous response. “Hey, that one’s on you. I would never proposition a damsel in distress.” He tapped your nose, speaking in a theatrical voice, before meeting your lips in a much-needed kiss. “Love you.” You muttered into his lips, only to feel his smile form in response. His eyes weld with affection for you when he pulled away. “I love you.”

Even if you felt awful after your little outburst, the reality of laying in bed all day finally hit you with a burst of adrenaline. You weren’t able to sleep after that and Lucifer had no complaints about that. The rest of the night was spent doing silly little things, Lucifer demanded you do your nightly routine, insisting it would help your mood. He provided snacks, started a movie that you mentioned you wanted to see a while ago, and sat behind you as he either brushed your hair or spent the time to give you a thorough massage.

You were so proud of him. You always struggled alone when this kind of thing happened. And, although a little awkward, he was exactly what you needed him to be at that moment.

---

OMG LOOK AT MY LITTLE TAG LIST ILY GUYS:

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood )

[bucketspammer4life]

You cannot defeat the pasta

Hcs on Pizza Pasta being a good but unhinged uncle to Mac and revealing that he didn’t die and the boxers are simply

why must you torture me 💔💔💔 eughhhhfuheheı where is the pasta exterminators

hcs below

Boxers reactions to pizza pasta being alive and related to Mac™

uh oh

glass joe

- kinda knew he was still alive, still shocked

- him being related to Mac on the other hand?? Refuses to believe it

- pissed off at pizza pasta for not making it clear hes alive sooner

von kaiser

- doesnt give a shit, Why should he care about some italian man with a dumb name??

- looked at pizza pasta and Mac together and saw the resemblance a bit

- He was the one who started the "pizza pasta got memory loss and is living in belgium" joke

- He wins the idgaf war anyday

Disco Kid

- Just happy to see Mac happy to have his uncle back

- doesnt see the resemblance but still ok

- thinks he shouldve stayed as a real estate agent but not telling that directly to his face

- finds him strange

king hippo

- also couldnt care enough

- doesnt see the resemblance but doesnt care enough to say anything about it

- likes making fun of his nam

- dissapointed in him for just dissapearing one day

piston hondo

- jawdrop.

- in denial & confused

- "they dont.. they dont look like each other.."

- "hes his uncle not his dad"

- doesnt really know what to think

bear hugger

- happy for them

- "damn you found your uncle? good for you"

- doesnt see the resemblance but not willing to say it to their face since he thinks its rude

- a bit shocked but mainly happy

great tiger

- He already knew, pizza contacted him first and told him the news

- Just watching this all unfold

- thinks its hilarious to watch everyone just go nuts

- doesnt see the resemblance like most

don flamenco

- He heard it from Tiger since hes always up to date on the gossip

- digging into official paperwork to see if they are related or its more of a found family kind of thing

- the only thing amusing to him is everyones reactions, he couldnt care less

Aran Ryan

- finds it funny how Mac is related to the funny dinner name man

- "so yer italian, huh?"

- "yeah??"

- "HAHAHA!!-"

- making fun of pizza pasta enough to almost bully him back into going back to being a lawyer

Soda Popinski

- suprised, but not that much since word spread arounds,specifically from a matador who likes to go through legal paperwork for juicy secrets and chugs cocktails like theres no tomorrow

- thinks its funny how Mac is related to the funny italian man

- finds it nice how he was able to find Mac back

Bald Bull

- oh no hes pissed off... He has beef with pizza pasta over some stuff i cannot disclose or he will punch me to the stratosphere

- thinks pizza pasta looks uglier than Mac, says it to his face

- thinks that he "shouldve stayed dead" and also says that to his face

- calling pizza pasta a coward for not taking the heat and just dissapearing

Super Macho Man

- also knew it early, specifically from a magician who flies around a lot

- in denial but also accepting?

- wished pasta came back "looking less ugly"

- shit talking pizza pasta with bull, the girls are fightinggg

Mr Sandman

- since he was tried with him, hes a bit pissed off but happy he has a worthy opponent back again

- doesnt really care about the family reunion thing but still happy for Mac

- wants to hurt back into boxing with him

now...

Pizza Pasta as an uncle for Mac™

- pizza pasta decked Bull in the face so hard he had to go the ER after he told Mac that pizza pasta is "some wishy-washy coward who cant handle being confronted" after that pizza pasta tried to make up for him but ended up making things worse

- Mac sometimes convinces pizza pasta to get him icecream after training with doc by doing puppy eyes, it works every time

- pizza pasta chats a lot with Mac so he can learn about his interests

- Mac sometimes rambles about his hyperfixations to him when bored and he just takes notes in his mind

- pizza pasta fights anyone shit talking Mac since he feels bad about not being there for him earlier

[beetles-and-rock]

Hello!! Could you write a domestic-y Beej x fem angel! Reader? It can be anything you want but it has to be super fluffy and maybe one of the others (Deetz’, Maitlands, Lydia) catches them in the cute act?? Pls dm me if you want more info!! This’ll be inspo for my Beej/oc self insert 💖💖💖

Technically you asked for this ages ago, and I'm so sorry it took this long, but I finally have it for you. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but it's sort of where the characters took me. I hope you don't mind about the name Saraphina either. I imagine you could always swap it for your OC's name, but since it was a shortened female name for Seraphim I decided to go with that.

The Two Gaurdians

When he first saw her, he wasn't sure how to feel. He figured she must have been a pretty lousy guardian to have let Lydia sink so far into depression before. Then again, he wasn't really sure what the rules were as far as how much guardian angels were allowed to interfere. One thing was for sure though, the time she saw fit to finally interfer was a weird one.

Beetlejuice had moved back in with the Maitlands and the Deetzes, and had been there for several months. Everything was going fine, until Lydia slipped on the roof. Beej was sure he had a firmer grasp on her, but she seemed to to slip through his fingers. Time froze in that moment. The look of terror on her face being enough to snap him out of shock and quickly engage his magic to catch her. Just as he was about to do so though, a large pair of brilliant wings blocked his view. The radiance of the wings alone were enough to cause him to stumble backwards against the roof.

Then the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen turned towards him, holding Lydia in her arms. After a few moments of being completely mezmerized by this being, the realization of what he was looking at hit hard. He quickly became overwhelmed with fear, certain that moment would be his end. There was no way a gaurdian Angel was going to continue to let him exist near her breather. He panicked and shouted the first thing to come to his mind.

"It was an accident!" He whimpered.

The Angel glared at him, causing him to shake. She spoke one word, and one word was all it took for him to listen.

"Go!"

He scampered off the roof, tail between his legs.

Of course it was Lydia that properly introduced the two. Since she was unwilling to part with Beetlejuice, the Angel reluctantly agreed to co-exist with him. Saraphina was her name, and despite her initial reaction toward the demon, he found that she was recently becoming more lenient on following the rules.

The two had very civil conversations regarding Lydia and her safety. Then the talks began to deviate into friendlier topics. In fact, after they came to understanding that they were more or less on the same side, Beetlejuice and Saraphina got a long very well. Lydia confided in them often, and the three spent a lot of time together. Which was why he was confused and bothered that she was acting so shy around him now.

She tended to look away when ever he looked at her. She seemed to make sure she was keeping her distance. Perhaps the worst example was when she jumped away from him with a small scream in response to him offering a hug. That one hurt. He didn't understand, had he been getting uglier lately? Was his decay worsening? Did he smell worse?

These thoughts danced around his head as bit into his bar of chocolate watching her clean the living room. A peice broke away from the bar and fell to the ground. The sound was so soft, but Saraphina heard and came to pick it up. Beej jumped up.

"It's okay! I got it!" He announced, scrambling to pick up the chocolate. The two ended up hitting each other's heads and falling to the ground.

"O-ow. . ." Beej rubbed his head and look up to see her holding her hand out to touch it. Surprised by this, he leaned forward letting her press her hand to his scalp. In less than a second, the pain went away.

Beetlejuice's eyes widened with realization, and he blushed.

"Th-thanks."

The angel looked down at the floor. "It's no problem."

The awkward air was heavy, but being one who didn't care much how he was perceived for sudden actions, he decided to confront her.

"So, you've been acting a little weird lately."

Saraphina looked up in shock.

"I . . . Yes. I'm sorry about that."

"Well, what is it? Have I grown a second nose or something?"

She giggled. A soft smile remained on her face as she ran her hands down a lock of her hair.

"I guess I've just been worried about getting too close to you."

"Heh, you and Adam both."

"You probably wouldn't have that problem if you didn't torment him so much." She snickered.

"You call it torment, I call it persistance in order to reach a goal.

"Ever the charmer, Lawrence."

He scratched the back of his neck. Usually he'd threaten anyone that called him by his first name, but she said it so sweetly, it was almost comforting.

"Hey, um. . . you need any help cleaning up?"

"You cleaning?" She repeated surprised. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well then you better believe it." He picked up the peice of chocolate that had fallen to the floor, and threw it away. He then turned to her and helped her up.

"Well, well! You are making improvements. Consider me impressed!" She teased.

"Ugh! Get a room you two!"

The angel and the demon turned there heads to see Lydia at the bottom of the stairs. It was only then that they realized they were still holding each other's hands.

"W-wait! Uh! This isn't-" Beej stammered.

"We can't um. . . There are rules against-" Saraphina tried.

"Don't get me wrong she's gorgeous, but I was just helping her up!" The demon finally stated.

Lydia leaned on the railing looking between the two, then stood up, expressionless.

"Sure. . . Just do me a favor and don't distract eachother if another roof incident happens."

[illyaana]

4 to 10 - Sugawara Koushi

credits to @kvsagi for the Suga art!

Tags: Timeskip! Sick Suga x Doctor! Reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Angst

Synopsis: Suga has been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis ever since he was 18, a few days after he graduated from high school. He works as an author in the hospital room he currently lives in. When he was 26, you entered the hospital as an official resident doctor and you were assigned to him.

In the beginning, it was just wheezing. After serving a ball to the ace, Suga just needed a few minutes to breathe air back into his system - nothing else.

It slowly became long nights of consistent coughing. It was just a dust allergy - nothing more. Almost all his family members had it - his allergic reactions were just stronger.

It became shorter hours of practice and any forms of exercise. His lungs were just weaker than the rest of the team's. It didn't mean that he was not as skilled as them - he just had to work more efficiently - more success, less time.

Then came the first lung infection.

Then the next.

Then the next.

Then the next.

It was no longer something he could just write off anymore.

Then came the tests; one sweat test and one genetic test.

The next time people saw him, he carried a bag connected to a tube that was in his nose.

He could still live his life normally - he just needed regular checkups. The only thing he needed to do was keep his distance, keep clean and not mess up.

That's all he needed to do, right?

The attacks got worse and worse.

His lungs became so fragile the slightest amount of dust or germ could kill him.

If he wanted to live, he needed to live in the hospital.

Until his clock stopped working, he needed to stay in the white walls of the Hospital of Tokyo forever - and that is what he did.

For the next 8 years of his life, he stayed in the hospital as a 'permanent resident' and lived peacefully.

His life consisted of college online, eating, studying, cleaning his lungs, talking with the other 'permanent residents' or just 'guests', playing with kids in the pediatric ward and sleep.

That was his life - and he didn't hate it.

He soon graduated from college and university and became an author - a well-known one, may I add.

He still talked to his friends from high school - Daichi and Asahi being common visitors with the occasional visit from Kageyama and Hinata.

This was his life until his life ended.

But all that changed when you came into the hospital for the first time.

Sugawara was never one to eye at the doctors or the nurses in the hospital - he believed that it was irrational and very wrong. Yet, you somehow changed his mind almost instantly.

He couldn't muster the bravery to even welcome you on your first day by himself, despite everyone who knew him literally pushing him to do so.

He begged all of the nurses to introduce him to you, but they all wanted him to do it by himself.

"Staring at our newest doctor, huh?" said Sugawara's doctor, Hizashi Yamada from behind him.

"You want me to introduce you to them?" He asked, smiling deviously.

Soon, Suga's doctor brought him to meet you, despite all of Suga's resistance to it.

"Hello, Y/N-sensei. Welcome to the Hospital of Tokyo. It is a pleasure to have someone so well-versed in our hospital as a permanent doctor," said Hizashi-sensei.

He placed his hand out, only for you to shake it. "No need for the praises, Yamada-sensei. The fact you recognized me is a privilege itself."

"This," Yamada-sensei pulled Suga forward, "Is Sugawara Koushi. He has been admitted to our hospital ever since he was eighteen."

Suga blushed furiously.

He wasn't ready to meet you up close so quickly. He wanted to admire you from afar for at least another two more days so that he could learn about your interests, but fate wasn't on his side this time.

Not to mention, you were a doctor, too! One of the younger ones, too... and hotter...

Suga awoke from his daze when he saw your gloved hand reach out to his to give him a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Sugawara-san. I believe you are an author? My sister loves your books!"

Suga was internally thanking Daichi for telling him to become an author.

Suga raised his hand to meet yours in a handshake. "The pleasure is all mine."

"As you both know, I am retiring this year," Yamada-sensei said, making both you and Suga face him.

"I've discussed with the board. Y/N-sensei, you'll be in charge of Suga starting tomorrow. I will send all the information about his condition soon," He ended off with a smile.

Wait - you were in charge of him?

Suga was shaking even more now.

It would no longer be Yamada-sensei seeing the uglier side of him but the very person he was developing a crush on.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, huh?" you said, breaking Suga's train of thought.

"I guess it was good I met you today then, Sugawara-san," you ended with a cheerful smile.

"I leave myself in your care then, Y/N-sensei," Suga said while bowing to you.

"Just call me Y/N. I think you're older than me, anyway," you said, laughing a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

You walked towards the nurses that were calling you, leaving an extremely red Sugawara in the middle of the foyer.

The next day stood as a challenge for the silver-haired male.

He was going to act as good as he can so that your job could be as simple as it can be - no cheeky comments, no playful jokes.

Just being a boring, normal patient for the few hours you'd be in his room.

Well, that resolve almost failed immediately when you came in and begged for a conversation with him.

"It's too quiet for me to work properly, Sugawara-san. I know you think that keeping the room quiet helps, but the tension in the room is a bit too strong for me to work normally," you said, aching for some noise to come out of him.

But he didn't say anything - not even a noise.

"If you don't say anything in the next few minutes, I am going to begin talking a bit too much and trust me, you don't want that."

You turned to prepare the machine to remove the excess mucus in his lungs.

"You can call me Suga-san if you want," Suga whispered, scared to speak as loud as he usually does.

You chuckled and turned to face him. "I was going to call you Koushi-kun, whether you liked it or not."

"So, Koushi-kun," you started, "where and when does this author's life begin?"

He chuckled softly. "I was actually born in Miyagi. I was a replacement setter for the volleyball team in my school. Then again, I played a few times even when our main setter was there."

"What school?"

"Karasuno."

You opened your eyes in shock. "Wait - you were part of the Karasuno's volleyball team that went to nationals back then!"

He stared at your wonder-filled eyes and smiled. "Yeah, I was."

"So you know Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio? The Japan players?"

Pride swelled in him when he heard those two names. "Yeah, I do. I actually taught Hinata the basics."

"You've done well, my friend," you said, earning a laugh from the 26-year old.

And that small conversation began the long conversations you both had when you were doing long hours in the hospital.

After handling other patients, you'd often spend time with Koushi in his room with the pretence of 'I'm his doctor - it's my duty to be with him most of the time.'

But that was far from the truth, wasn't it?

You were developing feelings for your own patient.

How could you not fall for him?

Behind the beautiful exterior of his was a man of true beauty itself.

He was a hard worker - spent most of his time working on his new project.

He was kind - helped the nurses with managing the kids in the pediatric ward when they went for their lunch break.

He was the ideal man for anyone.

Time passed and you had been taking care of the former setter for the past two years.

He introduced you to his friends - Asahi, Daichi, Kageyama and Hinata, if you remember correctly - when they came over.

They soon became close friends of yours too - despite your fangirling over the Japan volleyball players. They often spent hours on end with Suga in his room.

All of you enjoyed the small talks you all had together and talked about the things happening in the outside world - be it a small injury or someone's wedding.

"Y/N-san, what about you? Are you in a relationship?" the orange-haired man asked, a small yet beaming smile on his lips.

You instantly blushed and looked at Sugawara. His eyes focused solely on you, taking you in.

"I've been single my whole life. I don't think I'd be getting into a relationship soon, too. The doctor's life doesn't really revolve around romance, despite all the TV shows and movies," you ended, earning snickers from almost everyone in the room.

"How about the rest of you? Is there a conquest of love happening in your lives?" you asked. Now my turn to grin.

Both Kageyama and Hinata stared at one another, faces beet red.

Koushi sighed. "Why can't you both just tell that you're a couple? We all knew ever since high school."

"How did you all know?" Kageyama shouted. You immediately shushed him, earning a small 'sorry' from him.

"You both aren't quiet in the storage room, you know?" Daichi said. Everyone except the couple began laughing hysterically.

"Damn, the money I'd get if I leaked this to the news," you jokingly said, teasing the two players.

When the clock showed 8pm, you pushed the four of the visitors out of Suga's room.

Their time had ended and they needed to head home.

Once they left, you felt a tug on your doctor's coat. You saw Koushi asking you back into the room, not ready for you to leave yet.

"Is everything okay?" You asked him, worried about his health.

"Do you feel like there isn't enough oxygen in your tank? I can always get you a replacement right now-" Koushi placed his finger on your lips.

"Please, just listen to what I have to say," he asked, his eyes begging you to listen to him.

You closed the door behind the two of you. He pulled you to sit beside him on his bed.

"I know I don't have much time left. I already had 10 years after diagnosis when the norm is 4," he said, chuckling.

You wanted to intervene - hell, the sentence was already prepared in your head - but you didn't. From what it looked like, he wanted you to just accept whatever he had to say.

"My drive to write is long gone - I can barely write a sentence I like anymore. I love playing with the kids, but I feel like I would just disturb them rather than entertaining them. I - I feel my life slipping away from my fingers, Y/N..." he said, tears forming around his eyes.

"Yet, when I see you walk along the halls of the hospital, I feel re-energized. I only met you two years ago, but I already am so dependant on you - and not just as a doctor. You are the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning. You are the only thing I think of when I fall asleep. You are..." he gripped on your wrist, "the only thing I want right now."

"Koushi-kun..."

"I love you, Y/N. I didn't want you to leave today without knowing this. I love you so much - as a doctor and as a person."

You hugged the male in front of you, letting his tears fall on your jacket.

"I know you can't reciprocate my feelings, but I just needed you to know."

You gripped on his shirt.

This was the only man you've ever wanted, but you could never have him.

You held your tears back as you walked out of his room.

The next day was just a blur.

The mucus in his lungs built up at an extremely fast pace.

A severe infection formed in his lungs.

You rushed from your apartment to the hospital to conduct surgery as fast as you could.

Luck, however, wasn't on your side.

In the midst of the surgery, the electrocardiogram flatlined.

Sugawara Koushi was pronounced dead at 3:45 am at the Hospital of Tokyo on the 19th of December in the year 2022.

I hope you enjoyed the fanfic! As always, if you have ideas or tropes you'd like me to try, don't hesitate to leave a suggestion here! Thanks for all the reblogs and the likes too! <3 If you want to learn about Cystic Fibrosis, I watched this video and it helped me in understanding the science part of it~

[joshslater]

So long, schlong

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He was good looking, black hair, hazel eyes, nicely toned body, and he was charming. Sure, he got paid to look pretty and act nice, but if he faked it, he did a damn good job of it. He came off as genuinely attractive and attracted. It confirmed what I had been thinking for several days, that I needed a break from the party-fuck-party loop I was stuck in. To me he was perfect, and yet I felt no desire to go home with him tonight, if that had been an option. My shorts didn’t show any more bulge now than when I entered the club.

The bartender psychiatrist had quickly moved from fast and fake to more frank topics. It was Wednesday, so it wasn’t as packed, and there were two of them, but I was happily surprised with the time he devoted to actually talk to me. I guess he was experienced enough to sense when someone needed a non-alcoholic pick-me-up.

- So, given all that I’m not really looking for anyone tonight. I wasn’t sure, but, you know, I think I am now. - That bad huh? Perhaps if you couldn’t it would be different? - What do you mean? - Everyone is always looking at what they can’t have. I should know. I could go home with almost anyone in this room tonight, if I asked the right way. That came off too much like a brag, but you get what I’m saying. So to me the most irresistible ones are the ones that would say no.

Was he talking about me? That would be flattering, but I suspect he was talking in general terms. He was on the clock, and making the patrons feel good was part of the job description.

- Really? Well, there are one or two here that would say yes to me also. - Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, that’s not the point I’m trying to make. I’m saying that perhaps you are tired of sex just because it is so easy for you to get what you want, and when you want it. - What do you suggest? Break my nose to look uglier.

He grabbed something from below the bar and plonked it down in front of me on the bar desk. A big, shiny chromed chastity device in full view. Not a big reaction from anyone though, if they even looked. This kind of transaction wouldn’t be that big of a deal in a place like this.

- You want to lock me up? - No. I want you to lock yourself up. It’s just what you need. Something to stop yourself from cumming whenever you want. Then perhaps you value it more.

I stared at the metal cage on the table. A well crafted but not overly complicated design with a handcuff like mechanism that locks around the base. Another piece that you put your dick in and that locks with the first piece. Some sort of integrated lock mechanism that looked like a brass button with a keyhole locked everything in place. Clearly the deluxe version, with a small, blunt hook that separates the balls, and a short tube on the inside that goes into the hole of the dick.

- Never used before, and you can keep it until you see me again. Go try it!

I’ve never tried one on. To go straight to such a serious design is really a plunge in the deep end, but why not? I’m not going to do anything else tonight, by my own admission. Worst case scenario, I take a bolt cutter to it tomorrow and pay him the $100 or whatever this monstrosity costs.

- I’ll try it on, and then decide if I want to keep it on. - Sure. All yours.

I took the device and headed towards the men’s room, if such a term held any meaning at a place like this. The restroom was spacious, with several, individual toilet rooms. No cheap stalls here. They knew what their patrons wanted, and that included the thumping of fucking that clearly was going on behind the second door. I opened the first door, entered and locked it.

I stepped out of my shorts, to have better access. No underwear tonight. A habit on party nights. I held all my junk together with one hand, and put the first piece around the base of my cock and sack with the other. I forced it close with the same hand. It made a few clicks as the handcuff mechanism ratchet locked. How snug should it fit? I noticed a small button on the side, pressed it and the device sprung open, and I almost dropped it. Well, I needn’t worry about fitting at least. I closed it again, as tight as I dared. It wasn’t a cock ring, reminded myself, but it should probably be pretty tight still. This was intended for a flaccid penis after all.

I hesitated a bit with the other part. Sticking something into the eye of my dick wasn’t something I ever planned on doing. It was a small, hollow metal ball connected to a thin, transparent rubber tube that was connected to the inside of the front of the second piece. Well, I usually try everything once. I spat on the metal ball and started to attempt to insert it. It was tricky for many reasons. Awkward position of everything made it hard to see, hard to manipulate, and to complicate everything I started to have an erection. That would make it impossible to secure the different parts, and now the first part was becoming a cock ring.

I removed it, put my junk in the sink and washed it with cold water until it was small again, and rinsed the metal parts in cold water. I would have to work faster.

I did everything again, but now got the first part on real quick, then pushed the tube up my dick, ignoring the strange sensation, and put the metal prongs of the second part into the first part with a click.

It felt super weird.

It felt like I was having and not having an erection at the same time. My body found the hole experience really exciting, while the device was doing its best to deny my body to express that feeling. I understood now what my handsome bartender was telling me. There was also something about the extra weight. I took a few steps, feeling how it all bounced in new ways. It could be interesting to try this for a few days. I pressed the brass button with the keyhole on. It made a click.

The change was immediate. With nothing to hold it up, my dick fell and made a tug. I gasped at the sensation. It took me seconds to realize what had happened. The chastity device was no where to be seen. Technically my dick and balls where no where to be seen either. Instead between my legs was a monster of a cock hanging half way down to my knees, with balls to match. It was thick, uncut and free from all hair. It probably weighed as much as the chastity device did. It wouldn’t surprise me if it weighed exactly as much.

It took me a while to even touch it. It sent a shiver through me when I did. It was mine alright, but way more sensitive than what I had before. I still had the same feeling as before locking the device. Horny without being able to physically express it. The dick, although thick, wasn’t erect. A small bead of precum did form at the end. How would I even masturbate such large dick. I grabbed it somewhere near the head with my right hand and started to move it back and forth. It just made the base part of the dick buckle and waved thin tendrils of precum around on the toilet floor.

I grabbed the base of the dick with my left hand and repeated the motion with my right hand. It was incredible. With all my frequent and varied dick play, I’ve never before come close to something feeling as good as this did. I probably spent a good five minutes doing this, but it only left me more horny and still with no erection.

So that was how it worked.

