#but when people are applying it to canon it makes my head hurt

[helga-grinduil]

can’t believe i am actually doing this, but.

being quirkless doesn’t really work as a disability metaphor, stop treating it as one when talking about canon, please and thank you.

[keys-hellscape-1020]

5 times you took care of the 141st, and one time they took care of you

Happy (late) holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy this piece!

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Canon typical violence, minor angst, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies, very minor gore, hospital type settings, minor illness, fainting, brief mentions of vomiting, cursing.

1st

“Need a medic stat!”

You rushed through the battle ground, attempting to make your way to the other side of it. This was made extremely difficult by the large chunks of rubble scattered about, oh and the fact they are at least a dozen people shooting at you.

“Stitch!!”

“Soap I’m on my way, apply pressure I’ll be there soon!” You panted, vaulting over some rubble and sliding to cover to prevent getting shot yourself.

The mission had gone to shit extremely quickly. You were just supposed to get the information and get out, stick together and move quickly. You all were not anticipating bombs being dropped on your heads from enemy aircrafts.

They had scattered you all quickly, as each of you attempted to avoid being hit. It seemed as that was their plan because as soon as you all were split up enemy soldiers surrounded you out of nowhere.

Price has called for an evac, but the lack of non blown up landmarks made it difficult to regroup.

You fired off a few shots into the smoke, praying they found their mark, and took off once more.

Going over and under rubble, left and right, in and out, it felt like you were never going to reach Soap.

Just as you were about to start violently cursing the gods for the situation you were in you saw Soap a few hundred yards off from you. To your surprise he looked to be in alright shape, the lump next to him however you couldn’t say the same for.

“Soap I have visual on you, what’s the situation?”

“The situation is Gaz is bloody shot!!”

Cursing under your breath you moved from your cover once more. Keeping low to the ground, more crawling than running at times, you finally made your way to Soap and Gaz.

Sliding in next to them you got to work. Looking Gaz over, you immediately started treating the biggest and most obvious problem, the bullet wound in his stomach.

Soap had tried his best to stop the bleeding, that much was clear from the soaked gauze packed into the wound, but with the need to return fire he couldn’t keep up with it.

You applied heavy pressure on it, praying that’s enough to keep him alive until he can get to a hospital.

“Price where the hell is that damn evac?!”

“3 minutes out, landing in what used to be the hospital parking lot. I’ve got Ghost with me what’s your status?”

“Me and Soap are alright, Gaz has been shot and is loosing blood fast he needs to get out of here asap!”

“We need to move!” Soap yells at you over his shoulder from where he’s returning fire at the enemy.

You act fast, harshly rubbing Gaz’s sternum to wake him up.

His eyes barely peak open, “Stitchy? What’s goin’ on?” He sounds drunk, which with how much blood he’s lost doesn’t surprise you.

“Hey, hey buddy, stay awake, your badly hurt we need to move.” You chirp, trying to keep your voice light despite the situation. “How you feelin’ bud? Can you talk to me?”

As you speak you rummage through your pocket, sighing in relief when you find what you were looking for, a stim shot and some pain relief.

Gaz had nodded off again in the brief time you weren’t speaking, and you lean in again to speak to him. “Gaz!! Come one buddy, keep your damn eyes open!”

“Stitch!” Soap calls from behind your back, the urgency in his voice can not be ignored.

“I know!” Deciding that you don’t have time to wake him up, you quickly stab the stim shot into his thigh.

That wakes up Gaz with a start. He flinches in pain, his eyes now wide open.

“Welcome back to the world buddy!” You shout at him, quickly injecting him with pain relief and tightening the sloppy bandage around his midsection one last time.

“Soap! Ready to move!” You call to him, hauling Gaz’s arm and part of his body, over your shoulder.

Soap leads the way, ducking behind rubble and returning fire when he can. You both move as quickly as you can, you would be lying if you said you weren’t struggling to keep up. Gaz was already fairly heavy, he also has all his gear on him which did not help your situation at all.

You were falling a bit behind Soap, but you kept hauling both you and Gaz towards him as fast as you could.

You were not going to let either of you die out here.

Finally you both reach the evac sight. Laying eyes on Price and Ghost you feel like you can breath again.

You run up next to where they’re positioned behind a large chunk of rubble. Laying Gaz down with his back to it you go to check his bandages again.

When you glance up to his face you notice that he’s awake. “How ya feelin’ bud?” You shout over the sound of gunfire, applying more pressure to his bleeding wound.

“Like shit.” He quips back.

You struggled to hear him over the sound of gunfire, but you were glad that he was conscious enough to talk to you and process what your saying.

Finally, fucking finally, your hear the sound of what might as well be the holy grail.

The heli lands about 20 yards away from you, cruising down to the ground, before it’s even landed Price is yelling orders.

“Stitch and Gaz move first, the rest of us will cover you from behind!”

You throw Gaz’s arm back over your shoulder and haul him onto his feet, thankfully he’s now awake enough that he can help you instead of you dragging him. Once you reach the heli you throw the top half of his body in, causing him to wince in pain.

“Sorry bud!” You shout over the noise of the chopper, pulling him the rest of the way in. You lean over him, securing him inside the chopper, then lifting up his shirt to check and make sure his bandages are still tight. Thankfully the bleeding has slowed down enough where there is minimal blood visibility through the bandage which makes you breath a sigh of relief.

You feel the heli taking off and you glance over your shoulder to make sure all your boys got onboard in one piece.

“Any other injuries I should know about?” You shout over the sound of the Heli.

“Your gonna have some if you don’t bloody sit down and secure yourself!” Price yells back at you.

You back off sitting yourself down next to Gaz. He was still hurt badly, but at least now he was as stable as you could get him.

All things said?

That was a shit show.

2nd

You hummed as you fluttered around the med bay busily. Moving from one spot to the other, carefully taking inventory with your trusty clipboard in hand.

You were truly in your element, everything was calm, orderly, and you were free to just do your job without any interruptions.

The door to the infirmary swung open, hitting the wall with a bang! In came Ghost, dragging a whining Soap behind him.

Ghost looked seriously pissed off, his eyebrows were noticeably furrowed under his balaclava and his shoulders were hunched. If you were to rely on context clues the only reason Soap was here was because of Ghost’s firm grip on his bicep.

“Can I help you?” You ask, face completely dead-pan.

Ghost doesn’t respond, just roughly pushes Soap towards you. Now that you have a better look at him you can see that his shoulder looks… wrong to say the least.

“What did you do this time?” You sigh, walking over to grab Soap by his ear.

“Owww” Soap whines “Sure! Pick on the injured person why don’t ya?”

“How do you always get injured at base but never on missions?” You taunt, pulling Soap over to the nearest available gurney.

You gesture for him to sit down on the bed, and when you turn around you notice Ghost, still standing where you left him.

“Either sit down or leave Ghost, there’s no lurking in my medical bay.” You say, grabbing what you need to treat Soap.

Returning to Soap you gently push him down on his non-injured shoulder. “Y’know if you wanted me like this you could’ve just asked.” Soap taunts with a wink, prompting you to sigh.

Thankfully he’s in a tank top or you would have to cut off his shirt, you know from personal experience with treating him that when you have to do that he makes plenty of comments.

“Alright, this is probably gonna hurt like a bitch, don’t punch me.” You say as you put Soaps arm in the proper position for realignment.

“Wouldn’t dream of it la- OW WHAT THE FUCK.”

“All done” you quip, pulling off your gloves. You look back over your shoulder to see Ghost has moved to the foot of the gurney.

“What were you two even doing?” You ask, putting your supplies away and getting different ones out.

“Fuckin” “Sparing” They say at the same time.

You should’ve know better than to ask.

3rd

You can’t believe this. You can’t believe your boys. You knew they could be stupid sometimes but this is next level!

Thankfully most of them had gotten away with minor injuries, and somehow you had gotten out without a scratch, despite not even knowing the plan before they decided to execute it.

Soap and Ghost had only bumps and bruises, somehow, considering they were in the thick of their stupid plan. Gaz had a few scrapes and a sprained ankle, but you patched him up then set him off with a crutch and a promise to go easy on it. And the captain? You don’t even know how he managed it considering he’s supposed to be the smart one, but he broke his leg.

So now you are in the med bay, essentially holding your own captain hostage (not like he could get very far if he did decide to run off).

He is not a good patient. None of your boys are. He complains about being there, says how he wants to leave and how he wishes he could do things for himself. You understand that, but the best thing for him at the moment is rest, and he seems adamant on not taking it.

“Stitch”

“If you ask me if you can leave again I’m smacking you.” You say while walking over to him.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way for me to go get food is there?” He asks, looking far to innocent for his own good. He’s planning something. You just know it.

“I’ll call one of the boys to bring you something up.” You quip, already walking away, intent on y’know, doing your job.

“Stitch” You hear him call as soon as you walk away.

“Yes sir?” You question, turning around to stare him dead in the eyes.

“How long until I get out of this hell hole?”

“Until your leg heals or you get put on leave.”

“Leave?” He sounds actually startled at that proposition, prompting you to walk closer to him.

“Just for a few months sir, until your leg heals.” You soothe. As quick as the startled look in his eyes appeared it was gone. Masked down under his cool captain facade.

“You can have a few months of uninterrupted down time with your husband. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You ask, walking over to stand next to him, setting your hand on the knee of his uninjured leg.

“Have you met yourselves? You all will get killed without me here!” He exclaims, running a hand through his beard in exasperation.

“You’re one to talk sir.” You say deadpan. “Trust me the boys will be fine. They will be better off without you for a few months than they will be if they see you constantly cooped up in here.”

“Stitch, nothing good can possibly come from me not being here!”

“Sir,” you quip as you sit on the side of his gurney, “you need to give them more credit. They’re smart, strong, soldiers, and if you order them to they’ll hold themselves together until you return.”

“You think they can’t behave unless their ordered?” Price smirks.

“What can I say, I know them to well.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

4th

You woke up to a thudding in your head.

Thud, thud, thud.

Thud, thud, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

As you come to, your groggy self realizes that loud, obtrusive noise is not coming from within your head, but outside it. You go to answer the door, (tripping over your blankets on the floor in the process) and find Ghost standing behind it.

You realize with a start that he’s in civvies, and has replaced his balaclava with a simple black face mask. While this should’ve been expected, it still comes as a surprise to you. They look unnatural on him.

“Ghost? What are you doing here?” You ask, trying not to scream on account of it being 3 am.

He nudges you to the side, walking in so you can close the door, and it’s then that you notice that his black shirt is getting even darker with blood.

“Ghost, what the fuck.” You sigh, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards your couch. “Stay here, I’ll be right back with first aid.”

You run to the bathroom, fling open the cabinet under the sink to grab the first aid kit and run back.

“If you ran like that during missions we might have to cover you less.” Ghost muttered.

“Oh shut up, what did you even DO.” You ask, pulling up his shirt with a pad of gauze ready in your other hand to staunch the bleeding.

You find the culprit quickly, a long but shallow gash along his side. It would need stitches, but thankfully you could do that here.

“How’s it look doc?” He mumbles, barely legible.

“You’ll be fine after some stitches but how did you even do this? We’re on leave.” You question, absolutely exasperated. You all were on leave and you still couldn’t catch a break from your idiot boys.

His response is mearly to grunt and look away from you.

“Alright then, well I’ll go ahead and clean it up for you alright?” You mutter.

You go through the motions, this is something you’ve done a million times. Clean, antiseptic, stitches, bandage, done.

As your putting everything away you notice Ghost is staring at the floor, and something about him feels… off.

As you go to put the first aid kit away you nudge his foot with yours, “You feelin’ alright bud? You can stay the night if you need.”

“‘M fine” he mutters, still not making eye contact.

“Wow that was convincing.” You dead pan as you walk away from him to go put up your first aid kit.

When you return to his side you gently rest your hand on his shoulder and say, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but you can stay here as long as you need. I gave you all this address for emergencies after all.”

He eyes you, before reaching up to your hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “Thanks Stitch”.

“Anytime.”

5th

You are starting to believe you’ve done something to piss off the gods.

You have just gotten back from leave and already the rest of your task force is sick. It started with Soap, who had come back to base with it, except he insisted it was nothing and went about training like he normally does. Him refusing to rest like you told him to led to him getting Ghost sick, not a surprise with how much they… “hang out.”

Next was Gaz, who despite you telling him not to, was adamant about treating them. When he inevitably fell to the illness he went whining about it to Price, who despite his best efforts, still got it. You suspect if he hadn’t still been trying to get his leg back to what it was before he broke it he could’ve outran him.

