#clearly I’ve snapped sorry anon / op

[oddlittlestories]

I don’t tend to do this because it can spiral but I have thoughts and a migraine. If this spirals I absolutely will delete/whatever else I can do on this hellsite.

But anon and OP have Nuance so I’ll take the risk. And I want everyone to know that if you feel personally attacked by this, all I want is more friends to discuss the rich inner life of Lisa Cuddy. Maybe that could be you!

Characterization for Cuddy tends to get split into two camps

1. Cuddy did House wrong, it’s bullshit [often extending into she’s a bitch who’s always getting in his way]

2. Cuddy is a beautiful, sweet person [maybe you get some “she made a mistake,” or, more often, “she deserved better than House”] and she’s a mature woman out here girlbossing and doing her best. Often with a side of “Cuddy hot, she should be with me instead of [whoever]” (there’s a lot of value here don’t get me wrong! It’s just missing some of the nuance I crave)

Sometimes, I see

3. House and Cuddy were perfect for each other, if only [the writers wanted them to be / the timing was right / insert reason here]

But.

Whenever I want to posit that Cuddy was a flawed human being whose flaws pinged off of House/others in both positive and negative ways—dissect her fucked up motivations the way we do EVERY OTHER character in this fandom, I basically don’t get any good from engagement!

It goes-

Me: Cuddy has this characterization [possibly a flaw] and here’s evidence and here’s how it impacts her

Someone: No! Cuddy doesn’t have that flaw, xyz action is justified and/or someone else’s fault!

Someone else: No! Cuddy doesn’t have that flaw, she just did that thing because she’s selfish / tyrannical / stupid / cruel!

No one: hell yes! Here’s some meta expanding on how her fucked up childhood / parental situation / view on achievement or self worth feeds into that flaw! Here’s a deeper read on that flaw that expands and enriches her motivations and successes!

No one: Actually, based on the evidence, Cuddy doesn’t have that characterization. She has this characterization, which implies this wildly different thing. And in fact, the behaviors you cite enrich it in a totally different way and here’s how!

And I’m so hungry for it.

We talk about how Wilson will shatter his own autonomy and sense of self just to serve the people around him, how he’ll carve away pieces of himself to “do the right thing.”

We talk about how House pushes people away, in equal measure because he thinks he’s a tainting influence and because he fears he’s unlovable but afraid to find out and because he can’t stand to be failed again.

I just want to dig into the rich inner life of Lisa Cuddy. WHY did a successful woman who is extremely accomplished and attractive decide to date and addict, knowing full well relapse is on the table, only to dump him when he relapsed?

Why does she dump her kind, attentive boyfriend AFTER they move in together to get together with her old flame? If it’s because he sucks (define suck please) or she doesn’t like him, then why did she date him for so long and let it go so far?

Why does she work so so much harder than anyone in her position? Why doesn’t she allow other people to help her more?

Why does she seem to be genuinely frustrated with House and yet also enjoy his antics? Wilson has a push and pull with that (Guilt and Propriety vs. Prank Drive). Clearly Cuddy has a push and pull, too, what drives it?

Join me. Take my hand. We can do deep dives on the mom-coded character just like we do for everyone else. I believe in us.

I don’t get the hate for Cuddy at all like. I big L LOVE her and yeah what he did to House was unfair and maybe she should’ve considered the fact that she chose to enter a relationship with a former addict—hence the risk of relapse—but she’s kind and amazing at her job and effective at managing House’s shenanigans and just a badass. Her banter with House is iconic. Idk I love my mom

Yeah, big same. But she's a woman, and she rejected House — justifiably or not, right or wrong — and she 'gets in the way' of Hilson, so, you know. (Mostly the woman thing.)

[mythicalninjas]

From anon's request: Hey it’s the Anon from last time! I loved the HC’S they were amazing! I have another prompt: the boys with a super nice S/O who just fucking snaps one day (and surprisingly It’s really hot) bonus If S/O’s anger dies down and they pretend like it never happened and If anyone wants to bring it up they’ll have to deal with her new and improved sparring regimen.

Leo and Raph's part is here

Donnie:

You barely see Donnie in a "red code" mood.

Actually, you don't remember when was the last time that you saw him that way

Well, not in a hard anger mode...

And you have no idea how you would deal with an anger Donnie

But, now, who is anger is you

Anger with an stupid thing

(Or not)

With anger driving you crazy, you arrived in the lair like a soldier walking, hitting your feet quickly while walks to his Battle Tartaruga Brothers truck. The only place that you could have a moment of peace and chill you out

You sit down on a mini couch and placed your head on both of your hands, trying to do that breathe exercise that Splinter taught you to calm down

You got even more anger when you noticed it didn't worked

"Damn!" You whispered, disappointed that your anger didn't desapeared

"Dove?" He called from driver's

You jumped

"WTF?! Wasn't he supposed to be in the lab?!" You thought

"What are you doing here?!"

"I must ask the same" he said as he looks behind towards you

"Are you okay?"

You just closed your eyes and take a few deep breaths to not explode, making your chest rise up and fall back. Slowly

And it made your boyfriend goes crazy

By hotness!

The truck shakes a little when your boyfriend gets off from it. You could hear his steps moving around the great machine and stopping in front of the opened door behind

He just stands there staring at you. His facial expression clearly showing surprise and shock at same time with your sudden change behaving

"What happened?" He simply asked

"Nothing."

"Dove..."

"I said nothing happened!" You shoot

"Dove, dove, dove..."

You glanced at him

He knew that you aren't in good mood but he has something "magic" to change this not-welcomed behaving

He bowed his kept in this position

What is he doing? And why is he looking to the ground?

You kept in silence while he climbs into the truck with his head bowed like that, without even lifting it to look to where he is going

Then he stopped in front of you

And kneeled

"What are you doing?"

Even he kneeled, he's higher than you

So slowly Donnie started to look up at you

And make eye contact with you

You have to admit that you're getting scared by his act

It's so... creapy

"Donnie" you called

He just stares at you

"Donnie, I'm not kidding"

He continued staring at you and then whispered "Neither me."

You eyes went wide

You yelled when he threw you on your back on the mini couch and fill you with tinkles. Too many tinkles

A tickles attack!

That smirk on his face

"Stop! St-op! I-"

"What? Can you resist my tickles?"

The anger started to wash away when your laughs filled the truck

"Je- HAHAHA- stop- HAHA"

"Perfect. That is what I like" he smiled, moving his hands away and placing them on your hips

You got to a conclusion that your boyfriend for sure has magic for everything

"Sorry *deep breath* about the *deep breath* way I acted, love *deep breath*

He shook his head "It's okay, dove. I just don't like see you down like that. What happened?" he strokes you hips

"I..." you took another deep breath "I argued with my father before I prepare myself to come here. I got so angry-"

"Ssshhh" he murmued, putting his big green finger above your lips "I know you're going through a not good time but let me make you feel better again"

You couldn't help but smile "I'd love it love..."

Mikey:

"No!"

"angelcakes, tell me!"

"No!"

"Tell me what happened! I wanna help you!"

"Mikey, not now, please!"

"Aw man!" he groaned

You used to be an angelcakes for him but... you're full of anger today

Like Raph

Why?

He grabs your shoulders and shakes you "I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened, sweet cheeks!"

Your anger grew up even more and you tried so hard to not throw it above your poor and cute boyfriend

"Mikey, enough! Can't you see that I'm not good today?!" you shoot

Mikey releases your shoulders and takes a step back. You never ever treated him like that—never ever since you both met each other

Well, let's guess that this baby terrapin is already get used by these kind of behaving, mainly coming from Raph

But he wasn't expecting it from you

You walked away slowly, head bowed

He doesn't like seeing you that way, so... Mikey to the rescue!

He thought for a moment about his plan

The "Making Y/N happy" plan

"So..."

You rolled your eyes

He remembered of something precious, something gold in the fridge. Something you love with all of your heart

He lets out an evil chuckle and walked towards the kitchen

Your eyes lift and followed his moviment through the lair

You asked to yourself what he was doing.

"Nah, just Mikey things" you thought

He opened the fridge and buried his head into it, looking for the "golden" sweet

You lift an eyebrow

"Ha!"

You jumped a little

He closed the fridge and looked back at you smirking

"I've got something that will bring my angelcakes back" he laughed as that villains or crazy scientists from cartoons

You shook your head and rolled your eyes

Mikey being Mikey

"Come on, sweetheart. Try to find out what I've got here"

"Mikey..."