I washed my hands, grabbed my shorts, and paused. I picked these shorts to showcase my goods. My former goods. This dick would be noticed through sweat pants. How the fuck was I going to walk from this without being busted for indecent behavior? I pulled up the shorts, and as expected it showed my golf balls of testicles front and center, and the dick made its way down the shorts leg, and continued down the thigh. I grabbed the dick and pulled it up into the leg, and then arranged it horizontally towards my right. I made a few test steps. If I just readjusted the dick every few steps, this could work.

I stepped out of the restroom and walked towards the bar. I could see several eyes my shorts, and my constant adjusting only accentuated it. The friction and grabbing did nothing to calm my sexual feelings. Perhaps he was right that you fancy what you can’t have, but the opposite can also be true. Now that I was rapidly getting hornier than I have been in months, I was desperate to release it somehow, and none of the usual options were available to me.

I slowly sat down on the bar stool next to my almost empty beer glass, taking care to not spill out my dick. There was a small note under the beer glass.

- Where is the other bartender? - Which one? It’s only me working today. Wednesdays are a bit slow here.

I unfolded the note.

“Go fuck yourself =)”

[unabashegirl]

Enticing (25)

Author’s note: LOTS OF DRAMAAAA. Hope you like it!

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They lay in the pure intimacy of their bedroom after their lovemaking session. He has just asked her to travel with him to a country that she has always dreamt of visiting. She is a bit surprised by his sudden proposal. He has gone on business trips alone before. So, what has changed?

“I don’t even own a passport.” David groans as he raises to his feet. He faces Y/N from the end of the bed before bending down and reaching down for his phone. He begins tapping on his phone, clearly texting someone else.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll fix that for you” David has enough connections to be able to get her a passport before they arrive back in the city. He is still pretty surprised that Y/N hasn’t had the opportunity to see the world. That single fact instantly makes the trip more important to him. He is going to be able to show her the world.

“What about Henry? Is he coming with us? Who is going to take care of him?” She sits up in bed and begins readjusting her top and tying the bottoms that David had undone.

“He is staying in New York. He is still too young. I’ll get a babysitter” Y/N perks up at the mention of the babysitter.

“He already has me, David. It’s my job to take care of him. That’s what you are paying me for” Y/N gets off the bed in search of a mirror to fix her crazy hair.

“That’s something I need to talk to you about” David has given it a lot of thought. Ever since he first asked her to be his. He doesn’t want her to work for him anymore. It all feels wrong. “Although we’ll talk about that when we get home” He dismisses, not sure how that particular conversation is going to go. He feels they should be in the privacy and coziness of the penthouse before he drops the bomb on her. “Henry is not coming babe”.

“But…”

“I just said no” His voice is rougher like the one she hears him use towards his employees. “Period. Henry is staying and that’s final” She bites her own tongue, stopping her own fingers from continuing to go through her hair. She can see him through the bathroom mirror. He is frowning as he finishes tying his swimming trunks.

“Fine” She snaps back as she tries her best not to feel offended by his sharp and demanding tone. “When are we leaving?” She exhales as she turns to face him, leaning against the bathroom counter. David’s frown softens and his demeanor instantly changes. The dark cloud over his head seems to evaporate in seconds.

“A week from today” He hates using that tone on her, but his temper runs short when people defied him. He still feels shitty because he knows that she only meant well. “Come here” David reaches out. She cautiously walks up to him. His hands make their way around her waist before nudging the side of her head with his forehead. He puckers his lips asking for a kiss. She can’t stop a smile from spreading at his soft gesture. She gently gives him a chaste kiss. “Let’s go upstairs. My mom is probably waiting for us”.

The rest of Dobrik’s clan is waiting for them. The food has been served on the big table on the sun deck. All types of meat including lamb and a bunch of sides have been placed on the table. Y/N grips his hand tightly as they approach the table, she can’t help feeling like everyone knows what they were doing.

“There you are! I almost went looking for you” Mrs. Dobrik calls out, “Please sit and enjoy” David pulls Y/N’s seat out for her before sitting beside her. They quietly start serving themselves meanwhile Y/N tries to ignore Mr. Dobrik’s hard stare.

“Is there something you would like to share, father?” His stare certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by his oldest. Mr. Dobrik looks over at David with pursing lips.

“I don’t think it’s a dining table conversation son. It’s best if we leave it for later” David raises an eyebrow at him as he tries to figure out what he is referring to.

“Then I suggest you stop starring at my girlfriend and making her uncomfortable” Y/N’s eyes widen as she turns to look at David, wanting to smack him for his bluntness. If she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable, she certainly is now. The entire table is completely quiet. It is a staring contest between the men of the family aside from Nathaniel, who seems too invested in his food to participate.

“Forgive me, Y/N. I didn’t mean to be rude” Mr. Dobrik tears his eyes away from his son’s that look so much like his mother’s. He is apologizing, but Y/N could see that he didn’t mean a single word.

“There is no need, Mr. Dobrik. It’s no big deal” Y/N fakes smile at him before staring down to her food. Mrs.Dobrik exhales loudly as she tries her best to thinking of something quickly to break the awkward tension.

“Snorkeling or tubbing next, Y/N?” It is Allison who finally interjects as she reaches out for the giant bowl of cold pasta salad.

“Tubbing? On what?” Y/N giggles; thankful to have Allison around.

“On a hot dog or burger. It’s your choice” David’s younger sister knew how uncomfortable her brother and father can make guests feel. Allison is reliving the same situation that she endured when she had brought Nate home. Her father had treated him like shit. It wasn't until Allison put her foot down and David almost threw himself on his father that he stopped his snarling and condescending comments towards Nate. Either way, he still treated him unkindly at times.

Allison knows that it’s worthless to stay mad at her father. He has always been this way. They have all tried to change him, but they haven’t had much success. Allison just doesn’t understand why her mother never says anything and allows their father to walk all over them.

“Hot dog sounds fun” Y/N smiles as she looks back down at her food. The altercation had honestly ruined her appetite.  David seems to have no problem eating. He looks unbothered by it, but in reality, he is fuming from inside. He is beyond pissed. He just can’t wait until everyone leaves and he can have a moment alone with his father. Mr. Dobrik was going to get a piece of his mind whether he likes it or not.

Allison and Nate are the first to excuse themselves after coffee and dessert. Mrs. Dobrik rises to her feet and looks over at Y/N who seems uncomfortable.

“Let’s go honey” She stretches out her hand for take. Just as Y/N pushes her seat away from the table, Mr. Dobrik’s hand smacks against the table. All the plates, silverware, and porcelain shake; startling the women.

“You leave,” Mr. Dobrik says as he looks at his wife. “This has nothing to do with you”.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Dobrik asks back with her hands on her hips.

“I told you to leave. Don’t make me ask you again because it won’t be nice” He snaps at her, causing her for her demeanor to instantly changed. That tone is too familiar to her and hearing it only brings dark memories. Horrible memories enough to make her feel scared and bite down her tongue. 

“Do not talk to my mother like that” It’s David’s turn to snap at him. He can’t sit back and watch how his father verbally abuses his mother. He might not be hitting her, but he knows that his words have the same effect. His words sometimes hurt her more than his fists.

“She is my wife! I can talk to her however I please!” Mr. Dobrik responds. Not fone bit aced by his son's harsh tone.

“Honey, just listen to your father. I am fine” She feels like a fool for believing her husband's promise. He had promised her that he wouldn’t cause a conflict.

“Go with my mom, babe” David can change the tone of his voice for her as he sees his girlfriend’s concern expression. Y/N quickly stands up to comply with his demand. 

“NO! This is concerns her therefore she should be here” Mr. Dobrik exclaims making both women shake. Y/N stops moving as Mrs.Dobrik continues walking out and gives her a reassuring nod.

“I just told you to leave, Y/N” David’s protecting side arising. He doesn’t want her around just in case it gets uglier.

“It’s okay” Y/N knows that his father won’t back out and whatever he has to say she can take it. She isn’t going to hide behind David. She is a strong, independent woman that could take the ignorant opinions of an abusing man, especially with her boyfriend by her side —at least that what she thinks. David purses his lips and looks back at his father.

“It’s funny how your girlfriend has more balls than you, David” Mr.Dobrik sarcastically chuckles as he looks over at Y/N. “I am surprised, Ms. Y/L/N. I didn’t think you had it in you”.

“You don’t know many things about me, Mr. Dobrik. You would be astounded to know that I am not like other women” She snaps back as tries her best not to feel intimidated.

“That is certainly true. I was surprised to find out that you aren’t who you say you are, Ms. Y/LN. Did you know that, son?” He asks as he looks over at his oldest. “You have no idea who you are sleeping with”.  David chuckles but continues to listen to his preposterous statements. “Is Y/N even your real name?”. 

“It is Mr. Dobrik and I’ve been nothing, but honest with your son. Therefore, I would love to hear an apology coming from you” She kindly smiles at him. 

“She is a fucking nanny, David!” He snaps, Y/N calm demeanor is easily getting under his skin. “She doesn’t work for Alessandro. Is all bullshit. “She is probably some gold digger” He looks at her with disgust. 

That was enough for David.  

“Don’t you fucking dare to talk about her like that” Mr. Dobrik smirks pleased with the reaction has he has just gotten out of him. “I am well aware that she is a nanny, father” David chuckles as he crosses his fingers with one another, entertained by the show that his father has just put on.

“She doesn’t even come from a proper family. How do you think that the media will react when they find out that she is nothing, but your son's nanny?!” He spats. 

“I took her to the gala, father. They already know. We were seen by hundredths and a bunch of pictures where taken of us” David rolls his eyes before rising to his feet. “Instead of making a big altercation of this, you could have just asked me about it and I would’ve told you. I am not hiding her”. David takes Y/N hand, ready to leave. 

“Her father is dead, David.  God only knows who and where her mother is!” Mr.Dobrik says just before they can leave the room. The small comment is enough for Y/N to let David’s hand go and turn back.

“You have no right to talk about my father, Mr.Dobrik. Let alone about my mother or anything that concerns my family. You might have all the money that anyone could dream of, but not everything can be resolved with money. You are an abuser and at least my father never touched or thought about hurting any of us. Instead of continuing to mistreat your family maybe you could thank them for all the abuse that they’ve had to endure. You should also worship the ground that Mrs. Dobrik walks on because she deserves an award for keeping up with your horrific personality and cruel attitude”  His snarly comment about her father had been enough to set her up in flames. No one would ever mess up his memory especially when she was around. She loves her father and all she has left of him is the fun-loving memories of him and she isn’t going to allow anyone to change that.

TAGS: @getmepizzza​, @yourwonderbelle​, @nohalohoseok​, @lavendercuddles​, @2007rh​, @jeezkiddo​, @beeechhh​, @duh-dobrik​, @kllycole​, @meanlopz817​, @snazzydobrik​, @frickin-bats​, @wonderlandlovelove​, @millie-753​, @cubanidiot​, @itsdaviddobrik​, @justlikehufflepuff​, @clarissahunter​, @saltysebastianstan​, @galaxy-moon​, @alyssajunell​, @crowdedimagines​, @pineappledobrik​, @roxyedobrik​, @owenniasstars​, @didyouheartherain​, @marvelgirl2118​, @daviddobrikssflamethrower​, @kennedyf16​, @meleniearaujo9​

[dikiyvter]

23 & 31? :eye: for either or both

Of course aid anything 4 u <3

Uncommon Questions [ accepting ]

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

For Gio: Envy is... kind of a scale of ugliness for Gio, to be honest. First and foremost his envy is typically not something ugly; It's typically something that turns more into a hopeful longing other than any sort of truly resentful behavior. Just because he wants what someone else has doesn't mean that he needs to take it from them necessarily; the world is not a pie to be split among it's inhabitants. He views the world as an endless wealth, and if he wants something someone else has, all he has to do is work to get it himself. Ultimately his longing to be human and to take a quiet role in human society spawns from envy of the lives that humans lead.

... And then there's the far uglier envy. Gio is a rather childish individual who experiences emotions very strongly; In part this is subconscious acting, and in part it's genuine truth; He's really never been good at things regarding emotions primarily because he's never been taught a whole lot in regards to control of ones emotions or ways to manage them. He's a bit... emotionally stunted but more in the 'seems like an erratic mood swing-y mess because he feels very strongly' sense and less, you know, [gestures at Baal and Zhongli]. There is thus always a chance that when Gio becomes envious of something, his first reaction is that of intense resentment towards whoever it is that has what he doesn't- This is partially true even for his love of humanity. Even though he starts off with the thought of "this is beautiful" it was still interlaced with a lot of bitter resentment that he would never really have that; Coming to terms with his worldview is what got rid of that. But it's a bit harder to have a mentality of 'the world isn't a pie; someone having a bigger slice than me doesn't mean i can't have more if i want it' when its... say...

A person whom you love whose fallen for another or is having all of their time taken up by them.

For Riga: ...Riga gets a much shorter paragraph and for that I apologize, but I have a lot more thoughts regarding Gio on this subject considering that lil clowns got a lot of conflictions and nuance to ramble about. Riga, on the other hand, tends to be far more simplistic in the things he is feeling and how he is feeling them; though this isn't to say he feels any less strongly or erratically than Gio does.

Rigatello typically feels envy as a genuinely ugly awful emotion that typically results not just in resentment but in a very, very intense form of frustration. A major part of his character is that he is someone who wants very little, but the few things he does want are things he perceives more as needs; Case in point being he doesn't perceive wanting Gio to care about him as being a want, he sees it as a need, and when your needs are denied you become... what? Angry. Frustrated. Depressed. Envy turns him violent, because why should others have what's rightfully his? Why are others entitled to the few things he truly needs? Why is he not deserving of these things? There's a tangible cycle to a lot of Rigatellos emotions, and it's that he is confronted with something ( or someone ) he wants; He becomes reliant, he thinks he needs them ( using gio as an example; He cannot imagine who he is without Gio nearby. He cannot imagine himself in the hierarchy that is set between them both and Dottore without Gio there, because Gio has always been the one to provide a release of tension, even if the relationship the two of them shared was at times very far from healthy; The change of something he sees as being integral to his identity and his place in his little corner of society is something that throws him VERY badly; Rigatello is someone very afraid of any meaningful change because the fear of what comes next and that change leading to potential failure is one that haunts him ) ; They move away from him, and he panics, because he has very little and thus clings desperately to what few things he has; Cue the cycle of seeing that which he 'needs' with someone else, being angry, being frustrated, falling down the rabbit hole of wondering why he isn't worthy, arriving at depression, resparking that frustration, and... repeat.

A lot of his envy spawns almost purely from a place of this frustration-depression loop of wondering why he isn't good enough-- something that ties in heavily with the way he was 'raised', where threats of being scrapped were thrown freely, and any failure could potentially result in his literal destruction.

Wait this wound up being longer than Gios. Whoops.

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

Okay here's where we ease into me being able to make coherent sentences again bc i'm not bound purely by my muses emotions <3

For Gio, It would be Venti, in more ways than one. First he had technically met Barbatos. The ideal Barbatos gifted to Mondstadt that rubbed off on the freshly-created and quite impressionable Gio; It was Mondstadt and their talk of freedom that lit the little fire that eventually turned into Gio pursuing his autonomy and humanity. Then was the archon; Barbatos gave his vision to him, and without that Gio never would have managed to escape Dottore, and if he didn't currently have it he wouldn't have been able to evade capture for this long. It also served as a constant reminder of Mondstadts ideals -- And not just that, but the special shape that the vision takes has always been a symbol that although Snezhnaya was his home-- Mondstadt was where he belonged. Then came Venti; Someone who made him feel welcomed in Mondstadt when he was initially very nervous about being there. He and Venti became dear friends ( possibly more ) and now that's someone he looks forward to every time he's on his way back to Mondstadt. The city truly feels like home to him now, and that's mostly because of Venti-- and even if his friend doesn't wish to be seen as Barbatos the archon, Gio cannot help the appreciation he feels for those previous actions, nor for the general ideals that Venti / Barbatos inhabit.

For Riga, that would be Lio, no contest. It.. it would take me ten years to explain all of Rigatellos feelings towards Lio there's so much shit at play they mesh so fucking well together their traumas and mentalities are such similar echoes, Lio is literally the only person in the world that Rigatello has felt genuine love and affection for and not in some way panicked and tried to burn the bridge before it could burn him; He feels genuinely safe and happy with Lio, and the fear that constantly haunts him is eased in their presence; He trusts not just Lio but himself, the fear he typically fears when he touches others is gone because they trust him so thoroughly that in the midst of their love it's hard to be afraid of himself. He feels for once that he can be something that protects instead of something that exclusively does damage; He feels cared for, wanted, loved, when all his life he's felt rejected and constantly on the brink of destruction. Where he once was told his wants and thoughts don't matter he has now found someone who cares very much for what he wants and what he thinks and FUCK I have a lot of thoughts about these two.

40. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Oh god, here's another thing I can't fully explain.

For Gio: Immensely. Gios current mentality is essentially that if he just closes his eyes and refuses to think about it then he doesn't have to deal with his flaws, and if anyone points them out he can just get mad about it and avoid them until he dies because he does. not. want. to. think. about. it. He HATES feeling bad, he hates feeling negatively about himself, he doesn't... know how to genuinely change things about himself; And I think that. That itself can be very much shown in how he treats the fact that he's not human? A person? Yes, he's a fully sentient person with his own thoughts and expressions and free will, a human? Not exactly. He's made out of metal and circuitry and artificial materials, and this is simply a factual statement, its not opinion; But he almost treats it like it is. He sees this idealized version of humanity that he wishes to be a part of but he cannot fathom how he can be apart of it if the core thing about himself isn't changed, but its NOT something he can change; Instead of accepting that, however, and still going on with his goal to pursue his autonomy and humanity despite this, Gio would... honestly rather stick his fingers in his ears and go "lalala" because he doesn't really have the toolset to mentally deal with the contradiction of "I want to be human but I can't". He perceives a need to change that isn't there, and instead of trying to address it he ignores it entirely in hopes that... it'll just stop being an issue that he needs to address with himself at some point. The same mentality applies to a lot of his flaws. Does he know hes being avoidant of his problems? Does he know that it's going to cause more issues in the future? He does. But he can't even address it with himself because it makes him feel bad, let alone with someone else who could actually provide him with skills that he needs to change his behaviors and mentality.

For Riga: Okay he genuinely gets a shorter paragraph this time because in short? Rigatello doesn't care. Admittedly he kind of wears his flaws on his sleeve. He's a "says it right on the tin" kind of guy most of the time, where he's typically mostly open about the less positive parts of himself-- If not exaggerating them as a means of keeping people away. There are of course the flaws that he hides due to them stemming from traumas, and his general desire to hide all things relating to his personal thoughts and feelings-- But this in and of itself could be perceived as a flaw, though one very unexplored considering Lio is his first close relationship with another person where he's been in any form open about his own thoughts and feelings, away from the influence of Dottore or the Fatui.

Rigatello does have... slightly less healthy perception of what counts as flaws in himself, though, such as having his own thoughts and emotions. He perceives his traumas as weakness, and weakness is a flaw, to him-- So too, then, are his traumas. He's not sensitive about this in the sense that Gio is where he's willfully ignoring something he's doing wrong; Riga doesn't... know that this isn't a good mentality. He.

Riga is kind of hard to explain this regard because of how severely impacted Rigatello is by the traumas hes endured, the people he was 'raised' by, and the current lifestyle that he leads. His emotional understanding is extremely limited and always has been, and I'm not entirely sure how to put it in coherent wording; Because typically when I try to talk about Riga and emotions it devolves into word vomit because his thoughts are just... nonsense screaming pain mush that he doesn't know how to cope with so he tells himself to toughen up, shoves it in the closet, and goes on with his day until he can lay down at night and have a meltdown--

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

Honestly? The general rule of thumb is that I don't typically write people that I myself would get along with, if only because I know way too much about my own characters and their flaws? When. I look at people that I get along with, its primarily people who are patient enough to deal with my memory issues and my general lets say... low iq, to be nice. They're mostly laid back people who don't give too much of a shit one way or the other, but are friendly and fun to talk to because they have interesting ideas to contribute to a conversation, give room for others to contribute, and don't mind a bit of chaos when things inevitably devolve.

When I look at the characters I write... They all have some sort of flaw that directly contradicts the core things I typically find in someone I get along well with?

Gio is someone who I think I could get along with for a while; But inevitably his flaws, his distress regarding those flaws, and his subsequent refusal to acknowledge them in any meaningful form would inevitably stress me out and it would start to get tiring.

Bluntly put Riga is scary and I feel like I'd be stressed out 24/7 that I'm going to irritate him... And his general mindset of emphasizing his own flaws to push people away would just make me angry and I'd probably wind up letting him isolate himself because, having once been someone who was very much that way, I no longer deal well with that degree of self-pitying behavior b/c it pisses me off.

Outside of this blog, Ku Shen and I could probably get along pretty well, but I think the issue is that he's a massive introvert who would go Weeks in-between texting, and I have the memory of a goldfish and i'd inevitably find myself in a position where i have a text from him that's been waiting for me to answer for the past week and I'm too nervous to reply because I feel awkward being like 'hi i have untreated adhd sorry', and then suddenly three months has passed and I just can never talk to this man again.

...I'm going to include my Morax on here as well even though it's blog isn't super active; Look I might actually be able to chill with Morax if only because we vibe in either 'i am listening to you ramble for 3 straight hours with occasional questions or commentary' or 'we have both been dead fucking silent for the past 3 hours' and these are both my ideal ways to exist in someone elses presence. Also I feel like it'd wanna do fun shit and likes going on walks or smth. 10/10 I think I could get along with Morax.

H) What trait do you admire most?

Ah fuck okay. Uh. For Gio... I admire his optimism and hope. I consider myself to be a generally hopeful person but I'm not typically the kind of like... ~ * direct action * ~ person, and Gio VERY MUCH IS in most regards. He's generally super fucking ambitious and if he WANTS something he will GET IT and you cannot STOP HIM and I just wish I had that level of

I. Dedication II. Energy III. Optimism in actually completing the goal

For Riga? I guess it would be his general tenacity and endurance. He goes through. A lot of shit. Constantly. And he just keeps trudging on forward without pause. He does what he needs to do, and if you get in the way of him and what he needs to get done, then he'll make you fucking regret it. Top tier shit 10/10 good for him.

[messwithideas]

Is It Really You?

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader Words: ~965

[A/N: english isn’t my “mother language” so i’m sorry if there’s mistakes, typos, or it doesn’t make any sense, i’m sorry…]

    It was a hard summer to the two of you; Tom’s best friend, window neighbor needed to move away. Over 13 years you had lived next to each other. Every neighbor around you moved away and there came new neighbors every single year. But your and Tom’s family were always the ones who didn’t want to leave the neighborhood. But one summer, the news what both of you didn’t want to hear, was been said; “Your father got a new job from another state”

   There was no way that your father would’ve been refuse the job offer, even your father loved the neighborhood as much as you loved. But there was only two options; take the job or be fired and your father was the only one in the family who brought the bread to the table. When the news was told to the family, you couldn’t do anything else than be angry to your father. “Why I have to come with you? I can be on my own! I can be independent!” you had yelled but your mother had put some wise words to your head; “Darling, you’re only 13. You can’t be independent and you have so much to learn about life and living alone”   That made you mad but also to realize that you would be gone in the end of the month and you haven’t told anything to Tom. And now it was the time.   The summer vacation had started and like it was heard, your house would be empty in the end of the month. You knocked onto Tom’s front door and it was opened immediately. You told the bad news Tom and he couldn’t believe it. He thought you were joking. But when he started to realize that his best friend would be gone, maybe forever, he didn’t let you leave and he got a little bit mad to you and you hanged just few times in the month, before you would leave him alone, forever. Or that was what everyone thought.

  4 years has passed and soon you would start your senior year in high school, in the same school where you started your high school when you had moved to the new city. But right after the junior year had ended, you had a little family gathering after the school.   “Honey, we need to tell you something” you father started and you already knew what was this all about. “We’re moving again, am I right?” you sighed, a little bit jaded. You parents looked at each other and nodded. “I knew it” you sighed and almost stood up from the couch, but your mother said something what you couldn’t expect; “We’re moving back to home”   You stopped and looked at your parents with confused eyes. “Back to childhood?” you asked and your parents nodded with a huge smile on their faces. “And for your luck, to the same street and to the same house”. You couldn’t believe your ears. You would move back to your childhood home and next to Tom.   When you moved away from his window neighbor, you still were in touch every day and you are still. But it’s been 4 years since you last saw him, you were scared that he wouldn’t recognize you anymore or every moment what you’ve experienced together and every object of interest would be gone.

  When all the packing were done, you were already unpacking your stuff in your room. You and your parents had made a little challenge; Would anyone notice, especially Tom’s family, that you had moved back?  But no one noticed anything.

