#i USED to scream about it but then i GREW UP and got a substance abuse problem like an ADULT

[butwilltherebealcohol]

working in medicine and sometimes having to deal with psych patients as a person who hates being alive is wild. like bitch i wanna die and hate myself and being in my own skin too and i’m not screamin about it gotdamn ppl got work in the morning 

[fanficonly]

Wenclair x Reader-

What Are You?- Part 11

Wednesday and Enid

Wens are you okay?" Enid rushes to her girlfriends side panicked and full of confusion, almost falling over the chair as she did. She knelt at her side, spotting the goth as she rose up from her horizontal positioning.

"Yes Cara Mia I'm fine" Wednesday pressed her palm into her head and closed her eyes to let the electrified feeling subside. It seemed to take longer this time and the usual cold burn she felt after a vision was replaced with a hot sting burning her brain mercilessly.

"Oh god oh god Y/N" Enid's voice immediately snapped Wednesday out of her dazed state and her eyes went wide as she contorted her body to assess the danger.

"That was the strangest feeling I have ever felt" Wednesday remained staring at Y/N, wide-eyed and unable to drag her attention back to the frantic wolf.

"Babe! What's wrong with her?!" Enid tried getting her attention again while reaching for Y/N's comatose body and moving to reposition herself.

"What was that?" Wednesday feels uncomfortable in her own skin as if her mind, body and soul had been invaded by a foreign substance, she could literally feel it in her veins like a blood transfusion from a fresh batch of freezer bags.

"Wednesday!" Enid yells snapping her out of it. Wednesday could barely process the feeling let alone what she had seen in her vision and she was internally screaming in a pit of brimstone instead of focusing on real life which was currently not ideal for Enid 'panics over killing an ant' Sinclair.

"I apologise dear I-I don't know what happened" Wednesday pipes up unable to calm her nerves and stuttering for the first time since she was a mere 4 years old.

Enid just makes a noise and grabs at Y/N's shoulders

Y/N!!!" Enid yells again stroking at thier face in an attempt to wake them up "Y/N can you hear me?" Wednesday watches as Enid's face begins to tear and the more sadistic of the two grabs what can only be described as makeshift defibrillators. Regardless of the seriousness of the situation Wednesday got a slight satisfaction from the chance to use one of her favourite items.

Then she notices you waking up groggily as if from nothing more than a 12 hour nap, deflating slightly as she didn't get to have her fun. Enid however lets out a huge breath of delight as she looks into the squinted eyes.

"I told you not do it yet!" The yelling shocked the ravenette slightly but she understood.

The thing with Wednesday and Enid is that because of who and what they are, the day they fell for eachother meant thier minds were forever linked. Could be Enid's wolf, could be Wednesdays magic, noone really understands it but being at Nevermore noone feels the need too. They are simply telepathically linked meaning the kind of secret conversations and hushed whispers most might have to adhere to doesn't apply to them when they can happily just read each others minds.

It also meant that when Wednesday had made the decision to elicit a vision from Y/N Enid was in the process of telling her "not yet" and "It isn't the right time" in her head.

Unsurprising, Wednesday had ignored her and instead grew too impatient and frustrated with knowing nothing about Y/N and decided to go rogue.

Clearly not her brightest idea but how was she to know that this would happen. In fact she didn't even know what had happened and the theories in her head were ... Overwhelming to say the least.

"I don't know what happened Cara Mia this doesn't make sense, she should not have felt anything" she stared at Y/N a low flash of worry sprinting across her face.

"Y/N?" Enid says again, this time seeing Y/N stir.

Urrrgh" Enid hears the noise and let's out another breath, looking to Wednesday for guidance, who still seems unresponsive to say the least.

And then...

Y/N suddenly sits up shakily and both Enid and Wednesday jolt back in an attempt to avoid an unnecessary collision of foreheads.

Y/N

"Y/N we're so sorry are you okay?" Enid asks concern corroding her once beautiful smile.

"Fuck" you let out a breath and honestly don't know what to do. Your whole body is buzzing, like literally vibrating and you can feel your eyes still pulsating with a golden tint.

"What happened?" Wednesday asks you before you can even fully regain your composure.

No words leave your mouth. You want to speak. You want to say something. Anything. But you just can't. It's all too much. It's... It's tomorrow's problem honestly you need to leave this room.

But before you can make a break for it your eyes trail down to the machinery Wednesday is holding and you choke out

"Are those for me?" You ask a twinge of fear evident in your cracked voice.

You breathe out again this time feeling less like someone had hit you with a truck and chuckle when Enid nervously laughs and says "Yeeeaaah no we don't need those now haha" she ushers for Wednesday to put them away keeping eye contact with you and waving Wednesdays toys away.

You stay silent as Wednesday practically huffs and glides towards her desk to put away yet another torture device.

"Well I'm terribly sorry you don't get to electrocute me I know you would have loved it" you can't help the smirk that forms on your lips and you take a whole lot of pride when you see Wednesday smirk while looking down, attempting to hide the fact that you had amused her. For a moment you almost forget the near death experience but of course this cannot last.

"This is NO time for jokes!" Enid yells, inspecting you for injury as she did, you squirmed away trying to avoid skin on skin contact given your current emotional state.

"I'm sorry it's kind of a coping mechanism" you shrug, trying to play off what had happened and maybe distract the girls with a laugh or two.

"Enid has the same one so I'm not sure why she is scolding you" Wednesday looks at the offended girl and can't hide the twitch of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when Enid huffs at her. God they were so cute!

Wait focus! This is not the time to be admiring them both after they lured you into a false sense of security and caused what you can only describe as an immeasurable amount of electroshock therapy across your entire being.

"Anyway ... Do you wish to enlighten us on the details of what you just did" Wednesday politely asks but you can't get past the audacity.

"Excuse me don't you mean what you just did?" you fight back immediately. She was the one who tried to elicit a vision from you and now you're the one being questioned, wow this girl was really gonna be the death of you (maybe literally).

The impending questions already causing dread to fill your soul. Your mind races once again, the wolf is looking at you, the seer is looking at you god can everyone just stop looking at you!

You need to get out.

Now.

"I have to go" the words fall from your mouth unwillingly and it's as if your legs have a mind of there own as you stand up... WAY too fast becoming dizzy.

"What no you can't go what if you're hurt" Enid says following your movements by reflex, mirroring you with perfect precision and practically catching you as you stumble back towards the ground.

Wow shes strong. The feeling of Enid's toned arms gripping your body in protection causes all your thoughts to leave your mind replaced only by the stunning blue eyes staring back at you. You're like this for a moment, getting lost in the feeling of being held and then your brain resumed function and you realise Enid is getting weaker from your touch as claws form where your hands use to be.

"Y/N did you see what I saw?" Wednesday seems far less concerned with your well-being and much more wary of her vision. Understandable but there is no answer you could give her right now that would satisfy the Seers need for information so it's no surprise when you lowly say

"I -" again your voice betraying you as you remove yourself from Enid's grasp and stop sucking the life out of her.

"Y/N" she says it sternly and you feel like you're being scolded for your actions, something about the way she presents herself makes you want to shrink away. Not because you're frightened but because you feel guilty, like you don't want to lie to the girls but you cannot tell them the truth. You're at an impass.

This is ridiculous! They are the ones that did this! And now they're asking you - no no you have to remind yourself to stay calm in this moment and you remove the expressions from your face and the feelings in your heart.

"Y/N what's happening" Enid steps forward cautiously scanning your face for danger and you instinctively step back an icy expression covering your face as you attempt to numb your brain, muffle your thoughts and feel nothing.

"I am going to leave now" you say in the most unemotional tone you can find, ignoring everything that just happened and numbing the vibrations that still emulated from your body. You rush towards the door and open it only pausing when a claw slams against the hard wood, startling you momentarily.