"Come on"

"Mikey."

"It is a thing you LOVE"

"Mikey, please. My patience is almost exploding today"

"Oh, really?" He tilted his head, grinning "close your eyes, my angel"

You let out a sigh "Mikey, I'm-", "Close your eyes". Sighing heavily you finally closed your eyes.

You felt the sofa beside you sink and a hand landing on your shoulder "Open your mouth"

You sigh again and opened

Less then a second you feel a sweet testing, a familiar see sweet testing

A delicious sweet testing

Chocolate

You let out a soft moan

"I knew it" he grinned

"You always surprise me, Mikey..." you said while you are eating the choco

"Thank you!" he pulls you closer and whispered "buuuuut there's more something I've got here"

You glanced at him "What?"

He placed his hand behind your head and pulls you for a kiss. And this time you accepted, surrending yourself.

After a moment he pulled away

"FINALLY I made you happy! My plan worked!"

"Wait, your plan?" You smiled. "Yeah. My plans never goes wrong"

You love this boy so much!

He got into a conclusion that little things can make big changes

[beelzegrub]

can I request what would happen if we summon them while we're on human realm bc we missed them so much but lose so much blood in the process I don't really know I'm a sucker for these kind of things. thank youu!!

EDIT FROM FUTURE OP: This ask has been sitting in my drafts for months half finished and I finally found the motivation to finish. Anon, I’m so sorry for the wait. You’re a sweetheart ❤️ I was only able to do the three eldest though and I’m so sorry!!

Um hello??? I love this so much thank you!!! I thought it was kind of silly to go through all of that at the end of season 2 to just.... not use it so I’m excited about this!!!! (Sorry if this is too angsty my brain got super pumped about this and took off.

PS the request said “we” so I used a reader insert type of style. Hope that’s what you were looking for :)

MC Summons Their Demon, but at What cost?

Trigger warning!!!! Self harm/blood

How long had it been since you’d seen the him? Weeks? Months? Who knows. They all blended together after while. All you knew is that it had been too long. Why was this all so tedious? Solomon had promised to teach you the summoning ritual as soon as you could handle it. Why hadn’t he done so? Did he not trust you? Was he purposely keeping you away from the them? Surely you were strong enough at this point. Enough with the waiting. You wouldn’t sit around and any longer! You needed to see them. You needed to see him.

You flipped messily through book after book. Solomon had given you many to study for your apprenticeship. There had to be something about summoning in one of these!

“Hmm..”

You carefully read through the worn pages of one of the larger and dustier tomes. Something about this one called to you. You zoned out as you took in the information on the pages, following context clues until you found what you were looking for. The images drawn on the page seemed foreign and surprised you. A summoning circle? You had expected as much, but the repeated mentions of ‘sacrifice’ and ‘blood oath’ seemed ancient and outdated. You couldn’t help but notice there was no mention of sentimental possessions of the demon you were trying to summon as well. You were sure none of the brothers would suggest a summoning if it were dangerous though...

Out of options and out of patience, you gathered your courage and set up the ritual to the best of your ability. Things seemed to match the books instructions, at least. All that was left was the blood. You stepped into the middle of the circle and closed brought a sewing needle to the top of your finger. The book hadn’t specified the amount of blood needed, but it was better to start small, you reasoned. You closed your eyes and pricked it, quickly squeezing a single drop of blood into the center of the circle, and said the name of the person you had been desperate to see.

Lucifer

The day of the summoning, Lucifer had felt this nagging sense of danger from the moment he opened his eyes. He was so sure it was one of his brothers about to cause trouble for him once again.

Lucifer spent the day preparing for the worst. Had Mammon stolen something of vast importance? Did Levi buy another piece of cursed media? Surely Beel hadn’t eaten a poisonous dish??

That evening, tired from being on edge all day, he had retired to his study, hoping some music would help calm his nerves. He settled into his chair and closed his eyes.

Then came the pull.

It had been ages since he had felt a sensation like this. When was the last time someone had tried to summon him? Hundreds of years ago, it had to be. And it never felt as strong as this force pulling him now.

There had once been a cult of devil worshipers who sacrificed many of their members for a chance to pull him to the human world, quite surprised to find out their sacrifices had been in vain, considering Lucifer wasn’t interested in a bunch of worthless humans. But even then the tug hadn’t been this strong. Sure, he could still resist it, but the strength of it still left him awestruck. Who had the power to call to him like this?

“Lucifer!”

His blood ran cold. Immediately, he stopped resisting the call and gave in, allowing the summoning to take place.

You had done it. Lucifer was here! The strongest and most fearsome of the seven, and you had Summoned him to you. Your heart swelled when you though of how impressed he’d be when he found out you had done it all on your own. Would he praise you? Would he tease you? Would he tilt his head and smirk, then ask you if you had really missed him that much?

You smiled softly, looking up at him. The look on his face wasn’t one of pride. His eyebrows had furrowed and a frown creased deep into his face. Was he angry at you? No... you had seen his anger many times. This wasn’t it.

“MC....what have you done?”

He cradled you softly in his arms. Wait. When had he picked you up? You looked at your surroundings, the fear in the pit of your stomach ever growing. Where had all this blood come from? You had only pricked your finger! Lucifer’s hand touched your cheek, pulling your face back to him.

“Don’t look.”

You had no choice but to obey. You simply didn’t have the strength to move anymore.

“I’ve called for help, it’ll be just a moment, MC. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Lucifer’s voice was soft and soothing, and you felt your tired body relax into his hold.

“I did it... I brought you here... I did it...” you closed your eyes, a smile on your lips.

“MC, keep your eyes open. Look at me. MC! MC!”

Mammon

That day had started out much the same as always. Mammon, still sore from last nights punishment, groaned as he slumped into his desk at RAD. He rested his head in his arms against the desk, and glanced at the seat that used to belong to you. Obviously, you weren’t there, but it didn’t hurt to check....

“MC is still in the human world, Mammon.” 

Mammon jumped and sat up straight in his seat, his cheeks red from being caught.

“I know that Belphie! I was just-just uh zonin’ out! MC’s old seat just happened to be in the same direction!” He stuttered out an excuse. 

“Just call them, Mammon. I’m sure MC would be happy to hear your voice.”  Oh great, now Beel’s getting involved too. He knew his brothers meant no harm, but all this talk about MC was getting him riled up!

“Fine! I will! I’ll call MC tonight! and you two AREN’T invited!” Mammon laid his head down once again, this time hiding his face, not wanting his blush to show a second time. Tonight he’d finally hear MC’s voice again. And he could blame Beel and Belphie for the call!

 Come dinner time, Mammon had just about run out of patience. His head kept telling him to wait just a bit longer, but something in his heart was yelling for him to quit dragging his feet. 

“I’m going to my room and NOBODY better interrupt me, ya hear?!” Mammon stumbled to his feet and started marching to his room, six pairs of eyes staring at him questioningly. He only made it a few steps when he felt it. A tug. He closed his eyes and swayed on his feet, dizzy from the force of it. This was a summoning, wasn’t it? He had felt it plenty of times from those damn witches, but something about this was different. He turned around to look his brothers again, a look of confusion on his face.

“I...think I’m bein’ summoned.”

Levi snorted and crossed his arms. “I’m sure you’re guilty of something. Better just get it over with.”

The rest of the brothers mumbled in agreement.

Except Lucifer.

Lucifer quickly pushed out his chair and hurried to Mammon. Something was wrong. A simple summoning wouldn’t have this effect on a demon of Mammon’s stature. 

The pull came once again, stronger this time. Mammon winced and held his hand to his aching head. Lucifer’s hand came down to rest on his shoulder

 “I don’t know how long I can resist this. Somethin’ isn’t right. Lucifer, what’s happening to me?” He looked to his brother for help, and found the rest of them had gathered around as well, a look of concern on all of their faces. 

“Someone call for Diavolo and Barbatos. Mammon, hold on just a few more moments.” Lucifer commanded. 

Mammon would have agreed, if not for the voice that rang out clearly in his head, calling his name. 

“Mammon!”

Mammon’s eyes snapped open and stopped resisting the pull, hearing the shouts from his brothers disappear as he followed the call.

“Mammon! Mammon! Mammon Mammon Mammon! Please!” You couldn’t keep this up for much longer, you knew it. You had fallen to your knees moments after the initial call. You could feel every drop of blood flowing out of the pin prick on your finger, but you didn’t dare give up. You had come this far, and you wouldn’t give up now. Not until you had to.