And then there was you. The sole survivor.

For some reason all of them had decided to wallow in your room, something about Soap insisting it had “healing properties” because your a medic. You told him to get out. He didn’t listen.

Gaz had curled up in your bed, Price had taken the couch, Soap curled up in your arm chair, and Ghost took the rug.

You were going to do so much cleaning once you managed to get these fuckers out.

But for now, you had to be in medic mode. So you went in. Armed with a face mask, gloves, everything antiseptic you could get your hands on, you started your plan: get the sick bastards out of my room.

The first step was making them feel better, so you decided on a classic sick food; chicken noodle soup.

You pushed the door to your room open with your back, on account of you carrying a heavy tray with 4 bowls of soup.

“Hiya boys, how are you feeling?” You chirped, setting the tray down on your desk. “I brought dinner if your feeling up to it.”

Much to your amusement Soaps head immediately shot up at the promise of food. “What did ya bring?” He rasped, the poor thing had lost most of his voice when he got ill and he was only now starting to get it back.

“Chicken noodle soup, although I’m not sure the bastard who started this whole mess should get any.” You quipped, even though you were actively handing him a bowl.

“Thank ya kindly.” He mumbled as he took the bowl from you. As far as your boys went Soap was the closest to looking like his regular self. Yes he didn’t have much of a voice, and his energy was way down from normal, but he was the least pale, and obviously the one with the most appetite.

“Anybody else want any?” You asked, glancing about your room turned sick bay.

From the corner of your room you saw Price weakly raise his hand from the couch. “Geez dramatic much?” You snorted out a laugh while handing him his bowl.

“Don’t bully the ill Stitch.” Gaz huffs from your bed.

“Your in my room, I’ll bully as much as I please.” You huffed “Now do you want soup?”

You saw Gaz lift his head to look at the soup questioningly before shrugging and nodding yes.

Once you had one bowl of soup left you looked down at the dark puddle on your rug. “Ghost, dinner time.” You chirped.

“Leave me to my death.” He moaned back at you.

“Oh you’re hardly dying, here sit up and eat something you’ll feel better.” As you spoke you gently crouched down to him and started repeatedly poking him on the shoulder.

“What do you want you heathen” he muttered as he finally sat up, only to have a bowl of soup forced into his hands.

“Eat.” You said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care.”

Reluctantly Ghost pulled up his mask to his nose and began to eat his soup, with everyone fed you looked around to see if anyone was done.

Like you expected, Soap was already done and Gaz was about 2/3 of the way through his. Time for step 2, probably the hardest part: Medicine.

You walked over to your desk and looked through the bag you’d brought in with the tray. You were muttering curses under your breath when you finally found it. A bottle of NyQuil. Not only will it help their colds, it’ll also knock them out so you won’t have to deal with them! Win win! Looking over at Soap you decided he would be your first target.

Loading up a spoon with the liquid you carefully step over to Soap, trying to not set off any of his alarm bells.

“Can I take your bowl?” You ask him, making sure to have a normal tone that doesn’t give away your true intentions.

“Sure, thank ya.” He rasped handing you his bowl. Before he could fully take his hand off the bowl you whisked the bowl away and shoved the spoonful of medicine into his hand.

He stared at the spoon like it was poison, “Stitch, what IS this?” He questioned.

“Medicine.” You quipped back. “It’ll make you feel better. Maybe if you take it you can insist on training again to go infect more people.”

Soap let out a raspy groan, but despite his previous complaint he swallowed the medicine, making a comical face after tasting it, and handed the spoon back to you.

Your next, “victims” as you choose to call them, didn’t put up much of a fight.

Gaz didn’t complain once he realized you weren’t leaving him alone until he took it, and Price took it without a word. Overall, a pretty positive experience. Your next challenger however would be much more difficult.

You eye up Ghost, and decide at this point attempting to be stealthy is pointless, he’s already seen you carry out your plan, and thus you approach him with your ammo loaded spoon fearlessly.

“No.” He groans, voice muffled from how he’s laying face first in your rug.

“Ghost, it’ll make you feel better.” You try, but the mountain man simply acts as if he didn’t hear you. You start repeatedly nudging him with your foot, over and over and over again until finally he picks his head up to look at you.

You can’t see much of him because of the mask, but from what you can see his eyes are much more puffy and red than normal, and anyone could notice the subtle rasp to his voice that’s not normally there.

“You need to take the medicine.” You spoke calmly, like you were talking to a cranky toddler. “It’ll make you feel better. Plus everyone else already took theirs.”

“Well they’re weak.” He groaned, and yet he still snatched the spoon from you, shoved the medicine in his mouth, and then threw it back at you.

“Dramatic much.” You whispered to yourself, getting up to put everything away.

If there’s one thing you got from this experience it’s this:

You work with literal children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1st

You felt like shit.

Not that you plan on letting that fact be known.

You’ve been attempting to put on some blush and concealer for the last 30 minutes in an attempt to make yourself look more alive. Your only responsibility today is a meeting to discuss your next mission so while it’s technically against dress code you don’t think anyone will notice, or if they do notice you doubt they will care.

Your body however seems to be stubbornly rebelling against your master plan to seem healthy. Your attempts to stand at your desk and put on makeup keep being thwarted as your head pounds any time you stand up and your vision blurs.

Despite your bodies valiant attempts to incapacitate you, you did manage to get your makeup on, put your clothes on, and get out the door.

Once you hobbled your way into the meeting room you saw that everyone was already there, as you took much longer than expected getting ready, which led to you being late.

“Damn Stitch you look… rough.” Gaz commented with a wince.

“Shut it.” You muttered, your voice already half gone.

When you woke up this morning you knew you were in for a hell of a week. You throat hurt like hell, and your voice was nearly gone. You kept coughing and sneezing and your head hurt horribly. All the same symptoms of what your boys had.

Despite your best efforts to get them out they had ended up staying for nearly a week. Soap left after about 2 days of rest, as he had it before the chaos started, but even with their ring leader gone the rest stayed put, with little signs of recovery. Due to this, your constant cleaning in between bouts of caring for them was futile, and 2 days after they recovered, it seems the inevitable happened. You caught it.

You sat with a thud in your normal seat next to Gaz, nodding at Price. “Sorry I’m late sir.” You grunted, barely able to get the words out.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” He asked, eyes narrowed at you suspiciously.

“Never better.” You lied.

Price was still eyeing you with suspicion, but he turned to begin the meeting anyway.

Nothing much of note happened during the meeting, except the fact that Gaz kept giving you looks of increasing concern, and every time you let out a muffled cough Ghost gave you a death stare. Soap looked at you more than Price for the whole meeting, despite him getting told off numerous times.

At the end of the meeting you moved to get up to retreat to your room, but as soon as you rose your head started spinning aggressively, the world blurred into one large mass of color, and then black.

~

You woke up with a start. Sitting up and immediately backing into the nearest corner you assessed your surroundings.

You were in your room, and the lack of light coming through the window let you know it was night. You must have slept a while as it was still morning when your meeting ended. Upon feeling a weight tighten on your waist you looked down and felt your cheeks grow warm.

Gaz was curled up right next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. He was sleeping peacefully next to you, his body curled slightly. You thought it safe to assume he was curled around you until you shot up.

Looking around the room you saw the rest of your boys spread around. Ghost was lying peacefully on your rug (honestly you found his obsession with it a little concerning), with Soap half on top of him. Price was laying on your couch with his god-awful hat on his face, presumably to block out the nonexistent light.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a bout of violent coughing. Your lungs felt like stress balls as they were squeezed under the muscles of your chest, and in one violent motion you swung yourself out of bed and rushed towards the bathroom.

As you emptied your stomach contents into the toilet bowl you felt someone wipe away the sweat on your forehead and crouch down next to you.

“That’s it, get it all out.” You heard Soap mumble next to you.

As your stomach finished emptying itself and you spat into the toilet into an attempt to get the taste out of your mouth Soap gently leaned over to wipe your mouth for you.

You sat back on your haunches with your eyes closed, breathing heavily. You creaked your eyes when you heard multiple pairs of footsteps quickly approaching the door.

Ghost stood directly behind Soap, looking at you with poorly masked concern. Next to him, with a death grip on his elbow, was Gaz, who was not even trying to mask his concern at your state. Behind both of them peered Price, and while he displayed a glare on his face, you knew him well enough to know that was his way of showing concern.

“Respectfully Stitch, what the fuck?” Soap gently said next to you.

Instead of actually responding like all of your years of training and experience are screaming at you to do, your emotions take over and you start violently sobbing.

You feel miserable. You head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton, your throat is on fire, all your limbs feel weighed down with lead, you can’t even stay awake long enough to walk to your own room and now your emotional state is such shit your violently crying in front of all of your boys.

The first one to react is Soap, who instantly tightly pulls you into a hug. The next is Gaz, who rushed over to tackle you- gently! In a hug. Price awkwardly walked over to sling an arm around you as well, and Soap turned around to grab Ghost by his ankle and drag him in.

“I-I’m sorry.” You gasped out between sobs.

In response to your statement Soap and Gaz’s arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Finally, Price spoke. “Alright crowding em’ isn’t gonna help anything. Soap make sure they brush their teeth then get them the fuck to bed. Ghost, grab the medicine they gave us and anything else that might help. Gaz make sure they have water and a Gatorade on their nightstand. I’m gonna run to medical and get them some anti-nausea medication.”

Hearing that your boys all scurried off to follow orders.

Soap carefully raised you up, and made sure you had steadied yourself against the counter before releasing you. He grabbed your toothbrush for you and put a generous amount of toothpaste on it. After he handed it to you and made sure you were good he started busying himself with anything he thought needed a bit of tidying around your bathroom. Which was apparently a lot.

As he worked he spoke lowly, “Gave us all quite a fright there. Thought you were hurt for a moment and rushed ya to the med bay. They told us you were just ill and had us bring ya to your room.”

You spat out your toothpaste and muttered between sniffles, “sorry.”

As you cleaned off your toothbrush and your mouth Soap approached you and pulled you in tight. “I know we annoy the hell out of you with our recklessness, but I don’t know what I would do without ya. You’re the glue that holds us all together, without ya’ we all would be dead 10 times over.”

As Soaps little speech ended someone cleared their throat behind you, prompting you to turn around.

There stood Gaz, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s right y’know.” He said softly, slowly approaching you. “We would fall apart without you. And if keeping you in good shape means tending to you while your vulnerable like you do for us so well, then we will do it happily.”

“Gaz, you all gonna make me cry again.” You sniffled, rubbing harshly at your eyes.

His eyes grew wide at that and quickly pulled you into another hug, “Please no.”

“Alright, alright. We need to get ‘em to bed. Let em’ rest and what not.” Soap said gently pulling you from Gaz.

“Right right.” And with that Gaz gently took your hand leading you towards your bed. Soap followed closely behind, keeping a hand on your shoulder the whole time, like he was scared you would fall over again (not that you can blame him).

As they settled you in Price came in through the door, carrying a bucket and a small pill in his other hand.

“Alright, this bucket is incase you get sick again.” He said, setting it down next to your nightstand. “And this pill is for your nausea.”

He handed you the pill and the glass of water Gaz had gotten for you earlier. As you took the pill Ghost finally walked over with the medicine he has taken way to long to find.

“Alright here ya go.” Ghost said, attempting to hand you the spoon once you took the pill.

You however, were apparently not sick enough to not cause problems on purpose as you leaned comically far away from the spoon.

When Ghost gave you a pointed look you simply shrugged and said “Revenge bitch.” Before grabbing the spoon and taking the medicine.

“Alright I think that’s everything.” Price started, “We’ll leave you alone now and let you rest. Come on boys.”

As they moved to leave something came over you, making you call out to them, “Wait, uh please wait. Can… can you all stay? Please?” As you spoke you curled up further into your blankets, attempting to hide yourself in them.

Soap was the first to react to your question. “Aww sure Stichey, of course we’ll stay!” He smirked, practically prancing over to you to playfully ruffle your hair.

You scoffed, already regretting your decision, and rolled over to face the wall muttering, “forget it.”

“No no no.” Gaz said, quickly walking over to you, making sure to give Soap a good smack on the back of his head on the way. “If you want us to stay we can stay. It’s the least we can do. Right?” At that last word he shot a pointed glare towards the other members of the 141st, who all made varying gestures of agreement.

With that figured out your boys all settled in. Gaz practically latched onto you, pulling you to his chest and tucking your head under his chin. Soap, feeling extremely left out, decided to snuggled into your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling at the back of your neck. Soap waved Ghost over and with a sigh he slid his legs under everyone else’s and leaned half against Soap, half against the wall.