"No you can't" Enid keeps her hand steady as you stare at her claw blankly. Your brain immediately starts up again at the sight, wondering what those hands would feel like wrapped around you again but this time more lovingly as you had seen in the vision. Hope flooded your mind for a second and you wanted nothing more but to reach out and take her hand in yours, explain everything and squeeze it comforting and settling the claws away. But reality hits you in all but 2 seconds, you can feel those gorgeous blue eyes once again piercing the skin on the side of your incredibly flushed face and you remove the smile that threatens to form. Then you simply take a small breath and turn to Wednesday, she's your only way out here, there is no way Enid will give in willingly otherwise and let you go

"I saw it." You speak harshly this time "I saw..." you couldn't even say it, how do you explain it "I saw everything" you prove your telling the truth by maintaining eye contact with the wide-eyed seer who seem genuinely disturbed by your confession "Now let me leave" you challenge Wednesday. It was a low blow but you needed to startle Wednesday somehow and get out of here. It's just too much. Everything is too much and you can't figure out what to process first.

"Cucciola, come here" Wednesday directs her words towards her still panicked girlfriend, never breaking eye contact with you, as she rose her arm out for Enid to gravitate towards.

"What babe she-" Enid begins to argue but is ruthlessly cut off by yet another stern tone.

"Enid don't argue come here" She speaks and now the blonde pays attention and you wonder in what other situations has Enid heard this tone and immediately listened to her.

To see any kind of fear in either of the girls was exactly the kind of confrontation you had promised yourself to avoid coming to your fresh start but you had to force the tears back, force the emotion back and force yourself to run.

The blonde must have sensed that it was time to give up just by her lover's reaction and retracted her claws, a shine still to her eyes as tears began to form once again.

"Are you okay?" she whispers to you like she's sharing a dark secret and again you fight the relentless urge to comfort her as she shows nothing but pure care and concern for you

"I promise I'm fine we will talk tomorrow" as your eyes continued to glow, you take a step out of the door only turning back to say

"Thank you for your help" directed at Wednesday who just nodded as a teary Enid collided into her arms

Your eyes flash at the sight a surge of force in you being pushed down by everything else in you just to stay away from the 2. The strength it took to leave when all you wanted, all you needed, all you craved was to join the embrace, seeking out the comfort that vision made you feel and desperately trying to fight off the discomfort of the visions after affects.

You weakly shuffle down the corridor and into your own room, traipsing up the stairs before collapsing onto your twin XL bed and almost instantly passing out from pure exhaustion.

...

"Y/N" the blonde yells a giddy smile streaming across her features "Come here" she squeals chasing after you. The smile hurts your jaw as you laugh running from her, a spring in your step and fresh air invading your lungs.

"You'll have to catch me first" you challenge, her giggles flooding your ears as you look back still running forward.

""Shouldn't be too hard with my expertise" Wednesday pipes up, appearing Infront of you and you almost collide with her but twist your body clumsily falling to the ground and rolling across the tree roots.

Enid tackles you with a great big hug and kisses your cheek sending a flood of emotions appearing as red flushes further onto your already rosy cheeks.

"Told you" Wednesday kneels beside you both as you play fight, reaching out to both of you, peeling your attention away from winning and onto her encapsulating gaze. The soft touch of her chilly fingertips cause you both to sigh happily, the feeling unlike anything you had ever felt before. And then they both lean in and you suddenly become very aware of the implications they inch closer and closer and closer...

....

*Gaaaaaasp* your eyes dart open as you inhale a large breath and start flitting your eyes around the dimly lit room desperately searching for solace.

"Oh god" you mutter to yourself "just a dream" you hold your head, sitting up and trying to calm yourself. You can feel your eyes glowing, your body half in a state of shock and the other half completely relaxed at the beautiful dream you just had the pleasure of experiencing.

Fuck. That felt so real... Like you could actually feel their touch and hear their voices ...like ...like it was a vision of your future rather than a dream.

You stare blankly at your alarm clock 5:32am. What an inhuman time to be awake you think to yourself before last night's events plague your memory and you curse out loud once again.

Right today will be different....

Once you speak to the 2 girls who may or may not want nothing to do with you now.

Okay piggybacking on that vision was painful and unforseen, ironic but no less irritating. Now how do you explain yourself. You might just have to tell them. But if you tell them what you are everything changes and-and you're not allowed too, the repercussions could be ... Deadly for you and them. Although they do seem like a pair that could keep a secret it still doesn't seem worth the risk.

Let's be real the problem here is what you saw and what Wednesday saw and what you know Wednesday saw you see and what she definitely told Enid she saw and you saw and... God your head hurts. Ironically it's like a saw was currently hacking away at your brain. So even with a clear head and a somewhat reasonable amount of sleep (more than you usually get anyway) there was still no clear headed way you were going to be able to deal with this, so instead you do the worst thing imaginable.

You decide to wing it.

[aboutkiyoomi]

003. bittersweet chocolate chunk | onigiri cravings

cw: cursing, angst............and slow burn sooo yasss.

"i'll be here for the next couple of months," he says, leaning against the counter slab. his apron is a mess, covered in various substances, and his hat is thrown to the side as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"why?" semi asks, appearing from the kitchen.

"bet it's 'cause of y/n," suga whispers, very obviously, into iwa's ear, causing osamu to clear his throat loudly.

"we're gonna be undergoing some slight renovations, and i need to meet with some contractors. plus, i have new recipes to release," he states, eyes shooting a look at suga. "speaking of y/n, where is she?" samu asks, glancing around hopefully.

"she's gonna be a little late. said she'd explain when she gets here," suga starts, shrugging his shoulders. but the worried look on his face transfers to osamu, who hums quietly.

meanwhile, in your studio apartment, you wonder when it all got this way. when did akaashi become so overly consumed with school and so inconsiderate of his relationship? it all boiled down to this moment. you expected it, but not like this, not this torturous.

the arguments continued after he stormed out, but the apologies became less and less frequent between the two of you. the house was ghostly, with nothing but short screaming matches followed by the slamming of doors. you found out that when he leaves, he stays with bokuto.

"i'm not arguing with you today," akaashi states, pushing past you into the study.

"akaashi, what are we even doing?" you huff, eyes tired as you watch him pause in the doorway.

"i…" he pauses, taking a deep breath before pinching his temples. "i don't fucking know, y/n. this isn't us," he starts, turning around to face you.

"no shit," you reply plainly.

"i think we should break up," he says, his mouth straightening into a thin line. but your reaction isn't sad in the moment; you won't give him that satisfaction. you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

"you know, i had a feeling this was coming, but i thought you were too scared to do it. you grew a pair, keiji," you say bitterly, as you begin grabbing your stuff. his mouth opens, but he shuts it promptly.

"and i'll move out. i'll find a place and stay at suga's until then. you pay most of the rent anyway," you say plainly, willing yourself not to cry, to be strong.

"y/n… you don't have to—" he starts, but you immediately cut him off.

"keiji, i do. we were in love for a long time, but there's something you love more than me, and that's okay. it takes time, energy, and patience to become a doctor—something i don't have," you laugh harshly, your eyes clouding slightly as you remember words from a past argument. "this was a long time coming. we need space to process this, so don't worry about it." you finish, stepping into the genkan and silently sliding on your shoes. you leave akaashi there, standing in the middle of your apartment, eyes glazed and dazed.

you walk to work, willing yourself not to cry. if anything, this gives you a chance to study more for your upcoming nclex exam and work more hours. you will try your hardest not to let akaashi keiji break you.

as you walk into work, you're met with the face you've grown to find safe, and somehow, your eyes immediately begin to water. suga knowingly opens his arms while semi opens the door to the back of the house.

"oh, baby," suga mutters as tears pour from your eyes, and you all but fall into his arms.

"it's over," you mutter repeatedly into the fabric of suga's dark 'onigiri miya' shirt.

osamu's eyes flicker up from his office, catching sight of suga walking you to the break room, streaky tears staining your beautiful face. osamu immediately makes a beeline for you, but iwaizumi stops him.