But you didn’t have to. A flash of light blinded you momentarily, and when you could see again, there he was. Standing there was the Mammon. Relief flushed through your entire body, and you stopped pouring your magic into the spell. Utterly exhausted, your body came crashing forward, landing in front of his feet.

Mammon quickly slid to his knees on the ground, picking you up off the floor and resting your head in his lap.

“You....Are you okay, MC?” Mammon tried to keep his voice even and steady, not wanting to scare you, but his hands that held too tightly and his body that quivered gave him away. 

“I am now.” You answered quietly, unsure if it was true. At least Mammon was here and holding you in his arms. Things would be okay as long as he was with you. 

“You...You idiot! Stupid! What the heck were ya thinkin’!? Can’t you see how much blood you’ve lost? This isn’t how you’re supposed to be summoning us! I’m gonna kill that damn sorcerer!” Mammon felt his blood boil with each second that passed. How Could Solomon have allowed this?

You softly squeezed his hand, not having the energy to yell for his attention. Immediately, he stopped, looking at you questioningly. 

“Solomon didn’t teach me this. He wouldn’t. But.... I just couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to see you.” You answered.

He frowned deeply, more troubled with this answer. You had done all this just to see him? He felt a lump in his throat form. “I would have come to you. You didn’t have to do this.” He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes to stop any tears from escaping. 

You cupped his cheek, returning the affection he so rarely showed. “S’okay. All that matters is you’re here now. I just...need....to rest....a little...” Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling at peace and calm in your love’s arms. 

Panic. Once again, Mammon’s eyes snapped open. He placed his hand over yours, trying to gently coax you into opening your eyes once more. 

“Not yet, you can’t yet, MC. We have to wait for help to come. Come on, wake up.” He knew his brothers would come. Someone would come. They wouldn’t let this happen to you. He wouldn’t let this happen to you. “MC!” When gentle touches didn’t work, he got rougher, shaking you and yelling, desperate to see your eyes open.

“Enough playin’ around MC! Wake up! WAKE UP, DAMMIT! Wake... Wake up...You have to..... Wake up....”

Leviathan

To say that Levi was missing his MC was like saying humans like air. Is it true? Yeah, but kind of an understatement. Humans needed air to live and breathe, and in his eyes, you were air. It’s no secret that Levi wasn’t exactly popular. One might even say it was well known that he was a dorky loner demon, if they were feeling particularly sassy. Being a loner has it’s advantages, like having more time for gaming and anime binging, but it sure is, well, a lonely once you’ve had someone to share your passions with. And once that someone is gone, their absence weighs heavy.

So yes, Levi was missing MC. So what? Everyone was missing MC. Why wouldn’t they? His MC was a ray of sunshine in a world of darkness. Ugh. That line sounder way cooler when the hero in his latest otome had said it. Of course his thoughts couldn’t sound that cool. But that’s not the point! Levi figured he had no right to complain about MC being gone, because he was just a gross, annoying, worthless otaku. He didn’t deserve to miss them. He was lucky he got to spend as much time with them as he did, really. 

But nobody could blame him for thinking these thoughts, right? Thinking about how much he missed the way MC would cram themselves as close to him as possible to get a look at whatever mobile game he was playing was harmless. So was remembering all the nights they’d spent binging anime and then realizing the sun was up, smiling sheepishly at each other and promising not to stay up so late next time, even though they always did. Okay, so maybe  thinking about the way they looked when they were fresh out of his shower, smelling of his soap and shampoo was less than innocent, but what was he supposed to do!? Leaning your damp head on his shoulder and curling up close to him like that! Doing things like that is bad for an otaku’s heart! You might give them hope or something...

Enough was enough! He didn’t have time to be obsessing over how much he missed MC. It was taking time away from his one and only true love. “Ruri-Chan, you’d never abandon me right? No, I know you wouldn’t. You’re not like that.” Levi began speaking to his latest figure. “Not to say MC IS like that! No, of course their not! They didn’t have a choice!” He stuttered out a quick fix to his hurtful words. He was glad they weren’t around to hear, but it still felt wrong to say. He was quiet for a minute, staring at his floor in shame. Slowly, he lifted his eyes back to the figure. “Do you think they miss me like I miss them?”

And then he felt it. It had been so long, but he knew this feeling.This was a summoning, wasn’t it?! Based on the intense tug he felt, it had to be a super powerful sorcerer or maybe a group of basic magic users? Honestly, he was flattered. Someone wanted to summon HIM? No, They must have made a mistake. Surely this summon was meant for one of his brothers.

Leviathan was so lost in his own self pity he missed the first two calls of his name. The third one, sounding so desperate and pleading, snapped him out of his funk in an instant. He knew that voice. Without hesitation he let the summon take him, and there he was. He was finally reunited with MC.

But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. When he finally saw them again, he was supposed to feel elated and whole again, not like a piece of his heart was ripped right out of his chest. But when he locked eyes with them, surrounded by blood and their eyes looking glassy, that’s exactly what he felt.

“MC! Oh no. Oh no.”

Levi. He was here. He had to be. You heard his voice and felt his presence, felt his arms circle around you and cradle you tightly against his chest. But why couldn’t you see him? And why did you feel so… empty?

“Levi? That’s you isn’t it? Why is it so dark?” Had the candles all gone out? No, even before you lit them, you remember it hadn’t been this dark. Something was wrong.

Levi inhaled shakily, holding back the sobs he desperately wanted to release. “MC, what are you talking about? I’m right here! Can’t you see me?”

Like a bolt of lighting, the realization hit you. It wasn’t dark. The candles hadn’t gone out. It was your eyes.

“No, Levi. I can’t. I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.” You shakily reach your hand up, frantically feeling around for your love’s face. Leviathan’s usual timid nature word have normally had him reeling away, but in this moment, he had no reservations as he helped guide your hand to his cheek. His lips trembled as he fought the urge to scream.

“MC…. Why would you do this? You’ve lost so much blood… and.. and your sight? I’m not worth this. I’m just a useless otaku! It isn’t fair!” His tears began to flow, the guilt of it all was ripping him apart.

You closed your eyes and smiled as you remembered the many faces of this man you had called to you. “It was worth it. I did it because I love you, Levi. I need you. After all, what good is a Henry without his lord?”

[veliseraptor]

Hey just wondering, do you have any draft or work in process or any plan for your next Loki fic? If so can you give us a little sneak peek. Or if you don’t, do you think you’ll write more about him in the future? I know you probably get this a lot and I’m sorry if it’s annoying or if it sounds rude or anything. I’m just wondering and also I’ve been binge reading your stories about him and got addicted so there’s that. But seriously I’m sorry if my message comes off as rude or annoying, that’s not my intention. Anyway hope you’re having an amazing day

I genuinely hate to sound like a broken record, anon, since you are being very polite about this! Which I very much appreciate! But the answer remains more or less the same: I don’t know. I have (counts) 38 different Loki-related WIPs in various stages of completion sitting on my hard drive. I haven’t been working on them actively lately because, to the dismay I’m sure of many of my followers, another fandom has devoured me whole. I’m really enjoying the experience, but it has left me with relatively little brainspace for things that aren’t that thing (or, I guess, other danmei novels and adaptations thereof?? idk okay). 

At some point I would like to finish at least some of those stories, because I do not like leaving things unfinished. But I just don’t know when - or if! - I will. It just depends on if I get that emotional investment back. At the moment it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen imminently, but who knows. And maybe I’ll go back and reread what I have written of some of these, go “where’s the rest, op” and feel encouraged to write more.

All that being said - since you were so nice about this, I will give you a (3000 word) excerpt from one of the WIPs - Dead Superheroes Walking, which is the one about the characters who died/were dusted in Infinity War on a road trip through the Soul Stone.

---

“Anyone for a game of twenty questions?” Sam asked, after they’d been walking for maybe ten minutes.

“Really?” Bucky said. “Twenty questions?”

“I don’t think ‘I Spy’ would work too well. Not a lot of interesting landmarks. Or hadn’t you noticed that the landscape keeps repeating?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“And I have no idea what that means,” Sam said.

Sam was right, Wanda realized. The landscape was repeating. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but there was only one tree, over and over; only one rock placed near to it. The sky was a flat and even orange.

A faint shiver ran down Wanda’s spine. Bucky stopped, though, visibly disconcerted.