  You had moved one day ago and it was already the end of the summer holiday and today, you would go back to school, to the same school where Tom was. You got a permission to arrive to the school a little bit later and you went inside when it was the lunch time –or the lunch time had ended and students were all over the hallways. You walked past everyone but for your luck, no one noticed you or put their eyes on you; you were like the other shy, nerdy students.   While walking through the hallway –and searching your locker- you started to hear a really familiar voice. You tried to search the human of the voice and when you find it, you got a huge smile on your face. It was Tom. He was talking with his friends but you didn’t care, you wanted to see your lifelong best friend after being 4 years apart. You walked closer to the little group of Tom’s friends and then you opened your mouth. “Hi Tom” you said and everyone of the group turned their heads to you. But the reaction on Tom’s face was a face what you couldn’t describe. It was full of confusion, joy, shock, laughter. It was really emotional.   Tom was looking at you with wide open mouth and eyes and couldn’t say a word. You were just smiling. “Do you remember me?” you asked carefully. Tom nodded his head and suddenly started to get words into his head.    “Is it really you?” he afinally opened his mouth and came closer. You nodded and suddenly, out of nowhere, he hugged you. The hug showed that he missed you, a lot.    When the hug broke, he looked at you with his eyes. “I gotta say, you had got pretty” he laughed sarcastically. You looked at him jaded but missed his sarcastic person. “E-even tho you’ve always been pretty. Now you’re prettier” Tom stuttered and his friends behind him laughed a little bit. “Don’t worry, you had got a little bit uglier” you laughed and you knew that Tom didn’t take it as an insult because he knows you truly and deeply.

[dalgikiss]

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 11

Iwaizumi wonders if there really is such a thing as ‘best of both worlds’, watching the volleyball bounce off of Hanamaki’s forearms.  

If there is, he thinks it’s in another universe- one where he could hang out with his friends and his girlfriend at the same time, laughter shared between all of them like a bag of his favorite chips and late movie nights that resulted in the rewatching of Tangled or Godzilla for the hundredth time while Matsukawa fell asleep on your lap and Ryuoko wasn’t busy trying to convince Iwaizumi to ditch them all. 

In this universe, however, the ‘best of both worlds’ seems more like a dream, an unattainable goal but he’d much rather eat glass than give up trying. 

He misses the ball, snapping out of his reverie when it bounces off the tips of his shoes and decides to sit out for the rest of the practice game when it almost hits him in the face. 

Oikawa later wonders if he should bring up Past Iwaizumi’s confession-that-wasn’t-a-confession to Present Iwaizumi and after watching Iwaizumi miss the ball again for the third time in a row, he decides he will.  

x.

Matsukawa sits next to Iwaizumi after practice on the locker room bench, towel draped over his head and waits. 

Iwaizumi’s apology is swift, “Sorry about the shit performance back there, got a lot on my mind lately” 

“Wanna talk about it?” Matsukawa asks, not really expecting an answer. Iwaizumi was the type of guy to keep his problems to himself, the only visible sign of stress shown is how much more easily frustrated he got over trivial things. 

Iwaizumi glances at the blue towel wrapped around Matsukawa’s head before tilting his head back to look at the dirty ceiling. 

“If your girlfriend asked you to choose between her or someone you loved, what would you do?”

“Damn, she asked you that? I always knew Ryuko was a bitch but-”

Iwaizumi gives him a pointed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, not my place”

“Anyways, if I was in your place,” Matsukawa continues, “I’d probably find a way to get her to compromise, unless she’s asking me to choose because of a dumb reason”

A dumb reason? 

Was this a dumb reason? 

Matsukawa lets out a groan as he stands up, feeling his sore muscles protest and iwaizumi is vaguely reminded of his dad for some strange reason. The blue towel that was originally on Matsukawa is placed over Iwaizumi, covering his eyes. 

Before he can protest, Matsukawa’s speaking again and iwaizumi is glad his face is hidden behind the slightly damp towel. 

“Is it because of [name]?”

Matsukawa begins to walk away, the sweaty shirt beginning to stick to his chest uncomfortably. “She’s been staying away from you so Ryuoko doesn’t get mad. Do what you will with that information” 

The slam of the locker doors accompanied by the sound of Matsukawa almost catching Hanamaki’s fingers in the process is the only sound that faintly reminds Iwaizumi he has to also get dressed but it’s only when Oikawa smacks his back that he decides to move. 

The walk home is the same as ever, Oikawa goading reactions out of Hanamaki and Matsukawa and it’s almost like nobody notices the mood that Iwaizumi’s in if you didn’t catch the worried glances each one of them cast to his brooding form. 

It’s only after Hanamaki and Matsukawa have left first after their stop at the convenience store that Oikawa says something to him. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles and them you’ll be even uglier than usual”

Iwaizumi doesn’t even have energy to retort, a deeper frown setting on his face. With a sigh, Oikawa picks up his pace and stops right in front of his sulking friend. 

“Yo, mov-”

“Talk to me”

It’s not the same Oikawa Iwaizumi’s used to seeing- the one that once flirted with the entire teaching staff and had them wrapped in his finger, the one that had more than half the school’s population and then some vying for his attention- no, this was the one that bared its fangs at his nearest opponent, the one that was sneaky, silent and waiting in the shadows. 

“I said, ‘talk to me’” 

He folds his arms across his chest, staring into Oikawa’s eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about” and it takes all of Oikawa’s strength not to take a page out of Iwaizumi’s book and smack the back of his head. 

Instead he clears his throat and moves back to the side, letting the both of them continue their walk home- at least that’s what Iwaizumi thought.

He’s jerked in the opposite direction of where they’re supposed to go, his legs struggling to keep up when Oikawa begins to run and the park where they used to spend their summer days and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other without tripping over himself.

“Sit” Oikawa commands, practically throwing him onto the sandy floor and he wants to tell Oikawa he’s crazy, our uniforms are going to get dirty But the look on Oikawa’s face makes Iwaizumi decide not to argue. 

He lies on the ground, body relaxing into the floor without another protest with Oikawa following suit. It’s slightly cold, Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he folds his arms behind his head, but it’s comforting. 

It’s getting late, the last of the sun’s rays stretching as far as they could with their best efforts to light up the sky but the two of them don't move, even when the light is long gone and the street lamps have turned on and the silence between the two of them stays.

It’s Oikawa who breaks it first and the sentence makes Iwaizumi take a sharp breath. 

“Remember when you liked [name]?”

“Shut the fuck up”

“I’m being serious” Oikawa rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to watch Iwaizumi’s expression. “What happened?”

Iwaizumi sighs, a deep breath released from him and he let his eyes fall shut. “Nothing happened, it never did”

“Is that why you took Ryuoko’s confession?” 

“Yeah”

It hurts, he realizes, looking back. The fleeting moments he thought that something, even the smallest thing gave him hope that you perhaps liked him back- from the first time you grabbed his hand in the middle of some scary movie to how you laughed at even the smallest jokes he said. 

He stares at the sky, eyes fogging over. “I can’t keep waiting for someone that may just never like me back” 

It was easier back then, before Ryuoko was introduced into their lives, when his brain only thought of you. It was always for you, from the shirt he decided to wear in the morning to the brand of body wash he used because you had casually mentioned that Iwaizumi smelled the best out of the four smelly boys you spent all your time with. 

The day Ryuoko confessed outside by the giant Gingko tree outside of the back entrance, it had rained right after Iwaizumi accepted it, as though the skies had cried when they heard him accept it and they had raced back inside, her hand in his, laughing over their damp hair and wet clothes. 

He pretended to like her sharp nails and her too-hot palms that hold on to his and makes it feel like his hands are overheating, convincing himself he would grow comfortable, grow used to it and it still takes him a few seconds to remember not to pull away when it’s her, not you. 

He shivers slightly when the wind blows, picking up bits of sand and gravel that swirl on the ground and Iwaizumi takes it as a sign to go home. He stands up, shaking off his pants and holding his hand out to Oikawa’s who had been uncharacteristically quiet for a long time. 

“Let’s go home, it’s cold”

Oikawa grips his hand in his, letting himself be pulled off the floor to start their walk home. Before they separate, Oikawa grips Iwaizumi’s wrist in his hand, brusingly hard. 

“You should have waited a little longer”

[everythingoesnk]

I love you, John

summary; in the fandom we say brian’s the 5th beatle. well now he’s the 6th bc in this you’re a member of the band. basically you’re in love with john but he’s dating yoko and............. it’s all a disaster

word count; 2 966

warnings; angst at its finest. i’m sorry if u find it trashy but i tried and that’s what counts

********

There was no way you could face this feeling. It damaged your mental health to the point of insufferable anxiety.

Nobody knew about those episodes.

Was it something that you enjoyed, seeing front row how your friendship shattered to useless fragments? Did you look like you didn’t care about how he distanced himself more each time without looking back? Like nothing or no one else mattered? Of course not.

He was alien to the fact he wasn’t the only one suffering.

At least this was the reason you found that made the most sense to his coldness and passively behaviour towards everyone. Or the justification you wanted to believe, refusing to accept that reality was that he didn’t mind everything falling apart.

The tortuous thought that John wanted to see it all reduced to ashes crossed your mind every once in a while.

Paul sighed loudly when he didn’t get any answer from you after calling multiple times. He randomly pounded several piano keys at once, creating a frightening awful sound, then dragged himself to his feet and anxiously left the room.

None of that made you tore your eyes away from John, though.

He was talking to Yoko, who was sitting on the floor beside him, nodding her head as she followed with her gaze what he was pointing at in the music sheet. Occasionally she’d interrupt him to opine. When that happened he would shut up and listen.

John was very polite when asking for thoughts, always open to new ideas and constantly seeking people's opinions on his work.

Ringo’s eyes were glued on you, George noticed, and he knew the drummer was thinking the same exact thing he was. Ringo nodded in his direction and left to find something to eat: you’d been rehearsing for three hours and he hadn't had breakfast in the morning.

"We're all getting used to it"

Outwardly speaking, George's nonchalant-wannabe words had no apparent reaction in you. On the inside, they crushed your soul deeper into misery.

You hummed an ‘approving’ sound to dodge the pressure of having to form a proper sentence.

Concentration back again on tuning the knobs of the guitar, George put his aside on the floor and watched you closely. Then sighed and pressed his lips together.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?”

"The ticking"

Pokerfaced, you stopped your actions to sneak a look at him.

"What ticking?” you asked grimly.

"Yours," he replied, pointing a finger at you. “You’re about to explode”

“We have a comedian in the building, how appropriate” you proclaimed nodding your head at him mockingly.

He grinned and dropped his gaze to the floor before speaking to you again.

“Come with me,” he said, getting up, “I’m craving a smoke”

“I’ll join in a moment. I want to finish writing down a couple of things first”

"Oh yeah?" George wasn’t convinced at all.

He removed a strand of hair from his face. In vain ‘cause it returned shortly to the same place where he’d shoved it away from.

“Yes"

George stared at you, hands on the hips.

Sunk in your seat, you glanced at him too without blinking.

"I’m inspired," you added, one last attempt to make him believe you.

You could try. You could try giving that song you’d been working on a new chance.

"Okay," he nodded, lowering the guard, and kissed your forehead, "you know where to find me"

"Sure, Geo"

You smiled and rapidly shot him a big grin, thumbs held up as well, when he turned around to take a good last look at you before closing the door behind his back.

As soon as he was nowhere around, your smile was found gone.

It was only you, John and Yoko now.

//

It must have been the tenth time that, desperately, you ran your hands through your hair.

Perhaps the problem was you. And you were just exaggerating everything.

But did she have to stick her nose in something that had nothing to do with her?

You didn’t mind her discussing the songs. But never in a million years could you believe she had the ovaries to criticize them. To criticize your work. Paul’s work, George’s and Richie’s work.

Never John’s, though. It must be said to add a little more context to you losing it.

You weren't nosy, but she didn't try to be inconspicuous either.

That bitch’d been talking shit about what she referred to as ‘Ringo’s lame thing’, claiming that Octopus’s Garden was kind of embarrassing and that it didn’t deserve to be on a Beatles record. She didn’t even bother asking about the meaning behind it, the ignorant cretin.

You bit your tongue until you just couldn't anymore.

"God," you exhaled.

Yoko heard your sigh but said nothing about it, bowing her head. She wished John’d do the same, but deep down she knew he’d have something to say.

And of course, he did.

"What's up?" he asked lifting an eyebrow, eyes jumping from you to Yoko and back.

"One gets tired of listening to bullshit" you warranted in a singsong voice, not looking up from the paper and without interrupting your writing.

It took a few seconds for you to get a response.

"Nothing she said was bullshit," John defended, hinting that her opinion was as valid as anyones.

You understood his words differently.

"Rich’s mad excited about it and it’s a great song,” you hurried to argue, this time meeting his stare, “the number of hours and dedication he's putting into it is inhuman. You should know that”

A little –huge— bit of your protective side towards Ringo was showing, but you didn’t care. Octopus’s Garden was beautiful and you’d die defending so if necessary.

"I didn't mean—"

“Are you sure?” you interrupted, turning your body in his direction, leaning in before spitting the poison out, “because lately she seems to speak for you. Whatever Yoko says, there you are giving your approval”

John stood still for at least a minute, momentarily speechless.

Yoko approached him to tell him to forget it and leave before things got uglier.

When you called the conversation off after he hadn’t spoken a word, trying to handle what you just so hostilely reprimanded, you went back to your thing, conscious that you were too unstable and broken to even pick the pencil up again.

Sure you didn’t want him to know you weren’t as strong as you wanted to appear to be, but you had to close your eyes for a moment and exhale after he moved to stand next to you.

He didn’t know the power he had on you. It’d take a snap of his fingers to ruin you for eternity.

“You’ve to fix your shit and get over it,” John grunted, fed up with the constant attacks that Yoko directly and indirectly received. It all got too much to handle.

You laughed in his face.

“Fix my shit? How, John, when the shit’s in the same room?”

John paused again, shocked.

His eyes languidly turned cold and hard.

Could you maybe have gone a step too far? There was no denying. Were you regretful? Not at all. Did your heart, constricted in your breast painfully hindering your catch of air, speed up its pace at the look John was giving you, scared about what he was going to say next? Absolutely.

"What the fuck’s wrong with you? I've had enough of the continuous offences to my wife! Now this?!” he snapped, yelling.

You avoided by all means raising your voice since it’s pretty much known that doing so does not make you any more right. The tone was something you could take control over, unfortunately, it was way more difficult to hide how it trembled.

“If I started to say what I was fed up with we’d never finish the album. And we have to, right, John? The sooner the better,” you challenged in a cold-blooded boost of courage, knowing you were entering a difficult and muddy territory.

The bomb timer George talked about earlier was at its limit.

That John asked Yoko afterwards to leave you two alone was just the appetizer of what was coming.

“(Y/N), you have attitude problems. The way you treat Yoko is horrible and unfair. She just wants to help” he tried to let you know where he was coming from, going back to a more suitable tone to appeal you.

“When we ask her for help, her presence will be welcomed”

“Enough now. Enough, (Y/N)” he shook his head and glanced at you fiercely. You swallowed. "Shit, what the hell’s going on with you and your twisted mind? You’re unbearable"

“Am I unbearable?” you gasped, blood heating your face, and immediately stood up. “You’re insufferable!! Twenty-four hours together like… like… like two fucking creeps!” you screamed, quickly forgetting about the ‘not raising your voice’ thing, gesturing an awful lot to express your irritation.

His expression of disbelief morphed onto one of monumental anger.

"And don't come at me with that ‘attitude problems’ crap. I’m not the only one who wants her out” you lectured in a bitter fit of temper, voice unwillingly shaky.

“If you have a problem with Yoko being around, the door is right there” he answered, pronounced tightness clear in his words.

Your heart sank to the very bottom of the Earth’s core, and the floor beneath your feet started trembling, just like you hallucinated once after dropping acid with Paul: the whole body in an uninterrupted burning perception that you could just blow up and die.

John was unpredictable, but you never expected him to show you the way out. He flushed your feelings down the toilet just like that.

“Damn right the door’s right there. I’m getting the fuck out” you stressed, turning around to leave so he wouldn’t see the sea of tears that started to overflow down your face.

From the very beginning of your friendship, you knew you had a massive soft spot reserved for him in your heart, but as years passed you were assured you were deeply and profoundly in love with every part of him. You adored and cared about John more than you did to yourself, which sounds and is scary, but you couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was the way that it was.

At this point you didn’t even care anymore that he didn’t return the same feelings, you just wanted him in your life one way or the other. His happiness was everything that mattered to you. It’d always remain that way no matter what happened.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed loudly.

“Don’t leave,” he said hopelessly, looking defeated, arms hanging on his sides, “I don’t want you to be mad at me”

“I’M NOT MAD AT YOU, IDIOT!” you exploded, whirling around to face him. “And I hate that! I hate it!”

Tears and tears kept streaming down your face. You knew you were being embarrassingly cringey and you’d punch yourself later for that.

There was no coming back now: the timer detonated and the pieces of your broken heart were all over the place, imaginarily staining the carpet as small volcanoes attached to them kept erupting and painting all red.

An anguish heaving pain in the pit of your stomach and throat was bit by bit killing you.

Nine years. Nine years in love with this man and he didn’t have the slimmest clue about how you felt.

He was about to find out.

John was surprised to meet your bloodshot eyes and quivering lips. He panicked when he saw that tears were also coming out of your nose down to your lips.

“I hate that you could hurt me over and over and that I’d always find ways to forgive you” you cried, and you wished you had a tissue to blow out your nose in it.

John was at a loss of words.

“Because I love you” you wailed, and rolled your eyes afterwards at that because it was so inconvenient and wrong to say it out loud.

In his consciousness, a voice snapped at him to take action and comfort you, but his feet seemed to be rooted to where he was standing. You were so vulnerable and fragile, full body shaking and shoulders tight, air constantly bursting in and out of your mouth, impossible to control your sobs. All because of him.

“I don’t… I don’t…” John struggled, heartbeat racing a million miles per second.

“I know you don’t!” you sputtered, an excruciating feeling that he’d never want to be with you choking you extremely. "Up until now I thought I could live with it, but you keep bringing her here! Why do you have to bring her?” you sobbed, covering your face.

John couldn’t quite tell whether it was your statement and confession what made his heart heavier with misery or the nicotine in the amount of tobacco smoke still hovering in the room, demanding it to work harder.

By the time he felt sorrowness suffocating him, he couldn’t deny it was the first option.

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

As he watched you gulp for air, he couldn’t feel more incompetent and clueless.

You compressed your lips so he wouldn’t get to hear you sobbing; turning your back at him to hide your blotchy face, you heard footsteps approaching you.

John went to put a hand on your shoulder and hold you, but you winced and complained, stepping away from him, as if the contact burned your skin.

Staring at him in the eye, you shook your head.

“Do not touch me”

“(Y/N), we have to sit down and talk this through. I cannot—“

“I don’t want to keep talking about it. I said my part and I know what’s crossing your mind. ‘Poor (Y/N), I feel so bad for her, I hope she gets over it soon’. Nine years, John”

He swallowed.

“I’m sure there’s a way—“

“There isn’t! I love you and you don’t love me! What is there to discuss?”

Glancing across at him, you could perfectly see how he cared and how frightened and terrified he was about the situation. You were one of the most important people in his life, and to think that he thought he knew you, but missed what you were genuinely feeling towards him for almost a decade… He felt horrible.

Yoko was the love of his life, but he also loved you with all his heart.

He was sorry that it wasn’t enough.

“John”

George stepped into the room and walked further in to pull you towards him. He'd been watching for just a few seconds, because as soon as he saw what was going on, he intended to leave, at the end of the day it was none of his business, but he knew you needed him and therefore took the decision to end the scene.

Rubbing your back, he whispered in your hair if you wanted to leave. You just nodded.

“Wait, George. I need to talk to her”

“You heard her. She doesn’t want to”

John got mad at him.

“All I’m asking is a few minutes. Don’t expect me to drop it when she’s like that”

Maybe by ‘that’ he meant that you looked like a train just ran you over. Casually, that’s how you felt. If not worse.

You rested your head on George’s shoulder and murmured something about needing to go now because you couldn’t be in John’s presence no more.

“(Y/N), please” you heard John beg.

George and you walked to the door and he told you to wait outside, touching your cheek with a small smile on his lips, encouraging you to take it as an opportunity to calm down.

You obliged, but heard everything they were saying anyway.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” John cursed. “Why won’t you let me speak to her? This is serious, please”

John tried to get to the door but George barred the way.

“Are you gonna tell her you love her?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

John stared at his bandmate blankly, the expression of confusion on his face speaking for itself.

“Are you gonna tell her you’re leaving Yoko to spend your life with her?” George continued, making a point that he knew John would understand.

You bit your lip at that and wept silently.

John’s eyes were slowly piling up hot tears.

“That’s what I thought” George spoke in an undertone.

After that, George left him and found you sitting on the ground in the corridor. He took a seat next to you.

Spontaneous sobs and shiverings that you couldn’t hold back happened every now and then. You were grateful that George wouldn’t address them.

“I’m pathetic”

“No you’re not”

“Yes I am” you shook your head and sniffed, feeling lamentable. “I didn’t know I’d end up confessing one day. I assumed I’d carry it to the crave”

Two staff members from the cleaning crew walked by, and you stopped talking. When they were gone, George turned to look at you.

“I believe things happen for a reason and that fate is written. You and John not being a thing may be for the best. It’s gonna be hard, but you have to move on”

“Move on…”

He nodded.

You moved to face him and stared strongly into his eyes. That was it.

“Move on” you repeated out loud as a mantra, staring off into nowhere.

George furrowed an eyebrow.

“Yes…?”

You inhaled and exhaled at the same time that you closed and opened your eyes. Moving on would be the first step to a better stage within yourself.

“I’m leaving”

Puzzlement clouded George’s features.

“Leave… where?”

“The band, Geo. I’m quitting the band”

[quidfree]

Hi!! :) I was thinking about the marauders and I started wondering about the Snape Incident. It is popular opinion that Remus thought Sirius was the spy because of this Incident in the books. What do you think? Also do you think Remus, James, and even Peter changed their opinions or feelings about Sirius in anyway (long or short term) after the incident? If you feel like saying. have a good day :)

hello!! this is a v good q ty

i actually do not subscribe to that theory because... i find it kind of dumb?

ok that’s a little harsh let me clarify- i very much believe that remus’ opinions/view of sirius were permanently altered by the incident, and i’m sure that when he believed sirius to be guilty he remembered it as the first of two great betrayals on his part. however, i don’t really think one had much bearing upon the other at all beyond the superficial. sure, in both cases (as remus would have seen it at the time) sirius betrayed the marauders’ trust by divulging a secret and leading an an enemy to them- but the two scenarios are completely different. in one, sirius told snape about the whomping willow because he wanted to harm/frighten *snape* and was sick of him trying to expose remus; it was a reckless and callous way to go about it, and it shone a light on some of his uglier traits, but it was driven by characteristic blind loyalty to his friends and hatred of those seeking to do them harm. if sirius had been the spy, he would have had to pull a complete 180 from those motivations, or been faking it all along- so that his loyalty had somehow shifted to voldemort at some point, or had covertly been with his family, or those traits had been part of some elaborate lie on his behalf. the latter would be too absurd a theory (i doubt remus would honestly believe sirius to have been faking it for the entirety of their school years) so he must have thought sirius had simply gone to the dark side at some point and coldly relinquished his prior attachments- none of which meshes with the thoughtless, defensive anger that coloured his actions in the snape incident. honestly, now that im thinking about im not sure what might have lead remus to suspect sirius- i think it had to have been a simple process of elimination; obviously james and lily wouldn’t spy on themselves, and peter was dismissed because dear old frightened pete couldnt possibly imagine such a thing, so sirius was the only option close to them. certainly he had the profile for it- magically gifted, death eater connections, legilimens, etc. i don’t think remus had any strong conviction of his guilt (it was *sirius* and james and lily, for god’s sake) but i think the fact that sirius in turn considered him the most likely suspect and was presumably the one slowly pushing him away from james and lily would have naturally seemed suspicious from his side of things.

as for changed opinions post-incident: most definitely, yes!!!

for short-term, i think they all must have had instinctive knee-jerk reactions to the shock of it all. i tend to imagine james as the most angry, remus as the most hurt, and peter as the most scared by it; so their respective readings would have been something like “sirius is a bastard”, “sirius is heartless”, and “sirius is a monster”. peter i think is just scared shitless- obviously pissed off too, because what the fuck, sirius, someone could have died- but also it took him the longest time to grow close to sirius because sirius doesn’t take him very seriously and tends to be the meanest to him (especially at first because he’s james’ childhood friend but james is sirius’ now and sirius does not want to share), and he’s always been a little wary of him, but now he feels like he was right all along and sirius is just the prodigal black son that he looks like, cruel and dangerous and filled with bloodlust and oh god he’s crazy he might kill peter in his sleep (etc ad nauseam). remus is furious, but more than that he is devastated, because he nearly killed snape- he came close to genuinely slaughtering his schoolmate, and it just confirms all of his worst nightmares about his monstrosity, and he can’t belive sirius would do that to him; for the first while he thinks maybe they were never friends at all and sirius has just been biding his time to use him as a pet monster, and he thinks to himself that he’ll never be able to trust a word he says again. james is besides himself- james is the one sirius tells, darkly excited and expecting support, and james is the one who stares at him like he’s never seen him before it hits him and he’s sprinting wildly across the school grounds, horrified beyond words and swearing blindly to himself that snape won’t die, that he’ll ge there in time; james is the one who wrenches snape back as he gapes pale-faced at a snarling remus, and james is the one who sees remus first when he awakens, remembers himself, shudders full-body and goes “did i-“ in such a raw terrified voice it haunts james forever. it’s like sirius spat in his face. he can’t even look at him, it makes him so angry. he sees him after he’s dragged snape back into the school and dumbledore’s handled it, and sirius by then is unmoored and his eyes are like cracked glass but james doesn’t care, doesn’t feel anything for him but anger and disgust, and he shouts at him for ten good minutes and then doesn’t speak to him at all. short-term, james ceases to think of sirius as someone he knows.

long-term... hm. it’s hard to delineate. i think peter from then on is always just a little scared of sirius, which he’d stopped being between second and fifth year, and during the war there are countless moments where he stands with ice in his veins sure that sirius knows and ready to die, because he’s seen sirius nearly kill someone for less. remus never manages to trust him so fully again- though he trusts him with his life, he never quite trusts him on a personal level the way he might have otherwise, and it’s the cause of that sliver of distance they never manage to bridge. he and peter also both lose some degree of their hero worship for him- peter less so, because the people peter admires are strong and powerful and not necessarily good, but remus’ hidden shiny-eyed admiration dies there and then. i think oddly enough for james it probably changes things the least (counterintuitive i know) because it’s not so much that it changes his feelings or opinions about sirius as that it makes him change his optics- stop seeing sirius quite so much as someone just like him who has a few quirks courtesy of his upbringing, start seeing sirius as the person he is, and understand for the first time the unspeakably intricate relationship the two of them have. i think the incident as much as anything lily related (more, actually) is what motivates james’ decision to change his ways in fifth year. you know snape’s worst memory? james taunts and teases long past lily telling him to stop; he only starts going after snape in the first place because *sirius is bored* and he’s looking to entertain him. that’s fifth year james and sirius- bored, justifiably cocky, wrapped up in themselves, each other, and their self-made mythos; james has always been indulged and spoiled, and sirius’ sense of right and wrong is completely relative, and between the two of them they fail to realize (james) or care (sirius) that they are doing bad things and no one is going to stop them. the incident changes that. he’s furious for a bit, and incomprehending (how could sirius have done it? why would he have thought james would be on board?), and then gradually he simmers down and really pays attention- to everyone’s reactions, to how devastated sirius is, to the way he feels- and he registers for the first time that since first year he has been sirius’ moral compass in a post-black family world and if sirius thought this would be ok with him then he has been ok-ing too many things he shouldn’t have. once he figures that out, remus and sirius are cautiously talking again, and james doesn’t even wait on a further apology; he saw the look on sirius’ face, he knows. they never fight like that again.

anyways those are my two cents on the subject- ty for asking :)

[thepowerofsecret]

Kabbalah Of Love Ii The Secret Power Of Ego

THE KEY TO TRUE LOVE

Do you long for love?