"she'll be okay, but right now she's going through something. it's not my place to explain, but just… give her a moment," iwa says, placing a firm hand on osamu's shoulder. yet osamu's eyes drill into the window of the break room. you are seated on the bench, your head buried in suga's shoulder while he pats your back and nods. iwa squeezes his shoulder reassuringly before guiding him back towards his office.

the tears eventually subside, and you explain the situation, albeit briefly. suga is understanding, immediately offering to help you move your stuff into his house for the time being. you explain it would truly only be for a short time and that you would do anything for him in the meantime, ranging from housework to picking up his shifts.

if there's anything you hate, it's feeling like you're burdening people.

you head into the employee bathroom and wash your face. your eyes are slightly red and puffier than usual. you sigh deeply and take a second to breathe before making a resolve in your mind.

three years is a long time, and the two of you have grown apart. it was excruciatingly obvious, yet no one wanted to acknowledge it, causing this pain. there's no time to be upset over this—it was coming, and you expected it. so, you would allow these feelings to pass and focus on what was important: your upcoming nclex exam and saving money. that was it; you would simply focus extra hard for now.

as you walk out of the bathroom and push out into the kitchen, your eyes catch on osamu, who is wrist-deep in a bowl of pre-cooked rice. his eyes immediately meet yours, catching you off guard.

"you missed the big announcement," samu starts, his lips twitching up playfully but carefully not to offend or hurt you any further. "i'll be staying here at this location for a bit," he finishes, smiling clearly from under the brim of his onigiri miya cap.

"ah… i see," you smile, your eyes still dull and puffy. you push out into the front of the house, ready to work and fueled with a renewed sense of energy.

a/n: dang rip akaashiyn, you will be rejuvenated in another series. AYEEEE bring on the slow burn with samu. i might double update, keep ya eyes out. this chapter is kinda..i promise the development is worth it.

taglist (open): @wyrcan @nightlybakes @anyalou @boogiemansbitch @peppersapro @wave2mia @applepi25

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 4.2

Part 4 - Setback 2/2

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 12600

Chapter summary:  In which you're hurt - but at least you're not alone.

Series masterlist

Warnings: pain and descriptions of pain, blood, gunshot wounds, canon-typical violence, mentions of death and dying (Steve and 'reader'), very questionable medical treatment, comic book science, unholy amount of swearing, brief raised voice by a man, selfworth issues, crying, and believe it or not, fluff

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: As you might have noticed, this is… another long chapter. I could split it, but I like how it works now. If you do wish to split it, I suppose I can recommend do to so at the divider (about one third of the chapter).

Breaking through the darkness usually felt like swimming in molasses, thick and sticky substance surrounding you, heavy limps slowly forcing their way through; the progress was achingly slow despite your muscles burning with effort, dampened senses gradually clearing up as the layers of thickness grew thinner and thinner.

Pushing through this white darkness felt strikingly different. It was but a split second, the moment of breaking through the water surface; all your senses were assaulted at once, lips hungrily drinking every molecule of air after seemingly endless hours under water. Except it wasn’t your lungs that burned; it was everything. Cacophony of images, sensations, sounds and pain consuming your very being.

As you tasted and smelled nothing but blood, both of which you knew too well, as your vision drowned in tears, the one other familiar sensation became prominent: the burning in your legs. That and the sound of Steve’s shouts and rattles of chains, the violent noise swallowing the barely-there sneer of the man who had shot you.

“Stay down,” the fuzzy figure dressed in all black ordered, as if you weren’t curled on your side, clutching at your wounds and rendered motionless bar the rapid rises and falls of your chest.

Steve’s voice, distant and yet so close, was growing clearer by the minute despite the ringing in your ears.

“Leave her alone! Don’t hurt her! Spectre?!” he shouted, insistently tugging at his bounds if the brutal cry of metal was anything to go by, followed by a heavy thud and a clank. The last sound was followed lovechild of a groan and a gasp; then, a somewhat frustrated growl.

“It’s not your time yet,” the man uttered, almost floating out of the room in your hazy vision.

You squeezed your eyes closed as the door clicked shut, feeling your face damp with both the sweat gathering in your hairline and the tears staining your cheeks. It was nearly impossible to swallow your sobs with every gasp for air, but god were you determined not to give them the satisfaction of letting them hear. Because they could hear, there was no doubt now.

Fuck Hydra.

The sound of your name, your actual name, spoken softly at first, with an edge of what could only read as desperation, had you blink your eyes open; then, twice more, called out in almost a plea to be answered.

You licked your lips before biting your tongue, recognizing that whatever would leave out now would be a deafening scream. Steve didn’t need to hear that; you didn’t need your direct superior to hear that.

There were other, much more pressing things at hand, in your hands. In your hands, shaking violently as your gaze fell on the awfully real red blood staining them with no chance to escape it. You were no stranger to injuries, not at all, but in the past months, you had gone soft. You got used to knowing that while your spectre’s injuries hurt like son of a bitch, while you bled from them, while the pain of them lingered, you couldn’t bleed out from them; you’d snap back, unconscious due to the contradiction in your mind and the shock to your body.

But there was no coming back from this and the pain was no lesser; the pain was more if possible.

Two fundamental instincts raged in a battle inside you as you tried to will your hands to press against your wounds – the survival instinct and the instinct to not cause yourself more pain. You knew, by logic, that the former should always win; but your muscles didn’t seem to listen, until you gritted your teeth to not release a single whimper and finally applied enough pressure to stop the bleeding effectively. A pitiful sound fought its way out anyway as the pain struck you like a bolt of lightning.

Okay, fuck that hurt.

Over the deafening thump-thump-thump in your temples, you heard your name again, in frantic whisper.

“Say something. Anything,” Steve’s voice demanded, a strange husky quality to it you couldn’t remember hearing before. Any other day, it might pique your curiosity, but you had genuinely no capacity, too focused on keeping silent; besides, you and Steve didn’t talk that much. Not to mention that the loud thud you had heard before could have been him doing something very unwise and reckless, resulting in whatever you were hearing in his voice. “Please, just let me hear that you’re-- just make a sound.”

Well since he said please, you snarked in the back of your mind, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks nevertheless. Ever the gentleman, wasn’t he?

You eased the pressure on your thighs – and wasn’t it funny, you must have looked like some kind of a fucked-up bride of the underworld, with torn gown in the colours of approaching night and crimson pouring down your skin, through your fingers, making the fabric dark as the night itself – and you allowed yourself to utter a single word.

“Captain.”

“Oh thank god,” he responded in kind immediately, his breath of relief so loud it was almost comical. The way his voice seemed to crack a bit less so. He must have hurt himself trying to fight his bounds; you had no doubt he’d tear a muscle trying, hearing the gunshots. Fighting to rush to the rescue, like the proper hero he was. “What-“

“Thighs. Both,” you reported dutifully, hearing his sharp inhale and a curse on his lips – one you echoed with your own, forcing your eyes to stay open as you tried to tell yourself that the pain was fading and it was time to stop being a baby. To act like an agent, to focus on survival, yours and Steve’s, on your Captain’s survival, on the vital member of the Avengers. You just needed to press against the- “Holy fuck that hurts-”

“Spectre. I know it hurts, but put pressure on that. Right now,” Steve barked, and it was like a switch had been flipped. Mission alert, goal-oriented – the Captain indeed. Too bad; maybe you had liked the Steve better. Then again, maybe the Captain was what you needed to get your head straight. The gala, whatever pretence it involved, was long over after all; this was a mission. You were an agent. “That’s an order, you understand?”

“Yeah, I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Your head snapped back with a frustrated growl, a flare of anger igniting your body – you really, really wanted to snap at him to try it himself, to fucking try to at least imagine what it was like to be in your skin now; but he actually had been there before. He had probably fought off pain like this more than once, and he had done so as if it was but a minor inconvenience. He knew exactly what it was like. Andhe must have known that you realized that and that you couldn’t throw it back to his face and he was truly getting on your nerves.

“Always so damn--- bossy,” you hissed, but obeyed, dark spots dancing in front of your eyes as you did so.

“Sorry.” What? “Talk to me. Tell me what to do. How can I make it better?”

The switch had flipped again; his tone urgent, but less commanding indeed. And yet, what was more interesting was his words. He was chained – and without his strength which you had stolen, he couldn’t do a single thing. His offer, however sweet, made no damn sense.

Not that all the things he had ever done did make sense; it was often the opposite, but you supposed you were one to talk.

A chuckle escaped you, bitter but no less amused at the situation. After all, what he said might have just been the funniest thing ever. You couldn’t afford to cry anymore and break down – so you fought to take one of the opposite routes. As usual. Grasping at whatever straw you were offered, even if it was a suggestion as tempting as hilarious.