“Well looks like I can’t fit- what a shame,” Price began, only to have the back of his shirt grabbed by Gaz who proceeded to practically throw him over everyone onto Ghost, who promptly threw him off. He eventually settled in next to Ghost, half leaning on him, his legs fully intertwined with everyone else’s.

Once everyone was settled you felt incredibly comfortable. Your boys were all around you, and while yes, you still felt like shit, their heat and comfort more than made up for it.

The most important thing you got from this experience?

Your boys may be annoying sometimes, but there is nothing they wouldn’t do for you.

[itsnotbird]

On the Run

Civil War! Bucky x Fem! Reader

Non-canon imagine

Warnings: Language, acts of violence, mentions of Winter Soldier Bucky.

Summary: Your domestic life was good with Bucky, that’s because the two of you were skilled in knowing when it was time to move on. Now, Steve Rogers is here to ‘save the day’, and it isn’t what you two needed.

You used lay awake for hours on end at night, staring at the ceiling, listening to any faint noises in the distance.

That was different now.

Your body knew rest, it knew a sense of comfort. Though it took you awhile to achieve it, and though it wasn’t perfect, the peace was all you needed.

Well, peace and him by your side.

The mattress wasn’t necessarily something to rave about, it was small and springy, but it was a bed and it was suitable. The sheets weren’t pillow soft, but none of those small things mattered when you’re twisted together with a man who made you feel secure no matter what.

You wake to the sun shining in from the kitchen window and the sound of the street of Bucharest outside. Eyes opening, you’re face to face with the picture in front of you. He’s painted golden by the sunlight, face relaxed. No night terrors came for neither you nor him so rest was the only thing in the air.

Hair falling across his forehead, you reach to push it back, then trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger. You gently smile, your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“James.” You whisper, trying to softly stir him. “Bucky, the sun’s up.”

You’ve learned that there has to be a gentle approach to how you wake him, anything too hasty sends him into a panic. So that’s why you whisper to him before pressing your kiss to his face.

It’s a gentle kind of love, one that both of you have never experienced before. And after everything, all the things the two of you endured, it still makes Bucky wonder how it could be so easy for you to be so soft with him, to him. In his corrupted mind, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve to be roused by you nuzzling against him. But you reassure him every single time that he will never know violence from your touch if you never have to know cruelty from his. Maybe that’s why the two of you are so content in the way you are. You spent your life under the thumb of abusers, now the slice of freedom you have feels like cool water.

Refreshing.

Bucky stirs awake, letting out a soft groan as you kiss the corner of his lips before pushing the covers off yourself.

Those blue eyes open to watch you stand from the bed and stretch your arms over your head, causing the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, to ride up past your thighs and flash your underwear to him.

He smiles to himself.

“I have a job to get to in thirty minutes.” You tell him, wandering off into the bathroom. “Nothing illegal this time…I think.”

Bucky rolls onto his back and chuckles to himself.

“It’s still illegal even if no one gets hurt doing it” He reminds, voice groggy.

You lean against the door frame as you brush your teeth, the toothpaste is foaming in your mouth as you mutter.

“I’m simply an undercover…intel associate who makes her living off of knowing things.” You say before going back to the sink to wash your mouth.

“You’re a spy for hire.” He states as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“So are you.” You argue, washing your face. “Don’t be the pot to my kettle, James.”

He rolls his eyes and comes to join you in the small bathroom, pulling sweatpants on as he does so. “To be fair…it’s not like you could go work at the coffee shop.” He says, grabbing your hips as he slides you out of the way so he can grab his own toothbrush.

You hum and pout as you reach for the hairbrush, the one the two of you share because that’s how life is now, sharing things.

“I did apply for the barista position, they rejected me because of my lack of people skills.” You joke.

Bucky looks at you in the mirror, giving you a shrug. “You win some, you lose some.”

You study his expression, then turn to face him with a small, hopeful smile.

“Good day or bad day?” You ask, making him stop and face you.

Bucky nods. “Good day.”

One thing you’ve come to learn is bad days for Bucky are common, more common than bad days for you. Every day, the two of you ask each other the same question just to gauge each other’s mood.

And if Bucky said it’s a good day for him, then it’s a great day for you.

You kiss his cheek, making him give you a sideways grin before you go search for clothes of your own. Buttoning your dark cargo pants, you tie up your boots and go to the dresser drawer that should be housing socks and underwear.

Instead, multiple weapons look back at you as you open it.

You place a pistol in your concealed holster, then pull a jean jacket on.

“It’ll take an hour, two at most.” You say, coming over to Bucky as he watches you.

Reaching for his watch on the counter, you set a timer for how long the job should take and then hand it to him. It’s something the two of you learned to do when separating from each other, something that eases anxiety.

Bucky takes the watch and fastens it to his wrist, then tilts your chin up to meet his eye.

“Don’t get hurt.” He states.

“I promise.” You say, searching his nervous look.

“Don’t…lose control.” He adds.

You swallow the scared feeling.

“Never again.”

With that, he kisses you meaningfully.

Intimacy was something the two of you took a painfully long time to get used to. The idea of letting someone that close was a nightmare, and it took weeks and months after the two of you got away for you to determine what feelings were what. So nothing was ever casual, not when the only relationship you have was each other. In Bucky’s mind, once he figured out how to function it, you were the only thing in life that mattered. He can’t express fear or worry or love in words properly, but he knows if he locks his fingers with yours or kisses you a certain way, you’ll understand.

You always understand.

It makes things easy, you do the talking when he can’t and he expresses feelings in ways you aren’t too sure how to sometimes.

“Be smart.” He says when you finally pull away.

At that, you scoff. “I’m always smart.”

- - - -

He’s found that people watching is calming, like it helps reconnect wires in his brain by learning strangers habits.

Walking through street vendors, he enjoys the fact that his mind has taken the day off on torturing him.

As he goes through the produce section, he stops at a kind man’s booth and looks at fruit in front of him.

Plums.

Your favorite.

He remembers all the stories you used to tell him to get him to fall asleep, how you grew up on an orchard, how you spent days wandering through the plum trees, picking the fruit and laying in the sun while sucking the juice.

He has a brief conversation with the kind man and purchases four plums, just because he knows you’ll look at him in adoration when he presents them to you.

Today was a good day, he slept dreamlessly, he woke up to you, he’s out in public and doesn’t feel on edge-

There.

Just there.

Across the street at the news stand.

Bucky sees the man running the stand look at him a certain way, a way he shouldn’t be looked at. Crossing the street, Bucky approaches the news stand in confusion, and just as he makes a few moves forward, the man flees.

The headline on the papers instantly ruins the previous good mood.

The Winter Soldier, accused of a major bombing.

As he rereads the paper over and over in disbelief, the watch on his wrist beeps.

You should be arriving home.

He heads for that direction.

- - - -

You shut the door behind you and toss the keys onto the counter, walking into the bathroom with the intention of taking a hot shower to wash away the stressful job you just completed.

It all went okay in the end, and a wad of cash is in your pocket, making you feel successful, but it was a harder job than anticipated.

You pull the shower curtain back and just as you reach to turn the water on, the energy around you shifts.

Immediately, you pause, holding your breath and trying to listen carefully.

There’s the sound of boots in the kitchen, and you would claim them to belong to Bucky but you know the sound of his footstep, you know the way his energy feels, you know the feeling you’d have if he were on the other side of the door, and it’s a feeling you do not have.

Steve Rogers looks around the small space.

It’s minimal, a hideout he’s imagined in his head with newspaper on the windows and a serious lack of personal touch. He looks at the made bed, then reaches to pick up something that confuses him a little.

Once he realizes it’s a woman’s bra, he instantly drops it in shock.

He moves into the kitchen, and picks up a notebook laying on a shelf next to vanilla wafers you eat when you’re overcome with nauseating headaches and can’t seem to eat anything else.

Just another lasting side effect from HYDRA.

He opens the notebook and immediately notices Bucky’s handwriting. Flipping through pages, he finds a photo taped to a page free of journal entries.

It’s of a woman.

You.

It’s from when the two of you first found the apartment, you’re taping news papers to the glass, looking rather unamused as your picture is taken when you’re just in a pair of boxer shorts and a band t shirt that falls off your shoulder.

You’re effortlessly gorgeous.

Your name is inked under the photo with the date, almost like he put it there to ensure he doesn’t forget you.

A common fear of Bucky’s.

Steve shuts the book with the intention of taking it back to Sam so they can look into who you are and why you’re in the journal. Sam warns him through the earpiece that german special forces were soon approaching, and he responds, saying that he understood.

You pull the gun from your belt and take a deep breath, slowly twisting the door knob to peer out of the bathroom.

Steve hears a sort of rustle, though it doesn’t come from the bathroom, it comes from behind him wear Bucky has joined the scene.

Standing silently, he looks at Steve with an unsure eye, then looks to the keys on the counter and knows that you are hiding out somewhere.

Steve turns to face his once best friend and lets out a shaky breath.

“Do you know me?” He asks him.

Bucky’s heart pounds in his ears as he pushes through brain fog and tries to run through plans in his head. If Steve Rogers was standing in his kitchen, and the headlines say The Winter Soldier bombed the UN, that means he had to flee fast.

“You’re Steve.” Bucky says. “I read about you in the museum.”

You listen closely to the conversation, trying to run through your own plan.

“I know you’re nervous. You have every reason to be…but you’re lying.” Steve says, still grasping the journal in his hand.

That’s making Bucky twitch.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore.” He says, and out of his peripheral vision, he sees you open the bathroom door just a crack more.

“Well the people who think you did are coming here, and they aren’t going to take you alive.” Steve says in a serious tone, taking a step closer.

“That’s smart, a good strategy.” Bucky agrees, making Steve roll his eyes.

“Where’s the girl?” He asks.

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “What girl?”

Steve shakes his head at the lie, then rips open the journal and points to your picture. “This girl, Buck. Be smart about this, I can help you.”

Breathe.

He has to remind himself.

“It would be helpful if you left right now before it’s too late.” He says, setting his things down and taking off his gloves, flexing his metal hand.

Above you, you can hear heavy boots and your heart stops. You push the door open wider, sneaking your way behind the soldier that’s telling Bucky it doesn’t have to end in a fight, that he could leave with him right now and everything would be fine.

That’s when Steve hears the defining click of a gun being loaded.

“Did someone fail to tell you that this isn’t a task for Captain fucking America?” You say lowly, aiming the gun right at the man. Your heart pounds in your ears, adrenaline and anxiety make you feel sick.

Steve gives Bucky a look, then sighs.

“You had to pick a crazy one?”

Bucky shrugs.

You circle Steve, coming to his front to let him see the angry look in your eye. “You want to see crazy?”

Bucky hooks a finger around your back belt loop and pulls you to him, muttering something in Russian that Steve doesn’t understand. Whatever is asked of you, you look up at him with a slightly scared look. Bucky just stares back at you, giving you a slight head nod, encouraging you silently. That’s the only reason you turn your back on Steve and rush to the closet, grabbing your back pack.

“Buck, I came here to help.” Steve reasons once he’s recovered his shock.

“Leading special forces here doesn’t seem like helping.” Bucky states.

“It wasn’t me who did that.” Steve reasons.

That’s when agents invade the apartment.

It’s a fight, rough and seemingly never ending, and the entire time that you’re trying to escape, Steve is there, trying to reason with Bucky.

“James.” You shout as you’re struggling to hold your own against the three officers you keep dodging.

Immediately, he finds you, ripping the men away from you. Once free, you’re trying to make it down the stairs of the apartment building, but there’s no escape from the troops that are after you.

Barely processing what’s happening as Bucky breaks the glass of the stairwell window, he’s gripping your hand tightly and coaxing you to jump, falling a very far distance to a rooftop. It probably would hurt a whole lot more if Bucky didn’t break your fall.

Eyes squeezed shut as you roll off of him, you pant with gritted teeth. “This is going to bruise.”

“Walk it off.” He says, helping you up.

As the two of you start running, Bucky suddenly falls behind. You look over at him, only to see him battling a…

Cat?

Panicking, you shoot just above the figure, startling it enough to refrain from clawing Bucky’s throat out.

Jaguar hero? Panther man?

“Here kitty kitty.” You call, gaining the enemy’s attention, drawing it to you instead.

“Jesus, who is this chick?” Sam asks Steve as they start to join the scene.

Steve jumps from the window you did moments before. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out!”