Most of us do. The intimate touch of another soul is the most powerful antidote for the all-too-human experience of aloneness. It may be the most compelling and pleasurable experience there is.

So why do we spend so much of our time and energy avoiding intimacy by defending ourselves, being angry, critical, closed and judgmental – in short, blocking the experience that we most deeply want?

DEFENDING THE EGO GETS IN THE WAY OF LOVE.

The answer is that we are wired to constantly reinforce our limited ego-based identity, our sense of who we are.

This ego-based identity plays a very important role in human life, but it does not have the power to love. Ego is all about the self. It can and does experience need, and need is often easy to mistake for love. And it can certainly love how another person makes it feel.

But these things aren’t true love. True love and intimacy doesn’t come from the ego. In order to experience the power of true love you have to get in touch with a different part of yourself – the part that lies beyond ego.

THE TRUE NATURE OF EGO.

This process is easier when you understand the true nature of your ego-based identity: It doesn’t really exist.

Although it functions as if it’s the most real thing about you, in actual fact your ‘identity’ is only a perspective. It’s kept alive solely through the stories you tell yourself about life, others and yourself.

You could literally say that your ego is all talk – an incessant monologue whose sole purpose is to reinforce your sense of self – who you are and who you aren’t.

Most of the time it goes something like this: “I’m better than he is, uglier than she is, smarter than him, richer than her, worse than I should be. I can do this, I could never do this, I shouldn’t have done that, they shouldn’t be that way. Life is good, life is hard, he’s right, she’s wrong, I’m great, I’m no good, it’s my fault, it’s their fault…” and on, and on, and on…

Just as a whale identifies its location through bouncing sound waves off nearby objects, your ego pinpoints its own presence – defines itself – by relating to the people, ideas, and objects around it.

This process is continuous. Your identity must be continuously reinforced or you will quite literally lose the sense of who you are.

That’s why it can be so very threatening to have something or somebody confronting your ego – your beliefs about yourself, others or the world. Since the ego is actually made out of these beliefs, perspectives and opinions, and you identify the ego as ‘you’, when your beliefs are threatened it can feel just like a threat to your very survival.

Quite simply, the more you get to be ‘right’ about things, the more real and solid you feel, and the more you have to be ‘wrong’, the more threatened and diminished.

WHO ARE YOU REALLY?

This would be really bad news if not for the fact that there is another part of you. This part – your core essence, your authentic self – has an intrinsic reality. Unlike your ego-based identity, its existence is not dependent upon outside circumstances or stories. And unlike your ego, it’s not threatened by someone else’s success, or enhanced by their failure. In fact, the opposite is true.

You could visualize your ego/identity as like the surface of the ocean; changeable, vulnerable, reflecting the sun, sky, and clouds, affected by every wind. Your core is the vast, calm, still, deep water beneath. Those deep mysterious waters teem with every kind of life and potential, but this life is invisible from the surface.

All transformation involves a process of seeing beneath the changeable surface and connecting with the vast deep life-giving waters beneath. This process usually involves a level of discomfort as your identity is shaken out of its placid solid form and made to expand and reflect a deeper level of reality.

But it’s worth it.

MY LITTLE WAKE-UP CALL

Last year I had a very typical experience from which I learned an uncommon lesson.

I was upstairs in my bedroom. My husband was late getting home and had failed to call me to let me know. I wasn’t really worried about him, but I still began to get more and more agitated by the fact that he hadn’t come home when he said he would.

The later he become, the angrier I grew. By the time I finally heard the door downstairs I was in a fury. (I realize that this doesn’t show me in a particularly positive light – but the truth is, that’s exactly what happened.)

Like a balloon inflating with hot air, I got ready to blow up at him.

But then something happened. In a moment of unusual lucidity, I saw the future before my eyes. This is what it looked like:

First, I’d blow up. I’d express some righteous indignation (in a loud voice). I’d persist until my husband (generally a pretty nice, easy-going guy) admitted that his behavior had been rude and inconsiderate. Then, once my anger was properly validated, I’d forgive him and we could be friends again – but only after I’d temporarily diminished his ego and inflated my own.

In that one lucid moment I realized that I could simply skip the whole thing and go straight to being authentic and close. I saw a new possibility – the possibility of refusing to be a slave to my own ego. To choose from a deeper, calmer, more authentic part of myself.

I was overwhelmed with a sense of how massively stupid, predictable, automatic and ridiculous this whole pattern actually is.

What part of me saw that new possibility? The part that peeked out through the surface of my ego – a little piece of my core.

EGO AND PURPOSE – THE STAGES OF CREATION

The world was created in three basic stages.

In Stage One, G-d’s* Infinite all-pervasive essential light was shining without limit, filling all space. There was no place devoid of it, and therefore nothing could exist aside from it. This is the stage of Infinity.

In Stage Two, G-d concealed His Infinite light in order to create an apparently ‘empty space’ in which other things (i.e., the universe, us) could exist. This concealment of the truth is Stage Two. This is the stage of the finite, where it became possible for myriad creatures and myriad perspectives, each with its own limited boundaries and parameters, to exist.

Stage Three is the merging of infinite and finite. It involves the transformation of the finite inhabitants of the universe. They must move from a state of being which conceals their infinite Divine Source to one which expresses and reveals it.

Like a game of hide and seek, G-d conceals Himself in our finite world and waits for us to find Him. Through this process He can endow us with the greatest gift there is – to exist as finite individuals and yet experience a truly intimate relationship with our Creator.

Your ego is central to this process.

Like everything in the physical world, your ego hides the light of your essence. It is what allows you exist as a separate individual. By blocking out your intrinsic connection to

G-d, your true nature and purpose, and the essential oneness of the universe, your ego allows you to function as an individual. It allows you to have a personal perspective and a personal experience of life. Without it you’d be simply a part of the whole.

But this is only the beginning the process. The ultimate goal is that through your ego – your role as a limited individual with a limited perspective, you will find your way back home.

HOW IT WORKS

We have entered the Era of Transformation. This means that you can train your ego-based identity to recognize and align itself with the voice of your authentic self. The ego doesn’t have to be defended or suppressed – it can be transformed. Your ego can be used on behalf of the purpose for which it was created in the first place – to allow you to enhance your relationship with your Creator, express the potential of your essence, and fulfill your purpose here on earth.

Your defensive ego-based reactions will probably not go away for now. But instead of being a slave to them, you can use them as the impetus to connect to these deeper parts of you. The moment you choose to observe yourself rather than react, to question your own defensive instincts, to genuinely see another person’s point of view, to admit where you may be wrong, to connect with something higher, to be generous with your time, money or resources when you don’t have to, you have made your ego your ally.

In fact, whenever you choose use your body, your mind, your time, your relationships or your possessions to fulfill your authentic purpose – to do something intrinsically good or G-dly – those things, for that moment, are Holy. They have been used on behalf of the purpose of Creation. You have created a bit of light through which the world’s darkness and concealment will be transformed.

[master-sass-blast]

Meeting the Rasputins

HOLY. FUCK. IT’S DONE.

This is 19.6k words long. It was SIXTY-ONE FUCKING PAGES in Word before I switched everything to Tumblr formatting.

I want an award. I deserve it.

Summary: You finally meet Piotr’s family face-to-face. And, because nothing in your life is simple (and because I’m the author), you wind up with a head injury that provides a lot of much needed answers.

[Set after ‘Silent Scream.’]

Rating: T for sibling rivalries/issues, depictions of child abuse, head injuries, angst, angst, and more angst.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Frank Castle x Karen Page.

Much love and thanks to @leo-writer for proof-reading this monster!

@marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @rovvboat

You like to think that, in your relatively short time on this not-as-green-as-it-ought-to-be Earth, you’ve handled more than your fair share of shit and come out fine. You were raised by abusive parents, grew up in a community that persecuted and tormented you, were hunted by men with rifles, and have had to deal with Wade Wilson on cocaine withdrawals. You’ve looked death in the eye and walked away –relatively—unscathed. You are a grown-ass adult who can handle their own shit, thank you very much.

So, why is it, darling universe that lives to smite me and watch me suffer for no good reason, you think, a touch angry, as you pace the hallway you’re most definitely not hiding in, that I can’t handle meeting a new group of people that I already know doesn’t hate me.

It’s officially time to meet Piotr’s family. Yes, yes, you’ve met them over phone and Skype calls, but now they’re coming here. To the mansion. For a week. To get to know you and visit Piotr.

And you already know that they like you just fine.

But, the little negative troll voice in your head replies, what if they meet you in person and realize just how much of a garbage heap you are, and they decide they don’t want you anywhere near their perfectly functional, not fucked up son?

Touché, you think back, convinced despite yourself.

Before you can delve too much further down that rabbit hole, Nathan walks into the hall from the flight of stairs leading up from the ground floor and grabs you by the arm, thus preventing you from walking a rut into the carpet. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” you grumble. “You’re not meeting the parents and siblings.”

“Yes, I am. Unlike you, for the first time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need them to like you.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “I thought you said your previous interactions with them went well?”

“Well, they did—”

“So why wouldn’t they like you now?”

“Because they’re going to figure out that I am a literal garbage fire of a human being.”

Nathan sighs and pulls you in for a one-armed hug. “Kid.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re meeting Wade, too. If you can do worse than him, I’ll actually be impressed.”

You giggle –a little on the hysterical side, but who gives a shit at this point—at that. “Fair enough.”

He pats your back. “You’ve got this. I think the only person outside of where you grew up that doesn’t like you is Scott, and he doesn’t count.”

You snort. “He’s your dad.”

“I said what I said.”

All anxious misgivings aside, you do feel better, more confident. You know that Piotr’s family likes you well enough, and you’re definitely not going to do worse than Wade, of all people. You’ve got this.

And then the door opens, and you can hear Piotr greeting people and talking to them in Russian, and, yupp, his family’s officially here, and you do not got this.

And, in light of that stunning revelation, you take the least destructive course of action possible.

You pass out.

You come to in the library, stretched out on one of the couches, with Wade’s worried face hovering over you.

(His face is also attached to the rest of his body, which is a relief in and of itself. You wouldn’t put it past him to decapitate himself for a reaction.)

“Less screaming than I was expecting. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or not.”

You let out a weak huff. “I’ve seen uglier than you.”

“See, now I’m just offended. I’ll have you know that it takes a lot of work to look this bad, and I will not have my hard work go unrecognized.”

“You look just fine, handsome,” Nathan says softly. He’s seated in the chair next to you. “How’re you feeling?”

“A little lightheaded? Did I pass out?”

He nods. “You know why?”

“Fuck if I know,” you grumble as you fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I, for one, highly advise never knowing anything ever,” Wade says brightly. “Makes life much easier that way.”

You laugh, and for a moment you almost forget that you’re in here because you passed out, and that you’ve still got to deal meeting Piotr’s family at some point—

And then the door to the library swings open and Piotr walks in, his expression the perfect picture of concern.

You feel your throat constrict as reality comes crashing back and look away quickly in a –bad—attempt to hide the tears welling up in your eyes.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant, cradling you in his arms and crooning to you gently. “Nyet, nyet, nyet. None of that. Why so upset? Are you hurt?”

You sniff lamely. “I’m sorry.”

You can feel him frown as he presses his lips against your forehead. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m just fucking everything up—”

He shushes you again, this time kissing the bridge of your nose. “Not true. You have ruined nothing.”

“But I passed out—”

“It happens—”

“And now your family’s gonna hate me!”

Piotr actually has to pause and blink a few times in order to process your sudden turn in reasoning, which is probably a good indicator for how far off base your logic is –not that you’re aware of that at the moment, because nothing in this life ever comes easy. “Myshka –tische,” he says when you don’t stop rambling. “I am not following. How do you get from ‘passing out’ to ‘my family hating you?’”

You let out a frustrated whine and gesture at your head. “It makes sense in here!”

He sighs softly and kisses your forehead. “You are worrying for nothing. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

You bury your face into his shoulder. “No, it won’t. They’re gonna realize I’m a fucking garbage fire and hate me.”

“You are not garbage fire—”

“Yes, I am!”

“Nyet. You are not.” He kisses your forehead. “Do you trust me?”

You scrub your face with your hands and nod.

“Then, trust me when I say it will be fine.”

“But—”

“Trust me. Please. It will be fine.” He helps you sit up and kisses you gently. “You stay here. I will get my family.”

“Wait.” You grab his shirt before he can stand. “Just –just for a minute. Please?”

He obliges, sitting with you while you take a moment to collect yourself. He holds your hands in his, rubbing little circles over your knuckles. His blue eyes are locked on you, loving and completely judgement free.

He’s a literal, actual angel.

There’s no way in hell you deserve him.

You take a deep breath –two, three, four, c’mon, Y/N, just like ripping off a bandaid—and nod. “Alright. Okay.”

He smiles softly, kisses your forehead, and squeezes your hand once before getting up and heading out of the library.

You can hear him talking in the hallway, and footsteps walking towards the library—

It’s happening. Oh God it’s happening.

Nate squeezes your shoulder. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

You inhale deeply and focus on staying calm. I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.

Meeting the Rasputin family, as it turns out, is not as disastrous as your anxiety thought it would be. Shocking.

It’s also more of an experience than your rational brain had expected. You’d expected them to be a loving, decent family –they are—and the similarities in appearance and personality quirks—

What you did not expect, first and foremost, was for Alexandra Rasputin to walk into the library while shucking a black leather jacket, thus revealing two full sleeves of tattoos on her arms.

Mikhail follows after her, also dressed in a black leather jacket, faded red Chucks, and heavily distressed jeans. He’s got piercings in both ears and long, curly hair that’s been tied back into a man bun, of all things, and you can just make out some sort of tattoo peeking over the collar of his shirt.

Illyana, the baby of the family at nineteen, is also similarly dressed in black –though she looks more ‘refined goth’ than ‘side road punk’ like her brother. Her ears are also pierced, silver studs sparkling from multiple points—

And then Nikolai walks in, wearing sensible, non-worn out jeans and a button-down shirt, and holy fuck you never considered that Piotr might be the odd kid out.

Next to you, Wade’s also similarly shocked. He’s actually gaping, mostly because he doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks about him. “How did your boy scout end up like that with all of… this?” he hisses in your ear.

“Fuck if I know,” you whisper back.

“Y/N.” Alexandra smiles warmly at you, brown eyes sparkling as she extends a hand towards you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.” Her dark, black hair cascades over one shoulder as she shakes your hand—

And it’s not hard to see why your uncle fell for her, way back whenever that was. You’re two seconds in to meeting Alexandra Rasputin, and you’re downright charmed.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you manage. “Sorry, uh, about the—”

She waves you off as she sits on the couch opposite of you. “These things happen. No apologies needed.”

After nearly a whole lifetime of being raked over the coals for your differences, your weaknesses, her simple, easy acceptance of the situation –of you—almost makes you cry.

Piotr goes about making the necessary introductions between his family, Wade, and Nate; since you know enough about Alexandra’s backstory, it’s easy to catch the glints of sharpness in her eyes that set her apart from her family, the little bits of awareness of who she’s talking to and just what they might be capable of. You’ve seen it in Wade, Nate, your uncle, Neena, and it’s… interesting to watch it now.

Illyana wrinkles her nose at Wade once the two of them are introduced, and for a moment you think she might say something about his appearance, but then she says, “I cannot read him.” She pauses for a moment, then jerks her chin at Nate. “Him either.”

That gets an eyebrow raise from Nathan. “You’re telepathic.”

“Wade has healing factor,” Piotr explains. “None of telepaths here can read him.”

“Pretty sure they wouldn’t want to!” Wade adds brightly.

“And Nathan…”

“Techno-organic virus,” Nate supplies, gesturing at his arm. “Part of it’s in my brain already. Puts out interference against telepaths.”

“So, your arm is not prosthetic?” Nikolai asks.

“It’s a virus I contracted as a child. It eats away at my organic body and replaces what it eats with metal and technology.”

Alexandra’s lips quirk into something resembling a smirk. “Fun.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And… how are you two related to Y/N?” Mikhail asks, brow furrowed. “She’s mentioned that the two of you are together, and I’ve heard Wade referred to as ‘brother,’ but she calls you ‘dad’…”

“They’re my adoptive family,” you clarify quickly. “None of us are actually related to each other.”

“And what about your biological family?” Nikolai interjects.

You grimace. You’ve kept your proverbial cards close to your chest about your biological family –some things just aren’t meant to be discussed over a Skype call. But now, now doesn’t seem quite like the right time to talk about it –your parents, growing up, everything—either.

You settle on the simplest option. “I’m not in contact with them, save for my uncle. He might show up while you’re here. Or not. He’s kinda like a cat, actually. Does what he damn well pleases when it damn well pleases him.”

Alexandra smirks, then nods. “Well, hopefully we’ll get to meet him.”

You wonder for a moment if she’s just playing along, or if she has no idea who you’re talking about, then shrug. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

There’s quite a bit you pick up about the Rasputin family in your first face-to-face conversation with them.

First, it’s that Nikolai’s the talker of the two parents. He’s not overly animated or loud, but asks the most questions and offers the most anecdotes. Alex, by contrast, seems more content to observe. Most of her commentary is a simple expression –a smirk, a raise of an eyebrow—or a gentle huff.

Alexandra, however, is definitely the wittier of the two of them. Which isn’t to say that Nikolai isn’t witty, but Alex can go toe to toe with Wade, of all people.

All conversation effectively dies for about five minutes because all of you are gasping for air after the two of them get going.

Second, it’s that the family seems to be full of ‘odd ones out.’ Case in point, Illyana’s the only Rasputin child to have gotten Nikolai’s blond hair –but Alexandra’s the only one with brown eyes; all of her children have her husband’s baby blues.

And Piotr’s really the only one that’s like Nikolai in mannerisms. His two siblings have more of Alexandra’s ‘grit’ to them. Their smiles are a little sharper around the edges, their responses a little edgier than their brother’s.

Illyana, however, is the only quiet one. Mikhail is loud and gregarious –roguish, even—and Piotr easily outpaces his baby sister by miles in the conversation department.

“She’s too used to using her abilities to glean everyone’s thoughts,” Alexandra says of her daughter at one point, nudging Illyana’s leg with her foot –and that’s when you notice that Alexandra Rasputin is wearing combat boots. “Not used to talking.”

“It is more efficient,” Illyana mutters, smirking just a little.

The third thing you notice about the Rasputin family takes a little more time to put together. In fact, you don’t really even pick up on it until you’re helping Piotr get his family settled in.

Mikhail and Piotr Rasputin do not get along.

“Do you like being X-Man?” Illyana asks as you and Piotr help his family unload the car they arrived in.

“I’m not technically an X-Man,” you clarify. “But I do help with missions, now and then. I wouldn’t say it’s ‘fun,’ but it’s definitely not boring.”

“Piotr says he likes it,” the youngest Rasputin explains. She smiles and wraps her arms around her brother’s waist. “Says it is best choice he ever made.”

Piotr beams as he squeezes her in a one-armed hug. “I like helping others, teaching others to be better. I find it fulfilling.”

“And some of us,” Mikhail interjects as he pulls a massive black duffel bag out of the back of the car, “like having fun.”

“Mikhail does mercenary work,” Illyana whispers to you as Piotr grimaces.

And, suddenly, Piotr’s constant aggravation with Wade makes sense; it just hits too close to home for comfort.

“Not just that, but da.” Mikhail grins. “Not all of us can live with being glorified nyanya.”

Piotr’s grimace deepens into a frown. “I see nothing wrong with it.”

Mikhail shrugs –a tense, jerky movement that belies the casual expression on his face—and starts walking briskly towards the house. “Not all of us can be you.”

You don’t miss the way Piotr’s shoulders sag, just a little, and roll up onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I think you’re an amazing teacher. The kids here are lucky to have you.”

He smiles down at you and kisses your forehead. “Spasibo, moya serdste.”

One of the best things about normal families that don’t hate each other, you’ve discovered, is that there’s an abundance of evidence of them being happy and living each other. Namely, in the form of pictures.

Especially pictures of childhood and teenage years that the subject of said picture might want, say, buried forever and left forgotten to humanity for the rest of time.

Which is how you find yourself cooing over various baby, childhood, and teenage-years pictures of Piotr while your boyfriend and his father work on preparing dinner. “Oh. My. Gosh.” You hold a picture of Piotr dated from when he was fifteen. “You never told me you dyed your hair!”

The picture itself shows a teenage Piotr favoring the camera with a brooding expression. He’s dressed in baggy jeans, a black hoodie, worn out looking farm boots –and his hair is dyed bright, obnoxious, blue-raspberry flavored Airhead blue.

Not the top, or the fringe. His whole head.

Piotr sighs and shakes his head, tips of his ears turning red as he focuses –very intently—on the skillet he’s working with. “I fail to see what is so amazing about all of this. My hair was blue. Many teenagers dye hair.”

“He had his friend pierce his ears in barn during summer,” Illyana adds, leaning over your shoulder to point at the picture. “He thought it looked cool.”

“It did look cool,” Piotr mutters under his breath; he shoots a sharp glare at Mikhail when his brother spouts off something in Russian, but says nothing else.

You can’t help but laugh when you make out the stud in your boyfriend’s ear. “Oh my gosh. You were an emo kid! Did you really pierce your ears?”

He sighs, but smiles with a shrug. “Da. I took piercings out when I turned twenty. The holes scarred shut.”

“Can I see?” You reach out for him when he sighs, then grin when he hands the pan he’s working with off to his father and makes his way over to you. You brace your hands against his chest and peer at his ear as he bends over so you can see better –and, sure enough, there’s a faint scar right on his lobe where the piercing used to be.

“Is not that funny,” he mumbles when you laugh, but he kisses your forehead anyway.

Mikhail chuckles. “Kiska-vzbityye.”

And while you don’t know what that particular phrase means, the sudden glare he gets from Piotr and the none-too-subtle throat clearing from Nikolai and Alexandra tell you that it couldn’t have been particularly nice—

And then all ponderings you have about what Mikhail just said fly out the window, because your uncle lands on the back lawn of Xavier’s property.