“Me tell you what to do? Well, damn, that’s a first,” you chuckled again, realizing that the pain had changed; the pulsing seemed to slow. Cold sweat of horror covered your back, but you refused. You refused to even consider that it might be a bad thing. It would be with this kind of injury in an ordinary human, but this could have just been some protective reaction of the serum. It had to be. “Is that my Make-A-Wish foundation gift?”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare to even-- don’t.”

The temperature in the room dropped at least twenty degrees with how frost-covered Steve’s words were despite their white-hot edge and even as you scoffed, you felt guilt gnaw at your gut.

He was right; the last thing either of you needed was your attitude. Then again, his own wasn’t exactly stellar, so at least it was fair.

“Talk to me. Shut up. Make up your damn mind, Rogers,” you spitted out, rolling over. Pressing harder to the wounds sent a brutal tug of pain through your whole body, but you bit down on your cheek to stifle the cry; that wouldn’t help anyone.

“Why are you always so-” Steve lamented, but cut himself off, his weary sigh washing over you. For some absurd reason, the sound brought a ghost of a smile on your face for a split second. “Okay. If—if you somehow have my abilities, there’s a big chance you’re going to start healing soon. Not instantly, but soon. Did the bullets go through or stayed lodged in?”

There was something in his voice, something very familiar, something that usually brought comfort along.

A plan was forming in his head, you could almost hear the gears in his brain frantically spinning.

The problem was that you had a slight inkling as to what the plan was and the mere idea had your stomach. But you had no reason to lie – as much as you hated it. As much as you hated even inspecting the signals of your body i you a very clear answer to that question.

“In.”

“Okay. That’s both good and bad. Only one point of entry means less bleeding.”

Really Captain Obvious?

Also, you weren’t quite looking to increase the suffocating feeling squeezing your chest, but there seemed to quite enough of blood, alright. You wished he could see it to reconsider his words, since he sounded like Mr. Expert himself. Maybe he had a medical degree he had forgotten to mention.

“But it also means that with the bullets still in… I know it hurts like a son of bitch, but you need to dig them out.”

The shudder than ran down your back was everything but tender; it seemed to rattle your very spine.

You knew he was right.

Deep down you knew, because it made sense with everything that was happening, but you snapped anyway because there was no chance in hell you’d dig around in your leg for a bullet. Twice. You were in enough agony as it was, thank you very damn much.

“No fucking way. They tell you to never do that because the bullet works as a stopper if it’s lodged.”

Ominous silence.

It felt like Steve counted to three at least before he answered; when he did, his voice was absurdly soft, as if coaxing a baby deer from under his tires and you were having none of it. If you were the deer, you’d rather have him run you over, because there was absolutely no way that what he was suggesting was happening.

Ever.

“Yeah, it does,” he said, the regret lacing his voice only adding to your desperate need to shut him up. “But, well, I’m an exception-”

“I know, aren’t you fucking always-”

“Oh for fuck’s-! Forget about hating me for a second!” he snapped at last, starling you when he actually raised his voice. “Forget that you think I’m--- the arrogant Captain Perfect who doesn’t deserve an ounce of his fame, that I’m just a glorified science experiment or whatever you think and listen to me! I’m—” He took a shaky breath, swallowing heavily and when he spoke again, the urgency remained – but the volume did not. “I’m an exception because the tissue can start healing over the bullet and it might cause it to start moving and do more damage as it does and-“

“I know,Steve!” you cried out.

As you finally pushed to prop up on your hands and sit up, the world swayed with the sudden movement. However, you didn’t pass out, so you’d count your blessings. That was if you could call the opportunity to play doctor without proper tools or medication with your own body a blessing.

“I mean… I know.”

The silence that settled over the room – both his and yours – was only interrupted by your own harsh breaths. Steve’s own must have caught in his throat; but the figurative sound of the neurons in his brain firing had turned high-pitched as he was probably trying to decipher if you were saying what you were saying.

With a sigh and shaky hands, you pushed away the fabric of your dress from your legs, instantly averting your gaze at the sight of the blood still oozing from the gunshot wounds, nausea swinging your stomach.

Against your better judgement – and grateful for any distraction – you went to confirm Steve’s suspicions.

“I’m sure you’re aware that all agents go through first aid courses on the regular. I… asked. If there are any specifics.”

“You… asked about specifics about me?” he asked reluctantly.

He sounded much timider than you had ever imagined he could, let alone when speaking to you. If you had any energy to do so, you’d smile; because the image of his face when he spoke so softly, even as you had never seen him like that so it was only a figment of your imagination, was endearing, sending a flutter through your pounding heart.

Too bad you only found energy to sigh, risking another glance to your injuries. That was not a good idea, but it sure as hell made you press against them to reduce the bleeding further. The flow was weaker now; which was both a good thing and a bad thing, as Steve had pointed out. The healing process was slowly starting. You had no time to waste.

You’d love to have some.

“Yeah, well, as you so aptly pointed out, Captain, you too feel pain and get hurt and get shot sometimes. I know to get the bullets out to kickstart the healing and ensure it heals correctly.”

Doesn’t mean I want to do the same for my body right now.

“…thank you,” he said.

He sounded so stunned you wanted to laugh; so stunned it was almost insulting. Did he really think you were such a monster that you didn’t care how to save his life specifically, when you had learned how to save everyone else’s? Maybe you should take it as flattery – you had kept your distance so well he would have never guessed you cared, or how much. You should consider going undercover.

“Now get the bullets out.”

Your hands automatically covered the wounds as if to protect them from his hands, sending a throbbing pain all the way down your feet. Yeah, that was not happening. You were not about to dig into that. Fuck everything. Let it kill you. At least you’d go out in what used to be a pretty dress with and Steve’s voice in your ear; you imagined there were worse ways to die.

“No way in hell. You weren’t kidding about the pain.”

You could almost hearthe ‘Yeah, no shit’ screaming from his mind despite your own starting to buzz with thousands of whispers, but he clearly swallowed the remark. His voice was like a steel when he spoke up again; strict and uncompromising.

“Spectre. Do it. Now.”

A lump grew in your throat, the instinct to follow his orders – because he really was just trying to save your life for god’s sake, you knew that – forcing you to press your index finger of your dominant hand into the pulsing tender flesh.

The fresh tsunami of white-hot agony slammed into you, goosebumps erupting all over your body as you swiftly retreated your shaking hand; tears sprang from your eyes, rapid breaths giving way to a choked sob. And then another one.

And another one.

“No. Can’t.”

The countless memories of feeling almost as helpless and weak and incapable of standing up after being kicked down flooded your brain, wrapping you in a fog and making it harder to breathe, your own voice a distant pathetic echo. Begging never help, it only brought laughter or profound disappointment, from others, from yourself – but you couldn’t, couldn’t---

“Please, please don’t make me.”

“Hey, hey! Okay, easy,” Steve called out gently, his tone only making you squeeze your eyes shut. How did he not sound condescending, but genuinely compassionate and alarmed at once? You were being a fucking baby, but god, did it hurt- “Easy, doll.”

Another sob fought its way out before you could hope to stifle it, the endearment like a caress you knew you didn’t deserve and never saw coming.

Pathetic.

You were being pathetic and you needed to do better and you could work with pain, you worked through so much pain before, so why was this one instance so damn hard? Why were you scared like never before? Why were you shaking so bad? Why did the red on your hands felt so much more violent than all the time before combined?

“I know it hurts and I know--- I probably can’t imagine how much, but you have to do it so we can get out of here. And I know you can do it too, even if it seems impossible now. You… you’ve done amazing things and barely broke a sweat. You’ve pushed through a lot. You can push through this too.”

How? you wanted to ask, but couldn’t catch your breath.

You could hear his words, you would agree with some of them, hell, you’d revel in him saying that, preening at the praise, especially from the barely human person he was, but you weren’t him. You weren’t perfect. You bled, you hurt, you felt fear, you failed, and you… you felt really cold.

You were, despite Steve’s words, drenched in sweat despite the goosebumps raised all over your skin; and yet, you were shivering, feeling not only your hands having grown cold, but you whole body too. Cold that came from within.