“What the hell is this place,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere else. All right, I’ve got it. Twenty questions, yes or no answers only.”

“I am Groot?” said Groot. Sam eyed him.

“I’m not going to take that off the count,” he said.

“Is it alive?” T’Challa asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Guess that rules us out,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, and T’Challa cracked a small smile. Wanda stared down at a small, triangular rock in front of her feet.

“All right,” Bucky said. “Is it an animal?”

“Yes. Two questions down. Wanda?”

She bent down and picked up the rock. It left red dust on her fingers, and when she pressed her fingers together it crumbled like chalk. She half expected the dust to vanish, but the red stain on her fingertips stayed.

“Wanda?” Sam said, more gently.

“Sorry,” she said. “Is it a person?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “That’s three.”

She wiped her hand off on her clothes. This place wasn’t right - she could feel it in her bones, deep down where her magic ought to be. But nothing had been right in the last few days. Very few things in Wanda’s life had been right. Why should her death be any different?

It only seemed unfair that the others should be here, too.

They sky did not change, but they stopped walking eventually - less because any of them were actually tired than because it seemed like they should. Or maybe because they were tired of walking and wanted some change, even if there was very little change to be had. The road went on. The landscape didn’t alter.

And no one else appeared.

“It can’t just be us,” Sam said. “Other people died. Where are they?”

Nobody had an answer for him, unless the tree’s “I am Groot” was an answer none of them could understand. Wanda thought it might be something to do with the fact that they’d all died when Thanos had snapped his fingers, but she stayed quiet, staring off at the horizon and only half listening to Bucky and Sam going back and forth at each other.

“I see something,” T’Challa said abruptly. They all turned and followed the line of his arm.

“I can’t see anything,” Sam said.

“Give it a sec,” Bucky said. “He’s probably got a hundred extra yards visibility on me. Maybe 150 on you–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said. Wanda strained her eyes, some part of her wishing - hoping–

“Is that a dog?” Sam said.

A moment later Wanda saw it too, and slumped. It did look like a dog padding towards them - or at least, it certainly wasn’t a person.

“That’s not a dog,” T’Challa said.

“Fox, I think,” Bucky said. “What the fuck is a fox doing here?”

“I don’t think it’s a fox, either,” T’Challa said. He shifted, like he was thinking about getting into a fighting stance. Wanda stepped forward, reaching for her powers, but nothing was there.

What would be the point, anyway? You can only die once.

The fox - and it was a fox, Wanda could see that now, though black instead of red - slowed as it began to draw closer. It sat down, still a ways away, and cocked its head, looking at them.

“This is weird,” Sam said. T’Challa was still frowning.

“What is it?” Bucky asked him. T’Challa shook his head.

“I’m not certain.”

The fox stood, stretched, and changed, unfolding into a person. Wanda sucked in a breath, staring at the man now walking toward them: dark-haired, pale, lean and taller than Bucky or T’Challa. A vague sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she couldn’t say from where.

The man stopped, still several paces from them, and cocked his head just as the fox had. “Well,” he said, a faint rasp in his voice. “This is new.”

Wanda stared at him, trying to remember where she recognized him from. “New?”

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else. But then, this time is different.”

“Wait,” Sam said abruptly. “Shit. Are you-”

“Mm,” he said, still looking at Wanda. T’Challa’s eyes were narrowed, too, and Sam’s. Bucky looked blankly at them both.

“What?”

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” the stranger said dryly.

“Loki,” Sam said. “That’s fucking Loki. Right?” Wanda’s eyes widened, but he - Loki - just shrugged one shoulder.

“So I am. Or was. I’m not certain of the appropriate tense.” His gaze swept across them, indifferent, disinterested.

“You’re dead, too,” Wanda said. Loki glanced at her, eyes focusing briefly before they slid back into dullness. No, exhaustion.

“Or something,” he said.

“‘Or something?’” Sam said. Loki’s eyes flicked in his direction.

“This doesn’t feel like death,” he said, “but I remember the feeling of my neck breaking in Thanos’s hand fairly clearly, so…” Wanda flinched, and she thought she saw Sam’s eye twitch. She remembered Thor coming roaring down from the sky, thunder and lightning in his voice, and understood. She looked down.

“What do you mean that this doesn’t feel like death,” T’Challa said into the silence.

“I know a little of what death tastes like,” Loki said after a moment. “This isn’t it.”

“What does that mean,” Bucky said, looking agitated and uncertain.

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, something briefly flashing across his expression before it was gone. Pain, Wanda thought.

“Not entirely accurate,” he said, “but not entirely inaccurate, either.” There was a brief pause.

“You can understand him?” Bucky said. Loki shrugged again. “What did he say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Wanda. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were simply the high cost of victory?” Wanda looked down, somehow feeling ashamed of her failure. Loki let out a quiet huff. “Pity.”

Bucky, oddly, snorted.

“Thanos gained all of the Infinity Stones,” T’Challa said. “Then…” He trailed off. “I am not entirely certain what happened then.”

Loki made a sort of hm noise, glancing at T’Challa sidelong. “So you didn’t die in battle,” he said.

“If so, I do not remember it,” T’Challa said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said to Loki, whose head swiveled violently toward him, eyes sharpening.

“Gamora,” he said, and there was a wealth of hatred and fear in that word. “You are a companion of hers?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said emphatically, and Loki blinked, then pressed his lips together and exhaled in a short burst.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Can you maybe translate what he’s saying,” Bucky said irritably. “Since all the rest of us can hear is the same three words over and over.”

“He says that Gamora claimed Thanos meant to use the completed Gauntlet to halve all life in the universe,” Loki said. “If you know that he achieved his goal, then presumably you were part of the unlucky half. Though that does not explain why you are here. Or else does not explain why I am.”

“And who’s Gamora,” Sam said, with such exaggerated patience that it demonstrated anything but.

“An old acquaintance,” Loki said. He sounded distracted.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and this time Wanda could hear the near pride in his voice. Loki didn’t respond. He was scanning their number again, Wanda realized, more closely.

She bit her lip, then raised her voice and said, “Thor’s alive.” His gaze snapped to her, and she made herself hold it though her instinct was to look down. “At least, he was when I...he drove an axe into Thanos’s chest. It didn’t work, it was too late, but…” She trailed off.

Loki glanced down, his eyes half closing, and Wanda thought she caught a brief flicker at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, and a barely audible, “ah, Thor.” Then his eyes were back on hers and he said simply, “thank you for informing me,” with a lack of feeling that made Wanda frown.

“You haven’t asked who any of us are,” Bucky said.

“So I have not,” Loki said. “I am not certain it is precisely relevant.”

“Excuse you,” Sam said. Loki glanced at him, that tired indifference returning.

“I approached because I was curious. I wasn’t intending to stay, nor would I think you were inclined to encourage it.”

T’Challa was studying Loki with curious intensity. “Were you going somewhere?”

“No,” Loki said, and then paused and adjusted, “perhaps.”

“I am Groot?” Groot said, and Loki’s lips pressed briefly together.

“It means perhaps. And don’t be crude.”

“I’m with him,” Sam said. “What does perhaps mean?” Loki looked briefly annoyed, and Sam said, “come on. We’re all dead here. Or - not. Which still begs the question as far as I’m concerned of what we are.”

Loki’s eyes went back to her, and Wanda shifted. “What?” She asked. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You haven’t noticed anything strange, then?” He asked. “Felt anything?”

Too many things, Wanda thought, but she didn’t think that was what he meant, and now they were all looking at her. Wanda hesitated.

“I don’t have my powers,” she said slowly. Loki made a derisive noise.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Do you need them to sense what’s around you? Midgardian magicians. Norns.”

Wanda glared at him, but took a breath and tried to turn inward, like she was going to use her power. It still wasn’t there, but this time, without distractions…

She jerked and saw a satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes, just for an instant. “There,” he said.

“Wanda, what is it?” Sam asked, looking suspiciously at Loki.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it feels like…” She searched for the right words. “Like a heartbeat,” she said finally, even if that wasn’t quite right.

Bucky’s expression was a mixture of horror and alarm. “A heartbeat?”

“So that’s what it feels like to you,” Loki said thoughtfully. He seemed more engaged now than he had been at first, and somehow even though it shouldn’t matter that felt like a good thing. Maybe because nothing else was.

“It’s not actually,” Wanda said quickly. “That’s just sort of what it feels like - to me, anyway. It’s...different for you?”