“Holy shit.” You dart out the back door and across the lawn to where he’s standing.

Your uncle catches you in a massive hug and spins you around. “Hey, punk! How ya doing?”

“Good! What’re you doing here? I didn’t even know you were coming!”

He smirks, shrugs, and starts steering you back towards the mansion. “Had the time off. Got bored of jacking around at my place. Thought I’d come see you.”

You can’t help but beam as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Well, your timing’s just amazing.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, Piotr’s family came to visit—” You cut yourself off right as the two of you step back into the kitchen, because at that precise moment you recollect the conversation on your uncle’s farm where you put together that he’d had a thing for Piotr’s mom –still has a thing for Piotr’s mom—and aw fuck.

The collective reactions from everyone in the kitchen are best described as ‘mixed.’

Your uncle, true to form, goes completely and utterly still at the sight of Piotr’s family. All signs point towards him bolting out the back door once the shock passes.

Mikhail seems more curious than anything else, which suggests that he doesn’t know the whole backstory between your uncle and his mother.

Piotr, who knows what you told him back on the farm, keeps looking between his parents, your uncle, and you, expression saying ‘what the hell do we do with this?’

Illyana’s face stays fairly neutral, but you can only imagine what sorts of thoughts she’s picking up from everyone.

Nikolai, surprisingly enough, doesn’t seem all that perturbed. Surprised, sure, but there’s none of the usual –or, perhaps more accurately, projected by mass media—automatic jealousy and chest thumping you would’ve expected.

And Alexandra, as true to form for all you have context for, smirks and lifts the bottle of beer she’s been sipping at while everyone’s been chatting and prepping dinner towards your uncle. “Been a while.”

That gets Mikhail’s attention. He frowns at his mother and jerks his head at your uncle. “You know him?”

One of Alex’s eyebrows tic upwards, just for a moment, and she lifts the bottle to her mouth to take another sip. “Old colleague.”

And that’s got to be some sort of code for whatever Alexandra’s got lurking in her past, because Mikhail’s eyes narrow automatically and he starts regarding your uncle with about as much caution you suspect he’s capable of.

Your uncle’s mouth tightens into a grimace –and then he sighs and visibly forces himself to relax. “Yeah. It has been.” He gestures with the hiking backpack he has slung over his shoulder. “Let me get settled, and then I’ll help get dinner ready.”

For a moment, you’re completely shocked by his apparent decision to stay –and so is everyone else, from what you can tell, because even Alex looks surprised—and then your brain kicks back on. “Uh, yeah. Let me help you find a room to stay in.”

It’s easy enough to find a room –most of the students and teachers are out for the summer, either staying with or visiting family—and you pick one that faces away from the drive and has a balcony.

Your uncle sets his pack on the floor next to the bed. “Thanks, punk.”

You nod and laugh nervously. “If I leave you to get settled in, are you just going to leave via the balcony and head back home?”

He sighs heavily, rubs at the back of his neck with his hand, then shakes his head. “No. I came here to see you. That hasn’t changed.”

You blink, stunned. “But Piotr’s family—”

He shrugs. “I’ll manage. I’m not gonna ditch out on you just because some people –well, no, yeah, ‘people,’ I met Nick a couple times way back when—I used to know are here. I’m not gonna do that to you.”

You throat constricts with emotion and your eyes get misty with tears. You practically dive at your uncle and wrap your arms around his neck in a massive hug.

He holds you back just as tight as you start to cry. “I got you, punk. I got you.”

You wake up next morning when Piotr does. Pale, golden, early morning light is peeking through the cracks between the curtains and the window frames; you can hear birds chirping outside, occasionally punctuated by sounds of traffic or people waking up from somewhere else in the house.

Piotr kisses your forehead when you stretch and make various squeaking noises. “Dobroye utro, myshka. It is still early. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

You sigh contentedly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down for a proper kiss. “No. ‘M up. What’re you doing?”

“Getting ready to work on breakfast.”

You stretch again –your back finally gives a satisfying pop—and sit up. “I’ll help you.”

He smirks as he resumes getting dressed for the morning. “‘Help’ or ‘hinder?’”

You gasp and feign offense. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty helpful!”

He chuckles –then laughs when you get up and start poking him in the ribs for some well-deserved retaliation, before catching your hands in his and lifting them to his mouth so he can kiss your knuckles. “Ya lyublyu tebya, dorogoy.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” You kiss him gently, then start rummaging through your dresser to find a clean shirt and pair of shorts. “So… what do you think of my uncle being here?”

Piotr lets out a mildly amused huff. “I was not… expecting him.”

“Neither was I,” you mumble. You clear your throat, then say, “Are you, like, okay with him being around? Y’know, while your mom’s here?”

Piotr shrugs. “She seems comfortable enough. Besides, your uncle has just as much right to see you as moya mama does to see me.”

“Okay, but your mom has the poker face of a granite statue.”

He snorts at that. “Very true. But I think she is… as good with things as possible.”

Suitably dressed, you pull your hair back into a messy, somewhat haphazard bun, before pulling on a pair of socks. “Fair enough.” You kiss your burly boyfriend again before patting his chest and yanking him towards the hallway door. “Come on. I want coffee.”

As it so happens, Piotr’s parents and your uncle are already awake for the day and seated at the kitchen island. Your uncle seems a little twitchy –well, more so than usual—but seems to be holding up well, all things considered.

You plop down on the stool next to him and drop your head onto the counter. “Ow.”

“Try it again,” your uncle suggests. “I bet it won’t hurt the second time around.”

“Fuck you.”

Across the counter, Alexandra snorts. “How are you this morning, malen'kaya ptitsa?”

It takes you a minute to put together that she’s talking to you; when you do, you lift your head off the counter. “Uh… not bad? Kinda tired, but that’s pretty typical.”

The corner of her mouth turns up in a slight smile as she nods, and then she leans back on her stool a little and starts talking to Piotr in Russian.

You let the noise of their conversation wash over you as you drop your head back down to the counter –much gentler this time—and close your eyes. You’re starting to wonder if agreeing to get up when Piotr did was such a good idea after all—

And then Piotr sets a steaming mug of coffee down in front of you and kisses the top of your head.

Your uncle smirks as you pick up your cup with a delighted coo. “What, can’t make your own coffee?”

“I’m not allowed to dictate my own caffeine intake anymore,” you admit, “because someone thinks I’m irresponsible.”

“You drank three Redbull cans in almost as many hours when we drove out for training,” Piotr retorts, fixing you with an exasperated look. “You are exact definition of ‘irresponsible.’”

You smile sheepishly as the other adults laugh. “Yeah, but you love me.”

He kisses your temple. “Konechno.”

“Where do you go for training?” Alexandra asks as Piotr starts rummaging through the kitchen to get started on breakfast. “I was under the impression that Charles had well-equipped trainers to handle his recruits.”

“Oh, I do train here.” You jerk your head at your uncle. “I just go see him on occasion, if I need special training.”

Alexandra nods. “Not many mutants have access to other mutants with similar power sets. You are very lucky.”

You snort. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say ‘lucky.’ He lives out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a pain to get out to him.”

“Travelling builds character,” your uncle fires back easily.

“You make me do chores when I’m there!”

“Chores build character, too.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and shake your head. “Yeah, whatever.” You take another swig of coffee, then cock your head to the side so you can see Alex’s tattoos better. “Y’know, even with all the times I talked to you guys on Skype, I don’t think I ever counted on you having tattoos.”

“Most people do not,” Alexandra says with a slight smirk.

“How long did it take for you to get all of them done?”

“Well, the actual tattoos take a few sessions to do, since they cover my full arms.” She holds up her left arm. “I worked on developing this sleeve for… a few years, I think, in my twenties, but this one—” she taps the right one “—I got done in a few weeks, when I was forty-two. Medvezhonok actually designed it for me, before he left to come to America.”

“That’s cool.” You peer closer at the design –it’s a piece that blends a sunset on a beach into a full on starry galaxy—and sure enough you pick up on little bits of Piotr’s style. “I never actually considered getting a tattoo. I guess I could get one, if I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” your uncle interjects. “The family’s latent mutation is gonna make it harder for the ink to set properly.”

You let out a disappointed huff. “Well. That sucks.”

“Same goes for piercings, too.”

“Well, now I’m just depressed. How am I supposed to go through a proper rebellious phase without being able to get a tattoo or pierce the fuck out of my ears?”

“You still have hair,” Nikolai points out with a smile.

You grin. “That’s true. I could always dye my hair. And you could help me, babe, since you know all about that!”

Piotr just sticks his tongue out at you before going back to getting breakfast ready.

“So, what’s it like living in Russia?” I mean, Piotr’s already told me a lot, but I’m sure there’s stuff he left out.”

Alexandra and Nikolai take turns telling stories –about what farm life is like, about what the kids were like growing up, about the community they lived in. Each one’s better than the last, and it’d be more than easy to stay enthralled—

Except that your brain keeps putting certain details together.

Like how the Rasputin family lives on a farm.

And how your uncle mentioned that Alexandra had always wanted to live on a farm.

And how your uncle is still in some sort of love with Alexandra.

…And how he lives on a farm, too.

You wind up staring at him halfway through a story about how Mikhail had tried to teach their barn cats to swim, and the growing look of confusion and mild horror must be more obvious than you’d thought because Alex actually stops mid-sentence to glance between you and your uncle.

“Am I missing something?” she asks.

You blink at your uncle when he raises an eyebrow at you. “You… you live on a farm.”

Alex puts together the details much faster than you did and gives your uncle a look that lands somewhere between exasperation and shock.

“Relax,” your uncle grinds out quickly. “My coping mechanisms aren’t that bad. It’s a matter of convenience. Easier for me to stay off radars that way.”

“Konechno, konechno,” Nikolai says with genuine sweetness. “What kind of farm?”

“Not really anything specific. I grow some produce, but that’s about it –and it’s mostly for me, too,” your uncle explains with a jerky shrug. “It’s more about staying in the middle of nowhere.”

Nikolai frowns softly. “Must be lonely.”

Your uncle ducks his head, clears his throat, and pushes his stool back with a scraping noise as he stands. “Hey, Pete. Let me help you with some of that.”

It’s a clear cry for some space. Please, stop asking, I can’t take anymore.

Nikolai’s forehead wrinkles as your uncle walks to the opposite side of the kitchen. He opens his mouth to say something else, then pauses when Alexandra puts her hand on his arm.

She shakes her head.

Don’t try. Leave him be.

He closes his mouth again, hangs his head slightly –then clears his throat and straightens back up before smiling at you. “So. You… enjoy it here?” He gestures at the room. “At mansion?”

It’s unfathomable, but it almost seems like he’s… worried about your uncle. About the man who –at one point, ostensibly—was his romantic rival.

And, granted there’s a lot of water under the bridge that might’ve been Alex and your uncle, but the absolute, unlimited gentleness that Nikolai exudes is nothing short of amazing.

He reminds you a lot of Piotr, actually.

You smile back and nod. “I do.”

You wind up going on a run while your uncle and Piotr get breakfast ready. Since it’s the middle of summer there aren’t any students to interrupt your efforts, leaving you to run one of the trails in the woods at the back of Xavier’s property in peace.

And with that peace comes a lot of thoughts.

So far, things aren’t going all that bad with Piotr’s family –even with your uncle randomly showing up. You haven’t made an ass of yourself, and none of the Rasputins seemed too put off by your fainting spell yesterday.

You can still feel the need to have them like you lingering in your chest, though. A little nagging sensation that you’re not good enough.

Focus on running, you tell yourself. Oxygen in, bad thoughts out. Catharsis. Not twisting your ankles. Yes.

You slow down to a jog as you come out of the woods and onto the back lawn—

And nearly stop altogether when you see your uncle and Alexandra sitting out on the patio by the back door.

Because out of everything you expected to see today, that is not even close to any of it.

Alex inclines her head at you as you approach. “Care to join us?”

“For a minute, sure.” You plop down into one of the patio chairs and pant heavily. “I think I’m properly awake now.”

“I bet,” Alex says.

“I thought you only ran for food,” your uncle teases.

“Yes. This is my ‘pre-breakfast’ run.”

“What, do you have a pre-lunch run, too?”

“No. I’m not a masochist.”

Alex chuckles, then lifts her hand and makes a loose twisting motion.

The back door swings open just in time to let Nikolai –who’s carrying three cups of coffee with him—out onto the patio.

You keep an eye on your uncle as the two Rasputin parents converse briefly in Russian. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem too much weirder than normal, but that doesn’t mean you’re not done worrying.

Nikolai sets down one of the cups in front of Alex, one in front of the chair next to her, then hands the third to your uncle. “I was not sure how you take—”

Your uncle waves him off as accepts the cup. “Coffee’s coffee. I drink it however. Uh, thank you.”

You can’t help but blink.

It’s not every day you witness a man giving his former (sorta) romantic rival a cup of coffee, after all.

Nate and Wade show up a little before lunch –and Wade is absolutely delighted to finally meet your uncle –and vice versa—after so much time and speculation.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” your uncle says as he shakes Wade’s hand. “Especially a lot about you and fireworks.”

“We have a love-hate relationship,” Wade says with the utmost sincerity.

“And this—” you gesture to Nate “—is dad. Or, uh, Nate.”

Your uncle sticks out his hand to Nathan. “I already like you better than her biological one.” There’s a beat of silence, and your uncle looks like he’s dying inside for a moment before he looks down at you. “Awkward?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Just repress it?”

“Probably the best option.”

Nathan’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’m already seeing the family resemblance.”

“Terminal awkwardness,” you supply. “It’s genetic.”

“Part of the mutation lineage,” your uncle adds.

“So, not to point out the obvious, but you—” Wade points at you “—didn’t introduce him with a name.”

You freeze for a minute, because fuck there’s really not a good way to explain that—

“Legally, I don’t have one,” your uncle says.

Wade’s eyes light up. “So, that’s free game to call you whatever pops into my head in the moment?”

“Fuck no. Andrew works fine.”

“Well. That’s disappointingly vanilla.”

Your uncle watches Wade as he traipses into Xavier’s like he owns the place, an amused smile play at his lips. “Oh, he’s a riot.”

“Just wait,” you tell him. “He gets better.”

Ellie and Yukio show up after lunch –and both girls immediately gravitate towards Illyana, and you can absolutely see where some of Ellie’s goth style comes from now that you’ve got the two of them side by side.

“This is so cute, I can’t,” you whisper to Wade as you watch the two of them compare notes about some of the latest fashion trends in their fashion community.

“Baby Goth and… less Baby Goth,” Wade agrees. “Hi, Yukio!”

“Hi, Wade!”

“Did you bring it?” Ellie asks Illyana, the most excited and animated-looking you’ve seen her, well, ever. “Did you bring it?”

Illyana laughs. “Konechno. I must practice.”

Ellie whirls and looks imploringly up at Piotr. “Can we go to the music room? Please?”

Illyana bats her eyelashes at her older brother. “I do need practice.”

You frown, confused. “Wait, what? What practice? And why do we need to go to the music room it?”

Piotr chuckles as he starts walking out of the kitchen. “Come and see.”

Part of your curiosity is sated when Mikhail and Illyana walk into the music room with a guitar case and a violin case, respectively.

And then whatever satiation you might’ve had evaporates when Illyana pulls out an instrument you’ve never seen before. “The fuck is that?”

“Language, myshka.”

“Electric violin,” Illyana says, elbowing Mikhail in the side when he shoots Piotr a disbelieving look. “I played since age seven.”

“And you obviously play guitar,” you say as you point at Mikhail. “Huh. I guess I never thought you guys were musical. I mean, I’ve heard Piotr sing –well, try to sing—”

“We do not let him sing!” Mikhail exclaimed, eyes wide. “Never. He made Illyana cry when she was baby!”

Piotr shrugs somewhat amicably, though his smile looks a touch strained. “I just have different talents. Nothing wrong with that.”

Mikhail snorts. “If you say so.”

“Honestly acquired,” Nikolai pipes up, tapping his own chest with his index finger. “I am not singer either.”

“Play something by Metallica!” Ellie insists brightly as Illyana and Mikhail finish setting up.

Illyana snorts. “Do you enjoy giving complicated request?”

“I think we can handle it,” Mikhail says with an easy grin. “We have been practicing.”

You sit down next to Piotr, nestling against his side as he puts his arm around your shoulders. “Are they really going to play rock music?”

He smiles. “Wait and see.”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sounds of Illyana and Mikhail tuning their respective instruments.

Then, Illyana nods, Ellie hits ‘play’ on a CD player, and the opening chords of Metallica’s ‘Ride the Lightning’ blast through the room.

It’s nothing short of astounding. Illyana plays the part originally meant for the lead guitar, while Mikhail bobs his head with the beat as he plays the rhythm part.

You can’t help but grin. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it before. Then, a vocalist kicks in on the CD, and you frown. “Wait. That’s not James Hetfield.”

“Lzzy Hale,” Ellie says over the music. “It’s the Halestorm cover!”

Your jaw drops when Illyana keeps up with the fastest guitar riffs without even breaking a sweat. “Holy shit.”

Piotr doesn’t even bother to correct your language. He just beams like the proud brother he is. “She is very talented.”

“No kidding! I don’t think my fingers could move that fast, like, ever!” You grin and nod your head in time with the music. Alright. Color me impressed.

The next few days are nothing short of utterly delightful. Piotr’s family is absolutely wonderful to be around, your uncle’s not acting any weirder than usual and –dare you say it—even seems to be enjoying himself, and the mansion hasn’t blown up –which might be a record of some kind, all things considered.

Even with the weird tension between Piotr and Mikhail, things are good. The two brothers seem more happy than annoyed to see each other, and things don’t really escalate past a few pointed comments –usually from Mikhail—directed at each other.

If anything, the only regret you’re having is not always have a camera or your phone on hand. There’s no shortage of priceless moments –especially when Alexandra revealed she’d brought some of Piotr’s old artwork with. The look of mortification on his face –and the actual drawings and paintings themselves—was priceless.

It’s almost been downright idyllic.

…

“So, wait, you’re the mutant parent.”

Alexandra nods. “Telekinesis and energy manipulation.”

You point to Nikolai. “And you’re…”

“Carrier,” he says with a smile. “Not actual mutant, but gene is very present in family lineage.”

“So the likelihood that Piotr and I are gonna have mutant kids—”

“Basically guaranteed,” Alexandra says with a smirk. “I’ll be sure to give you a few fireproof blankets before you have your first one.”

Your eyes widen. “Fireproof?”

“Mikhail can summon fire –along with manipulating energy and teleportation.”

“Illyana can teleports, too,” Nikolai adds. “It is magic channeling, from my side of family.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I could have a fireball baby that could teleport at random.”

Alex chuckles. “Mikhail was.. rare. He manifested three weeks after birth. But Piotr was a, ah, late bloomer; we actually thought he wouldn’t be a mutant.”

“Manifested at nineteen,” Nikolai adds with a chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s told me the story. Put himself between Illyana and a tractor, just happened to armor up.” You grimace. “I’m glad he turned out to have an armor mutation.”

“So were we. At any rate, I doubt your children will manifest as young as Mikhail, since Piotr presented so late.” Alex eyes you for a minute. “You are planning on having children?”

You nod. “Yeah, after we get married. We’re just��� uh…” You swallow hard and duck your head. “We’re waiting on some things with my health to… clear up.”

“Medvezhonok mentioned as much.”

Nikolai gently places his hand on yours. “How… how are things? Are you healthy?”

You nod as best as you can. “Yeah, pretty much. It’s more, uh, mentally related.”

Alexandra nods. “Your episodes.”

“I take it Piotr mentioned them,” you say with a grimace.

“Only that you had them and that no one knew why,” she clarifies. “He did not give specifics.”

“Yeah.” You sigh heavily. “If I knew why they were happening –if there was a way to treat them—I might not hesitate so much, but… I keep breaking from reality. And –and when I do that, I relive some… some really bad memories from my childhood. My uncle kind of explained it as my mutation putting up a defensive shield around me while I go through the episode? I, uh, I’ve uprooted trees before, so… yeah.”

Nikolai nods as Alexandra translates for him, then frowns deeply and squeezes your hand. “That sounds very… intimidating?”

“Scary,” Alex corrects.

“Da. That one.” He gives you a concerned look. “Do you have way to be safe during such moments?”

“Oh, yeah. The mansion’s got safe rooms for various mutation meltdowns,” you explain. “Whenever I have an episode, I book it over there until everything passes. And I’m not having as many lately. My therapist’s been working on treating my anxiety, which helps reduce stress, which means I have less episodes, so… yeah.”

“Well, take care of you first, always,” Nikolai says, patting your hand. “Cannot be healthy mama if not healthy you first.”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Don’t worry; I will.”

You run into Nikolai at the gazebo later that night. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

He starts when he hears your voice and takes the cigarette out of his mouth a little sheepishly. “Ah… bad habit from youth. Never quite vanquished.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” You start up a small breeze to carry the smoke away from the gazebo, then sit down next to him. “Something got you stressed, or…”

He shakes his head. “Not so much. Just occasionally get urge.” He glances over at you. “Do you?”

“Nah. Stuff like that’s bad for my anxiety. I try to stay away from it.”

He smiles ruefully. “Probably for best.”

Unbidden, memories from you most recent stay at your uncle’s place pop into your mind’s eye.

She always wanted a farm. Leave it to that woman to get what she wants in life.

You look up –Nikolai’s built a lot like Piotr—at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Konechno. Anything.”

“You… you know about my uncle and… Alexandra, right?”

He nods. “Da.”

“You seem… pretty comfortable with him being here.”

He raises an eyebrow with you, but he doesn’t seem alarmed or upset. “Should I not be?”

“No, I just…”

“You were expecting ‘jealous man?’”

“A little, I guess.”

Nikolai sighs and takes a long drag from his cigarette. He exhales a cloud of smoke, then taps some ash on a little tissue square set next to him on the bench. “As I see, Alexandra and I have good marriage. I trust her with all things –and I trust your uncle to act decent. This is not my first time meeting. I know what type he is.” He frowns a little. “If anything, I worry for him. Alexandra says he lives alone?”

You nod. “Yeah. I think he likes it that way.”

Nikolai shakes his head. “No one ever likes that way. They just tell themselves so.”

“Yeah, there’s truth in that.” You cock your head to one side when he sighs. “You know, I think you’re the only guy I know that would worry over the wellbeing of his wife’s ex.”

“If we cannot have compassion for those hurting, we cannot properly exist,” Nikolai says simply, as if that explains everything.

In a way, it does. And, not for the first time since the Rasputin family arrived, you’re completely floored by the overwhelming decency and kindness that each family member seems to exude.

A couple of mornings later, you wake up to Wade’s ringtone blaring as loud as it possibly can. You groan and crawl over your boyfriend to reach your phone –waking him up in the process, not that you’re awake enough to care at this precise moment—and answer the call. “You better have a good reason for waking me up this early.”

“Trust me, I do.”

The solemn urgency in Wade’s voice finishes waking you up; this isn’t a crank call or some random chat. He’s actually worried about something.

You sit up and push your hair out of your face. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

“We’re all still going shooting today, right? With Pete’s family and everything. This morning.”

“Yeah—”

“Can I bring a friend along?”

You blink, surprised. “Uh… it’s kind of a family event…”

Piotr rubs at his face and groans. “What does he want?”

You cover the microphone end of your phone with your hand. “He wants to bring a friend to the shooting outing today.”

Piotr rolls his eyes. “Tell him no.”

You lower your hand. “Piotr says—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but apparently it’s the anniversary of Castle’s family’s death, and…” Wade goes silent for a moment. “People just… people shouldn’t have to be alone when dealing with that shit.”

You’re not particularly attached to Frank Castle. He’s saved your life, you’ve saved his, and you’ve been around enough assassins-for-hire that his Punisher getup doesn’t really scare you all that much, but sometimes you forget that the man lost everything. That he’s still trying to grapple with losing everything.

And you know, firsthand, that having good distractions around while dealing with heavy emotional trauma can be nothing short of life-saving.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Wade sighs. “Look, normally I wouldn’t give a shit, but… but after Ness, and Nate losing his family—”

“No, no, I get. Hang on.” You cover the microphone end again and look over at Piotr. “He wants to bring Frank Castle.”

Piotr’s eyes widen. “What?”

“It’s the anniversary of his family’s death, babe. Wade’s worried about him being alone.”

Piotr takes a moment to process the information, then sighs heavily and gets out of bed. “I’ll go ask.”

“Piotr’s checking with his family,” You tell Wade, lowering your hand once more. “I’ll text you the outcome.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“You gotta promise me something,” you add, trying to be as stern as you can. “Frank’s gotta be on his best behavior. Piotr and I both have family members tied up… some complicated shit. If you think Frank’s gonna start doing his ‘Punisher thing,’ then he can’t come.”

“I’ll keep him on a short leash. Figuratively. I’m pretty sure he’d cut my balls off if I tried to do it literally.”