That was not good. That was not good and the brain fog was growing thicker, with no way of fighting it. Your adrenalin must have been wearing off. You licked your lips, a bitter salty taste on your tongue, your eyes fluttering open. Heavy eyelids. You were crashing out; and you wouldn’t bet a single penny on waking up from that.

“I’m… I think I’m cold now,” you admitted shakily, only to be met with a resolute protest, contrasting sharply with Steve’s previous comforting words.

“No. No, you are not.”

“Don’t fucking gaslight me, Rogers,” you hissed in return, feeling a rise of spite in your gut. What the hell did he know? “I know what I feel.”

The frustrated noise from behind the wall might have as well been a wolf’s growl. “Okay. Okay. If you won’t do it, coach me through astral projection and I’ll do it for you.”

That had you sit up straighter, like a lightning bolt striking mere feet from you and raising instant alert.

“…what?”

“Think about it. We still don’t know what exactly happened, but there were two parts of the artifact. We both felt the jolt upon touch. If you feel the effects of the serum, if you became a supersoldier, and at the same time, if you couldn’t project before, maybe I have acquired your abilities.”

You blinked, allowing yourself the luxury of pondering his words.

He thought that you didn’t… steal his powers? You exchanged them? It was almost embarrassing you haven’t thought of that, because as he said it, it made the perfect sense. If you ignored the fact that it sounded completely insane, it was, in fact, an entirely plausible scenario. Yes, your and Steve’s mutations were very different, came from different sources, but it would explain why you couldn’t project and felt so detached from your spectre; you no longer had it. Steve did.

Still. It was completely crazy that the Kree would create an artifact that could cause that. Sure, they had created an Inhuman who could control all of the other Inhumans, but power swap?

The blue idiot alien race had to be joking.

“What, like some kind of a supernatural Freaky Friday?” you breathed out, still doubtful – and feeling like an idiot yourself since you made a reference Steve was very unlikely to understand.

Then again, the man lived not only to irritate you, but to surprise too.

There was a smile in his voice, even if brief. “Yeah, a bit like a supernatural Freaky Friday. Maybe. It would be worth a try.”

Would it really?

“Steve, I-“

“Tell me how to use your powers,” he coaxed, the undertone of urgency still present, causing the lump in your throat grow – and another essential issue arise in our mind as your gaze flickered to the fluorescent lamp and the small device attached to it.

“They’re listening,” you said lowly, hoping he’d hear. “If we-“

“I honestly don’t give a damn at this point,” he said matter-of-factly. “We can deal with that once I know you’re not bleeding out.”

Gulping, you eased the pressure on your wounds, for the first time grateful you had something to focus on besides the conviction in Steve’s voice when he basically said your life took precedence to Hydra finding out Avengers’ secrets and the feeling it stirred in your belly.

“So, would you please let me help? Tell me how it works. Can you do that, doll? Can you describe how big the room is, what’s in it and most importantly, can you tell me what to do to get to you?”

The soft deep commanding timbre felt like a warm hug, the irrational certainty of everything working out just fine in the end because he’d make it so with your help choking you when you tried to resist one more time.

“Steve, even if you’re right about this whole… power switching, it took me months of hard work to perfect it and it’s still not… perfect.”

He sighed.

“I know it did and you did perfect it. But we don’t need perfect now,” he pressed before making a pause and when he spoke up, it was an unyielding power of a gentle command. “The choice is yours. Remove those bullets yourself or tell me what to do.”

You huffed. You had to say, one of those things sounded a lot better. You could just really do without the former following the latter either way.

And maybe you could.

You blinked through the fog as the realization hit you. Gritting your teeth, you sat up straighter and moved your legs to have better access despite the sharp pain it elicited. You could do this. You could do this. You had been through worse. And now you had – at least to some extent – the power of a supersoldier. You had start acting like it.

If Steve damn Rogers could work through pain like this, you could too – even in a much more pathetic tear-stained way. He was here with you. Which meant that not only you weren’t alone in this mess, but you also weren’t alone in this mess. Captain Rogers didn’t have his usual powers, meaning he couldn’t get out on his own and he was left dangerously vulnerable.

You’d be fucking damned if you’d be the reason the world lost its most inspiring hero.

You could do better.

“Spectre? Are you-“

“I can do you one better,” you announced flatly, almost laughing at your stupidity, at not suggesting it before.

“…how?”

You weren’t sure if the bewilderment you could hear in his voice was caused by the sudden clarity of your own or by your words.

There were at least two other options if Steve was right.

God, you really had the blood loss short-circuit your brain, didn’t you?

“If your hands and arms were free, would you be able to break out from the chains?” you demanded, the fog in your mind dispersing as fresh adrenalin, fresh hope flooded your veins.

“I don’t think so. Not without… my usual strength?”

You hummed. That was the worse option; then again, if had he been able to project himself just outside of his bounds and attempted to free himself, he might accidentally touch himself and, much like you had done the first time it happened, proceed to pass out at the contradiction of simultaneously initiating and receiving the same touch.

The other option it was then. Still far from useless.

“Alright then…”

“What are you thinking?” he asked cautiously and the wary tone almost made you smile. Almost. If it only wasn’t for what you had to do while his spectre could explore wherever you were being held, hopefully able to send some kind of signal to the team.

You had no doubt he would find a way; he was crafty like that when he wanted to be.

In fact, projecting to the hallway might be the better option of the two after all; if it was only his projection sneaking around, his physical form would remain mostly unharmed if he ran into trouble.

“I’m thinking that… I’ll try to the extremely insane thing you suggested I do, that being digging into my own quadriceps, Jesus Christ--- and to distract myself form it, I’ll tell you how to appear outside of my cell. And yours too. I got a good glimpse when-” they shot me, Hail fucking Hydra, “the door opened.” 

Two beats of silence; two beats of silence in which Steve Rogers probably wondered if you had finally lost your mind completely and frankly, you were doing the same as you hiked up your skirt properly, taking a deep breath though the fresh wave of nausea rising up your throat.

You could still back out. You could still tell Steve to project to you, to do this instead, and then you’d have a perfectly good excuse to have complicated feelings about him. Hell, maybe you’d convince him to knock you out, provide you with the oldest form of anaesthesia.

Maybe-

“…okay,” he said at last, halting your absurd thoughts and maybe, just maybe you tried to steal some of the determination in his voice for yourself. “Okay. Tell me.”

Breathe.

In. And out. You bit your cheek hard enough to draw blood as you forced two of your fingers slide into the wound on your left thigh, the wrench of pain strong enough to blind you for a moment; but the pain was soon but a dull echo of the sharpness that had come with the hit. That or you were already too close to death to actually feel anything.

In and out. Breathe.

Nice and slow.

“Okay. Okay, Steve. Have you ever tried meditation?”

Of course he had managed to project.

You should have known.

Within minutes, he figured out what had taken you days to achieve. Sure, that was the goal – to have him create his spectre so he could inspect the hallway for any possible escape routes or anything else remotely helpful – but that didn’t make it any less irritating that while you struggled with his powers, he took yours as his own as if they had always been exactly that.

Steven damn Rogers projected into another room like it was the easiest thing in the world, while you had to will yourself to do every minuscule movement, near hyperventilating by the time he had tried to open the door to your cell – to no avail, of course.

In fact, the whole projection turned out to be a dead end. The hallway was as plain as your cells, bare walls bar the lights and cameras and three doors lining one of them – one door to his cell, one to yours, one to what you assumed was another cell, all locked without a key in sight. And at the end of the corridor, one large heavy door opening in Steve’s direction, locked as well, and so completely unyielding that neither you nor Steve thought it would be a good idea to try the same stunt you had attempted to pull with yours.

But there was one positive outcome, you supposed – or two, if worked really hard to look at the bright side.

One of them was that your theory was confirmed now – you had clearly exchanged your abilities when you had touched the artifact, as improbable as it sounded even to you, a person who received her original powers though a transition initiated by an ancient alien artifact.

The other was that next to your shaking thighs now lied two blood-stained pieces of what you assumed was lead-aluminium alloy; two bullets dripping blood. Your vision zeroed on them with sick awe as you couldn’t quite believe you had pulled that out of your body with your bare hands, the fact giving the ordinary pieces of metal almost a supernatural glow. The rest of world was a blur, shaking due to your own exertion; you had returned to lying on the floor a long time ago, your muscles having given out as your body tried to save the last remnants of energy to actually stay awake. 