Adrenaline is pumping through you, blocking out the crippling fear that this could end badly. There’s a sliver of hope that this would be like the times before on the run, where you find some place new to be from. You and Bucky dodge all the threats, having a shared mindset on just keeping the other alive.

You’ve been in bad situations, but as the two of you end up surrounded by agents and police on the freeway, you think this is far by the worst ending to come of things.

So much for a good day.

And now everyone is being handcuffed, including Steve and the man-bird he has as a sidekick.

Why are all the jungle animals after you today?

Your knees are kicked out from behind you, a man grips your hair and shoves you to the ground, causing you to yell out.

“Let her go!” Bucky shouts from beside you as he himself gets detained. “She had nothing to do with this.” He argues, desperately trying to get them away from you.

“James, what did you do?” You grunt, cheek pressed to the ground, looking at him in the same position.

“Nothing!” He argues. “Just do what they say, it’ll be okay, baby.”

“He bombed the UN.” An officer says, tone angry.

“He can’t even make toast without burning it- ow! I’m really not into hair pulling.” You seethe.

The adrenaline that was once keeping you going has worn down and you’re shaking on the inside as you’re shoved into the back of a military truck.

Your leg bounces up and down, and if his hands were free, he’d stop the motion.

It’s silent, the two officers sitting in front of the two of you stare.

“You still having a good day?” You ask Bucky.

He looks over at you with an irritated look, not irritated with you of course, just in general. “No. This is a very bad day.”

“Don’t speak to the prisoner, ma’am. He’s a threat.” The younger officer says to you.

“This guy’s a threat? He puts spiders outside instead of killing them.” You say with a tone of disbelief.

Bucky says your name as if to tell you to not waste your breath.

You don’t listen of course.

“Hey, why am I not a threat?” You ask.

“You didn’t bomb the UN.” The man reasons.

They’re still stuck on that.

“Maybe I did. You’re not an expert, you weren’t there. Now, I’m not gonna admit it because I know how you narcs work, but I’m going to make you wonder.”

Bucky starts to laugh before the second officer orders the both of you to be quiet.

- - - -

Of course they separate you.

Of course they lock Bucky in some kind of inhuman looking box to make sure he can’t escape and of course they throw you into a room with nothing but a table, two chairs and a surveillance camera.

You try to get out of a good twenty minutes, then scream at the camera for answers, shouting questions.

Steve stands in the office and watches the monitor, eyes flickering back between your live meltdown to Bucky who sits still in his confinement and doesn’t do anything.

“Who’s she?” Stark asks, curious at the scene.

“That would be the side kick.” Sam answers, chuckling as you lunge one of the chairs at the camera.

Natasha joins the men with a file in her hand.

“This is all I could find on her.” She says, handing the folder to Steve.

He reads the information, then gets some sort of clarity.

“I want to talk to her.” He says.

“Absolutely not.” Shannon immediately says.

“She’s how we get through to him.” He argues.

There’s a moment of uncertainty, because the last thing they need is to get into more trouble.

But they do it anyway.

You’re sat in the corner, head in your hands, trying to keep your thoughts straight.

You weren’t a huge fan of being locked in small rooms, probably because a life of confinement is pretty much all you knew.

There’s a sound of the doors electronic lock being opened, and in comes the man you’d rather not see.

Immediately, you stand with your guard up.

“You going to try and shoot me?” Steve asks.

“You took my guns.” You simply say.

Shanon stands guard as Steve comes closer.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, but believe me when I say I just want to help.”

You laugh, looking at the floor as he continues to talk.

“Is there anything you can tell us that will help his case? Where was he today? Yesterday?” Steve asks, and you glare.

“You want the play by play? Seriously?” You scoff. “Fine. I woke up at eight o’clock, I went to work and left him in the apartment that your guys ruined-”

“They aren’t my guys.” He clarifies.

“-and my guess is he went into the city. I came home and found you rudely invaded my home.” You say sharply, taking a step away when he comes another foot forward.

“I came to warn you that they were after him. To be fair, I didn’t know you existed.” Steve tries to reason, but you just laugh.

“He must’ve forgot to include it in his letters to you, sorry, he’s been a little busy trying to piece his mind back together.” You spit. “The entire point of laying low, is to not let people know you exist, and we were doing a pretty good job at it.” Your anger rises, and your eyes keep flickering back to the woman at the door and wondering if it’s locked.

You could take her, she’d be easy.

Steve grunts in frustration. “Clearly not well enough that special forces found you.”

You lash out. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been found, but we could’ve had a plan if you didn’t butt in. We could’ve already been on a train in the time it took you to try and reason with him.”

Steve huffs and rubs his temples. “If you would’ve come with me, you wouldn’t have had to run. I could’ve helped you.”

“That’s what you don’t get!” You shout. “We have been fine for two years, we had a life, we had a plan for every situation and we didn’t need you. Now look what you’ve done! He’s getting psychologically evaluated, when everyone knows he’s not going to pass whatever test they have for him.”

Your chest heaves as you try to not let your voice crack.

You’re deathly afraid. All the images of lazy mornings and creative dinners flash before you and there’s that overwhelming thought that you’ll never know that peace again.

“I know you’re scared.” Steve says a little softer now. “But if you cooperate-"

The power goes out.

Just like that.

Emergency lighting flickers on lowly, and there’s a moment of silence before the walkie Shanon wears goes off.

“Everybody, get eyes on Barnes, now!”

Wordlessly, Shanon turns out of the room, causing Steve to follow. Though they shut the door behind them, they fail to realize the lock mechanism isn’t going to work now that everything’s fried.

“Idiots.” You huff, flinging the door open.

You run down the halls until you come across the office where they took any belongings you and Bucky had.

You were going to find him and the two of you were going to find a way to get out of this hell. Grabbing both back packs, you try to go towards the direction everyone is fleeing from, knowing that’s where he’ll be.

Maybe that’s the same agenda Bucky has, or more like the agenda the winter soldier has as he’s triggered to take over. He should have known better, that man claiming to be good knew all the right words to get his brain to switch over into some kind of kill mode. He fights his way past everyone who tries to stop him, overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, like he’s supposed to be searching and finding someone. You. That’s it, that’s what he needs to do next.

He stops anyone who comes after him, on a mission to retrieve you.

You burst out of a door, looking around for any signs of him.

There’s many bruised people on the ground, trying to get up and recover.

He had to be close.

Your heart beats loudly in your ears, backing up, you go to turn and run, but his large figure stops you.

“Bucky.” You gasp in relief, immediately handing him his pack. “We have to go, I think we can-”

He grips your wrist, not tight enough to harm, but tighter than he would ever grab you.

You meet his dark eyes and your face pales.

No.

This can’t be happening.

“James.” You speak, though he doesn’t answer, just stares right back at you.

The word is hot on your tongue and it tastes like anguish as you say it. “солдат?”

Soldat.

That, he answers to. With a tug of your arm, he tells you to follow, giving you no time to process anything. Though Bucky has told you many times that he isn’t to be trusted like this, you can’t help but feel like he isn’t going to harm you, not when he’s shoving anyone out of the way and guides you to the roof top helicopter pad.

He sits you in the passenger seat of the air craft.

“пребывание.” He orders, then goes to the other side and somehow manages to get the helicopter roaring up.

You watch Steve rush onto the pad just as the two of you pull away, he runs after you, trying and failing to stop you.

You look down as you get higher and higher, and no time is wasted, you’re being flown far far away.

He doesn’t utter one word, and you aren’t sure if you should either. Trusting him is all you can do.

About an hour later, when you’re far enough away from city limits, the helicopter is being landed in a clearing.

Even as you’re being pulled out of your seat and he grabs his backpack, he doesn’t talk. Walking fast to keep up with him, you follow him for a mile until you stumble upon a bus stop.

He sits you down, then tells you to stay.

He stands and sweeps over the surroundings.

“Soldat.” You say, clenching your hands at the odd place you are put in.

You didn’t think you’d have to experience this version of Bucky again.

Now you have to figure out how to make it go away.

He turns to look at you, blankly.

With a calming breath, you command him to sit. When he does, you try to ignore the ill feeling it gives you, a cruel remembrance of how perfectly trained they had him.

“You have to go away.” You say and it confuses him.

“I will stay with you.” He says.

“You don’t need to.” You reassure.

His brows furrow. “You are my mission.”

“Your mission is complete, well done.” You encourage, grabbing his hand in yours.

He looks at the contact like it’s so foreign, and your heart aches.

“Do you understand? Your mission is complete, your service is no longer needed.” You say, searching his eyes for the light that slowly returns as this soldier sinks back into hiding.

He takes a large breath and shudders.

Then his eyes are frantic and a little confused.

“James.” You speak, reaching to hold his face in your palms. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“What- what happened? Did I- what?” He frantically says, trying to process everything.

“You didn’t do anything extreme.”

He tries to manage his breathing, then examines you fully, making sure there are no cuts or bruises on your skin.

“Hey.” You coo softly, hand on his cheek. “I’m alright, you didn’t hurt me.”

There’s a sense of relief in his eyes, that’s when he pushes his forehead to yours in a painfully human embrace. You push his hair behind his ears, breathing in when he breathes out.

“I’m sorry.” You say, meaning it. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

He tucks his hand under your hair, bracing on the base of your skull.

“This isn’t on you…we just have really bad luck.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “I guess we really aren’t done with being on the run.”

The two of you sit just like this until the bus pulls up beside you. Then you find a seat in the back and lean against the window while Bucky leans against you and keeps a watchful eye of the bus.

“What about the Netherlands?” You offer into the silence, twisting your fingers into his.

“You’re wanted all over the country.” He reminds.

Sometimes the world just wasn’t big enough when your face is on ‘be on the lookout’ posters.

“Norway?” He suggests.

“You really want to go back there?” You raise a brow at him.

“…Scotland?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, Scotland will do.”

[artofket]

Questions

Miguel O'Hara is acting odd when you go to speak with him about the nature of the Web of Life and Destiny and having a future despite his past.

This is my first time publishing a fic here so I hope y'all like it :) leave me some critiques and comments!

GN reader, SFW, minor acts of aggression, so much angst

______

"Mr. O'Hara?"

You walked cautiously into his office as if on tightrope, ready to leave as quickly as possible if necessary.

"What is it?" 

The room was unusually dark, orange glow from the screens high up the only indicator of his existence. He muttered something to Lyla and she appeared in front of you, materializing from your watch. She whispered to you conspiratorially. 

"He's in a mood again, y/n."

"I heard that." He echoed.

"I'll leave you two to it." She winked and fizzled out of vision.

You stood for a moment, watching the arch of his back sway as he worked. Should you wait?

"You can come up here…" You complied and shot some web to the platform, landing quietly behind him. "I'm still in the middle of something but I need a break anyways." 

He shifted to face you. His eyes had darker than usual lines under them. 

You had visited him alone a few times before, and each time he treated you much friendlier than expected. Whenever you were in a group meeting, he was always brash and sometimes aggressive. Much unlike now. He was quiet and patient for you. Maybe it was like that for some of the others when they met him privately. You hadn't asked around. But you were still curious.

"I was wondering if you had time to talk for a bit?" 

"Sure." He folded his arms and leaned back.

"Well… I've been thinking about the multiple dimensions and canon."

"You wouldn't be the only one. What about it?"

"If we have to follow our stories out in our own worlds, what does that mean for here? I'm sure it wasn't planned out that we'd all meet."

He stayed silent.

"So do those same rules apply here?"

His eyes flicked back to you.

"What do you- of course they still apply."

"So it's just canon for all of us to be in your dimension?"

"Probably not originally. But the Great Web was spun that way."

"Just like it was spun to punish you?"

He looked at you incredulously. 

"You don't know what I did."

"I know enough that it isn't fair that you're trying to clean this all up by yourself."

"I'm not doing this alone."

"Then stop acting like it." You said it so quick you let out a gasp as if it got past against your will. Which it kind of had. You never spoke to him like that. You met his gaze with wide eyes.

"Okay then." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me, y/n, what do you want me to act like? You want me to be ignorant to the possibilities of all our dimensions' destruction?"

"No, I…"

"Cause I've already seen worlds ripped apart, children… children screaming, people dying. I can't let it keep happening." His tone raised and hitched painfully.

You took in a breath.

"And what happens once you fix it? Are you just going to wait patiently for the next accident and not make a new life for yourself?"

"I already found a life for myself and it didn't work. I don't deserve another chance." He turned away from you and gripped the desk so hard you swore the metal creaked.

"And who decides that?" You took a step towards him.

His shoulders hunched, head dipped, quivering with frustration.