“I mean… they’d always grow back.”

“Okay, but that would hurt.”

“I mean, it would… but can you imagine getting a picture of having Frank Castle on a literal, actual leash?”

Wade goes silent for a moment. “Holy shit, I just found my new project.”

The two of you derail into the rabbit hole of how to put the Punisher on an actual leash –and then the finer workings of if a lasso can count as a leash, because if it can’t that means Wade would have to get a collar of some sort on Frank, too, and more steps means more possible stabbings—long enough that you’re still on the phone when Piotr walks back into the room.

“Okay, what about those leashed backpacks that parents use for kids?” you suggest as Piotr opens the door to your bedroom once more.

“A solid idea. Wait, do they make those in the right size for emotionally constipated men with guns?”

“Fuck, I guess they don’t.”

Piotr just stares at you. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re trying to figure out how to get an actual leash on the Punisher,” you say. “Like, just for a photo. Not for anything kinky.”

“Excuse you, I’d be happy to try the kinky stuff, too,” Wade objects.

“Yeah, we’ll you’re insane.”

“You are both insane,” Piotr mutters. “And my family is fine with Frank coming.”

You relay the invitation to Wade, then hang up after promising to help him with the logistics of putting a leash on the Punisher. You slide out of the bed and wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s torso. “Thank you.”

He kisses the top of your head. “For what?”

“For humoring Wade. He was concerned about Frank after everything he went through with losing Vanessa.”

Piotr stays silent for a moment, then sighs heavily. “I did not even consider that. I was more thinking about Mr. Castle.”

You kiss his chest. “Well, still. Thank you.”

It’s mid-morning when Wade and Nate arrive with a particularly sullen, quiet Frank and—

“Oh!” You grin. “Karen! Hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Karen Page grins back at you, just as classically pretty as you remember from the night you bled on her couch. “I figured I could use the practice, and Wade said I wouldn’t be intruding.”

Which is basically code for ‘I’m here for Frank,’ but you’re not about to point that out. “Not at all! Let me walk you guys out to the range. Piotr’s already out there with his family.”

“I didn’t exactly take him as the… ‘gun type,’” Karen says as she follows you around the side of the house.

“I think it’s more of a Russian thing,” you say. “Different attitudes towards firearms. And I don’t think he minds guns as much as he minds…” You let your voice trail off, then cut your eyes towards Wade a couple times.

Karen nods knowingly. “So what’s it like meeting his family?”

“Honestly? It’s been great. They’re a lot of fun to be around. Although, I’ve eaten so much food in the past week. I mean, I should’ve seen it coming since Piotr’s parents run a farm back in Siberia, but still.”

“That sounds like heaven,” Karen says.

“It really has been,” you agree. “How’s your week been?”

She lays out the basic pieces of a story she’s been working on –another corruption case in the Senate—but you can tell her focus in more on Frank than anywhere else. Her gaze darts over to him every few seconds, like she’s trying to make sure he isn’t going to make a break for it.

She shifts the focus back to you –well, the Institute, more accurately—after a few minutes, right about when you notice that Frank’s been tensing up the more she’s talked about her article.

And that basically reaffirms in your mind that the flirting and sheer connection between Frank and Karen you’d witnessed back when they’d rescued you wasn’t a product of your concussion, which is…

Interesting.

“We do have a few year-round residents,” you confirm. “Most the X-Men actually keep their own apartments and come in for two-week long shifts or emergencies. The people who stay here permanently are either kids that have been kicked out of their homes or picked up from orphanages or the foster system, or adults that can’t get their own place because their mutation makes that impossible for them.”

“How would a mutation get in the way of renting their own place?” Karen asks, frowning.

“Well, any mutation that affects physical appearance usually deters most possible letters from, y’know, letting. So, people with abnormally colored skin –think fluorescent green—or spikes protruding from their face or fur… you get the idea.”

Karen’s frown deepens. “But… they’re still people. It shouldn’t matter how they look.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our reality.” You grimace. “It is what it is. It’s why we all look out for each other like we do.”

Karen nods. “What about you and Piotr? Do you guys live here full time?”

“Piotr’s a teacher during the school year and on active training roster for the younger mutants –his armor makes him impervious to just about anything, which is handy when a kid might wind up accidentally chucking a fireball at your face—so he stays here full time, and I…” You shrug. “I’m here with him.”

“That’s right. You mentioned not being on good terms with your parents.”

It floors you, just a little, that Karen Page –who you’ve only known for a handful of hours, during which you were concussed and bled on her couch—would remember a little detail like that.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Wade interjects, ceasing his efforts in talking Frank’s ears off long enough to insert himself in your conversation with Karen. “I don’t know too many parents who call their kids just to say they hate them.”

All you can do is shrug when Karen shoots you a shocked look. “It is what it is. At least I don’t have to live with them anymore.” You can hear the sounds of Piotr talking with his family and your uncle, and you’ve never been more relieved to be approaching a group of people in your life. “We’re here. I’ll introduce you to everyone. Guys—” You step into the clearing where the range’s been set up. “This is Karen and Frank.”

It occurs to you precisely three seconds too late that you should’ve used an alias for Frank. Oh well. Can’t do anything now. You clear your throat and continue on. “Karen, Frank, these are Piotr’s parents, Alexandra and Nikolai, his siblings, Illyana and Mikhail, and my uncle—” you blank on a name until you remember that he told Wade to call him ‘Andrew,’ and you really hope that Karen and Frank don’t make too much of your pause “—Andrew.”

“How do you two know each other?” Mikhail asks, gesturing between you and Karen.

“Oh, you know, the usual. I got kidnapped, escaped, bled on her couch.” You shrug. “The basic foundations of any good friendship.”

Alexandra smirks. “Naturally.” Her gaze flits to Frank, who is very carefully keeping to the edge of the group and looking at everything but the people present. “Do you have any experience with firearms?”

Frank briefly –reluctantly—meets Alex’s gaze and nods. “Marine Corps. Former Scout sniper.”

Alex nods back, smirk completely unmoved by that little tidbit of information. “Good. You might be able to keep up.”

And that, out of everything, is what draws Frank out, gets his attention. He actually looks shocked for a moment, at the sheer brazenness of the comment, then smirks back. Just a little.

It’s better than the shell-shocked look he’d been wearing when he’d arrived.

“Only one way to find out, ma’am.”

You’re not unfamiliar with shooting guns; between Wade, Nate, and your uncle, you’ve got a decent amount of experience. You know how to handle one safely and fire it with pretty decent accuracy. Granted, shooting’s not your favorite way to spend your time –though it is, in your opinion, a decent way to blow off some anger.

Point stands: you shoot. You know how to shoot. You know how to handle a firearm safely –which, frankly, is what you care about most.

Second standing point: You’ve been around Nate and Wade long enough to know that some people are very serious –Nate—and enthused –Wade—about shooting, and like to make quite the event of target practice. You’re usually not opposed to such events –especially when Wade’s involved—because that implies you get to shoot fun targets, like half rotted watermelons or gallons of milk that have been emptied and subsequently filled with glitter.

But sweet holy fuck almighty, you’ve never seen a shooting event quite like this.

There are so many guns. More than you can count, but you’re pretty sure between your uncle, Wade, Nate, Alex, Mikhail, and Frank that there’s at least fifty different types.

Leave it to a group of mercenaries and assassins to pull out all the stops.

Also on the list of surprising things is that Piotr is a pretty decent shot; he sticks most to hunting rifles or shotguns, but still.

“I had to learn back home,” he says by way of explanation. “To keep farm safe from predators.”

“What?” You ask, all too enthralled to know more. “Like, bears?”

“Sometimes. Wolves, also. A tiger, once.”

You gape at him. “You saw a tiger? Like, outside of a zoo?”

He shrugs, as if he hadn’t just said one of the most mind-blowing things you’ve ever heard. “They are native to Siberia. Sometimes, juveniles come into town limits looking for food.”

“It is not a common experience,” Alexandra adds as she loads a pistol. “But it happens.”

“So, wait.” You frown. “Did you shoot the tiger?”

“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” Mikhail interjects before gesturing over his head with his hand. “Over. To scare.”

“That’s still amazing, though,” Karen says. “We only have tigers in zoos, over here.”

“I once threw myself into a tiger exhibit!” Wade adds as he adjusts the scope on one of his rifles.

“I thought I read about something like that in the news,” Frank mutters as he loads various clips.

“Why would you throw self into tiger display?” Illyana asks, expression rightfully confused.

“It was a low point, I admit.”

You can’t help but chuckle as you take it all in. You love your weird little family –Frank and Karen too, however they’re meant to fit in—such as they are.

You hang back and watch for the most part –and so does Piotr, seemingly more content to sit and observe with you once he’s got his ‘practice’ in. You laugh with everyone else when Illyana fucks up several of her shots and gets a gentle scolding from her mother that seems more worried than anything else, then try to ignore the churning pain in your chest when you watch Alex put her arms around her daughter and kiss the top of her blonde head.

It's what you never got, growing up; as much as you don’t want to be jealous, envious, you are.

“We’re gonna love the fuck out of our kids,” you tell Piotr quietly as Wade and Frank put up a new set of targets. “We’re gonna frickin’ smother them with hugs and love and kisses and everything.”

He puts his arms around you, almost protectively, and kisses the top of your head. “Konechno.”

Of course. Like it’s an automatic given. Like there’s not even another conceivable option. Of course the two of you are going to love your kids more than anything else.

You close your eyes and tip your head back against his chest as emotion –grief, pain, rage—threatens to overwhelm you.

Piotr wipes away your tears before there’s a risk of anyone seeing them.

The ‘extended target practice’ concludes with is arguably the most entertaining gun-related event you’ve ever seen and will ever see in your life: a super sniper shoot-off.

Frank, Alex, Mikhail, Wade, Nate, and your uncle all prep their various guns, and then it’s on.

Nate and your uncle are first out, surprisingly enough. Granted, the margin for error is extremely narrow, but you still expected them to make a little further.

Wade’s next, followed by Mikhail –and, now that you’re thinking about it, it all makes sense considering that the two of them use sniper rifles more regularly in their ‘lines of work.’

And that just leaves Frank and Alexandra, and whoo boy. Put two people who are equally stubborn and equally proud of their skills as snipers, and what do you get?

Correct answer: a very drawn-out, involved competition that eventually boils down to the two of them actually measuring the diameter of the holes where the bullets hit the targets –and, to make things worse, they both shot through the same hole five times—to see who had more deviation in their aim.

“How much longer are they gonna be?” You ask. The rest of you are already packed and ready to head back to the mansion for lunch.

“It could be a while,” Karen admits quietly.

Illyana nods in agreement, basically settling that you all might be out here until sundown before Frank and Alex find an answer that satisfies them both.

“Moya lyubov’,” Nikolai calls out.

“Terpeniye,” Alexandra says back –which, considering that she’s already said it five times, you’re figuring is the Russian equivalent of ‘just a minute’ or something similar. “Ha! You have the higher deviation! I win.”

“Did you use your telekinesis to keep things tighter?” your uncle asks in a lazy drawl.

The look of utter indignation and betrayal on Alex’s face is priceless –and so is the look of shock on Frank’s.

“You’ve been cheating,” he accuses.

“I have not!”

“There’s no other explanation! You’ve been using your mind shit to keep the shots tighter!”

Alex smirks. “Or, perhaps, I am just a better shot than you.”

Frank narrows his eyes at her. “The day I buy that is the day I put my hair up in a fucking man bun.”

And that is an amazing concept in and of itself, but the way Karen chokes on a snort tells you that there’s more to that than meets the eye—

Alex just takes a hair elastic off her wrist and holds it out to Frank. “Start pulling it back.”

Frank grins –and it’s the most human and not haunted you’ve seen him look all day—and shakes his head. “Nah. There’s only one way to settle this.”

And it’s easy to see where that’s going, judging by the looks on Frank and Alex’s faces, and since the rest of you actually want to each lunch before the turn of the century, you all swoop in to keep the two of them from putting up new targets and going at it again.

Karen actually shoves Frank away from the table with the rest of the guns and ammo on it. “No, no. I want to eat lunch. We’re going inside.”

“Okay, okay –Christ, let me put my shit away first.”

Wade shoots you a look when he sees the small grin Frank’s sporting, then raises his nonexistent eyebrows when you nod back at him.

Nikolai’s already whisked his wife away from the table, leaving Illyana and Mikhail to put her stuff away. They’re bickering in Russian at each other, and you’d be concerned if the expression on Nick’s face wasn’t one of complete and utter adoration.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch your uncle just barely holding in a pained grimace. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, and you try to think of some excuse about some of you heading back to the house to start lunch early –really, just anything that’ll give him an excuse to duck out without drawing attention to his departure—

“So, Y/N. Wade and Nate are telling me that you are most exceptional fighter.”

You look over at Mikhail, distracted from your internal reverie. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” You shrug. “I try.”

Piotr’s eyes narrow. “Mikhail—”

The eldest Rasputin waves him off, relaxed and indifferent. “So, that makes me wonder: just how good are you?”

It’s easy to hear the challenge without him actually saying it.

You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him. “Good enough to kick your ass.”

A chorus of chuckles goes through the group –and Piotr pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nyet, nyet. Absolutely not. We are going inside and eating—”

“Da, which means all more reason to do this now,” Mikhail argues. “No one wants to spar on full stomach.”

“You mean, you don’t want to get your ass kicked on a full stomach,” your uncle interjects, smirking. “Because that’s what’ll happen.”

Alexandra scoffs. “Biased much?”

“No more than you.”

It devolves quickly from there, everyone taking sides –Nate, your uncle, and Wade all back you, while Mikhail’s family is quick to vouch for his prowess—while Piotr does his best to get a handle on the situation and shoots daggers at his older brother.

And it’s the first time you’ve seen Piotr get downright angry with someone that isn’t Wade –sure, you and he have fought, but he’s never turned the full brunt of his wrath on you like he has occasionally with Wade—and the fact that it’s his brother makes it all the more…

Interesting.

Weird.

Concerning.

A mix of the three.

And then Frank takes his wallet out of his back pocket, and whatever control your darling boyfriend had over the situation evaporates.

He pulls out a couple bills and holds them between two of his fingers. “Twenty on Y/N.”

And now there’s money on the table –Wade tries to make his bet in cocaine, and fortunately Nathan gets him to shup the fuck up before Piotr can take his head off—and you’ve never been that good at backing down from a challenge.

You squeeze Piotr’s hand, trying to reassure him and get him to relax a little. “C’mon. Five minutes. It’ll be fun.”

The group of you walk out to the back lawn –far enough away from the house that you shouldn’t be at risk of destroying any windows, but close enough that someone can easily get the first aid kit if stuff goes wrong.

“Five minutes!” you shout at Mikhail. “Do your fucking worst!” You float off the ground, careful to keep an eye on the eldest Rasputin; it’s a go-to move of yours; most of your opponents can’t levitate themselves or uses their abilities against you as easily if you fly, and you’re not above using such an easy advantage.

Mikhail smirks –then winks out of sight before appearing right in front of you and latching onto your shoulders like a koala.

“Shit!” You bob up and down as you try to get him off you, then spin yourself around with a burst of air until he physically can’t hold on.

He manages to teleport closer to the ground before he makes contact, fortunately, but he still tumbles a fair distance. He pushes himself onto his feet as Wade cackles like a maniac, then disappears from view again.

You’re ready for him this time, and create a vortex of air around you before he can reappear. Sure enough, he gets sucked up in the air currents before he can grab on you; he swears a blue streak –and you know he’s actually swearing because of the grimace that flashes across Piotr’s face—in Russian as he plummets back to the ground.

You smirk, feeling victorious and enormously pleased with yourself, as you watch Mikhail brush chunks of dirt and grass off his arms and legs. “That the best you got?”

He narrows his eyes at you –he’s starting to look a little pissed off, actually—and his eyes start glowing.

“That’s not good,” you mutter to yourself.

And, sure enough, it isn’t.

Bright, glowing strands of copper-colored energy appear at the ends of Mikhail’s hands. He lets them grow into orbs for half a minute –lets them charge up—and then launches one at you.

You let the bolt of energy zing past you –then gasp when it stops in its tracks a few yards away and starts hurtling towards you again. “Shit!”

You’re forced to go on the defensive, using your flight abilities to evade Mikhail’s energy “missiles.” You’re faster than them, fortunately, but he starts peppering the air with various smaller ones, meaning that there’s almost no room to fly at all.

You narrow your eyes down at him as you narrowly avoid having your elbow singed by one of the bolts. Best to target the root instead of the leaves. You fly upwards, make sure that you get yourself positioned so your plan doesn’t backfire suddenly –and then let yourself freefall.

It doesn’t take long to pick up speed. You can actually see Mikhail’s eyes physically widen as you hurtle towards him.

You start flying again mere feet away from the ground. The sudden rush of air created by your move sends a current directly at Mikhail.

He flies back with a grunt and tumbles across the lawn like a hyperactive gymnast.

And, sure enough, some of –not all of them, but enough to prove your theory—the energy orbs fizzle out.

You smirk to yourself as you soar back into the air. Strategy acquired. Goal: kick much ass.

And you do. Even with his ability to teleport, he can’t do that without losing more of his ‘missiles.’ He either has to get knocked around by your constant dive-bombing, or teleport out of the way, and either option puts him at a disadvantage.

You’re winning. You can hear Wade cheering you on from the sidelines. You grin to yourself as you make another pass at Mikhail –he swears as he teleports out of the line of fire—and soar back up towards the sky.

And it’s not that you have to win. You don’t have anything extraordinary to prove. But, by your own admission, you’re too competitive for your own good, and kicking Mikhail’s ass is actually kinda easy—

And then he teleports right in front of you and unleashes a massive burst of energy almost directly in your face.

You’re going too fast to stop or get out of the way in time, so you grit your teeth, make a shield out of air, and hope for the best.

There’s a massive boom that rattles your teeth. You feel yourself get knocked back, but you still feel like you’re flying—

But you can hear someone screaming like they’re watching their kid die in front of them… and it kinda sounds like Piotr…

But you’re still flying? Or, at least you’re still in the air…

Why does your head hurt so much? And why does something smell… burnt?

You manage to open your eyes long enough to see a massive green blur zooming towards you, which you vaguely manage to identify as the back lawn. Oh… shit.

And then a set of arms are wrapping around you.

How you get to the ground is a mystery to you, but suddenly you’re there and your boyfriend’s hovering over you.

Except he’s blurrier than usual. And since when could he make duplicates of himself?

You can see his lips moving, but you can’t really hear what he’s saying.

And suddenly, you’re tired. Straight up exhausted. And your whole body’s kinda numb, which isn’t the most reassuring sensation, but it does mean that if you’re uncomfortable you can’t feel it, and a nap is sounding amazing right now.

You let your eyes close. Just for a minute.

It’s dark. The panes in the windows are an oil slick, dark in solidarity with the night outside.

There’s a single light on in the room, a bedside lamp. It paints the room in a weak gold hue, the only contrast and respite from the oppressive, endless darkness beyond the windows.

The quilt on the bed is cream-colored with age and soft from years of use and washing. Green, yellow, blue, and purple flowers gaze up at you from the fabric surface, the hodge-podge of fabrics almost making the blanket look like it’s rippling.

Beyond the closed door, you can hear voices. They’re hushed, quiet.

Angry.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You can’t possibly imagine the struggles we’ve gone through with her—”

“No. No. Don’t paint yourself as a fucking martyr. You’re the scum of the earth and you know it.”

It’s the door, though, that gives it all away.

What am I doing in my uncle’s house?

“She’s waking up.”

Your eyes flutter open. You wince at the bright lights, the glare of which are not helped by the impeccably white walls.

You’re in the Institute’s medical wing.

Dr. McCoy smiles down at you. “There she is. How are you feeling?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Brain’s bein’ icepicked. Lights’re too brigh’.”

“Let’s get those turned down a bit, then.”

While you wait for the lights to settle on more friendly terms of existence, you realize that someone’s holding your hand. You squeeze the hand holding yours –and it’s instantly recognizable, there’s only one person in the mansion with hands that big.

Piotr kisses your temple gently. “Myshka.”

You tip your head towards him and force yourself to open your eyes.

He looks wrecked. He’s paler than usual, and his blue eyes are rimmed with red.

“Hey.” You squeeze your hand. “Hey. I’m okay.”

He grimaces slightly. “You got hit in face with an energy pulse. If your uncle had not caught you, you would’ve hit the ground.”

You frown as you try to recollect what happened.

Shooting with the Rasputin family. Your uncle. Wade and Nate. Frank. Karen. Check.

Frank and Alex getting into the mother of all sniper shoot-offs, which only stopped because the rest of you forced them to give it up. Check.

Mikhail throwing down the mother of all gauntlets. Check.

And after that… Presumably, something had to happen after that. Specifically, you getting hit in the face, because that’s what Piotr said happened, and you know he wouldn’t lie to you.

“You might not remember all of it,” Hank says as he finishes turning down the lights. “Which is normal with head traumas. Can you walk me through your day, up to most recent thing you remember before waking up here?” He nods as you rattle off the day thus far –you leave out whatever weird dream you had between getting hit and waking up here, because you don’t know how to factor that in or why you can even remember it. “Alright, your recollection’s pretty good. Which is a good sign –and, admittedly, not that surprising since we’ve learned about your latent ‘damage resistance’ mutation.”

You frown suddenly and start patting your face. “I still have my brows, right? Piotr said somethin’ ‘bout gettin’ hit with an energy pulse—”

Dr. McCoy chuckles. “Your eyebrows are present and accounted for.”

“Okay, good. I didn’t wanna figure out how to draw ‘em on.”

“Understandable.” He asks you a few more questions –how much pain are you in, are you feeling any tingling sensations anywhere, do you feel like you can breathe alright—before nodding once more. “Okay. I just need to do a series of test to make sure your body’s handling the trauma alright –just to see how your nervous system is responding to the trauma—and then you should be ready to be discharged.”

After making sure your body isn’t on the verge of imploding, or whatever the fuck else might happen, Hank discharges you with some basic pain meds, a list of symptoms to keep an eye on while you recover, and strict instructions to Piotr to not let you fly or do anything too strenuous for the next few days.

Which basically means you’re gonna be mother-henned for the next few days, but you can’t exactly say you mind. Your head hurts, and you’re still fuzzy from getting hit so hard. Having someone watching your back is comforting, really.

The sun’s still high in the sky as you and Piotr amble back towards the main part of the mansion. Apparently, you’d only been out for twenty minutes. Lucky you.

Everyone’s waiting for the two of you in the rec room –including Frank and Karen, which is surprising but not unwelcome.

Mikhail stands as you walk in, looking a little sheepish—

You squint when you realize he’s got a partially black eye. “Did I do that?”

“Nope!” Wade says, popping the ‘p.’ “Piotr did! Hauled off on him as soon as Fuzzy Lumpkins took you away for a healing session.”

You shoot Piotr shocked look, but he’s focused on Mikhail, borderline glaring at his older brother.

And Mikhail’s glaring right back at him, and suddenly the room’s filled to the brim with crackling tension.

You watch the two of them for a few seconds, then do your best to smooth things out. “O-kay. I’m hungry. Has anyone else eaten yet?”

Nate shakes his head. “We were waiting to hear how you were.”

“Al-right.” You nudge Piotr a little when he doesn’t pick up on the conversational cues –or, more importantly, stop glaring at Mikhail. “Let’s get some lunch, yeah?”

His demeanor shifts instantly as he bends down to kiss the top of your head; it’s almost like he’s a completely different person. “Konechno.”

You purse your lips a little as you follow him to the kitchen. And we’re in full on passive-aggressive mode. Great.

“So, you’re both mutants.”

Your uncle nods at Karen’s statement.

Instead of cramming into the kitchen or the breakfast nook, you’d all opted to use one of the dining rooms used by the students during the school year while you ate lunch. You’d half expected Frank and Karen to leave as soon as they knew you were in decent shape, but they’d opted to at least eat lunch before heading out.

(You’d also half expected Frank to sit away from literally everyone else, but Karen seemed to bring out his best behavior, which –again—is interesting.)

“And you both can fly?” She frowns as she wipes some ketchup from her sandwich off her fingers with a napkin. “I thought the X-gene randomized mutations.”

“It can,” your uncle says with a shrug. “But if there’s a long enough direct lineage, sometimes recurring traits show up.”

“So, the mutation must’ve been in your family for a long time, then.”

“As long as I can remember.”

Karen nods, then smiles. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to fly, all on my own. If I’d woken up one morning, as a little girl, and been able to fly, I don’t think my parents would’ve been able to get me to walk again.”

Admittedly, your initial experience with discovering your powers hadn’t gone as idyllically; not even rose-tinted glasses could change that.

But flying, in and of itself? It’s the most amazing sensation in the world.

You grin—

You’re shivering. You’re under a pile of blankets, and heat is blasting at you from the car’s air vents, and you can’t. Get. Warm.

The ground is rocky and uneven under the car’s tires. It makes you bounce in the back seat, which makes you dizzy. You cry as your stomach churns violently. “I’m gonna throw up!”