Loki shrugged. T’Challa shifted.

“I know what she means,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have described it like that. But there is...something.”

“Interesting,” Loki said, glancing at T’Challa and looking him over with slightly more interest. “To answer your implied question, I would call it a...resonance.”

“A resonance with what,” Sam asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bothering to talk to you,” Loki said. “But partly it is that which makes me think this is something other than simple death.”

“What is there other than ‘simple death,’” Bucky said tightly.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Loki said. “Maybe nothing. Maybe I am wrong. But if I am not…”

“If you’re not, what,” Bucky said, even tighter.

“Then it begs the question of why, doesn’t it?” Loki rolled his neck in a slow circle, and Wanda could have sworn she heard something crack. “At least, such was my thought. But maybe it is just desperation.”

He didn’t sound desperate. He didn’t sound much of anything.

“Why not stay with us,” Wanda said abruptly. Everyone else turned to stare at her, Loki included, and she straightened, turning toward her friends. “I mean it,” she said. “Why not? We’re all here together. And if he’s right and there’s a why, a reason...wouldn’t it suggest that’s true for all of us, including him?” She paused, and added, “and besides - what can he do to us, anyway?”

Loki barked a laugh. “That is a fair point,” he murmured.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” T’Challa asked, his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t,” Loki said. “But I will say that you vastly overestimate my interest in you. Well, the majority of you. And your witch has a point: what is it you think I will do?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa said. “That’s what worries me.”

“And ‘our witch’ has a name,” Sam said a little sourly.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. It makes little difference to me.” He moved around them and started to walk away.

“I am Groot,” Groot muttered, and strode after him, long tree-legs catching up in a few strides. “I am Groot?” He said to Loki, who checked himself and looked at him, his face tightening.

“Was, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said definitively, and Loki shook his head.

“Call back your child,” he said, with a sharp gesture at Groot.

“Child?” Sam said, eyebrows shooting up.

“He’s an adolescent Flora Colossus,” Loki said, as though it were obvious. “And he is not following me. I don’t care who you were friends with.”

Thor, Wanda thought. Groot didn’t know any of them, but he’d known Thor, at least a little, and Loki was Thor’s brother, and Groot was, apparently, a teenager, among strangers who couldn’t understand him, who had just died.

Wanda’s chest ached. “If he wants to,” she said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“I’m not interested in playing nursemaid–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and Loki gave him a hard look.

“No, you are not,” he said. “I’ve met grown Flora Colossi and you aren’t it. You’re barely more than a sapling. Maybe - what, four years old?”

“You know what,” Bucky said, “I’m with Wanda, actually. And the, uh...Groot. This place is weird. I think we should stick together, and it seems like he knows more about this place than any of the rest of us do.” His eyes settled on Loki. “And it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose, right now.”

Sam gave Bucky a long, skeptical look and then glanced at T’Challa, who shrugged.

“You assume I am interested in putting up with the lot of you,” Loki said flatly. He looked tense, Wanda thought. Like he was expecting some kind of trap. Wanda tried to summon a smile.

“You said you came over because you were curious,” she said. “And if you’re right, and there is some reason we’re all here...isn’t that something else to be curious about?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, jaw twitching.

“I’m dead, you twig,” he said. “If not now, then probably soon. And if I did need protecting, you wouldn’t be much help.”

Bucky snorted, poorly muffled. Wanda bit her lip so she didn’t smile. Groot’s expression was hard for her to read, but it looked to her eyes like a glare.

Loki exhaled loudly and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “If you are inclined...I suppose there’s no harm in traveling adjacently.”

“Traveling where?” Sam asked. “You make it sound like you have an actual destination.”

“I have a...feeling,” Loki said, though something about the brief pause before he spoke made Wanda think there was something he wasn’t saying. The question was if it was important or not. “No more than that.”

“Well,” T’Challa said after a few moments of hesitation, “that is more than I have, at the moment. And so far as I know we weren’t going anywhere in particular, so…”

“I guess that settles it,” Wanda said. Loki eyed her like he suspected her of having some ulterior motive. She decided to pretend not to notice. “So which way are we going?”

[whoisbxcky]

Holding On, And Letting Go

request: Would you wanna write a Bucky imagine where he was sent to kill the reader when he was the winter soldier and he hurt and a few years later they meet again when she’s an avenger and she’s scared of him? Please make a fluffy ending!

pairing: Bucky x Reader

word count: 2500

warnings: just so much angst. also fluff at the end as per request! mentions of panic attacks, being shot, implied ptsd, ONE bad language word 

author’s note: okay first of all I AM SO SORRY it’s taken me so long to write this. I did not expect to get as many requests as have come through the past few days and it got me a lil overwhelmed so anyone who’s requested I AM WRITING IT i’m just a lil backlogged right now hehe.

More to the point, thank you so so so much anon for this amazing request, I love it so much I may even make a second part... Maybe even a third? Who knows. Anyway, hope you enjoy and stay fabulous my lovelies! ~ Toria <3

Tijuana, Mexico. July 24, 2011. 02:00.

“Fighter 1 this is Echo Sierra, where the hell is that medevac!?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes frantically scanning your surroundings. The team of Marines sent to extract you from your undercover op looked just as unnerved as you did. The rescue chopper was supposed to be here two minutes ago. But overhead, there was only silence.

“Fighter 1, do you copy?”

The sound of an explosion behind you made cry out, and you ducked for cover as the men surrounding you burst into action. Gunfire rang out around you like a chorus of thunder, making your heart rate soar as adrenaline took over. Over the coms, you heard Sergeant Mills frantic voice.

“It’s him.”

You let out a sob of despair, the scene in the street in front of you was like something out of a nightmare. Bodies littered the floor, Marines who had come here to save you, lifeless and bloody.

Your gaze was drawn from your hiding place to the end of the ally, where a lone man materialised from the raging fire of the destroyed building. He moved swiftly, taking out the advancing Marines with sickening efficiency and precision, before his eyes locked on you.

Eyes as blue and as furious as a maelstrom, raven black hair, metal arm…

Hydra’s fist. The one they all talked about, the Winter Soldier.

He’d found you.

You needed to get out of there. Now.

You were running… So much noise… So much blood… You couldn’t get away… Couldn’t get away from him… Eyes as blue and as furious as a maelstrom, raven black hair, metal arm…

A gunshot.

Searing pain, so much blood.

Then, only darkness.

Avengers Tower. April 15, 2017. 04:56.

The rhythmic sound of your first connecting with the solid leather of the punch bag in front of you echoed out around the gym. Accompanied only by the sound of your ragged breaths, the occasional grunt of frustration escaping your now dry lips.

You had been down here for hours, last you checked it was a little past four in the morning, but you’d given up keeping track. Sleep did not come easily to you these days, and you figured you may as well make use of your insomnia by getting in some extra training.

You had been preparing to be an Avenger for weeks now, and so far, you were acing every test they had thrown at you, particularly the physicals thanks to your late-night work outs. Everything was going perfectly as you worked towards joining the Earth’s mightiest heroes.

The only problem you’d encountered so far had arrived the day you’d been sat in the conference room, waiting to meet the mission partner you’d be assigned to, nerves and excitement making you practically vibrate in your chair. 

Oh, sweet blissful ignorance.

To say you were shocked when the Winter Soldier had walked through the door, would be the understatement of the millennium.

The scene that unfolded after your initial shock had subsided was… Far from your proudest moment, to say the least. It’s one thing to have a panic attack in front of a complete stranger, but in front of your new boss and the man who once tracked you all across Mexico and then put a bullet through your chest … Well, it certainly wasn’t going to make your ‘top five moments as an Avenger’ highlight reel.

It hadn’t taken long for Fury to reveal his knowledge of you and the Soldier’s past, nor had it taken him long to explain the fact that James Buchanan Barnes and the Winter Soldier, while sharing the same body, were technically not the same person. Or the fact that Barnes was now ‘cured’ and fighting the good fight. It certainly hadn’t taken long for you to say hell no and flee the room, hyperventilating and shaking head to toe, without looking back.

That had been three weeks ago, and ever since you had been studiously avoiding anywhere Barnes might be. You ate about ten blocks away from the tower, you only ventured into the gym during the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do about being in the room next door to the guy, but at least it allowed to you keep track of when he was home and when he might be wandering the Tower corridors.