You knew that in theory, removing the bullets should have helped. But having trouble keeping your eyes open, with your head spinning at the mere idea of as much as propping up on your elbows, you weren’t so sure it worked the same way for you as it usually had for Steve.

Steve. That gorgeous talented bastard. He could probably project and bring something back with him when he snapped back, so fast to learn that he could probably break the limits of your powers with his left pinky alone, and achieve the one thing you had never achieved yourself.

He was simply perfect at everything.

You wished you had enough strength to despise him for it.

“Okay, so… I’ve never made it work so far, but… try the Tower. You’re clearly a natural,” you drawled, not sure if he could actually hear you, let alone understand you.

Were you talking quietly or screaming? Were you genuinely suggesting he did that or just talking, having gathered a little bit of spite to sass him? It was getting harder and harder to tell.

Scoff came from the other cell; Steve apparently had not only heard you, but disagreed.

“Don’t oversell it. I had you to coach me through it, knowing exactly how it works, getting step by step instructions. And still, I barely made it a few metres. I don’t have a tenth the level of your skill,” he said, frustration bleeding into his voice.

You supposed you couldn’t blame him – despite the fact he had outdone himself, again, it was no use in the end and here you were, still asking more of him.

It didn’t help that some of the dread that had gathered in your stomach resided in him too; you were getting out of options and the clock was ticking, for you more than him.  He might not care that much for you personally, but you weren’t that much of an idiot to think he didn’t care if someone, let alone someone on his team, bled out on his watch; or in this case, in his earshot. You tried to ignore the ice-cold feeling creeping up your spine as it became clear that it was likely with every passing moment.

Physically, you were beyond drained. But mentally, you were growing tired too; of helplessness, of waiting for a miracle. You didn’t see anything you could do to make for a miracle of your own.

Maybe Steve could. He could do fucking everything, even if he might be grumbling as he did so.

“Even if I was half as good, even if I could reach the Tower, I’m not leaving you here. Not without any chance of knowing what’s happening while I’m out, I’m not leaving you here just hoping for the best,” he said, growing more agitated by the minute. “There’s no place I could lead the team, since we still don’t know where we are and I wouldn’t be able to bring anything back, nothing that would track or location, so how on Earth would projecting to the Tower even help?”

One, two, three… four frantic beats of your heart, spent in stunned silence.

Then, a sudden roar of rage growling inside that you took you by surprise – and so did its potency.

Your fist hit the floor hard, sending dust and smashed concrete flying before you even knew you had raised a hand. You sure felt the bite of pain as the impact broke your skin though – but you didn’t care.

Because seriously?

Seriously?!  

“I don’t know, Steve, okay?!! Just because I have your abilities it doesn’t mean I have all the answers like you always do!” you exploded.

Your own voice came back to you in a dull echo, blood buzzing in your ears. The sudden movement of your upper body had your head spin violently, nausea pulling at your insides and causing you to heave; it only fed the vertigo as one of the statements repeated in the biannual first aid courses filled your head with panic and stuffed your ears with cotton.

In case of approaching critical blood loss, the bloodstream redistributes blood from non-essential organs such as extremities and digestive system to support the vital organs, which might cause intense nausea and vomiting.

A whimper fought its way through your lips even before you even allowed the thought to take root.

“Spectre?! What’s happening?”

Nothing, you wanted to snap back, realizing you didn’t seem able to form a single word.

When had your tongue started to feel so heavy?

When had your lips turned so numb?

When had the pain became but a slight nudge in the back of your mind? Even as that was something you had trained for, to get the pain you often felt to exactly the stage where it moved to the background so you could function and just keep going, you didn’t think it was a good thing now.

This wasn’t your will. This was your body shutting down.

“I… I think I’m going to pass-“

“No! No, you aren’t! That’s an order!” Steve spat like a child demanding his toy back with a stubbornness that would make a mule seem like a pleasant opponent in discussion. “You stay awake, goddammit!”

Perhaps your brain wasn’t a vital organ either, because it illogically supplied you with an image of Captain Rogers closer to throwing a tantrum that you had ever seen. An image of Steve long before he became the hero the whole world knew; a hundred-pound short man, a ball of righteous rage, swinging around his bony fists to protect those who didn’t have the strength to do so themselves and spewing countless colourful curses around in the process. You heard he had been like that; the image was almost endearing.

And it wasn’t that you never heard Steve Rogers curse at things these days; you had just never heard him swear as much as today.   

“Wow… another swearword… how many is that… in the past hour?”

“Oh for god’s--- Spectre. Do not close your eyes,” he ordered again, a funny edge to his voice you couldn’t be bothered to decipher.

Instead, you closed your eyes despite his command, eyelids as if made of lead.

What was the point? It wasn’t like you could see anything nice in the empty room, not like you needed to have a visual. You could stare into the void with your eyes closed just the same.

And yet. The faintest ghost of a smile tugged at your lips as Steve’s words didn’t make any sense.

“It’s a myth, you know,” you muttered, words getting harder to form with every shallow breath. “If your body… decides to crash, you--- no amount of yelling… helps… to stay conscious.”

The sigh that reached your ears carried exhaustion of a hundred-year-old man who actually looked and felt his biological age; one who was worn to a bone and sure as hell did not look as good in a suit as the Steve you knew did.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve replied, voice having turned much softer; but still with the undertone of that something you were too tired to investigate. “I know first aid too.”

Who would have thought Steve Rogers could sass you back in a situation like this? Who would have thought he would agree with you as he did so?

You might feel cold still, but the insistent tug on the corner of your lips felt warm. Like reconciliation and absolution at once.

“So why bark orders?” you asked half-heartedly.

“I don’t know. I… I need you to talk back, okay?” he whispered sincerely, and this time it was not your lips that felt warm; it was your very being. Warmth you’d normally shield yourself against, no matter whom it came from, because it was not safe to let it in. But you were tired of fighting; and it felt so good to let it wash over you, felt so good to let the illusion pull you in. To allow yourself to think, for a moment, that he genuinely cared for you. “Need you awake and snarky. I’d miss that.”

“Hm… such flattery.”

And it was.

I’d miss that that didn’t sound like I’d miss your abilities on the team.

I’d miss that that sounded like I’d miss you.

And the forbidden fruit tasted damn sweet against the bitter tang of long-lost adrenalin on your tongue. Maybe, just maybe, you’d allow yourself to believe that that was what he was saying: I’d miss you.

That was a sweet thought, wasn’t it? That anyone would miss you for you in the first place.

“Just… keep talking to me, alright? Tell me… everything about the room you’re in.”

Your felt your features twist a bit at his request, the faintest confusion. “It’s plain… told ya’.”

“I don’t care. Tell me again. Everything,” he demanded with sudden urgency and you huffed, opening your eyes with effort, squinting against the ever-present annoying fluorescent light.

The illusion could have lasted longer, you thought bitterly; you could have rested while willingly in its clutches. Apparently, there was no rest for the wicked anymore.

“Bossy…”

Despite the single uttered word, the instinct to obey was stronger; and your heart did flutter a bit as you realized why Steve had asked you to do that. Why he pressed you for every detail, the dimensions of the room, the colour of the walls, where in the room you were lying curled up.

You knew it was a trick to keep your eyes open despite the fact you had both stated that it wouldn’t have helped you to fight off unconsciousness, but you accepted the game anyway. If you kept your mind focused, if you talked, Steve knew in every moment that you were still conscious.

You could grant him that much of a professional courtesy.

It really was nice, you thought distantly, to see he truly cared about the well-being of his team, about bringing everyone home, no matter how he felt about them. It was nice to feel it too, even as it was barely any news; it had always been in his every gesture, in his careful planning of missions, in his observant gaze in training, in everyday life, especially in his care for his friends – always watching, always seeing, always doing his best to fix the situation, to fight demons that weren’t his to fight, but he felt like they were, because they bothered someone he cared for, someone he felt responsible for.

He always stood in the light; and where there was no light, he fought to bring it himself. Despite your differences, there was no denying that even merely basking in that light felt like a privilege; that despite feeling the pressure, the unshakable drive to be at least half as good, to measure up, to be better than you thought you could ever be, the light his presence emitted was a pleasant one. Obtrusive at times, but kind and warm.