“Do not puke in the car!” Your mother’s voice. “Just close your eyes and breathe through your nose.”

You do as you’re told; you keep your mouth screwed shut and try to fall asleep. It’s dark outside, heavy clouds covering the stars and moon and plunging the world into an inky abyss.

The car keeps bouncing you and your stomach. You can feel the bile creeping up your throat.

The car lurches to a stop and the door next to your seat is flung open. Strong hands unbuckle you and lift you out of your car seat.

You puke on the grass. On someone’s shoes.

Your mother panics. “Dammit, Y/N! Don’t—”

“It’s okay.” Your uncle’s voice is shaky, but his hands are gentle as he keeps your hair out of your face. “She’s alright. What happened to her?”

“We tried to fix her—”

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?”

You blink –and you’re in the dining room, and everyone’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Huh?”

Dr. McCoy is kneeling next to you, frowning as he watches your eyes and color. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We… were just talking about flying.” You frown. “That… that just happened.”

“You were gone for ten minutes,” Nate says quietly.

“Even I’m not that bad at keeping track of time,” Wade adds, but his smile is forced at the edges.

A wave of cold dread runs down your spine, and reach blindly for Piotr’s hand. It’s warm and solid against yours, and you try to keep yourself grounded on the sensation of his hand holding yours. Don’t panic. Panicking won’t help anything. “What does it mean?”

Frank clears his throat. “Could mean nothing,” he says quietly. “Blackouts can happen with head injuries.”

Dr. McCoy nods. “I think I’m going to extend your rest period, just as a precaution. And—” he looks over at Piotr “—someone needs to check in with her every hour, just to see how her memory is and how she’s doing. If she has more blackouts, record the symptoms, how long they go for, that sort of thing.”

“Da.” Piotr squeezes your hand, then leans over and kisses your cheek. “Everything will be alright.”

You lay your head on his shoulder by way of response. I really hope so.

Karen and Frank head out right after you all finish lunch –with Frank promising Alex that there’d be a proper rematch in the future.

And, unsurprisingly, Piotr practically whisks you away to get some proper rest as soon as the door shuts behind them. He actually carries you up to your shared room –which you aren’t complaining about because walking is for chumps—and sets you carefully, gently on the bed.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to sleep after getting a concussion,” you ponder.

“That is myth,” he says. “And the healers fixed any concussion you might have had. They just cannot fix temporary trauma from impact.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” You squint your eyes as you mull it over. “I guess.”

He kisses your forehead. “Besides, I mostly brought you up here so you could relax… and so we could spend some time together.”

You smile up at him. “Well, that I’m not opposed to. Can we watch a movie?”

“Konechno.” As he makes to retrieve his DVD case from one of the bookshelves, the main door to your room swings open.

Mikhail peers in. “Am I interrupting?”

“It’s called knocking,” Piotr says bluntly, tone flat. “Try it.”

You actually gape at him. “Babe!”

“It is good manners—”

“Yeah, and what are you doing?”

He actually hangs his head at that, looking like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I…”

Mikhail just holds up his hands. He doesn’t look pleased, but he doesn’t look like he wants to start a fight, either. “I just wanted to apologize.” He offers you a sheepish smile. “For, ah—” He taps the side of his own head. “Doing that.”

You shrug. “Hey, it’s sparring. Accidents happen.”

Piotr lets out an angry huff. “Accidents happen. Ego trips are planned.”

Before you can say anything, Mikhail groans and rolls his eyes. “Again with that! You never give me doubt of benefit! None!”

“Your ego,” Piotr snaps, eyes sparking with anger. “Has caused plenty of problems. Why should this be any different!”

“You think I would try to hurt her?”

“I think you would prioritize winning over common sense!”

Mikhail sneers at his younger brother. “Well, not all of us can be you.”

“Okay, enough,” you growl out. “Both of you.” You sigh and rub your temples –your head’s throbbing, but you suspect it has more to do with listening to them than with your injury. “Babe, would you mind making me some Gatorade while I talk to Mikhail for a minute?”

Piotr just crosses his arms over his chest. “Someone needs to stay with you. To keep track of your symptoms.”

“Are you serious?” Mikhail growls. “I can watch her for five minutes!”

“How do I know I can trust you, after today?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

“Langu—”

“Okay,” you interject sternly. “I swear more than him. Quit being petty.”

Piotr purses his lips and exhales sharply. “I told him not to start sparring—”

“And the two of you need to work out whatever problems you have on your own. I’m not refereeing or watching.” You give Piotr the gentlest pointed look you can. “Sweetheart. Five minutes. Please.”

He grimaces, but nods. “Khorosho.” He crosses the room quickly, then plants a slow, sweet kiss against your forehead. “I’ll be back quickly.”

“She said five minutes, asshole,” Mikhail mutters from his position by the door. His expression sours as Piotr’s shoulder clips his own on his way out –which, despite his size, you can tell was deliberate on your boyfriend’s part—and grumbles something under his breath in Russian before looking at you. “You wanted chatting?”

“Just to make sure we’re good.” You pat on a spot at the end of the bed lightly. “Come on. I don’t bite.”

“I hit you, not other way around,” he points out as he sits down on the bed.

“Look, I might not remember the fight, but I refuse to believe that you just trounced me.”

He laughs at that and relaxes a little. “Da, da. You, ah, ‘kicked my ass,’ as they say here. I seriously underestimated you.” He pauses for a moment, then hangs his head a little. “And pridurok is right. I let ego control me.”

“Okay, one, I know what the Russian word for ‘idiot’ is; Piotr uses it to describe Wade all the time.” You smirk when he grins sheepishly. “Two, whatever ego thing you’ve got it fine, at least in this situation. Sparring’s sparring. I know that whenever I step into a fight, I run the risk of getting hurt. I didn’t think this situation would be any different.”

Mikhail frowns. “But… if I had kept in better check—”

“Look, Mikhail,” you say earnestly. “Were you trying to hurt me?”

He shakes his head. “Nyet. Absolutely not.”

“Then we’re good, in my book. Trust me, I’ve had a lot worse for way pettier reasons.”

He eyes you warily. “So… you are not upset?”

You shake your head –well, as much as you can, anyway. “Not about the sparring. If I’m upset about anything, honestly, it’s about how you treat Piotr.”

He grimaces. “Things… have never been good between he and I. We… we do not see eyes to eyes on many things.”

“I gathered. You seem to go out of your way to antagonize him.”

The grimace deepens. “I know. I… I do not always know how to stop it.” He smiles bitterly. “Piotr has always gotten along better with everyone. Mamochka, papochka, Illyana, cousins, girls, boys –everyone. I think…” He winces and swallows hard. “I think I am just too sensitive.”

You study him for a minute before commenting. “I’d wager you’ve got some insecurities to work on, but I think your ‘sensitivity levels’ are just fine.”

He manages a small smile at that. “Spasibo.”

There’s a series of heavy footsteps in the hallway, and then Piotr’s walking back into the room with a water bottle full of Gatorade in hand. He stops just past the door way, clearly a little caught off guard by his brother’s new position in the room.

Mikhail nods at you and stands quickly before Piotr can say anything. “I leave you to it.”

You shake your head, just a little, as he vanishes from view. “I’m never going to get used to that.” You accept your bottle of Gatorade from your boyfriend with a smile. “Thanks, honey.”

He returns to the task of retrieving his DVD case, but it’s not hard to tell something’s on his mind.

“I can hear you thinking, you know.”

He huffs a little laugh at that. “I thought my sister was supposed to be telepath, not you.”

You humor him with a small, fond chuckle. “C’mon, babe. What’s eating at you?”

He grimaces as he crosses back over to the bed and sits down next to you. “I was not… fair. To Mikhail.”

“Yeah, you were kind of an asshole to him. What is it with you two, anyway? You’ve been at each other’s throats since he got here.”

Piotr’s lips quirk into a puzzled frown as he runs his fingertips over the DVD case cover. “Mikhail and I… we are oil and water. We have never gotten along. I think he is arrogant and careless, he says I am controlling and judgmental…”

They’re both right, to an extent, you think to yourself.

Piotr exhales heavily, and his eyes take on a glassy look that tips you off to the fact that he’s recalling some really unpleasant memories. “Mikhail… when we were younger, he used to tease me until I gave him what he wanted. Or I snapped. Or he would put me in uncomfortable, dangerous situations to get a rise out of me…”

You reach out and curl your fingers around his hand.

He smiles, just a little, and lifts your hand to his lips so he can kiss it. “Where I grow puzzled is… I can remember times when he would be… subdued. Gloomy. And during these times, I know we got on better. And then he would get back to his wild self and teasing would start all over.”

You squeeze his hand comfortingly. “Look, babe, I’m not gonna pretend I’ve got all the answers to this situation. I didn’t grow up with siblings –and Wade, as awesome as he is, doesn’t exactly fill the ticket for direct knowledge in this sorta thing. But, if there’s anything you need to do, it’s actually communicate with Mikhail instead of letting him walk all over you until you snap. You need to set boundaries.”

“I have tried,” Piotr insists. “He just ignores them.”

“Then you need to enforce them,” you add on. “Look, sweetheart, you’re great at talking a good game, but you’re shitty with the follow-through. Case in point, Wade. You like to talk healthy behavior with him, but eight times out of ten you don’t actually enforce any of the boundaries you talk about having.”

“Killing people—”

“Isn’t what I’m talking about, Piotr. The jokes, the language, the pranks. Yeah, Wade’s an adult and can do what he wants, but so are you. Look, what I’m trying to say is that you need to talk to Mikhail, and then you need to stick to your guns if he tries to ignore your boundaries. And if he keeps doing that, then maybe you just need to give him the heave-ho.”

Piotr hangs his head a little. “It is not that simple.”

“Sorry.” You wriggle over to him and wrap your arms around his waist. “I wish I could help more.”

“You have helped immensely.” He kisses your forehead. “You called me out on my poor behavior, and you have given me much to consider.” He kisses your cheek, then your lips, then taps the DVD case with his hand. “How about we watch movie now, da?”

You smile up at him. “Sounds great.”

“So. I have question. What qualifies as ‘worse’ than unyielding concussion?”

“Severe,” Alexandra corrects from where she’s chopping vegetables for dinner. “Not ‘unyielding.’”

After relaxing for a few hours, Piotr had agreed that you’d be fine to hang out during dinner prep.

Key words being ‘hang out,’ seeing as he’s banned you from all knife-and-heat related duties until you stop having blackouts.

At any rate, you’re in the kitchen with Piotr’s family, Wade, Nate, your uncle, and your darling boyfriend, perched on one of the barstools while everyone else works on getting dinner together.

(Correction: everyone else sans Wade because Wade is also banned from dinner prep duties; unlike you, however, his ban is indefinite for reasons Piotr refuses to mention and Wade laughs too hard make elaborating possible whenever you ask.)

Mikhail jerks at her with his thumb. “That. And does it have anything to do with the ‘episodes?’”

Piotr goes ramrod straight so fast it’s a shock he doesn’t hurt himself. The look he shoots his older brother is beyond murderous.

You hold up your hands in a placating gesture before he can verbally –or literally, it’s anyone’s guess at this point—rip Mikhail’s head off. “It’s alright, he can ask. And… uh, I guess it does? I don’t know. It’s a little complicated.”

“Does it have to do with why your parents are not present?” Illyana pipes up.

“I guess?” You let out a slightly nervous laugh and shrug. “It’s… uh… really complicated to explain. I’m not exactly on speaking terms with them. With anyone where I grew up, actually.”

Nikolai frowns. “No ‘old friends?’ Classmates?”

You shake your head. “My mom schooled me at home. I spent most of my life inside the same four walls. I, uh, grew up in an anti-mutant town.”

“Nyet,” Mikhail says, forehead wrinkling. “That does not make sense. You are mutant. Why would your parents… not just move once you presented?”

You grimace. “They’re anti-mutant, too.”

“But… you are mutant and their child.”

And it strikes you that none of the Rasputin children can relate to what you’ve gone through. They grew up in a home where their differences were celebrated –where they were even modeled for them by Alexandra.

“It’s not always enough,” your uncle supplies after a moment of tense silence. “Some people value their beliefs more than those around them.”

“Why not let you live with him?” Illyana points at your uncle. “You are both mutants. It would make sense.”

“I was never in a position to raise a kid,” your uncle says grimly –which gets a sharp look from Alex, but she doesn’t question him.

“I doubt they would’ve let me go, anyway,” you say with a bitter smile. “I tried running away from home. A lot.”

“What happened?” Mikhail asked. “Obviously, they did not let you go…”

You shrug when his voice trails off. “Got hunted through the woods by men with guns until they caught me and dragged me back to town. Or I accidentally killed them; I had a lot of trouble controlling my mutation when I was younger.”

Alex actually drops her knife. “They did that you? They really…”

Nikolai’s eyes get shiny. “Who… who does that to a child?”

“The people from where I grew up, apparently.” You shrug with one shoulder. “I’m just glad it’s behind me.”

“What about ‘episodes?’” Illyana blurts out. “You said they connected?”

You tap your fingers against the countertop. Talking about your past has never been easy, and right now’s no exception. At least they aren’t blaming me for what happened. “Sometimes, I have hallucinations about the shit that happened to me where I grew up. It’s like I’m actually back there, going through all of it again. When that happens, I break from reality and lose control of my powers.”

Illyana darts around to the other side of the counter and wraps her arms around your shoulders. “That sounds scary.”

You smile and pat her forearm. “It can be. But I’m getting better. And I’ve got tools to help me get through them.”

The kitchen stays silent for a moment, then Mikhail clears his throat and braces himself against the counter on his elbows. “I think… all of that is definitely worse than concussion.”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I—”

You’re shaking so hard you can’t walk. Your legs keep giving out with every step you take.

Gravel crunches underneath your sneakers. Little ladybugs light up red and pink on the side, though they don’t do much to abate the suffocating darkness.

You’re sweating, like you’ve been sitting in a hot room all day, but you feel cold. And you can’t stop shaking.

Your father’s hand is a vice on your arm. “Quit dawdling! We need to go!”

“I’m trying! My legs feel weird!”

“Don’t talk back to me—”

Your mother shoves you into your car seat and forcefully buckles you in. “Start the car. I’ve got her.”

Her voice is calm, which must mean everything’s alright, right?

You blink, and you’re keeled over on the lawn outside your uncle’s house, puking up everything in your guts and then some.

You can hear him screaming. He’s angry.

“What did you do? What did you fucking do?”

You start crying. Tears fall onto the blades of glass, glittering like stars. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He scoops you up into his arms and runs into his house with you. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, I’ve got you.”

You blink again, and everything seems fuzzy. Something’s pressing against your arm, and several hands are holding you against something soft and warm.

“We need to stabilize her—”

“Her brain’s been gouged with the psychic equivalent of a serving fork, there’s no stabilizing that.”

“Find a fucking way or you’re out of a fucking job!”

Your head hurts. Your chest hurts. Your everything hurts.

You try and try to squirm away from the ache.

A pair of massive hands press against each side of your head, holding you in place. “It’s okay.” Your uncle’s voice. “I know it hurts, and it’s scary, but it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Her heart rate’s going nuts.”

“We need to stem the signals being sent out by her brain.”

“Get me some anesthetic. This’ll be easier if she’s asleep.”

“Myshka?”

You blink, and you’re back in the kitchen, cradled in Piotr’s arms. “When did I get on the floor?”

“You stopped talking mid-sentence and fell over.” His face is creased with worry. “Did you black out?”

“I guess. I mean—”

“Nyet,” Illyana rejects. “Her brain was retrieving memories, not stopping all processing.”

“She broke from reality,” Wade surmises, eyes widening. “In seconds.”

“We need to get her back to Dr. McCoy,” Nate says, standing abruptly.

Piotr lifts your off the floor and starts carrying towards the medical wing of the house. “Agreed.”

You’re trying to be calm. The embodiment of zen. The living definition of chill.

But between the mutation repression collar around your neck, the wires and sticky ‘nodes’ stuck to your forehead, and the knowledge that you’ve been breaking from reality with no warning, you’re not having much luck with it.

Piotr squeezes your hand as fat tears roll down your cheeks. “Tische, tische. Deep breaths, moya lyubov’.”

You draw in an uneven breath. “I’m scared.”

Piotr just kisses your forehead. You know he’s scared too, he’s just better at game-facing that you are. “Professor Xavier is very experienced with psychic therapy. If anyone can help, it is him.”

“Yeah, but I’m breaking from reality without warning now,” you whimper. “What if whatever I’ve got is getting worse? Or the hit I took made it worse? What if—”

“Deep breath, myshka. Please.” He rubs his thumb in slow circles against the back of your hand, but there’s no missing the tears that well up in his eyes. “Speculating helps nothing now.”

Before you can spiral again, Professor Xavier and Alyssa walk –well, Alyssa walks, Xavier rolls—into the room.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Alyssa sits down on the bed next to you and clasps your hand warmly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Scared,” you admit tearfully. “Really scared.”

“I bet. You’re dealing with some big stuff right now. Let’s see if we can get some answers for you, alright?”

“Have you found anything noteworthy in your scans, Hank?” Charles asks.

Dr. McCoy shakes his head. “No. There aren’t any signs of any injuries or abnormalities that might explain the hallucinations.”

“Illyana said that I was accessing memories,” you pipe up. “But… I don’t remember these. I mean, I do now that I’ve seen them, but they’re not anything I’ve gone through before.”

“How many new sets of memories can you recall?” Professor Xavier asks as he folds his hands over his lap. He frowns as you run him through everything you can recall –from waking up in the bed and hearing the argument, to throwing up on your uncle’s shoes, to most recent set of mix-matched recollections—then glances over at Alyssa. “Could she be accessing repressed memories?”

“That would explain why she doesn’t remember seeing them before,” Alyssa says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Try doing a scan of her mind. See if you can find anything.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I hate this part. It always feels so weird.”

Professor Xavier chuckles. “I will endeavor to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

You do your best to brace yourself, but the sensation of Xavier entering your mind still makes a shudder run down your spine.

Piotr squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Try to relax as much as you can.”

You grit your teeth. “I know, I know.”

Everything’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of the heart monitor Hank hooked up to you. Then, in a voice with too much underlying urgency to be comforting, Xavier asks “Y/N, are you completely certain that you’ve never had an encounter with a telepath before coming to the Institute?”

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

“I’m seeing a great deal of psychic scarring that was blocked from view before,” Xavier says, voice tense. “It’s extremely old, from the looks of it.”

A chill runs down your spine. “So what does that mean?”

“I’m… not sure yet.”

You crack one eye open and stare at him. “Not sure?”

He purses his lips. “Until we can ascertain what incident your formerly repressed memories are attached to, I cannot be certain about the nature of the scarring and how much it might impact your mind.”

“Are we gonna have to clear out the rest of the block?” Alyssa asks.

“I believe, given the nature of the blackouts and the lack of warning that accompanies them, we have no other option.”

You swallow hard. “What do you mean ‘clear out?’”

“We would go in and release whatever memories are being held back by the block in order to figure out how extensive the scarring is on your mind,” Xavier explains.

You can’t help but tremble. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”

Xavier sighs. “You have the right to deny treatment, of course, but I am genuinely concerned for your health. Given that you lose all control of your physical faculties, the risk of your being seriously injured during a blackout is quite high. For your sake, I would urge you to accept the treatment.”

Your lower lip quivers as you look over at Piotr. “I’m scared.”

He scoots his chair closer to your bed and takes both your hands in his. “I will be right here for whole time.”

“You’ve got the collar on, too,” Alyssa says as she pats your arm. “You’re not at risk of hurting anyone else.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and look over at Professor Xavier. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Physically, no, though the memories recovered may cause a great deal of emotional distress.”

“You’ve got Piotr here, and me, and your family is waiting outside,” Alyssa reminds you gently. “And you’re in a much better place than when you first came here. You can get through this.”

You give her a watery look. “Would you say something if I couldn’t?”

She nods. “If I didn’t think you could make it through this in one piece, we’d figure out a different way.”

You take a deep breath, then nod. “Alright. Balls to the wall. Let’s do this.”

Professor Xavier nods back. “You will likely be more comfortable if you relax your body and close your eyes.”

You settle back against the bed, taking the time you need to get your pillow and blanket adjusted. Once you’re comfortable –and don’t have anything else to stall with—you look over at Piotr.

He kisses your forehead. “It will be okay. I will not go anywhere. I promise.”

You nod, take a deep breath, and squeeze your eyes shut.

The house is small, out in the middle of nowhere. It’s stark white against the stormy sky, with gray shutters and a tar black roof. The windows glint in their settings as the sun strains past the clouds in bits and pieces. An immaculate grass lawn stretches out all around it, with red and gold poppies lining the walk up to the front porch.

You’ve never felt the need to run more in your life, but your mother’s hand is latched onto yours, unrelenting. “Mommy, why are we here?”

Your mother doesn’t answer, just marches behind your father, yanking you with as they walk up the steps to the house and ring the doorbell.

A pretty but otherwise average young woman opens the door. “Come in. I assume you brought everything I asked you to.”

“Yes,” your mother says crisply. “How long will this take?”

“About half an hour, start to finish. Have you dosed her yet?”

“Before we left home,” your father answers.

“Good. Bring her to the bed.”

There’s a bed sitting in the far corner of the back room. It has railings on the side, like a hospital bed. Loose straps and restraints lay across the mattress.

You dig your heels in. “No! No, I don’t wanna lie down! No!”

Your father lifts you off the ground and carries you over, ignoring your kicking and screaming. He holds you down by your shoulders while your mother and the other lady strap you onto the bed.

You thrash and strain against the straps, but without your powers there’s no point. You’re not going anywhere.

The other lady moves to the head of the bed and places her hands on each side of your face. “I’ll begin now.”

And then, agony.

Is.

All.

You.

Know.

White hot. Consuming. It burns through you as you scream and scream and scream.

Maybe it lasts for an hour. Or maybe five minutes. Or maybe time just stops altogether. You can’t process anything outside of the blinding pain wracking your body.

At some point it stops, and then you’re being unbound. You sit up, shaking all over.

“She is perfected,” the other lady says.

Your mother kneels in front of you, smiling expectantly. “How are you feeling?”

You lift your gaze to look at her as tears continue trickling down your cheeks. You breathe in—

And then the room explodes as you scream.

Your eyes snap open.

You’re back in the medical wing room.

You’re back with Piotr.

You’re safe.

Piotr leans towards you as you press a hand against your mouth. “Myshka? What is it? What’s wrong?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and start crying.

It takes time for you to get it all out. You get halfway through the story, then decide that you’d rather tell everyone at once and ask for yours and Piotr’s families to be brought in.

When you were seven, your parents caught wind of there being a woman who could “cure” mutants by telepathically removing their mutations.

Your parents, being the people they were, decided to ask her to “cure” you.

And reality, being what it is, meant that her operation was one big sham. As soon as you’d been unrestrained, you decimated the entire house with a sonic scream.

Afterwards, the side effects of the treatment started showing themselves. Instead of repressing your mutation, the telepathic woman had caused you severe brain damage.

You were dying.

Not wanting to deal with a dead child on their hands, your parents had taken you to your uncle’s and demanded he heal you.

And he had. He’d called in a lot of favors to do it, but he did.

“And you sent her back home to them,” Wade says once you finish, glaring at your uncle. “I’m sorry, but what in the actual fuck!”

“It’s not that simple, Wade,” you argue tiredly.

“Oh, but it is! If I can kill a guy with a Zamboni, this is that simple!”

“Do you really think if I’d had any choice, I’d have let her go back with them?” your uncle growls.

“Wade,” you interject softly before your adoptive brother can respond. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t defend him if I didn’t think he deserved it.”

Wade relents at that and sits down, expression melancholy as the indignation rushes out of him. “Man. Your parents are fucked up.”

Across the room, Alexandra is wiping tears off her cheeks. “What mother does that to her own child?”

Nikolai just shakes his head and says something in Russian in a trembling voice.

Piotr stays with you that night, cramming into your bed with you on your request despite the fact that a cot had been brought in for him. He keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing intermittent kisses to the crown of your head as the two of you sit in silence. Between his shock over the whole situation and the fact that you can’t really get more than two sentences into any conversation before you start crying, there’s not much to be said.

He starts rubbing your back when you start sobbing anew. “Tische, moya dusha. Everything is okay.”

You press your face against his chest as you bawl. “P-promise me –promise me w-we’ll never do anything like that to our kids. N-not just m-mutation stuff, b-but even if they’re –if they’re disabled, or autistic, or—”

His arms tighten around you, encircling you completely. “Konechno. They will always be loved, regardless of whatever comes with them.”

(Later, after you’ve been discharged from the medical wing, you’ll realize that he could’ve been offended that you’d even think that he’d hold any sort of condition against a child of yours and his, but instead chose to accept your fear for what it was and reassure you that the two of you would always –will always—do right by whatever children you have.

You’ll start crying again when you do.)

…

You come to with a sharp inhalation several hours later. Your eyes are sore from crying so much, and your bed is noticeably Piotr-less.