Eventually, you knew you’d either have to face him, or look for new employment. You two were mission partners after all, and after extensive conversations with Steve, Nat and the on-site therapist, you were now almost certain that what Fury had told you was true, and that Barnes was just as much a victim of the Soldier’s actions as you were.

But still, you couldn’t help the creeping sensation of dread, or the flashbacks you suffered, every time you caught sight of the man.

It was at that moment that the sound of the gym door swinging open and closed brought you out of your musings with a start, and you turned on your heel, eyes scanning the dimly lit room to identify the new arrival.

Your breath caught in your throat, your entire body practically electrified with fear and apprehension as you narrowed your eyes at the last person you wanted to appear in front of you in an empty room.

Barnes.

Just your damn luck.

As soon as his eyes raked over you, he froze, although his expression was entirely unreadable.

Your expression, on the other hand, may as well have come with sirens and a bullhorn screaming ‘danger, danger’.

With a sigh, Barnes raised his hands in a mock surrender, taking a tentative step into the room. You immediately took a step back.

“Y/N…Right?”

His voice was gravelly with exhaustion, and even from this distance you could see the black rims around his eyes. Clearly, the guy was as sleep deprived as you right now.

You nodded curtly, eyes hyper fixated on his every movement.

“I… Uh… Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d tire myself out. Would you mind? I’ll keep out of your way…”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. This really was far from the man who had murdered an entire squad of US Marines and left you with a gaping hole where a few ribs used to be.

When you offered him a tentative nod once more, he made his way towards the treadmill, and you could feel him tracking your every move from the corner of his eye. Clearly, he trusted you about as much as you did him.

The silence of the gym was practically deafening, and after a moment of mind-numbing panic, you found words leaving your lips of their own accord.

“Do you remember me?”

Barnes froze then, mid stride towards the machinery. Without so much as a glance in your direction, he spoke in a voice entirely void of emotion.

“No.”

You let out a breath you were unaware of holding, digging your nails into your palms painfully hard to keep from crying. When you spoke again, you could not keep the virulent anger from your tone.

“July 24, 2011. Tijuana. You were sent to kill me… Why?”

Barnes dropped his water bottle then, the sound of it crashing into the wooden flooring making you jump. He rounded on you, his eyes glassy and red, and you simply stared back, unable to keep the shock and apprehension from your face.

“I’ve read the file. But, like I said, I don’t remember.”

He let out an uneasy breath, moving to sit on one of the benches against the wall. You stayed put, trembling from head to toe, your mind entirely numb as you tried to process the fact he truly had no recollection of trying to kill you. Barnes continued.

“I don’t remember a damn thing. I wish I could, so I could give you answers. But I’ve got nothing for you, Y/N."

His eyes visibly darkened, clouded by years of torment, and for a while you both remained mute, both lost in your respective musings. However, eventually Barnes broke the silence with a tentative cough, and your eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Does it still hurt?”

He trailed off, gesturing towards your chest, where the scar of your last encountered lay. Snarling, a constant reminder of your pain. You nodded.

“Can I… Can I see it?”

You looked at him incredulously for a beat, and he faltered.

“It’s just… I may not ever be able to remember what I did to you, to those Marines. But, at the very least, before I apologise, I want to understand as best I can. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.”

He shrugged then, earnest gaze fixated on you, and despite yourself, almost as if in a dream, you found yourself moving towards him, eyes never leaving his as you approached.

Barnes raised himself from the bench, taking a few tentative steps in your direction. You paused briefly, contemplating the insanity of getting that close to the person who once tried, and very nearly succeeded in, killing you. But, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach willed you on.

Give him a chance. Maybe, just maybe, you both need this.

With a short sigh, you stepped forward, coming to rest just centimetres from his chest. You swallowed hard, refusing to allow your gaze to stray away from his own for even a second, fear and apprehension causing a thin sheen of sweat across your forehead.

Barnes offered you a gentle half-smile, and you cleared your throat, tossing your hair over your shoulder to give him better access, staring stonily ahead. He searched your face for a moment more, looking for any sign of objection. When he found none, he tentatively reached out to push your tank top aside, to reveal the full extent of the injury.

You heard him take in a sharp breath, his thumb delicately tracing the lines of the scar tissue. Under his touch, you couldn’t help but note the increase in your heart rate, anxiety causing your whole body to shiver with apprehension.

He glanced at you apologetically, but you shook your head as he moved to back off. As nervous as it made you being in contact with him, you had to trust him, and he you. You were supposed teammates now, after all.

After a few more minutes of inspection, Barnes finally broke the silence once more, his voice raw with emotion.

“Y/N… I am so, so sorry…”

You exhaled deeply, gaze coming to rest on your scar. And the thumb of the man who put it there, gently caressing it, as if he could rub it away like a smudge on glass.

Except… He didn’t put it there… Technically…

You cleared you throat.

“You know for the longest time, I’ve hated you. For what you did, to me, to those Marines.”

You swallowed again, lifting your eyes to meet his own, studiously ignoring the way your body shivered from the intensity of the guilt in his look.

“And now?”

You could see the hurt, the years of torment, the sleepless nights, all of it shining through his gaze in that moment. From the mournful expectation in his tone, you could tell this was not a man familiar with being forgiven.

Could you forgive him, though?

You lost yourself in your inner turmoil for a moment. Undeniably, there was more to James Buchanan Barnes than met the eye. The man in front of you was not a heartless, killing machine. That much was obvious. But those fingers had squeezed the trigger. Those eyes had met your own coldly as you’d screamed for fallen comrades. It was quite the predicament.

After a few more seconds of debating, you settled your resolve. This was a new chapter in your life, and while you could not rectify the past any more than Barnes could, you could certainly work towards giving yourself, and maybe even him, a better future.

You sighed, meeting his gaze once more.

“I don’t hate you, Barnes. I’ll admit, being around you scares the shit out of me.”

He nodded sombrely, stepping away from you in defeat. You instinctively reached out to catch his hand in your own, holding him in place. Wide eyes met your gentle ones, and before Barnes could question you, you continued.

“But I understand now, that wasn’t you. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, and if you promise me I can trust you, Barnes, I’d like to get to know the real you.”

You offered him as sincere a half-smile as you could muster in that moment, dutifully ignoring the tear that was now rolling down your cheek.

Barnes stared at you in disbelief for a second, as if expecting the proverbial other shoe to drop. However, when your resolve did not waiver, the nodded slowly to himself, reaching out with his free, metal hand tentatively. You did not flinch as the cool metal glanced over your cheek, wiping the stray tear away with a gentleness that caught you entirely off guard.

“Bucky… You can just call me Bucky.”

Barnes’ voice- Bucky’s, voice was a barely-there whisper, so quiet you almost lost it in the silence of the gym hall. He offered you that half-smile again, only this time his eyes glittered hopefully in the dimness around you, and you found yourself captivated for a moment. Now that you weren’t on the defensive, you could truly appreciate just how beautifully the light from the hall beyond the gym door framed his profile, and you felt a slight warmth growing in your cheeks under his gaze.

The two of you spent the rest of the night in the gymnasium, talking until the sun came up. As the Tower began to come to life again under the first rays of dawn, the two of you walked side by side up to your shared floor, a planned day of training exercises and even lunch at Bucky’s favourite Italian place down the road ahead of you.

You couldn’t keep from smiling to yourself as you stood in the shower, readying yourself for the day ahead, as you considered the irony in how well you and Bucky actually got on, considering your prickly history.

This, you thought to yourself, could be the start of something interesting.

[dweetwise]

ok lowkey. that spirit thing was mweh😘 how strange yet oddly interesting. if you dont mind doing something similar... could you ... maybe write something where Zarina befriends the Nurse? like the nurse is getting bullied by all the other survivors and Zarina is just like 'bruh why?'. this happened once in a match and i cant get it outta my head😤🤡 love LOVE your work. keep it up

[thanks anon ily 😳😳😳 hope this is ok! there’s a special place in my heart for baby nurses, they are so pure <3]

zarina never had to deal with op old nurse bless her

Zarina befriends the Nurse: ficlet

Hearing yet another wail from the Nurse echoing across the map, Zarina looks up from her generator into the misty grounds of the asylum. The match had surely been going on for nearly ten minutes already, and the teleporting killer had yet to down any of the survivors.

Finishing up the repairs on her generator, Zarina starts navigating towards the sound of the screeches. On her way, she doesn’t spot a single one of her teammates on any of the generators, and frowns in irritation that the killer had apparently decided to farm with the others without anyone deeming it necessary to inform her.