"Miguel…"

He moved so fast you had blinked and found claws hovering at your eye line. You looked at his face, not even scared enough to have flinched, and saw red staring back at you. Words hung from your parted lips. He had almost attacked you. So why had he stopped?

He huffed and swung his arm back at the desk. He slumped in defeat, keeping his claws stuck in the metal.

"You should leave." 

But you didn't. For the same reason he hadn't hurt you. Instead, you lowered a hand to his broad shoulder. 

"We still have choices to make. No matter what the web says." Your breath shook at the end. He didn't move. You stood in silence for a while. With no response, and having made your point, you decided to leave. Before your hand could pull away, he grabbed your wrist. 

"How? Why are you like this? Even after seeing the darkest sides of humanity… you still show kindness. What's wrong with you?" He looked up only enough for you to see his eyes were back to an orange hue. You met his gaze steadily.

"If I don't, who will?" You sadly chuckled. "Afterall, it's all part of being a spider-person, y'know? Staying strong, getting back up when no one else can…"

You couldn't know how much he wanted to say sorry. There's no way he'd be able to put into words how deep his regret had changed him. So he deflected.

"You called me Miguel this time, y/n." He reluctantly let go of your wrist.

"Oh. Oh! I uh… didn't overstep any formalities… I'm sor-"

"It's okay. You can call me Miguel." He stood and pulled his fingers from the desk and tried to brush the shredded metal off. That was unsuccessful, so he just tilted his hips to cover it from your sight. "I'll uh, have to tell Lyla to get someone to fix that…" He stared at you, feeling like a fool. 

"I wish I could help you with that." You rubbed your arm, pulling at the suit.

"You already have helped." He caught himself when you stared back. "I mean with the other stuff. You are helpful. I'm mumbling." He rubbed the back of his hair and let out a sigh. "I'm so so sorry…" 

"I know." 

Words hung in the air and the bizarre nature of your visit shook your inhibitions.

"So you uh, talk with everyone else in private this way?" You chuckled.

His eyes grew wide.

"What way?" Before you could say anything. "No of course I do, yeah…" 

"No?"

"Did I say no? I don't think I said no…"

"You did."

"Well I don't let just anyone get away with the stuff you pulled, that's for sure." He smirked and instantly regretted it.

"Oh."

"I mean. Ugh. Just don't mention that to anyone. I'm not going soft."

"Oh of course not…"

You looked at the floor smiling in thought. He hadn't really given you the answers you wanted after all. 

"Why did you ask about what I'd do after all this is done?" That threw you off.

"Well uh someone's got to ask you… make sure you have someone to look forward to."

"Someone?" Your face flushed.

"Something! I meant something!" He raised an eyebrow. 

"Well I'm open to suggestions then, I suppose. Who… I mean, what, should I look forward to?" He teased.

"It could be someone you look forward to spending time with. Or just any kind of thing at all really." You backed up towards the edge of the platform. You were digging your grave with each word. "Uh, I should go now…" 

"I look forward to talking with you again then, y/n… hopefully with less of me making a fool of myself." You squeaked at his tone and facial expression. 

"Yeah, uh, of course!" He was teasing but also… was he flirting with you, or was he just so hot that it made everything he said with a smile sound flirty? You couldn't manage an answer, so you quickly turned and fled from that awkward interaction. He watched as you ran from the room.

"Lyla."

"What was that about? Did you really need to ruin another desk?"

"Lyla, focus, does y/n have feelings for me?" 

She just laughed.

[chaifootsteps]

Hey Chai,

This is a long one, so I’m gonna start out by first thanking you for this blog you’ve created as a safe place to share your thoughts and those of others, including when they disagree with you! You are both admirably unabashed and pleasantly down to earth in how you carry yourself on here! Now to get into the meat of it, I felt like sending in my thoughts on the idea of “wasted potential” as applied specifically to Lucifer from Haz_bin Ho_tel, and to ask you for your thoughts on that concept and Lucifer as a specific example (if you wanted to share them, of course)! I want to clarify that I’ve never personally liked referring to characters, story beats, or theme explorations in a piece of fictional media as “wasted potential” because some part of me feels that I don’t get to make that judgement call when I wasn’t the one writing. This isn’t me claiming that I am better or more mature than people who discuss wasted potential within media analysis - I am well aware that I am entitled to dislike the direction a character or story is heading as much as any human - this is just me saying that I personally never try and act like I could speak on knowing what was better for someone else’s creative vision, so I just tend to keep my thoughts to myself. Until I witnessed what Vi_v did to Lucifer. Memes are funniest when quoted ironically, but it was after episode six that I sincerely said out loud to myself “look how they massacred my boy!”

In the days of the pilot and promotional character art, Lucifer was my favorite character. Viewers barely knew anything about him, but the little we did know was OVERFLOWING WITH POTENTIAL. He was my favorite character design in the entire show, and a near hyperfixation in my mind. The limited information and visuals we were given were those of a well dressed, unwaveringly confident, and - seemingly - unapologetically aware player in a story about the slaughter of sinners and the near-lost cause of Charlie’s efforts towards their redemption. He was the King of Hell, husband to the first woman in existence, instigator of human sin, and REBEL AGAINST GOD. Even juicier, assuming we never got to see him as his own character, there was at least the mystique of the domino affect he had on the characters of the show including Charlie, Alastor, and even Vaggie as Charlie’s girlfriend and a fallen angel, herself. The second-hand accounts we heard of him through Charlie - specifically “I think dad was right about me-“ and “- you don’t take shit from other demons!” - depicted a character who had little sympathy for Charlie’s goal or the sinners while still showing his care for her in his own, twisted way. All of this oozed with POTENTIAL for the enormity of this character and his weight on the story as the embodiment of pride and as the King of Hell.

And we, the audience of the final product, got NONE OF THAT. The final character - the canon depiction thrown at our faces following over four years of anticipation - was a self-pitying, judgmental, immature, wishy-washy, absentee father who remained WILLFULLY unaware of the life and ambitions of the singular child he claimed he wanted a better relationship with and took ZERO accountability in running the very people and kingdom he had been stuck with for 10,000 years! He didn’t even know his daughter, the princess of Hell and his most treasured family, had a girlfriend of multiple years. In a lot of ways, he was a well-dressed man-child constantly shouting some version of “I DON’T WANNA!”. 

And GOD did that hurt to see. How it hurt to see his wasted potential. 

There were so many things he could have been starting in late 2019, so many things that seemed perfect for both a character and story beat as would have explored the greater themes of the show itself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t any of them on that particular day in late January of 2024. The CLOSEST he ever gets to embodying that potential was when he was protecting his daughter while beating the holy light out of Adam in the finale, but even his statement of “You’re in my house, bitch!” doesn’t depict the imposing and unmeasurably egotistical being of pride he seemed to be in 2019, it just sounds like something any person would say in a cocky manner punching down on someone who broke into their house. For me, it took the wind out of my sails to see how far my once adored character had fallen from the character he COULD have been. How he had been denied all the potential that he once had. Potential that, through writing choices by the creative team, was decidedly "wasted".

So those are my feelings as applies to both the concept of “wasted potential” in writing and to the character of Lucifer in Haz_bin Ho_tel. I apologize again for how long this whole rant has been, but if you have any of your own thoughts or want to comment on my whole spiel around how we describe wasted potential as viewers and Lucifer as a possible example, I would be excited to hear them!

Thank you again for this space you have created and keep fighting the good fight, even if that’s just for the freedom to our own opinions on popular media!

No apologies, Anon, and thank you for the kind words! Everyone should feel like they have a safe, fun place to bitch about how much they dislike popular media...whether HH runs for one more season or 10, I'll do my best to keep this little pocket available!

Thank you for your heartfelt Lucifer thoughts. I know back in the day, when I still loved and had high hopes for this show and actually hoped Viv could get Weird Al to voice Lucifer, this was the thing that made me really fall in love with him. If I'd known back then that he'd turn into a crude, idiotic frat boy, I wouldn't have bothered.

I think the longer these shows run, the more it gets to be that people are mourning their favorite characters and the potential they could have had. It's pretty painful to love a character so deeply, to be so excited to see what they become, and to be rewarded with the worst possible version of them you could imagine. Happened with Stolas for me, with Lucifer for you...it's a story you hear time and time again.

It sucks.

[dragonsdendoodles]

opinions/headcanons (if it applies) on trans enoch

Opinion is yes canon I’m trans and I said so

Headcanons (this almost entirely comes from my own experience being transmasc):

Noor had to drag him to the present to get him an actual chest binder because he kept using bandages he stole from the medicine cabinet because “it hasn’t hurt me in 70 years I’m fine Noor I promise”

Even after that he has to frequently be reminded to take breaks from the thing because he just. Forgets

None of the others, including Miss Peregrine, have ever known him at a time he didn’t at least socially pass. He’s just young enough that his voice could make sense for a cisgender boy but he still doesn’t like it

His last ymbryne was not a fan of him being transgender. It was one of many things she took as him being stubborn and rebellious which is a pretty big reason he is now both of those things

For a few decades, only Miss Peregrine actually knew he was trans. There were a few slip-ups and some things that had to be quickly explained away, but for the most part no one knew for certain until he started fully opening up to the others later on. Abe and Victor never knew.

He’s incredibly insecure about how he looks. He can’t look in a mirror for very long without picking apart the things he thinks make him look feminine, and he’ll spend half an hour in the bathroom scrutinizing himself if you let him. Horace helps with that, but he can’t really make it go away.

Horace is a big help with a lot of this stuff, especially once they start dating. Having a fashion designer boyfriend is fantastic when half your clothes are too form-fitting to wear outside, and it especially helps Enoch’s insecurities knowing that even being cisgender Horace is proudly more feminine than Enoch is. He may not fully understand, but he knows far more than most of the others do, and having someone to bat away the toxic masculinity and gender dysphoria and all the other stuff swirling around his head is very helpful. Plus he gets kisses out of it. So.

I still maintain if he has any pride flags they are exclusively in pin form because those can be used to chase and stab people with

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In The Dark (BuckTommy Whump)

In The Dark (14,612 words) by NeverlandPoet Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Tommy Kinard, Vincent Gerrard, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Ravi Panikkar, Maddie Buckley Additional Tags: Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt Tommy Kinard, Internalized Homophobia, Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Firefighter Evan "Buck" Buckley, Firefighters, set after season 7, Character Study, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Major Character Injury, Fire, Slurs, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Sibling Maddie Buckley

Summary: Working under Captain Gerrard again is a shock for the 118, especially as they are supposed to be present at this year's Pride Parade. Tommy is the only bright spot for Buck that day, but when they suddenly receive an assignment, he realizes that Tommy, of all people, is in the middle of it…

Finished! Chapter 1 is under the cut, full fic on AO3. Come say hi if you liked it ❤️

We will burn in the fire We will be branded in flames We will have to rise from the ashes From the fires of our own mistakes

Getting ready for shift, day 2 under Gerrard, who’s counting? You can do this.

Buck watches Ravi roll up the hoses. His fingers are itching to ever so slightly adjust the other’s angle of work, but with his distracted mind, the moment passes. Bobby will get his clearance soon. He will, he must.

“This is my first Pride,” says Ravi, “I mean, the parade. What to expect?”

Buck checks the equipment for the third time, but even the third time, everything is where it should be.

“Well, it's my first time too,” he replies with a shrug.

“Huh, were you off last year?”

“What? Oh, no.”

Buck slams the flap shut with a jerk. Sheepishly scratching his ear, he adds, “I mean, this year I’m... uh, this will be my first time as a... Anyway, Tommy and I have different shifts, we can't go, but there are still a lot of parties in the evening, maybe we can make it to one of those.”

“Keep the details about your fag lover where they belong – your underpants.”

Gerrard steps around the fire engine, smug grin on his face, provocatively running a finger through his moustache.

“Done checking? We can't wait forever for you guys.”

He looks at the two of them challengingly, but actually, Buck feels, Gerrard’s only looking at him. Ravi straightens up, he doesn't know the man, he’s just the current captain to him. Buck can't blame him, Ravi has learned that it pays to prove yourself, that it pays to make an effort. He’s learned that, like all of the 118, under Bobby. But Bobby’s not here.

“H... hold on, you can't say that.”

Even if the words dance on the tip of his tongue, Buck's gaze is firm. Gerrard stares at him, a gaze like a laser beam; but Buck is equipped with an invisible shield, and he returns the look.

“I can't tell you to do your job, Buckley? Really?”

“No,” Buck replies stubbornly, “I mean the other thing. The slur. You can’t say that, Gerrard.”

“Captain Gerrard,” the man corrects him in a deceptively soft voice. “You want to start with political correct language, do it in every respect. Pajeet here will agree with me, won't he?”