Not like the lamp.

The lamp, dammit. You didn’t realize your eyes had slid shut again until you heard a whisper of your name, horrified almost as if he could see you cheating.

It was funny, truly; because when you opened your eyes again, there he was, in all his glory as your mind had conjured him, kneeling by your huddled form, his perfectly fitting three-piece still on even if dusty, scruffy and torn, the annoying light shining from behind him making him look like every bit of an angel who was sheepishly hiding his wings to blend and yet standing out among the crowds anyway; large, magnificent and ready to protect.

It was no wonder you would have hallucinated him like this, down to the suit. He had looked so damn handsome the night of the auction – it felt like forever had passed since then – although you had been reluctant to say it even under the veil of a common courtesy. He had smiled when you had done so, a little crinkle in the corner of his eye, adding to his glow.

Now, his handsome features were twisted into the mask of concern and damn near horror. He spoke your name again, gently touching your ankle.

And you felt the touch.

A very, very realtouch that made you jump and scramble away even as you elbows gave out and you nearly cracked your head open as you fell back down; except the back of your head never hit the ground, Steve’s hands quick to catch you, brows furrowing further at your breathless cry of pain.

“Careful-“

In an instant, you felt like you had never been more alert in your whole damn life, eyes wide open, vision clearing – and mind as well.

Your body had really had to decide brain wasn’t important if you hadn’t used it to figure out why Steve had wanted to know about the room. You should have known it had had nothing to do with you staying awake; it was about projecting to you. A feat which he, naturally, managed without a single issue, this time without any further instruction on how to do it.

God, that crazy, infuriating bastard, with his firm grip on your shoulders and entirely believable concern. You couldn’t believe him.

What the hell did he think he was doing? And why were you so happy to see him anyw- no.

This was a cardinally idiotic idea.

“Steve… get the hell out. This isn’t helping us get out and you’re left unprotected-“

“I’m chained in there, there’s literally no difference,” he hushed you, eyes roaming your body, his Adam’s apple bobbing, face gaining an ashen undertone at the sight you made. “I can take care of you at least. Come on.”

You really wanted to be pissed – you wanted to scream because this was exactly the kind of thing you knew Steven damn Rogers would do. He’d get the perfect handle on your damn superpowers mere minutes after gaining them, because of course he would, he was perfect at everything, ready to walk en pointe with few grands jetés en tournant thrown in when in your shoes; and he’d be a hypocrite again, leaving himself even more vulnerable than before.

But it was so so hard to be truly mad at him when he did all that to treat your wounds, to make sure you were as alright as the situation allowed.

When he touched you so damn carefully, gingerly sliding one arm under your knees, the other under your arms.

When he gritted his teeth to lift you, but made no comment, no sound, not besides a breathy apology for causing you more pain as he did so.

When you hummed it was alright, more of an instinct than anything else, and it occurred to you through the fresh wave of pulsing pain that he was used to putting in much less effort, now missing his strength – but he didn’t complain.

You could tell due to the slight tremble to his muscles that it was a strain for him; you could tell because he had carried you countless times before, even if you had been barely conscious and thus barely aware of it. But this you remembered. You remembered because it haunted some of your dreams; much like the combination of his cologne, musk and something distinctly him.

The loss of the warm solid muscle as he manoeuvred you to rest your back against the wall almost hurt more than the process of putting you down; but if you’d ever get a chance to dream again, you were certain your subconscious would recall it with startling clarity. 

You still winced unwittingly at the pull at your thighs as he stretched your legs with utmost care, staying on his knees by your side.

“There we go,” he hummed soothingly, meeting your gaze, eyes serious and sincere with a promise. “I’m going to take a look at the wounds, alright? I promise to be as quick and as careful as possible.”

A barely-there nod was the only confirmation he needed if he had been looking for one in the first place.

He dropped his gaze and moved his hands to your skirts, hiking it up again as it had slid back, tearing your already destroyed thigh-highs for better access.

The pulse of heat in your abdomen as his fingers slipped under the thin fabric and ripped was all kinds of inappropriate and indecent; but despite the scolding in your mind, you had to regretfully admit you were only human and the memory of another dream, where he had done this in completely different circumstances, with his lips at the shell of your ear whispering filthy praise and with his deft fingers teasingly sliding considerably higher than they were now, snuck up on you before you could fight it off.

You distracted yourself by watching his face instead, the wrinkle between his brows as he frowned, lips in this line with their corners turned slightly down. A bruise was forming on his cheek under his right eye, a small cut above his brow – small injuries that would have normally been long healed had he still had his powers.

Your hazy mind still had trouble processing this was real, the scene so absurd and surreal that it was hard to believe this wasn’t just another figment of your imagination; on the other hand, this was the kind of shit Steve would pull.

And the pain shooting up all the way up your spine as he tugged at something that reached deep into your flesh felt terribly real and had you release a pitiful whine you had no chance stifle since you hadn’t seen it coming – because you were too busy staring at Steve Rogers’ goddamn pretty face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to do this,” he whispered frantically, a true apology in his tense voice.

You couldn’t see his expression now, eyes squeezed shut as whatever he had done happened again, causing you to recoil and try to push his hands away as you bit down the hiss this time. His hand, sticky with blood, caught yours instead, pressing something very thin and relatively small – a piece of thread? – into your palm.

You blinked your eyes open, morbid curiosity getting the best of you; it was indeed a blood-soaked thread, probably from your dress, that must have caught in the wound. One that had probably begun to grow into the tissue as the healing had started.

You stared at it mutely, the throbbing pain in your left leg pulsing in sync with your heartbeat, dark spots in your peripheral vision. In your head, you admitted you understood why would that have to be done; but you truly didn’t want to say thank you for that even as you felt you should have.

You winced when Steve’s fingers moved to your right leg, as gentle as his touch to the flesh was, your eyes snapping shut again, lips pressed into a thin line.

For a brief second, you wondered if in some twisted sense Steve took sadistic pleasure in digging into your wounds with the excuse of treating you, but you dismissed the thought as soon as it nudged your mind.   

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s all done now,” he whispered, the regret lacing his voice only confirming the absurdity of your fleeting thought, offering you a whole new surreal thing to ponder.

Did he just-

“The other shot seems clean,” he added, as if he hadn’t just confused the hell out of you.

You should have probably focused on the good news of him not planning to poke in your flesh anymore, but your brain zeroed on a completely different word he had said before that.

For all the swearwords he had graced you with today, this was the second term of endearment, even sweeter than the last one.

You had heard Barnes call women dolls before, a slip of a tongue in most instances, a glimpse of the flirt he had used to be in his time if the stories you had heard were at least half truthful; nothing but a dated word they had used daily back in the late thirties and forties.

But never Steve.

And definitely not like this.

“Sweetheart?” you questioned lowly as his touch disappeared at last, his gaze snapping to yours half-lidded.

Unless your eyes were deceiving you, there seemed to be a tinge on pink in his cheek; a hazy memory of the same image flashed through your mind, a memory of him complimenting the dress you had chosen.

Except this time, something mildly teasing twinkled in his eye even as his small smile appeared sad.

“Would you prefer sourheart?”

Your own huff of laughter took you by surprise, but it was certainly worth it since the corners of Steve’s lips rose slightly higher.

“Feels more accurate,” you hummed, your heart skipping a beat as he began to shrug off his suit jacket, revealing the white shirt and vest underneath.

If you weren’t mistaken, his shirts normally barely stretched over his wide shoulders and large biceps; the muscles now seemed less defined, the little trick the artifact had done having actually taken a toll. Not that you had spent a lot of time observing Steve Rogers’ arms. It was simply… a vague observation made in order to further analyse the artifact.

But you were probably focusing on the wrong details; you had no idea why Steve was taking off his clothes.

“Maybe it would have, if you hadn’t told me you didn’t mean at least half of the things you said,” he said, lips curling up in a brief smirk as he shook the jacket before dropping it next to him. “No takebacks.”

Your eyebrows jumped, another chuckle – mildly insulted – bubbling in your chest.