“Forgot about the new chick again, huh?” she mutters to herself, already having had some trouble fitting in with the rowdy group of survivors and their already established dynamic.

Zarina finally reaches what seems to be the center for the commotion, arriving at the shack where Feng, Nea and David are running around in circles with the killer teleporting through the structure, landing a hit on David who the girls then immediately begin patching up right in front of the killer’s face. Zarina huffs out an annoyed breath that her assumptions were correct, turning away from the spectacle and fully intending to go elsewhere and refuse to participate in the others’ dumb little game, when...

“Oi, over ‘ere ya cunt!” David taunts, causing Zarina to clench her fists and whip around, ready to give the asshole Brit a piece of her mind for insulting her--

Only to see the still injured David pointing his flashlight in the Nurse’s face, prolonging the killer’s already painful looking fatigue state. Zarina swallows her misdirected anger and takes a more thorough look at the events unfolding at the shack.

She sees Feng Min get right up in the killer’s face, doing her stupid butt dance,  while Nea chain blinds the killer with her own flashlight, rendering her useless for a few more seconds. The killer takes a wild swing in Nea’s direction, but the street artist sidesteps.

“Ooh, big swing!” Nea mocks, clicky-clicking her flashlight and moonwalking around the Nurse while the killer recovers from her miss. 

“Baby killer, baby killer!” Feng’s high-pitched laugh echoes through the area as the gamer feigns vaulting the shack window, causing the Nurse’s bonesaw to uselessly hit the wood with a dull ‘thunk’.

“Couldn’t hit a cow’s arse with that aim--” David taunts from the shack entrance, making the Nurse quickly blink to him. David dashes through the pallet, avoiding the hit and proceeds to throw down the piece of wood on the killer, flashlight at the ready and already pointing at the Nurse. “Baited ya, bitch!”

“She’s so boosted!” Nea laughs, moving into position to reset the pallet in the blinded killer’s face while Feng injects a healing syringe into David’s shoulder. When the Nurse finally recovers from the combination of the fatigue, stun and blinds, only to have the now upright pallet be slammed right back in her face, Zarina decides enough is enough.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Zarina demands, approaching the scene. “Hey Zarina! Look at this baby killer!” Feng says, obnoxiously spam-pointing at the stunned Nurse. “Shouldn’t you be doing gens?” “Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, we’re just horsin’ around,” David grunts, rolling his shoulder from the sting of the syringe needle. “But why, though?” Zarina asks, shooting a glare in Nea’s direction where the Swede is once again blinding the killer with her flashlight. “Haven’t you done enough?”  “No offense newbie, but maybe you should go find a gen and leave this to us, yeah?” Nea says, a cocky smirk on her lips.

That moment, the Nurse manages to get control over her movements and executes a precise teleport to an injured David, only to have the syringe take effect a split second before the hit and fully heal his wounds, merely causing him to get injured again. Zarina thinks she hears the Nurse groaning in defeat, and she doesn’t blame her. With Nea sprinting right back up to the killer, flashlight in hand, and Feng running after David ready to tank a hit, the Nurse readies another blink and, to everyone’s surprise, teleports away in the direction of the main building.

“LMAO she gave up!” Feng laughs, the sound grating on Zarina’s nerves, as she begins patching up David. “Let’s go after her!” Nea suggests. “NO!” Zarina yells, absolutely done with her fellow survivors’ bullshit against the clearly struggling killer. “You’ve already won! Don’t you have any empathy?” she scolds the trio. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is the taaxic flashlight against your wittle journalist’s ethics?” Nea mocks, fake pouting. “We’ve put of with ‘er shite for years, least she can do is take a couple pallets in tha face,” David grumbles. “Yeah you try versing a five blink Nurse with a mori and tell us how fair and balanced that is,” Feng says, hands on her hips. “Whatever, that’s your problem,” Zarina says, not about to entertain the trio about whatever grudges they seem to be holding. “Just do the fucking gens and leave.”

With that, Zarina makes her way to the main building, thankful that the others seem to stay behind, at least for now. She feels compelled to apologize to the killer on her so-called friends’ behalf, once again trusting her strong moral compass to guide her to the right decisions. Before long she finds the Nurse in one of the rooms on the second floor of the asylum, sitting on a windowsill with an old photo frame in her hands.

“Umm... miss killer? Excuse me?” Zarina makes her presence known, peering in through the door frame. “You didn’t have to intervene, girl,” the Nurse says with unexpected softness and clarity in her voice. She looks almost serene, ominous heartbeat gone, sitting primly in front of the window and torn dress flowing gently with a breeze from the derelict wall.

“I know, it’s... I couldn’t just watch. I’m sorry about them, they’re--” “It’s fine. Truly. I understand,” she says, looking down at the photo again. “I haven’t exactly shown them mercy in the past, I would not expect them to act different.” “Are you... okay?” Zarina asks, cautiously approaching. The Nurse sighs. “This place, it... brings back memories I’d rather forget. I feel my focus slipping and my head is just not in it today.” “The others said you used to be more powerful--or p-perhaps just more ruthless, before...?” “I suppose that’s true,” the Nurse chuckles. “There was a time where I lost myself completely, the entity filling my mind with hatred. Now... I’m weaker, more often a disappointment to it, but... perhaps it’s for the best.” “Umm... not to point out the obvious, but--don’t you think it might help to take the bag off of your head so you could see better?” “You’d offer advice to me, an enemy? A rather peculiar survivor, you are,” the Nurse says, fondness in her voice. “As for the matter, I am able to see just fine, courtesy of the entity. Hiding my face is a choice, one of the few I still have. I--” her voice cracks. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.” “What a curious one you are. Never give up that fire,” she says. “As for covering my head... he always loved seeing me smile,” she says, fondly stroking a finger over the picture, before handing the frame to Zarina, taking her completely off guard as she fumbles to grab the item.

In the frame is a picture of a happy couple on their wedding day, both smiling brightly and embracing each other. The man looks like a proper old-time gentleman, complete with a top hat and silly mustache. The woman is gorgeous, her pale skin and white gown a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and deep emerald green eyes.

“Is this you?” Zarina asks, slightly taken aback, reminded of the fact that the killers probably used to be normal people, just like her. “It was the happiest day of my life,” the Nurse says wistfully. “That was his favorite photo. He said it brought out my eyes, he--he loved my eyes, said they were a reflection of my soul, of our happiness. Which is why I can’t let anyone see my face.” “Because now you’re... unhappy?” Zarina asks, trying to understand. “Because I don’t want anyone to look into my eyes and see the madness that consumed me,” the Nurse whispers.

Zarina is at a loss for words, intrigued about the remorseful killer’s past but not wanting to pry further. She stares at the photo and tries to imagine how the cute, carefree woman in the picture could have ever turned into a bloodthirsty killer.

The sound of the exit gates being powered snaps her out of her thoughts, finally handing the frame back to its owner.

“Thanks for telling me all this,” Zarina says. “Can’t have been easy, what you’ve went through.” “I should be thanking you, for indulging a silly woman her tales,” the Nurse says. “Feel free to stop by, should you happen to wander into this realm from the campfire. I don’t often linger here, but... maybe it would not be so bad, had I company.” “You know, I might just take you up on that offer,” Zarina says, offering a small smile. The sound of a gate opening and the end game triggering reminds her that she’s on a time limit. “Shi--shoot, I’ve gotta run. See you around, uh... ms. Nurse?” “Please, call me Sally,” the killer says, primly bowing her head. “Zarina, was it? Do be careful out there. Your kindness might just be the end of you.” “Doesn’t sound so bad, as far as causes of death go,” Zarina quips, offering a cheeky grin before sprinting off the find the gate.

[sally is precious fight me. and lmao i didn’t even try to be subtle about who toxic nea is inspired by]

[swhurtcomfort]

(Just curious, are these from the same anon or do you two just think alike? Either way, good luck with your exams, hope you enjoy -- Leslie)

Lessons Learned

i.

The first time Ahsoka wakes, someone is there. There is a gentle hand resting on top of hers and a soft voice conversing quietly with the medical droid. Master Obi-Wan, she realizes. He doesn’t seem to notice that she’s awake. She doesn’t know where she is, but she is too sleepy to find out.

ii.

The second time Ahsoka wakes is perhaps an hour later, but she is alone. She hears steady beeps and breathes in the clean, airy smell of the Halls of Healing. She is home, then. She vaguely remembers riding in an ambulance-speeder.