Gerrard shots a gaze at Ravi. Ravi's cheek muscles twitch, Buck knows he’s stifling a reply. He never thought about it, but how many times has Ravi heard things like these? How many times did he have to listen to bigoted, white men hurling insults at him? Buck clenches his fists. Anger is rising in him like an inextinguishable fire, and it's not wise, he knows this. He knows it, but there's Gerrard with his stupid grin, head slightly tilted as if to say, yeah, hit me boy, I'm waiting for it.

Hen appears at the truck, “There's plenty of bandages, Captain,” she says, as if she's read Gerrard's mind.

Gerrard wrinkles his nose as if Hen's appearance is some kind of stench that you just can't get rid of. But for now, he drops it. He slaps the fire engine; to Buck, this looks like he's slapping a woman's butt, and somehow, the analogy suits Gerrard. He's old school, as these guys like to say. They’re calling the vehicle baby, they’re joking about the hoses and involuntarily grab their crotches when a hydrant spurts out before the connection is made. None of this is unusual. A bit on the verge of extinction, and Buck can't exactly boast that he's never done anything like this. It's not great, but also not unusual. Gerrard, however… he’s a special sort of player.

They occupy the truck, and Buck just hopes his last glance at the interims captain is ice cold. Gerrard is sitting in front, now he can only pierce him with his eyes from behind. Hen looks kind of worried, so Buck nudges her.

“Hey, it'll be fine.”

“Huh?”

She adjusts her glasses, even though they’re absolutely straight. Following Buck’s gaze to Gerrard, she shakes her head.

“I don't know, just having a feeling,” she says.

Gerrard continues to stare ahead, but his ears are good for an old geezer, Buck thinks, as he interjects, “Feelings have no place in a fire truck.”

Hen ignores him, only giving Buck a warning glance as he frowns, clearly pondering about some fierce retort.

“Because of today’s job?” Ravi interjects.

“Oh, right,” says Buck, “Ravi was asking what to expect from the parade.”

He emphasizes Ravi and parade while carefully watching the back of Gerrard's head. This time, however, the man stays silent, and Hen turns to Ravi.

“It's not that wild,” she replies warmly, “people are generally rather peaceful. Sure, there’s the usual drunks falling into the shards of their own bottles. The odd brawl on the sidelines...”

“One year, a fire-eater accidentally set himself on fire,” Buck interjects, gesturing broadly. “Singed the eyebrows of three people who were standing a little too close.”

“Dumpster fires,” Chimney offers. He was the last to enter the truck, missing their earlier conversation with Gerrard, but he, too, seems kind of tense. They all are, actually. And it’s neither because of the parade nor because they’re missing Eddie, who has called in sick at short notice. Eddie isn't absent because of Gerrard, of course, but Buck wouldn't blame him if that were the reason. He himself had been feeling unwell this morning simply thinking about the captain, and thinking about what he’d done to Tommy. How he made him act. That guilt is still apparent on Tommy’s face, whenever Gerrard manages to creep into their topics.

“Hm,” Ravi replies with a frown, “nothing we couldn't be called in for, should it happen. Still not getting why we're ordered directly at the place, practically like a fire station for the day.”

“It's a madhouse, that's why.” Gerrard, of course.

“Statistics show that the presence of fire departments at the start of major events has a preventative effect,” says Hen, ignoring the captain. “Significant reduction of accidents, actually.”

“27 percent,” Buck throws in, and the other’s astonished looks bore into him. “What?”

“Less fire starters,” Hen nods. “One theory says people are more attentive because the presence of firefighters boosts their sense of community.”

For a moment, a discussion breaks out among Buck, Hen, Ravi and Chimney as everyone seems to have an opinion on this, but Gerrard's sharp voice interrupts them.

“Shut up, chicken coop. We're here for a job, not for your private bullshit.”

His gaze rests on Buck, and he feels his own fingernails clawing into his thigh. Bobby wouldn't want you to do anything rash. It’s his mantra for the rest of the ride.

[good-beanswrites]

If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?

Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references. 

(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)

Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.

Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.

“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.

“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane. 

The girl just shook her head. 

She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”

“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.” 

“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...” 

With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.” 

Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”

“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”

Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”

“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”

“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“You just pity me because I’m young.”

“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.

“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”

A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.

“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”

“Of course.”

[densi-mber]

A/N: This is an AU for “Sorry For Your Loss” from season 13, where Deeks’ knife wound is more significant than on canon.

***

And If I Slip Away

Deeks hadn’t liked this case since the moment Miriam Sivac opened her front door and assumed he was her pool boy/gigolo. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before, but she gave off creepy serial killer vibes. Or at least someone who would have no problem taking out an inconvenient relative or two.

So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when she sold them out. As chaos broke out, Deeks intercepted the nearest guard, knocking the gun from his hand. The guy whipped out a knife with an impressive amount of speed.

The blade slashed across Deeks’ forearm, adrenaline blocking out most of the pain as he blocked the next blow with his serving tray. He felt blood trickle up his arm with the force of the movement. The guard took his opportunity to escape, running off towards a vehicle, and Deeks decided not to pursue.

“Deeks!” Kensi called out, mid-run from the sound of it, and hopefully unharmed.

He had just long enough to grab a serviette from the catering van and tie it around his arm before rushing off in Kensi and Callen’s direction.

“You know, you could have told us you were back there earlier,” Kensi said once shoot out was over and they waited for back up and ambulances. She sounded annoyed, but he knew it masked concern and lingering stress of the last 15 minutes.

“Where would be the fun in that. Besides, I needed you guys to act naturally,” he replied with a grin.

“Excuse me, are too implying that me and Callen don’t have the skills to act like you weren’t there?”

“I said nothing of the kind.”

“Oh no, you just—Deeks, why are you bleeding?” Cutting herself off, she pointed to his injured arm. He’d honestly almost forgotten about it, brushing off most of the pain what with the whole surprise hearse ride and shoot out

“Turns out the guy I took out also had a knife,” he answered wryly. He lifted up his arm so she could examine it. “He caught me a little bit.”

“That looks like more than a little cut,” Kensi observed, her earlier teasing completely replaced by concern. Deeks twisted his arm to see for himself. With the dark napkin, it was harder to tell, but now he saw the fabric was saturated.

“Let me see?” Kensi carefully held his arm in her left, uniting the cloth with the other. Whatever clotting had started must have broken, because as soon as she moved the napkin, blood immediately welled up from the cut. “Oh my god. It must have hit a vein or artery,” she said hoarsely.

Replacing the cloth, Kensi pushed down, hard, and now he definitely felt it.

“Aah! Damn it, that really hurts!” he hissed. “It’ll be ok,” he assured her, even as he felt more blood dripping past the napkin and down his arm.

“Fatima? We need an ambulance here ASAP. Deeks has a cut to his forearm and the bleeding’s not stopping,” she rattled off, applying pressure the entire time.

It still wasn’t enough. A wave of dizziness rocked through him and he felt the first hints of panic. He knew all the statistics about bleeding out. Had seen it happen in real time. At this rate, he didn’t have long if it didn’t stop soon.

“Deeks?”

“I’m a little dizzy,” he managed, unnerved by how unsteady his legs felt.

“Ok, let’s sit down.” Helping him to the ground, Kensi twisted around, searching through the crowd of people around. “Callen! I need help!”

A fresh wave of blood ran down his arm, making his stomach twist with nausea. He glanced up into Kensi’s eyes, which were wide with obvious panic.

He zoned out then, distantly aware of Kensi and Callen discussing a tourniquet. A sharp pain brought him back out of the fog and he screamed, head flying off the ground as he gasped.

Panting, he grabbed onto a handful of dirt, wondering when he’d laid down.

“I’m sorry,” Kensi murmured, cupping his cheek. “The ambulance is almost here.”

“Issa ‘kay.”

“Keep talking to me, Deeks, ok?”

“Mmm. Worst funeral ever,” he muttered, smiling vaguely when Kensi choked out a quiet sob. A smear of blood streaked across her right cheek. Reaching up, he clumsily tried to wipe it off, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, he settled for brushing his knuckles across her skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he slurred. He blinked, feeling oddly calm.

“No, no, no, no! Deeks. No, don’t close your eyes!” Kensi screamed. “Baby, stay awake. It’s going to be ok. Just don’t leave me.”

“Love you, Kens,” he murmured.

And the pain stopped.

***

A/N: Before you burst into tears like I nearly did while writing this, rest assured that Deeks is not dead.

[its-tea-time-darling]

things i did NOT like about shadow and bone (netflix):

the darkling looks Old. he's supposed to look the same age as all the other main protagonists. this highlights alina's future of staying the same & young where everyone around her dies. it also blurs the line between good and evil more bc 'oh he's the older bad guy' is just such an easy solve. also while ben barnes is a snack imo the darkling was supposed to have a more alluring, youthful magnetism.

making genya's scars barely a few scratches. she's supposed to objectively have lost her former self perfected beauty!!! this is a thing!!! she doesn't just have some deep scars, she's supposed to look hideous at first sight, where is show adaptation teams' courage to show characters that are supposed to be mutilated as just that???? i promise audiences can survive on literally everyone else on the cast being very stereotypically pretty/handsome 🙄🙄🙄🙄

changing wesper's storyline so that they had a one night stand before canon sets in??? what kind of bullshit is that??? fucking robbing me of the "just girls?" -"not just girls" gay ANgST will they won't they, does jesper like him too, will they ever - BAM. KISS. !!!!!!! succession??? making wylan cute and awkward does NOT compensate their book storyline At All what were those show writers thinking??? 😭😭

this one i will forgive but i still rly liked it in the books so im a tad sad they didn't manage to include it: that alina has a time where she thinks she is morozova's second daughter's descendant. in many respects she has learned she is Special, and the shame she feels when she realizes this isn't another one of these cases, this isn't a way to finally show her A Path, that in this respect she is ordinary and mal is tied to fate that way, that's just such a good touch.

malina going seperate ways. what happened to "they had an ordinary life full of ordinary things--if love can ever be called that."????? "choice is true north" my ASS 😤😤😤😤 malina have always been in love and will always be in love idc abt the firebird amplifier thing that was just sth they had to do they've always been people and they've always loved each other there is no way around it

things i DID like about shadow and bone (netflix)

david and genya. specifically the delivery of the lines "I … I don’t understand half of what goes on around me. I don’t get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal. Beauty was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what’s inside you? That’s steel. It’s brave and unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing. You don't need fixing."

genya telling the queen how she poisoned the king, and genya spitting at nikolai how his apologies are of no use and that he needs to prove a better king. generally just genya. 💞

nikolai sending his mother away + what he says to her.

all the malina flashbacks to the meadow <33

malina last night together 😳😳 they love each other sm!!!!!

the scene at morozova's home. baghra sharing her past, all the reveals happening there, and of course the darkling weeping over his mother's body. "know that i loved you. know that it wasn't enough." like OkAY.

sankta neyar's speech. so deeply touching, and doesn't just apply to immortals but to all of us who have been hurt and suffered loss before.

the darkling begging alina to let him be her monster. A+ delivery.

"How will you have me? Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch? I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all." generally the entirety of kanej in this show. inej's hallucination. the mirroring to the last scene. breathtaking showstopping flawless.

little rabbit.

[ckret2]

bill doesnt really strike me as the type to be really into listening to music, but if he were, do you think there are any particular genres/artists he would enjoy/hate less?

You're in luck because I've put COPIOUS thought into this.

Here's all the canon and semi-canon info about Bill's musical tastes I can recall off the top of my head:

ONE. From the AMA, his favorite "song" is a rising Shepard tone.

*MY FAVORITE SONG: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rzIiF7LpPU

TWO. He is interested in the "good stuff" out of human pop culture, which includes the song "96 Tears" by Question Mark & The Mysterians.

Are you at all interested in human pop culture?

JUST THE GOOD STUFF! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7uC5m-IRns

THREE. He knows the song "Stacy's Mom". This says nothing about whether he likes the song, but he's knowledgeable enough about recent human pop culture that he can casually drop a reference to it in a joke. It's probably safe to assume he's familiar with a broad variety of popular human music.

Hey Bill. What's up with Wendy's mom?

WENDY'S MOM HAS GOT IT GOING ON. SHE'S ALL I WANT AND I'VE WAITED FOR SO LONG.

FOUR. When he gives himself a super cool car its radio is playing a rap song. I wasn't able to find any identification for the song, but it sounds to me like it could potentially be by Lil Bigg Dawggg, the same in-universe artist behind "Straight Blanchin'"—so, extremely popular mainstream rap. (Song heard at 2:50).