Alexandra is seated on a chair next to your bed. She cringes when she realizes you’re awake. “D’ermo. We thought you would sleep much longer than this.”

You frown sleepily. “Where’s Piotr?”

“Nikolai and I had him go stretch out in his own bed for a bit. We figured we would get him up in a few hours, before you woke up.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past six AM.”

You grimace. “Fuck.”

She smirks. “I was never a morning person, either. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Nothing’s hurting. Trying to sleep with these fucking wires all over my head is a little annoying, though.”

“And emotionally?”

You frown a little –you didn’t think you had any tears left in your body, but your eyes are already welling up—and hug the blanket against your chest. “Sad. And angry. And just…”

Alexandra gently puts her hand on yours when your voice trails off. “Maybe this is not my place to say… but you ought to be proud of yourself. And I know things will process in time, but you have been through so much, and yet you have not lost your compassion, your kindness, your joy. You are incredibly strong, Y/N. Don’t forget that, in all this revelation.”

You give her a small smile. “Thank you. And I’m trying to process stuff out and give myself time, but… I don’t know. I know I went through a lot, but I know my uncle and you –or people like Wade, and Nate, and even Frank—have gone through so much worse. I guess when I think about all of that, my stuff doesn’t seem like it was that big a deal.”

Alex shakes her head. “The point of surviving trauma is not so we can compare our scars to others’ and decide who has had it worst by the marks left behind. The point of surviving is so that we can be compassionate towards others who are still enduring their own struggles, and so we can help them make sure they swim towards the surface, rather than down.”

“Wow. That’s… that’s really deep. And inspiring.”

She smiles. “I cannot take credit; Nikolai said it, not me.”

You smile back. “He seems like a wonderful man. I see a lot of him in Piotr.”

“Nikolai is the light of my world,” Alex agrees. “I would not be who I am now without him.”

“I know I wouldn’t be who I am without Piotr, either.”

She’s quiet for a minute, then she squeezes your hand gently. “For what it’s worth, I think I would be very lucky to have you as a daughter –or, daughter-in-law, I suppose. Whenever you and medvezhonok decide the time is right.”

You try to smile at her –because she’s being sweet and you really do appreciate the sentiment—but you wind up crying instead.

You’ve already found replacements for your father in Nate and your uncle, but this is the first time you’ve had a motherly figure say you’d make a good daughter, and it’s making you emotional, dammit.

Fortunately, Alexandra seems neither startled or perturbed by your sudden outburst of tears. Instead, she simply moves from her chair to the edge of your bed, puts her arms around your shoulders, and presses a motherly kiss to the top of your head. “Tische, malen'kaya ptitsa. It’s okay.”

You wind up spending three days in the medical wing. Fortunately, between yours and Piotr’s respective families, you’re never left wanting for company or entertainment.

You also learn the hard way never to play Poker with Wade, Alex, your uncle, and Mikhail, because you will lose so badly, holy shit.

You also (also) learn that Illyana can, in fact, shred faster on her violin than Mikhail can on his guitar, which is great.

Piotr’s a constant presence by your side while you’re confined to your bed in the medical wing. He squeezes into bed with you at night, and during the day he does different art practices while sitting next to your bed.

Despite the constant stream of people and comfort, you’re still going out of your mind. You’ve stopped blacking out, which –as far as you’re concerned—means that you ought to be free to galivant around the mansion as you damn well please.

Fortunately, by mid-morning on the fourth day, Dr. McCoy, Professor Xavier, and Alyssa finally agree with you.

“Oh thank Cthulhu!” You yank the sticky pads the wires had been attached to off your forehead before the healer working with you can lift a hand to help. “I thought I was gonna go insane!”

Professor Xavier chuckles as you try to vacate the bed as fast as possible. “Before you wander off, there is one more piece of information we need to share with you. We believe we have a working diagnosis for your episodes.”

You freeze halfway through getting out of bed. You stare at Xavier for a moment, then blindly reach for Piotr’s hand.

He squeezes your hand in his. “What did you find?”

“Well, the blackouts were specifically caused by the combination of the head injury and the repressed memories coming to the surface,” Hank starts. “We’re not exactly sure why they manifested the way they did, but I’m confident that Y/N’s in the clear now, considering she’s been without incident for the past seventy-two hours. As for the episodes, we’re all in agreement that the psychic scarring caused your traumatic memories to manifest as hallucinations.”

“Now that we know what’s been causing the hallucinations,” Alyssa adds, “we believe that medicating your anxiety, continuing with counselling to help you process your childhood trauma, and regular telepathic therapy should get your episodes mostly –if not completely—under control.”

You stare at all of them. You can barely breathe. You almost can’t believe it.

A diagnosis. A treatment plan.

A fucking answer.

We could get married now, you realize. We finally know what’s going on. Piotr and I can get married.

You barely have to look at Piotr to know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

You start crying. After years of not knowing what was wrong with you, you finally have answer –and a way to deal with your issues, an actual plan.

You practically fling yourself into Piotr’s lap. When you wrap your arms around his neck –and he wraps his arms around you—you realize he’s crying, too.

The future’s never looked so bright.

[dachi-chan25]

GoT Season 8 Episode 1: The Pointy End Recap

Gods I am back on my bullshit but I can't help it 'cause I had too many thoughts about yesterday's episodes.

Disclaimer: So if you know me or my blog you know I don't root for D Targy (I write it like this cuz i don't want this post to pop up in her tag) and that she sometimes annoys the crap out of me, also i don't root for her bland ass romance or anything magical lizard related. I support House Stark 100% so ofc I believe in Pol!Jon (and more over I am a Jonsa shipper so ofc Imma write about that) and if you don't agree or don't feel confortable with any of those things this Recap is not for you (if you come here to troll I'll just ignore you anyway so don't waste your time and energy like that)

With that said let's begin!

.

-The episode starts with a young boy running to meet the Queen's entourage, we already see a lot of peasants and common folk gathered there, Arya sees the boy and smiles fondly (she is totally reminiscing when she did the same when King Bobby B visited WF) This shots made me feel very nostalgic as they parallel very closely S1.

Another parallel that it's included here is Jon and D arriving all regal couple like, I was just remembering about Bobby B and Cersei, and things are already on a visual side not working for them (d looks totally out of place with that flashy awkward coat, I mean the color, the cut, the red details, all of it makes her stand out like a sore thumb. On a visual level alone she does not belong there). The music is also worth noting, it starts off on a very ominious tone and then gets some heroic B bright undertones as Dr and Jon ride closer to he camera, but again falls into an ominious conqueror-villian entrance song.

The perspective shifts to Arya watching Jon and D riding (she doesn't seem happy to see D she kind of looks confused) but smiles when she sees Jon, we also see The Hound (Arya looks really confused, cuz she probably thought he was dead) and Gendry (she gives the cutest smiles ever,and yassssss Gendyra lives!!) riding behind them.

We get Varys and Tyrion riding in a carriage of sorts, and an unnecesary enuch joke *sigh* even Varys calls out Tyrion for it, and he is like idgaf cuz i got ballzzzz!! (Classy dude)

The common folk is not diggin this dragon kween business and obviously don't cheer or grovel at d's feet, she is very upset at this and Jon is like "I told you so", then the dragons approach and the people are terrified, they scream and run, worst of all D smiles and seems so smug (fuuuck her a thousand times, this proves she doesn't give a fuck about poor people unless they adore her, and that fear is just as well for her as respect, cuz this bitch is just like Cersei but dumber) and we don't really get to see Jon's reaction but come the fuck on!! This people Jon knows, some of them he has seen since he was a little boy, these are the people he is trying hard to protect and you think he is not gonna care for them just cuz d is pwetty?? Nah dude, he knows she cares about being worshipped (I meaaaan her long ass list of titles) but he thinks she is mostly harmless (may i remind you he still doesn't know about the TARLYS)

The camera follows the dragons and we see Sansa looking at them with worry (my poor girl, that's the adecuate reaction when you see monsters terrifying your people)

K, now we are seeing Jon in the courtyard, he sees Bran and immediately runs to him (you can clearly see Jorah helping D dismount in the background and that's hillarious cuz 2 seconds in WF and he is already leaving her ass behind in favor of his family), we even get a forhead kiss and Jon is pretty emotional at seeing his baby brother all grown up (tbh i find Bran's deadpan deliveries so funny, Jon looks confused af) he sees SANSA and biiiitch (I wanted to screenshot his face but I just gave up cuz it's very quick) the softness of his stare, the parted mouth, the way he just dives into her arms (Sansa stares at D while they hug like bih fuck off he is ours) . I want to address something real quick, yeah it was a shorter hug than we expected, but not less emotional ( Sansa was smiling and the look on Jon's face when he saw her) still it was 10000x times better than any Aegony scene because the affection is mutual Jon goes straight for a hug and Sansa opens her arms as opposed as Aegony scenes that rely heavily on D. Also I think this hug was shorter (and we see Jon pulling apart first) cuz d is watching, not only that but a lot of people are and i do think this season until the parentage reveal is out in the open they will be trying to keep their distances cuz they have feelings siblings are not supposed to have.

Jon asks for Arya, and Sansa says she is lurking somewhere with a smile (this reminded me of Cat asking about Arya on ep 1) and D approaches with the most forced smile ever, Jon introduces Sansa with her proper title first and then is like she is the kween D Targy forsaking all her thousand titles thank god. Also the first thing Jon says is that Sansa is his sister which I'll talk about later. So D tries (and fails) to be charming, saying how beautiful WF and the North (she says it's as beautiful as Jon said) and compares Sansa's beauty to it which had me wondering stuff.

A) so we never get Jon and D talking about Jon's siblings (another aegony is doomed moment) but he does mention briefly Arya and Bran cuz he thought they were dead, but Sansa??? Unless a thrid party brought her up he never talked about her which leads me to think D had no idea about Sansa being Jon's sister and that is why he breaks the hug and introduces he as his sister frist of all.

B) By talking about Sansa's beauty and how Jon talked about it, it implies they did talk about Sansa and that Jon said she was beautiful ??? Cuz that's the way D made it sound xdddd.

Ofc i think the A to be more like lyrics cuz Jon is playing his cards very close to his chest, but I thought it was funny.

Sansa brushes her of and delivers the WF is yours your Grace bs. Duuuude she is not even trying to be charming (she is corteous enough but barely) like she would have played the modest naive Maiden and said "not as beautiful as you, your grace" (bihhh d would have loved this shit) nor even a gracious thank you. And i wonder whyyy?? As far as she knows she is an ally, and yeah she doesn't trust her damn she doesn't even like her but that hasn't stopped her before like damn she was all charm when she met Roose and Ramsey for the 1st time and she hated them!!!! What I think is happening is that LF'S words are still in her mind about Jon marrying D, and Jon separated too quickly from their hug, and now he is standing beside this woman calling her queen, and yeah I see the jealousy maybe she doesn't know why fully maybe she is just starting to realize her feelings and is all projecting them onto the he betrayed the north's trust but I do feel it goes beyond that and it shows.

Bran interrupts before things get uglier with D and Sansa, with news about the wall, D looks shocked (bet she thought she was the only one who could control dragons) Jon looks like he is about to have a pánico attack.

They have a meeting with the northern Lords in the Great Hall (it is very curious that Jon is seated between d and Sansa, when befitting her new title D should be in the middle, D&D are driving this love triangle home) but from the get go we see that Sansa is the one running stuff and doing everything a queen should, she asks Ned Umbr about his people, he says they need more wagons and horses (I am sideeyeing D so hard at this moment) Sansa bids him to go to Last Hearth and bring as many ppl as he can.

Lyanna Mormont then proceeds to rip Jon a new one (but Lyanna like everyone else isn't really getting the full picture) and Jon looks at Sansa for support (like curious, as Lyanna is talking about D and she is his lady love and stuff you'd think he would look at her to gather strenght or resolution for what he is about to say but nope) but she is like 'dude you deserve it' and I would say she is right but like wasn't Sansa defending him to everyone that would listen last season ??? She literally said she respects Jon's desicions, nah this is her jealousy this is a go on prove me wrong, talk, give them (and me) and explanation of why u betrayed our trust for her. And Jon does look crushed when he sees he is not getting any support from her cuz if pol!Jon is right he did it! He listened to her, he was smarter than father and Robb, he brought an army home, and Sansa the one he did all this for still won't trust him that the North is his heart and home and he would do anything to keep it safe (like still pretty fucking unfair he wants sansa's blind faith without giving her anything in return but I get where he is coming from) and if pol!Jon is not real then they really destroyed Jon's character in favor of the blandest romance ever and I can't get behind that way of thinking because before I even shipped Jonsa I was a fan of both Jon Snow and Sansa Stark and I believe and support them both.

Honestly my boy doesn't even try to sell D, he is just like we need allies!! Tyrion just about gives up cuz he thinks Jon is a bumbling fool with no idea of how the game is played (lmaooo) and tries to sell D plus the idea that Cersei is sending them the Lannister army (I think is very important jon didn't mention this and I will go on about it later) Sansa is just about fed up with this bs, and asks a real important question about how da fuck is she supposed to feed this big ass army plus 3 dragons that she didn't account for and she doesn't have any obligation towards, like that's d's job, even worse d's haughty response (you can see Jon doesn't like this one bit) like honestly I had never felt more annoyed by d she is already a villian threatening Sansa in her own home for daring to care more about her people than about d's lizards, and i don't know how people are ok with that, like dude y'all are entitled to your own opinión and to loving your faves, but this shit was awfull.

We see carts of dragonglass in the courtyard, Gendry is giving instructions and Lord Royce is just leaving Sansa looking at all this activity when Tyrion approaches Sansa.

This is already to long and I have much to say about the Tyrion-Sansa convo, so let's go on in part 2!!

[wwhaatttttttt]

Tú.  [A ‘You’ Fanfiction ]

Chapter 2: Andar Contigo

Mientras miraba al espejo, una cosa sonaba en mi cabeza, "¡Deja de pensar en español!"

My hand slapped my forehead and I groaned cause I ruined my eyebrow in the process.

If I want to fit in I should think like people here, and people here think in English. In fact, some people get angry if you speak Spanish, I learned that the hard way yesterday in my first day of university here.

Thankfully, there is a lot of Latinos in New York, so Spanish is very common. That does not mean I should rely on only that, that would limit me a lot. That is why I have asked Joe to help me.

Not only is he nice, but he is also very handsome and I'd rather take English classes from him than a middle-aged, too expensive, tutor. Sorry not sorry.

That is why I am currently going crazy in front of the mirror. I have to look like a bad bitch, no, the baddest bitch. I fix my eyebrow and look at myself well. I look good.

Joe seemed like a simple guy, he seems like the type of person to go for girls that have the personality of the color beige. I am not like that. I like flashy clothes and bomb makeup, that is why I am wearing exactly that. I did not keep my dubi in my beanie for nothing. If he doesn't accept me like this then he is not the one, but that does not stop me from wanting him to be.

Girls illus- um... Girls um. Fuck it.

Las nenas se ilusionan rápido, y de seguro no soy una excepción. De hecho, soy todo menos una excepción; Soy la niña crédula que cae en esta categoría a pesar de mis muchos intentos desesperados de no hacerlo.

Hopefully, Joe can help me translate that in case I ever need it outside of my thoughts.

Hopefully, it can keep him wondering why I wanted to translate specifically that.

Hopefully, it will give him a hint.

I should not get ahead of myself though, What if we become best friends and then it will be uncomfortable to be anything else? What if we become something and then regret it? What if we become nothing at all? This is the mentality I should have.

I read somewhere on Instagram that was like, "You can't be disappointed if you have no expectations at all." Very wise words, @babygal89.

I do not exactly know when Mooney's close but the sun is leaving and It is better to be safe than sorry.

...

New York has this amazing thing called Uber, it is God-sent, without it I would not have gotten here on time.

Mooney's is still open, but it looks as if they are closing.

My palms are sweaty as I open the door, maybe I am too dressed up. I look down at my bodycon two-piece. I am definitely too dressed up. Just by feeling the vibes of this place I can tell I should have came more casually.

"Sorry Ma'am, shop's closed for the day. We open tomorrow at 7 though."

I look around to see who said that, it was a tan, large, man. He seems friendly though. I find it extremely hard to read in English so it takes me a bit of time to see that his name is Ethan.

"Pardon me, Ethan. I do not mean to disturb you but is Joe here?"

"Oh yeah, give me a second."

It is silent when Ethan leaves, I do not know if I am homesick or going crazy but I can hear the faintest Enrique Iglesias song. Joe does not seem like the type of guy to listen to Enrique Iglesias. I will chat with Ethan to see if he speaks Spanish. If Ethan speaks Spanish then I will ask for him to tutor me.

I actually want, no, need to learn English. My little crushy-attraction-thingy with Joe is a distraction. I can not get distracted.

Talking about distractions... Joe is right in front of me. I can not believe I was spaced out for so long.

He looks sweaty and is slightly out of breathe and if I am honest, a bit smelly. He must be tired of such a long day, I should not disturb him. I should have been more considerate, oops.

"Joe, Is it a bad time?"

"No-no! Not at all Alexandra, I was wondering when you'd come."

I stay silent, not because I do not have anything to say, but because I am wondering how a job in a bookstore with air conditioning would leave you this tired and sweaty. Was he pajeándose before I came? Oh my God, I interrupted a paja session.

"What's so funny?"

Oh shit. Caught.

I continue the conversation as if I never came to that conclusion and in no time we already had our study area. There were no tables so I suggested we sit on the floor in the back of the store, Joe seemed fine with that. Before sitting down Joe grabbed a handful of books and now they are neatly stacked next to him.

I reach for my book bag and pull out my folder, it is pretty thick. "I have to translate these to English, but if I directly translate them I would not be learning as much as I could."

"So... What are you suggesting?"

"Em... What I am saying is you teach me English normally and sometimes we can read my papers and try to translate them."

I open the folder and give him the first paper. I am immediately embarrassed.

"Forgive the ugly letter."

After looking at it quickly (he obviously can't read it), he looked right at me and smiled. Dreamy.

"Don't worry about it, it's believed the uglier the handwriting the higher the intelligence."

iFo! Que cursi.

...

Me gusta.

"It can work like a progress report of sorts. I might even pick up some Spanish on the way."

"You better! You need to learn some kind of Spanish now that you're stuck with me!"

I can tell by his reaction, he likes that cursi shit too.

"Noted. Well... Let's start! Lesson number one: Contractions."

I have decided even if Ethan knows Spanish, I will take classes with Joe.

[mycandylavynder]

Episode 10 Thoughts (Spoilers)

So, our wonderful Candy gets embarrassed by being relentlessly praised by her teacher and the director. This...as corny and awkward as it was for her...felt good. Candy works hard and deserves the recognition because our girl is a 🌟. I'm glad that they gave her the opportunity to hit it out the park.

Next up...Yeleen. Oh, Yeleen. She is a frustrating person...but as far as character development, I think she is one of the better written characters in this game. Her reactions are genuine to her conflict with her mom and her ability to introspect after hearing a reasonable argument makes her very likable. Although she is often immature and irritable, it is understandable because her high pressure relationship with her mom. It reminds me a little of the pressure Nathaniel faced in HSL to be the best at everything. I really like seeing vulnerable Yeleen and like the moments when Yeleen and Candy are friendly. I'm glad Yeleen had a bit of a break through moment and realized she needs to live her life for herself. I think she'll be more successful in the end when she is able to relax more and find herself.

Now...Castiel, interrupting our fued with Yeleen. There were definitely some nice flirty opportunities on our part toward Castiel. I thought it was pleasantly bold of her to say she could join him in the shower... especially since he ends up seeing her in a towel. Lol

Now their "date" was very casual, unfortunately. But I guess they wanted to give us a glimpse of what our future will be like with the lead of Crowstorm. But it was nice to have some one-on-one time with him again. I wish we could have watch his new video too. And I wish the fangirls weren't around so we could have gotten to talk about things other than his music. But I still enjoyed it. Especially when he came to the room early and saw Candy in her towel. That was a cute anime moment. And it was nice to have his attention in general. Although I can see why people would feel like things are rushed in his route, I think what happened was ok. Candy and Castiel have a long history (especially if he is your ex) so I think it would be normal to feel more comfortable once you know the person's intentions isn't to hurt you. So I think they are a good place together and feel safe with each other's feelings. I feel happy about that.

Now the kiss in front of the fangirls was wild. Lol it was cool to the story although it wasn't my favorite in comparison to the other LIs because he did it to shoo of the fangirls but it put Candy in a weird position. He definitely should have sent a text to clear that one up the next day...that would have been nice...

And Nath, oh Nath. I really enjoyed his date. although quite frankly, I am over the entire "tell me what shady danger business you are up to" banter but it was nice to talk to him about his scars and to have the self defense date. The kiss was waaaaaay cute. I really loved the scene and it left a very nice feel to their relationship. But of course they had to damper that with the text at the end...but I still think we got a solid glimpse that his feelings for Candy are genuine.

Over all, I liked the dates in general. The LI's taking the first step to date us and invite us out was refreshing. I think this was more realistic to the college experience in that sense as I think it is common for dating to be more relaxed and fun. I know some people might complain that this is too soon, but I feel like most people go on their first date at this point. I think once people know what the want to try out, they try it out. And when I look at my friend's that are dating, I think they date to similar timelines, if not sooner.

Now...Alexy and Rosa....

So...we have a meet up at the snake bar with them at the bar and all is 'well'. Alexy even apologizes for not really being present in his friends lives because of his new found love. Which was cool. I felt Beemov was trying to help redeem these two during that scene and it seemed ok. Plus, it is nice to be supportive to Rosa since she is pregnant. My husband and I had our first child at 20 and I am currently 23 and pregnant with our second and there is definitely a struggle that occurs between you and your unmarried, child free friends because they are in such a different reality to you that it's hard to relate to each other at times. I think they did ok in showing some of this in how Alexy and Candy try to awkwardly offer helpful but supportive advice. I think it was good since it is common for someone in a person's friend group to have kids earlier than the rest and it is good to still try and support them and keep the friendship brewing.

But I think because of this...I feel a little disappointed by their decision to have Rosa miscarry. I have known several people that have, and it is very difficult and sensitive and I don't think they wrote it with justice and integrity at all. It seemed like a very cheap, tacky, and tasteless way to stir up drama for the game when I think they could have stirred up drama and she still continued to have the baby. Not to mention that they absolutely should have offered a trigger warning since miscarriages are extraordinary traumatic and painful experiences.

With that said...I also felt they handled Rosa's pregnancy kind of weirdly anyway. I think them rushing to tell us that Rosa finished the nursery was an attempt to make us feel even more crushed by the miscarriage. (which honestly most women wait till 2nd to 3rd trimester to do that. There is an entire nesting stage that most pregnant ladies go through towards the end of their pregnancy to prepare the house for baby. Not saying that lots of women don't prepare sooner but it is very uncommon in my experience because the likely hood of having a miscarriage is significantly higher in the first few weeks/first trimester than in the other trimesters and doctors normally tell you that up front so you don't set your self up for a crushing disappointment if you lose the baby early on.) But yes, the whole baby prep stuff was so rushed in my opinion. I just kind of feel put off by how they wrote it because of the vague timeline presented in the game. I just wish they didn't choose the miscarriage route since they aren't great at sensitive topics.

But they did...and now we have that horrific crap fest that happened at the hospital where we see the absolute worst in Alexy and Rosa (which is understandable because she just lost a baby.) They tried to play up on her hormones causing her emotions to be all over the place prior to the hospital scene, which honestly is no joke...prenatal depression and mood swings are a very difficult ocean to navigate during and after pregnancy. I think it just brought to light some of the more uglier aspects to Rosa's personality that were clearly there before she was pregnant. Although I know she is grieving, she could have pushed her friends away before insinuating that if they adopted a child it would be loved less. Which might even be true for her, but that was certainly a comment that would have been better said in confidence to Leigh since he too understands how she is feeling and they fortunately have each other to grieve with.

And Alexy, clearly hurt by this, shouldn't have pushed this topic further. He should have just left to take a break from the situation because honestly, him and Candy aren't equipped to deal with this loss so freshly. Maybe Rosa and Leigh should have kept it to themselves and maybe their family for a few days and then lean on their friends. But to expect Alexy and Candy to have eloquent comforting skills through this seems unfair too. Alexy definitely should have left it alone, gotten some air, and reflected on the fact that she is deeply hurt that she lost a baby. And although well wished, the advice of "you can try again or just adopt" probably feels belittling to Rosa's feelings for the baby and overwhelming to think about since she doesn't know if she has a condition that may keep her from carrying to full term.

Alexy and Rosa are so far from the level-headed insightful people they used to be in highschool. They both are self-centered and seem like they lack the ability to empathize on a deeper level. The whole "leave the group chat" was childish. Alexy, although he has every right to be upset about the comment, should also try to keep it in context.

But whatever to that hot mess... Chani was awesome as always. And over all, I liked the episode. Just, not happy with them using the miscarriage as way to create drama.