Ahsoka sits up and her right arm thumps against her chest in a sling.

It’s strange to be alone in the Halls of Healing. It’s not that she wants her master or grandmaster to coddle her like a youngling, it’s just that they would normally be here.

Med droids come and go, but it’s almost half an hour before Master Obi-Wan appears.

“No one told me you were awake,” he whispers by way of greeting. There’s something in his body language as he sits down that makes Ahsoka nervous.

“I can’t stay long,” he adds. “But I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”

“Is it…broken?” Ahsoka asks, lifting her arm.

“Do you remember Luminara talking to you before the surgery?”

Ahsoka shook her head.

“I’m not surprised. You seemed fairly out of it,” said Obi-Wan. “You broke both bones in your wrist. They put you under and set it with some durasteel pins.”

Ahsoka nods, accepting this information. “I know I shouldn’t have chased after that shuttle,” she says with a sheepish smile. She and Anakin had chased their target all the way from the Senate building only to lose him in the chaos of the airtraffic lanes. Anakin had surprised her, and told her to let him go. Ahsoka had defied him and pursued the spy, and, evidently, injured herself in the attempt.

“Is Anakin upset with me?”

“Anakin is down the corridor,” Master Obi-Wan says slowly. “In critical condition.”

No.

iii.

Master Obi-Wan leaves again soon, full of cold politeness that makes it hard to judge whether he is angry or just tired and worried. They say he hasn’t left Anakin’s bedside since the accident except to check on Ahsoka while she was in post-op.

The horrible, twisting pit in Ahsoka’s stomach only deepens as she reads the report which Obi-Wan has already drafted for the Council. It says, among other details of the mission, that Anakin was crushed between two speeders as he flew over three lanes of airtraffic trying to reach Ahsoka. The report does not mention that Ahsoka was on top of a moving airshuttle, chasing the spy she had been explicitly ordered not to pursue. That Anakin had tried to stop her. That she had fallen from the shuttle, almost to her death.

The sensation of freefall feels like it never left. She is still trapped in desperate, tingling panic. He was trying to save me. If I had just listened—

Ahsoka is released as soon as the anesthesia has worn off, and immediately tracks down Barriss, who has been helping Master Luminara.

“They expect him to survive,” Barriss says gently.

The fact that this is an expectation, not a certainty, sends Ahsoka reeling.

Barriss tries to explain that a collapsed lung, badly bruised kidneys, or a fractured spinal disc are all survivable in isolation but combined together with significant blood loss and shock they can be dangerous, but that’s not what Ahsoka needs to hear.

She stops to lean against the wall. It’s my fault, oh Force,

“He’s only supposed to have one visitor at a time,” says Barriss uncomfortably when they reach Anakin’s room and see that Master Obi-Wan is still there.

“It’s alright, Barriss, let her in,” says Master Luminara. Obi-Wan does not acknowledge them as they enter.

Anakin is deep in a healing trance, immobilized with a neck brace and multiple casts. A tube protrudes from the lower left quadrant of his chest, draining air that escaped from his injured lung; his face is pale and bruised and obscured by an oxygen mask.

The healers are keeping a close eye on him, but there are inevitably moments when Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are alone in the room, and the silence becomes suffocating.

 iv.

Once the silence is broken, it’s like floodgates have caved in.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Ahsoka. What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t think he would follow me, I’m sorry,”

“Of course he wasn’t going to stand back and watch you get killed.”

“I said sorry—“

“I was always afraid something like this would happen to him,” Obi-Wan snarls. “But I assumed he’d be the reckless idiot who brought it on himself.”

‘Idiot’ stings, and although one part of Ahsoka accepts the blow as though she deserves it, another part of her bubbles up in anger. “Master, you have no right—”

“Nope,” Luminara snaps as she enters the room, laying a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder and steering her towards the door. “Absolutely unacceptable. If you are going to raise your voices, you may leave.”

“Thank you,” says Obi-Wan, sitting back down with a huff.

“You too, Obi-Wan,” Luminara shoots back. “You two can go argue somewhere else, or have some time apart, figure it out. We will take good care of Anakin.”

“He is my padawan,” Obi-Wan hisses.

“He’s my patient,” she counters, matching his tone.

 v.

Anakin makes it through the night.

Barriss tells Ahsoka that the danger has passed, that his lung is mending and all his fractures and bruises will clear up with time. It will be a long, painful recovery. Ahsoka swallows hard.

Anakin is awake when she is allowed in. She doesn’t know what to say.

“Snips,” he gasps. He’s still on oxygen, but they’ve moved him down from the whole mask to just a nasal cannula. Although Ahsoka doesn’t see the significance, Barriss insists that’s good news.

“I’m sorry,” she says tearfully.

“What, for this?” He’s a bit spacey and not fully there, Ahsoka notices. “Forget about it. They’re giving me the good meds, I feel nothing.”

His blood oxygen level fluctuates wildly as he talks. He takes a sharp breath and it stabilizes again.

“It should have been me,” Ahsoka whispers.

“Like I would let that happen. Listen Snips, we’ve all made shitty judgement calls. This could have happened to anybody.”

“I think Master Obi-Wan hates me.”

For some reason, that makes Anakin chuckle.

 vi.

Ahsoka is quite used to hearing her master curse, but the following weeks are a whole new level. Anakin’s good spirits don’t last long once the healers release him and he sets about the grueling task of getting better. Sitting up is hell on his back and neck, but then again, so is lying down and standing and pretty much just existing in general. His day is defined by when each dose of pain medication is due.

Obi-Wan is there to bring him food and help him transfer and get to the ‘fresher and back, and once Ahsoka’s wrist brace comes off she pitches in too. He finally reaches a point where he can hobble short distances, but it’s hard for him to put pressure on his spine or do anything for a prolonged time, even just standing up in the shower.

Obi-Wan isn’t home one afternoon when Ahsoka hears the water shut off in the ‘fresher, followed by a nervous call of, “Obi-Wan?”

Ahsoka follows the call to the ‘fresher door, then hesitates. “He’s not here. What is it, Master?”

“Could you come in? Don’t worry, I’m decent.”

He’s sitting leaned against the outside of the tub, wrapped in a towel.

“I’m sorry, Snips, I thought I could do it, but—” He pauses, embarrassed. “I can’t reach my arms up high enough to wash my hair. I’d wait for Obi-Wan, but I already drew the bath, and…,”

“It’s alright,” Ahsoka says quickly, trying to sound more confident that she feels. “I can help,”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again as Ahsoka carefully has him lean his head back under the faucet and lathers the shampoo through his hair.

“Do you need help rinsing it too?”

“No, I usually just sit under the shower head. You can go now. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Master. I want to help.”

“You’re uncomfortable.”

There’s no point in denying that.

“If you need anything else…”

“I’ll holler. Yes, thank you.”

 vii.

Anakin awkwardly shuffles into the kitchen where Ahsoka is doing homework, and sits himself down next to her.

“Obi-Wan says we need to talk about what happened,” he states.

Ahsoka almost says something snarky. It’s ironic that Obi-Wan wants them to talk when he’s barely said two words to Ahsoka in weeks.

“I really am sorry, Master. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. I just wanted to catch him.”

“I did too. But Ahsoka, he wasn’t worth it. We both could have died.”

“I know.”

“Obi-Wan was harsh with you because he was scared that he could have lost both of us. He doesn’t say that kind of stuff because he thinks it sounds like an attachment, so he just comes off as angry.”

Ahsoka nods. Then she looks up to meet Anakin’s gaze carefully. “Are you angry with me too?”

“I was a little bit,” Anakin admits. “But I think the past few weeks have given you an up-close-and-personal look at what the costs of that kind of recklessness can be. I don’t think you’ll make this mistake again.”

“No!” Ahsoka assures him quickly.

“Then I’ve taught you something. See, I’m great at this.”

He clearly wants her to laugh, so she makes an attempt.

Ahsoka is used to her master couching uncomfortable topics in humor, but she sees that he is sincere.

“I’m sorry,” Ahsoka says. “For not listening to you, and I’m extra sorry that you got hurt.”

“You can stop saying that,”

“No I can’t.”

“I forgive you, Snips. Does that help?” Anakin pushes the table further away and reaches out to hug her. The range of movement in his arms is restricted, so she has to meet him halfway.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, and Anakin hugs her tighter.