FIVE. He's got some kind of generic-sounding electronic dance music playing during his Fearamid party.

SIX. The "We'll Meet Again" scene. He can play the piano. I suppose you could choose to believe that Mr. All-Seeing All-Knowing Eye can play any instrument and he just happens to pick the piano for effect—he might not even actually be playing, since the song keeps playing itself when he turns away—but I choose to believe he's playing it and at some point he actually made the choice to learn piano for fun just because he wanted to. As someone who took piano lessons for over a decade, assuming that is indeed his own playing, I'd rate him as competent and skilled (that's a pretty impressive run at the start), but no virtuoso. He'd be a hit at the family holiday party but not in a concert hall. The choice of "We'll Meet Again" might mean he's got a soft spot for WW2-era popular music but might just be a "he knows human popular music and will freely reference it for a joke" thing.

SEVEN. "No! Synthesized music! It hurts!" Considering the circumstances, this may or may not actually apply to his musical tastes. Maybe only this particular synthesized music hurt him because Mabel had specifically decided that Xyler and Craz's music would injure Bill, maybe only extremely 80s-sounding synthesizers hurt him, etc. Most damning to the theory that he's got some kind of synthesized music allergy is the fact that almost all the music he's shown to voluntarily listen to and presumably enjoy (rising Shepard tones, the rap song, the party music) makes use of synthesized sounds. Still, it's worth mentioning that this is something he said at one point. (At 2:06.)

If anyone else recalls anything I missed about Bill's musical listening habits, toss it at me.

So, that's what we've got canonically. On that basis, here's what I headcanon about his tastes:

ONE: favorite music

His absolute favorite "music" is stuff that doesn't sound like music to humans at all. So sounds that are created to follow certain patterns (not quite as random as, say, pure white noise); and on top of that, sounds that, subjectively, sound extra creepy to humans or make humans anxious (think how folks claim Shepard tones can drive people "insane"). So think nuclear alarm sirens, unnerving tornado sirens, War of the World tripod horns, Saturn, foghorns, The Backwards Music Station. If you want some actual music that sounds as close to these kinds of sounds as possible, thus far I've collected Curious Noises & Distant Voices, 20210310, Happy Happy Happy—and if you want to start drifting into more "musical" sounding genres, Tira Me a Las Aranas or Ledge.

I feel like noise as a genre ought to have a lot of music that fits the sound I'm looking for, but in practice a lot of what I've crossed paths with is really harsh/loud—sounds like breaking machines and blasting microphones—rather than the more swoopy tones I'm looking for. I think of all the noise subgenres I've sampled, death industrial noise is the closest subgenre to what I want, but it's not quite there either. I've had some success looking at hauntology artists, but that's a pretty big umbrella stylistically speaking. Does anybody know a genre that sits somewhere halfway between noise & ambient?

TWO: favorite human music

So that's that for Bill's alien musical tastes. As far as his human musical tastes, he cites Question Mark & The Mysterians specifically as "the good stuff"—so I imagine that's probably his idea of the best kind of music humanity's produced. So: extremely sixties. Hammond organs out the wazoo. Bands with occult-sounding names and lead singers who claim to be Martians that lived with dinosaurs and will be alive in the year 10,000. I tend to tilt him toward bands/songs that fall under the "psychedelic" umbrella, considering that the aesthetic tends to be kinda, well... just go google "psychedelic art."

Tell me this isn't what Earth would look like by Weirdmageddon day 30 when Bill starts to get bored. I mean come on. The only difference is Bill's version would have more fire and blood.

So start with some of your traditional psychedelic songs—Incense and Peppermints, White Rabbit, Breathe (In The Air), Time Of The Season, Purple Haze, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, etc.—and branch out from there. Slap on any decent psychedelic/hippie-themed playlist and you're good: try this hippie playlist, this psychedelic pop/rock playlist, or this dark psychedelic playlist.

Once you get past the more mainstream stuff, I go toward weird things that sound like they ought to be from a lost 1960s art house film that accidentally predicted the rise of UFO cults—things that vibe with Bill's occult + conspiracy theory + faux religious figure vibes. Think Bruce Haack, such as the album Electric Lucifer, particularly Electric to Me Turn, Cherubic Hymn, or War; Joe Meek's album I Hear a New World, particularly the title track or Orbit Around the Moon; or the particularly alien-sounding The Red Weed (Part 1) off Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds.

And after all that, I poke at modern psychedelic rock songs that lean more heavily into witchy & occult imagery—such as Astral Sabbat or Come a Little Closer—but by this point we're really on the fringe of the sound I'm looking for. There isn't nearly enough Hammond organ.

THREE: favorite human party music

Now, compared to the last couple of sections, this section is gonna be something of a cop-out, because I've done less musical digging; but when it comes to what he'll slap on for a party—which I imagine makes up probably a good 75% of his casual music consumption—he's just gonna slap on any popular current music he thinks is good for a party.

Currently? That probably means a lot of hip hop and EDM. Okay. In the 80s he probably woulda put on disco. In the 21st century he'd put on Get Low, First of the Year, Shots, DotA, Intergalactic, and Dragostea Din Tei (hardstyle remix), in a row, without a second thought, and with no heed to the humans going "what the FUCK is this party mix." These are not the best examples of what he'd play; just the first, most cringe, and most discordant examples I could think of. The more easily a potential party song can be described as stylistically or lyrically "obnoxious," the more likely it is to make his playlist. Does it sound like it should be played extremely loud? Would it offend the neighbors? Does it have a bass line that sounds like it could crack concrete and break ribs? Would humans recognize it as part of a widely-known meme, but not know whether Bill (an alien) is oblivious or if Bill (a troll) added it for that reason? It's going on, he's hitting shuffle, and it's not coming off the party playlist until he gets bored of it and finds something newer and even more obnoxious to replace it with.

If anyone has any good recommendations for specific genres that would yield a reasonable pool of Party Songs That Would Get Noise Complaints Filed (And Also Don't Go Together At All), I'm willing to take them. My gut says crunk and dubstep, but my hip hop knowledge is lacking and my EDM knowledge is extremely eclectic.

(Anyway if you made it this far I'm rewarding you with a link to my Bill Cipher spotify playlist I listen to when writing fic. It's 50% songs that I think actually match the "music he'd like" categories, 50% songs that are about him but that he wouldn't necessarily like, 50% songs about his relationship issues, 10% songs that are NONE OF THE ABOVE but that need to be in there because I need them for fic-writing vibes, and one single solitary song that is not actually about Bill at all, but rather about Pacifica, but that i put on the playlist anyway because it's a REALLY GOOD Pacifica song and I don't have any other Gravity Falls themed playlists so here it is. "That adds up to 160%—" and what of it. The percentages aren't even accurate.)

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/748975070622400512/if-i-take-my-drown-buck-speculations-say-flip-it okey but you cannot leave it at that give me moreee (I’m attached to the down buck but as long as someone drowns I think I’m on board lol)

me: *walks in after weeks to discuss this*

Okay, sooooooo, we are all familiar with my drown Buck 2024 spec that came to me from the voices in my head, BUT the pattern could apply to both of them. I still think that the repetition of people around Buck being late could play into the idea that he will drown, Eddie being too late by definition is part of my justification for this spec. But let's assume Eddie is in mortal danger. With 706/707 info, the idea of both of them getting injured together is kinda out the window for now (since the whole reason I kept saying car crash was the newlyweds from Buck, Actually maybe it's a conflict for freshly together buddie? it's not like they ever known peace lol) considering that Eddie is gonna feel isolated and they seem to be repeating triggers from s4, and the drowning idea for me played off a lot from the idea of repeating the shooting since I think they would need a trigger like that for some feelings realization, you can have Eddie in a similar situation as the well to play off with past trauma the way the shooting does and have Eddie be trapped somewhere that's slowly or not so slowly flooding. I think you could have Buck in there and just have Buck being mad at Eddie but this could work better if they are separated by something and Eddie can't hear Buck because it doesn't matter how pissed Buck might be, he would never leave Eddie behind, BUT if we play off Eddie's brand of abandonment issues and the way those feelings will be fresh in his head with however they are dealing with Shannon and make him think no one is coming that could be interesting. And you can have something that would mash the shooting and the well together for Buck because it seems like the show is moving towards making buddie canon on Buck's side, and to put Buck in that situation again would awake some feelings, there's no way he would lose his shit the way he does when Eddie gets hurt and not be like "oh fuck" so we can have the late thing surrounding people adjacent to Buck mean that Buck is the one who's gonna be too late. Maybe it takes him too long to realize Eddie is missing, maybe he can't break into where Eddie is fast enough, same principle as the version of the specs that we had surrounding the cruise, because I kinda think that the show will parallel that bathena trapped scene somehow, but the thing is, the well is about Eddie saving himself, but the season has a theme of you can't do it alone going on, that would take the save yourself away, especially depending on Eddie's mental state. I still think we spent way too many seasons escaping from season cliffhangers and ABC really likes them so there's no way we are escaping one now, so this could be a cliffhanger, Eddie trapped, thinking no one is coming, playing into last season "we have time" and "we are all gonna die alone" thing he had going that made us think the bridge was gonna be worse than it was, he doesn't have a radio, his phone is dead, I don't know, there's water involved, we can kill electronics real easy, while Buck is going berserker on the other side of the wall trying to get to him but only getting in once Eddie is fully submerged. This could actually be an interesting way to give one or both of them an explicit feelings realization moment, but delaying the conversation because *i hope* it would force them to address their personal and shared trauma before going the romance route. But, yeah, drowning Eddie also works. But this all works with Eddie pinned by something, maybe losing too much blood, hit to the head, I just can't let go of the drowning thing.

[puppypeter]

I kind of want to hear more about like Jamie trying to manage having a chronic illness while also being like a professional athlete. (although we are giving our issues with things to people I have a strong feeling Roy is prone to like tension headaches. )

You lot are feeding me well tonight :)))))

Listen - IBS Jamie is purely for my own joy tbh there is nothing in canon even if I did make a list of some things that could apply >>>> you can find it here

It's a bullshit diagnosis anyway, cause even doctors don't know what is wrong and say it to dismiss you. So I can see him having all these issues and when he does all the tests there is nothing wrong with him and they say it's all in his head and he has to learn to live with it and manage it (there are some studies that bring on the hypothesis that there might be a link to physical, emotional or sexual abuse in childhood and with trauma in general which fits the bill with him, but I am too dumb to actually understand them but oh hey this is fiction we can do what we want!)

From my experience, exercise can be both a very good and a very bad thing. Usually fine during, but when you push too much you might feel unwell and we know he 100% over-does it. I can see him struggling with accepting he needs to put limits in place, he has to allow his body to rest and has to have regular meals etc He would be very frustrated with it. Personally it's actually fucked up my confidence massively as my therapist put it "have you ever thought that your lack of confidence also comes from not being able to ever trust your own body?" funny lady isn't she my own Doc

I think Roy having his own chronic issues (that man hurts just look at him lol but I can see headaches for sure) is actually very understanding once Jamie manages to open up about it which takes a long time >> bootroom breakdown is so spot on for being in the middle of a flare when you are still expected to operate at 110% but you're exhausted, lack of sleep is making it worse, you're bloated as fuck and your tummy hurts and you can't bother with anything (hair, personal care etc) and you just want to curl up and cry >>> Roy helping him put things in place to help like making a meal plan with the doctors of low fodmap items and ensuring the canteen is aware, always having cozy clothing around that is loose around the waist and a heat pad ready to go in the office, well stocked cabinet of ibs friendly tea (he's a tea guy anyway!), he suggest a meditation/yoga session for the afternoons and he makes jamie keep a food/symptoms diary (which then he ends up keeping cause jamie is not organised at all and roy is sorting out 90% of hid meals anyway!!). He also makes him see Dr Sharon because stress can make it worse!

Oh and Roy does gift him this too:

[silawastaken]

I love seeing people compare music to their favourite characters and go like 'oh yeah this verse might be this character... and then this one is the other one... and then this little bit here is them both honestly. Or something like that' because I HAVE gone through every taylor swift song on evermore and folklore and compared it to skk. Sorry to be autistic on the writing account, but this is a fanfic writing account and I'm writing my second novel length fic about them so what did you expect.

folklore/evermore are very canon skk, and verge into fanon and some songs are the reason for very specific head canons, or some of the ways I write the way they perceive each other. 1989... DON'T GET ME STARTED OMFG HAVE YOU EVER LISTENED TO BLANK SPACE? I THINK IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO NOT HAVE AND OMG IT'S SO SKK CODED LIKE WTF. I HAVE VERY FIRM OPINIONS ABOUT WHICH LYRICS ARE THEIRS. Also the vault tracks literally exist what more do you want from me. 'i think about jumping off of very tall somethings just to see you come running and say the one thing I've been wanting' okay dazai pack it up you did that already, beast exists. 'i call my mom sister she said that it was for the best remind myself the more i gave you'd want me less' yeah yeah chuuya we know he left you get over it, it wasn't personal(think that line could go for either of them but the other line 'the way you faded till i left' feels more Dazai personally). Plus suburban legends. For personal reasons I struggle to listen to song without SPIRALING FUCK YOU THAT ONE PERSON SEHDHSSJNS but very skk as well 'we were born to be national treasures' is very soulmates of them. And out of the woods screams them in fanfic when they try to get better. Red, straight away all too well. They both remember it all too well. All too well skk cover with switching vocals anyone? The last time. The one with gary lightbody. Underrated song, is my favourite on that album, and SO THEM. 'this is the last time you tell me ive got it wrong, this is the last time i wont hurt you anymore' because they're fated to be together and are constantly drawn to each other and yet keep HURTING EACH OTHER RAGH. also 'we are never getting back together' is pretty funny and nice when applied to them. also state of grace. any taylor song with a mild drop of religious imagery is them cause yeah. but 'i never saw you coming, and I'll never be the same'... okay pack it up, we don't have time for your yearning. 'you were never a saint' (dazai abt chuuya) 'and i loved in shades of wrong' (bc hes toxic and doesnt know how to healthily like people) 'we learned to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts' (bc they continue anyway and stick it out, living with the pain of being bad for each other because of how deeply they care). I almost do. Dazai after leaving. moving on to more religion, holy ground. 'for the first time i had something to lose' 'and i guess we fell apart in the usual way, and the storys got dust on every page' AAAAAA IT'S THEM. Can't really speak on debut- but I've listened to our song and picture to burn and if picture to burn isn't a vengeful chuuya idk what is. BOY OH BOY SPEAK NOW.

excuse me. one moment.

Mine- literally a skk au

Sparks fly- 'the way you move is like a rainstorm and im a house full of cards, you're the kind of reckless that should send me running' that entire verse screams dazai's fascination with corrupted chuuya, and the whole song is well yeah

back to december- dazai when they reunite just trust me on it just trust me on it. the repetition was intentional, that's how serious i am. 'i go back to december all the time' 'I got back to december to make it all right'

speak now- might just be me but it really makes me think of teen skk in fanfic harbouring urges to ruin the others relationship for 'some reason. I don't know, seeing him with her just... irks me'.

the story of us- first verse is chuuya, second verse is dazai, and the third is them both because they're LOSERS and they LOVE EACH OTHER and FUCK I'm CRYING NOW. 'id tell you i miss you but i don't know how' EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BASTARD.

enchanted- self explanatory. for more context, i really think it's from dazai's pov in this case, could probably be both, but dazai fell first and harder so it's really like god he's been in love ever since he got kicked into that wall he wants him around forever. He held Chuuya's hand in the fight with rimbaud and then had all those close moments in the manga and went home to lie on his bed kicking his feet and giggling don't lie. (god im still crying this isn't helping)

better than revenge- they're both pretty vengeful idk it makes me think of iwsynttr for some reason

haunted- chuuya pov. 'i thought i had you figured out, something's gone terribly wrong' 'stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had' they're so sad, but the general idea of chuuya thinking he has figured out dazai and knowing how he thinks and then dazai just leaves suddenly and he's like 'Wow! I thought i knew you. How do i forget this'. 'wont finish what you started' bringing chuuya into the mafia then leaving it.

last kiss- 'you told me you love me so why did you go away' chuuya pov again oh god it hurts why am i doing this to myself? 'never imagined we'd end like this, your name, forever the name on my lips' yep yep ow.

LONG LIVE.- LISTEN. TO. THE. SONG. AND TELL ME IT'S NOT DAZAI AND CHUUYA. I COULD DO A WHOLE ANALYSIS ON JUST THIS SONG. 'promise me this, that you'll stand by me forever, but if god forbid fate should step in, and force us into a goodbye...please tell them my name, tell them how the crowds went wild, tell them how i hope they shine, long live the walls we crashed through, i had the time of my life with you' FUCK IT'S DAZAI AN HE'S IN LOVE WITH CHUUYA AND DOESNT KNOW ODAS GONNA DIE YET, JUST THINKS HE DOESNT GET TO KEEP ANYTHING HE WANTS. FUUUUUCK. THEY'RE IN LOVE AND DAZAI WANTS IT REMEMBERED PLEASE I'M SO SAD.

anyway, i can't pretend I'm normal about skk anymore i haven't even covered fearless, reputation, lover or midnights please somebody encourage me to actually write full things dedicated to each album and the most fitting songs from said albums please i'll do it and plus i need to actually gather proof for my autism diagnosis appointment so this would be a good way to to that probably. anyway yeah this'll never make it out my drafts lol

[skuntank]

Just as an observation thing

As I'm allowing myself to get back into fandom stuff, I notice a specific type of characterization fans put on certain characters. I'm gonna use Karlach as my example, but this applies to so so many more characters as well.

It's basically the Perfect Girlfriend trope. And it's sneaky, sometimes, because it's a trope where you can still touch on a characters imperfections .... Karlach's hastiness, her wild nature, her qualities that I read as very ADHD and also see in myself. However, they are qualities that are always seen as endearing and sweet and positive in fanworks. And like I said, I see a lot of these qualities in myself as well ... Except, in real life, I experience people becoming exasperated with me, see me as stupid or "slow" for them, as chaotic but in a way that impairs my ability to function in specific ways.

I'm not sure yet how exactly I feel about it. In one way, it's nice to see those sorts of qualities appreciated and seen as positive. But, it also reminds me that in reality, those qualities are very much not seen as endearing by many. And that does hurt. People can love chaos in a fictional character, but it's too much in a real person.

Additionally. It makes me reflect on how certain things in her canon characterization can only be examined through a positive lens, even if realistically, certain characteristics of hers wouldn't play out as smoothly as fans would like to think. A small example: Karlach canonically has a lust for violence, and enjoys killing. In fanworks, you often see this either as being channeled into her need for revenge, OR only made relevant when protecting those she cares about. Otherwise, she is a gentle, perfect peach, the kind that uses her brute strength just for show. Her incredible strength is played off for attraction, or gags.

There is no examination of her fully losing herself in a rush of adrenaline, going too far in a violence-induced head high, being genuinely scary as she inevitably loses control of herself for a moment and the cracks (that everyone talks about but don't actually really acknowledge) show. In fanworks, she doesn't revel too deeply in the power trip that comes with dominating enemies on the battlefield. She is depicted as violent ONLY when absolutely necessary, and not for a moment more. And it is always perfectly controlled, or again, played off for gags.

Cuz at the end of the day, she still needs to be the Perfect Girlfriend, who is ultimately non threatening "when it matters" and has been declawed just enough that the average person can enjoy content featuring her in their favorite ship, and be that perfect goofy dashing butch girlfriend that will be a knight in shining armor because if she still has those claws, she is liable to be seen as abusive, or at least have the potential for being seen as abusive.

Idk. There is so much nuance to her that is watered down so that people can either have their perfect, nonthreatening ships, or imagine themselves in the perfect, idealized relationship with her. And it gets boring really, really fast, because it almost always reads immediately as blatant self gratification rather than actual truthful character examination.

[moonfurthetemmie]

so like. lucidity and his version of nightmare.

Officially the nature of Lucidity's feelings regarding Nightmare is up to interpretation, but due to the nature of DreamSwap, damn near anything is possible. and i'm gonna just play with the idea of it being romantic for a bit.

Nightmare definitely had a crush on Dream when they were kids. Like. That's actually canon. Dream I don't think ever knew.

Lucidity certainly didn't.

But if any of those feelings remain, Lucidity will notice pretty quickly now. Unless him going evil has finally made Nightmare go 'oh jesus christ no', which I find unlikely since Nightmare also finds out that Lucidity still cares about him at about the same time. that's going to complicate things a bit.

i could go on this tangent about a hyper-specific scenario i had in my head, but it'd involve way too much backstory about an overly complicated AU that isn't ready to be shared yet, so i'll just stow that away and pull out the basic themes of it.

If Lucidity ever happens upon Nightmare when he's in danger, Lucidity won't hesitate to try and save him. Generally Nightmare doesn't get into the kind of trouble where he needs saving, but Lucidity's fucking paranoid about losing people, so he just swoops in and gets rid of the problem as fast as possible no matter how small it is, or if Nightmare seems to be handling it just fine.

This wouldn't change if, somehow, probably through some outside interference, their destiny bond was broken.

if Nightmare's crush hasn't fully gone away, and if Lucidity really does save his ass from certain doom, that crush is going to suddenly come back like 10x worse and he's going to be a mess about it.

Lucidity would love to have Nightmare stay with him, Shale, and Nightshade. If he wasn't absolutely convinced that Nightmare's moral compass was so strong he'd only agree so he could try and stop them from their shit by messing stuff up from the inside, he'd have given the offer to Nightmare ages ago. This applies to non-romantic versions as well, but in the romantic version Lucidity is also looking for a way for him, Shale, and Nightshade to get along. His boyfriends don't all have to date, but they need to be able to peacefully co-exist. otherwise things are going to be. uh. difficult

He's right about Nightmare, though. Even if Nightmare's romantic feelings for him got turned up to 11, he's not just going to run off with him. He's kind of thinking about it, but in a 'how can i get him to Not Do This and just stay with me' way, rather than 'would it really be so bad? it's not like he's going to hurt me. or people I care about. ...right?'

cross and error would be teasing Nightmare about being a disaster gay, but they're a little more concerned that he's considering it at all. In any way. He's also really distressed about this, and they absolutely understand why! no fucking idea how to help him though.

All that said, Lucidity is trying to figure something out. He doesn't necessarily need Nightmare to love him (romantically), he just needs to make absolutely fucking sure that Nightmare stays near and stays safe. And is happy staying with him, without trying to interfere. romantic feelings can be considered afterwards.

I have no idea if that's going to work out for him. It probably will in one timeline, because i love making things worse, but I'm not sure how yet, or if that will be the main timeline.

I do know that it'll be a hell of a lot harder so long as Cross and Error are there. Even if Nightmare's too busy being a fucking disaster to remember-slash-notice, those two are absolutely going to notice that lucidity's being Weird. And his boyfriends are, too. They might not pick up on what exactly it is but they'll figure it out eventually. And they're certainly not letting nightmare go off alone to see Lucidity and his boyfriends; especially not fucking Shale

'fucking shale' (adjective + noun; derogatory) doesn't have the same ring to it as 'fucking obsidian' (adjective + noun; derogatory)

Nightmare might think they're overreacting sometimes, but they've konwn each other long enough and been through enough together that, unless lucidity can talk to him alone and make him doubt his friends, he absolutely trusts their judgement. Even if Lucidity does get him alone, Nightmare knows that Lucidity never had a great opinion of Cross, so pretty much anything negative he says about her is going to be taken with a whole mountain of salt chunks. And once he starts on Cross, Nightmare will be more dubious about anything negative Lucidity says about Error.

Nightmare's very smart. And he's had some bad run-ins with people. He knows to look out for certain things. He knows he shouldn't trust Lucidity after he's clearly lost his head and has been hanging out with a couple of nasty bastards (whom night may or may not know are manipulative pieces of shit anyways).

Unfortunately, he (and also Cross and Error, admittedly) is still having trouble believing that Lucidity's changed this much in such a short amount of time. The Lucidity he knew before, who ran Justice Reigns, wouldn't try to turn him against his friends just for his own gain. The Lucidity he knew before wouldn't try to manipulate him at all. And if his crush has gotten way way stronger, that's...that's probably going to color his perception a bit. No matter how hard he tries to do otherwise.

Also. As a general rule I consider breaking the destiny bond a Good Thing. While neither of them are likely to try to get themselves killed, it’s nice to know that they’re not going to die for the other’s mistakes.

Lucidity would not want it to be broken. Particularly in the context i mentioned above, where someone is trying to kill Nightmare, but very much wants Lucidity alive. This means that destiny bond is more or less keeping Nightmare alive.

He wouldn’t think much of it normally, without influence from wholly different multiverses. But if anyone’s actively trying to sever the destiny bond they almost definitely want one of them dead, and Lucidity is going to assume its Nightmare until further notice. And he isn’t going to let that happen if he has anything to say about it.