Anyone ever told you you’re a little shit? you almost asked, biting your tongue last second.

He was being friendly, joking even, to distract you from the pain; the same way you had thought he had wanted to keep you talking before. He was being his perfect self again – but for once, you could forgive him for that. You were grateful. Because god knew you needed that, even as you shouldn’t have, even as you should have handled this just fine on your own and shouldn’t have needed a knight in a three-piece suit to come to your rescue.

You nearly sprang forward to stop him as the reached for the fabric of his left sleeve covering his bicep and tugged roughly, an irrational don’t ruin the expensive shirt scolding on your tongue; but you bit down again, settling for frowning. It was a real shame to tear such fine piece of clothing, almost as much as ruining your dress; the shirt, even with the stains of the blood and ash, still looked superb on him.

He managed to tear off the sleeve at last, ripping it further at the seams to create a long strip – an improvised bandage, you finally realized. He repeated the action with his other sleeve, revealing a few cuts on his arm.

He had shielded you when you had hit the glass display; and he paid for it dearly, his cuts never getting a chance to heal. Regret coiled in your gut along with anger; he had told you he wasn’t hurt. Of course he fucking had. As long as he wasn’t bleeding out from at least three separate gunshot wounds, he was all breezy, wasn’t he? That stubborn piece of-

Damn him. Damn him and how handsome he was despite all that, even with cuts and bruises and torn off sleeves, once again seeking your gaze to tell you what he was about to do.

“I don’t exactly have a tourniquet on me to stop the bleeding but it would probably be counterproductive at this point anyway. This will keep the tissue edges near each other to mend easier,” he informed you, adding a half-hearted smile.

Not knowing what to say, you made a non-committal sound and braced yourself for more pain, even as it was evident that he was doing everything he could to minimize your suffering. As he began to wrap the fabric around your thigh, he was so careful about moving you as little as possible it was almost laughable given your situation.

Except you weren’t laughing; tears gathered in your eyes as you watched his face instead, your gut clenching, a suffocating weight settling on your chest. Now that he wasn’t talking to you, the traces of worry were clear in his features again; he seemed laser-focused on his task, only taking a glance on your face every now and then to check you weren’t giving into the exhaustion you had felt earlier.

You weren’t. You tried to keep as awake as possible even as the sleepiness slowly returned with your nerves calming and firing at once.

Worn to a bone and probably looking like hell, you still felt alert, even as you had leaned back to the wall, your head lulling a bit, eternally grateful Steve had propped you so you could relax without lying on the floor. Your gaze remained sharp despite the tears – and full of him.

He was painstakingly beautiful from such proximity when he wasn’t yelling; and if it were possible, kindness shone from his eyes more than ever.

You knew he was good – irritatingly, untouchably so – just like you knew he wouldn’t do what he could have. Yet, it still stunned you.

He could have taken sick pleasure in your agony indeed, because you weren’t friends; if anything, you resembled frenemies, reluctant colleagues at best, ones who had clashed more than once.

He could have got quite a few kicks out of seeing you like this, could have punished you for your incompetence, displays of weakness or insubordination – could have easily made you hurt.

But he didn’t.

Like the angel he had appeared when you first saw him materialize in your cell, he would never.

He did the exact opposite; his large hands, bar the moments he had tugged at his shirt sleeves until they tore, were almost delicate in his touch. A touch of an artist.

A ghost of a smile settled your lips, two tears running down your cheeks as you recalled the times you had caught a glimpse of him with a sketchbook. Those moments made you smile too; it was the most gorgeous way of passing his downtime. You wished you could see his sketches, even if you might find out he was only drawing people as stick figures, which you knew he didn’t – he was no doubt talented.

He was gifted in everything; it truly was annoying.

But god, he was so profoundly good, breathtakingly handsome and unbelievably tender as he wrapped the fabric around each of your thighs, wary of touching you higher up your legs than was strictly necessary, because of course he would be so damn respectful even in a situation like this.

There was only one person in the room who had indecent thoughts about the other before, because even if Steve Rogers ever had indecent thoughts, they certainly didn’t concern you.

He didn’t seem to mind your staring, glancing up once he was done with a soft smile on his lips, carefully laying your leg down again.

“There you go. You should feel occasional tug in the wounds, but that only means the healing process started,” he explained lowly, speaking slow, making sure you registered every syllable as your eyes closed again, a soundless thank you on your lips. “You’re welcome. You did a really good job, you know? Not many people would have been be able to do even half of what you just did.”

The weight on your chest only grew, heart quivering – and briefly, so did your lower lip, the sincere praise breaking something deep within you. You felt like you had done everything but a good job. You had needed handholding through survival. That was the opposite of a really good job since survival and saving other people was literally what you had been trained for.

But then there was the fact this was Steve Rogers. Steve, who rarely said things he didn’t mean; Steve, who was practically perfection personified; and he told you that you had done well. One did not dismiss that and scoff over it. When someone like him praised you, you couldn’t but feel the words sink into your very bones, a whole another part of you than your legs healing a fraction.

“Hey…”

A soft sound of your name, a painfully gentle touch to your forehead, a strand of hair, sticky with sweat and blood as you had tried to push it away earlier, moved to side; another touch, this time to your jaw, pushing your chin slightly up to sit straighter, calloused thumb pressing against the tear rolling down your cheek.

You blinked your eyes open, this time certain you were dreaming. But he was still there, as real as you, cradling your face and watching you with intent gaze, a tight-lipped concerned smile.

You needed to pull yourself together. He had already crossed almost every boundary there was, pushing himself lightyears out of his comfort zone just to support you in any way he thought you needed; both verbal and physical. And technically, spiritual too, even as his astral projection was more tangible than he himself had ever felt.

“You’re being very brave, doll. But stay awake. You’re doing great.”

“So why am I bleeding?” you questioned breathlessly with a slightly arched eyebrow.

It felt ungrateful on your part; but handling so many kind words at once was becoming unbearable, a suffocating feeling in your ribcage.

He grimaced at your question, retreating his touch hesitantly as if he was worried you’d collapse entirely if he stopped supporting your head for even a few seconds.

It wasn’t a completely invalid concern; and perhaps it was the blood loss speaking, but you’d consider doing just that if it only brought you a few more seconds of this treatment.

Alright, you really, really needed to get a grip.

Mentally, you patted your cheeks harshly, forcing your eyes wide open – it was time to stop daydreaming about things that were to never come again.

“Are you still cold?” Steve asked, already reaching for the suit jacket he had discarded before you could answer, the action bordering on mother-henning.

You couldn’t stop the quirking of your lips despite the tug at your heartstrings.

“You gonna cuddle me if I say yes, Rogers?”

It was meant to sound like a tease, putting distance between his seemingly genuine care and your heart, but the sarcasm got lost in translation, the words sounding more like a plea.

Luckily, Steve let it slide. He simply shook his head, something akin to a proud smile adorning his face at your attempt at spite.

“Not sure, Spectre. You’re the one who goes through first aid courses on the regular. You tell me whether sharing body heat helps…”

Your lips twitched further. Sassy bag. It was honestly difficult to keep your head straight when he was like this. Too good to be true and yet so painfully solid.

He really was the most infuriating man, wasn’t he? Helping you slide into his jacket, the scent of everything that was him replacing the ever-present smell of blood and sweat. Smoothening the sleeves, a small smile still playing on his lips despite the crinkle of worry returning, bringing the word cute at the forefront of your mind.

He indeed was scandalously, unfairly pretty.

No one should look so charming with blood and smudges of ash on their face, hair messy, dressed in a now-sleeveless dirty shirt with and an unbuttoned vest. No one should be able to convey such warmth in their gaze; especially not when it had to be a lie if they were looking at you, not when you knew this was him and he probably considered all this a common courtesy, the jerk, just so casually, irritatingly kind-

“Better now?”

The same warmth that shone in his eyes, the same warmth his jacket offered, was in his voice. His hands were warm too, a sheen of sweat glistening in his hairline, so you supposed he wasn’t cold and would indeed be willing to share some of his body heat.

Jokes aside, a cuddle sounded most lovely; definitely crossing a line, entirely inappropriate, in the worst possible place and probably with the worst possible person, but still heavenly. Against your better judgement, you’d trust him; you always trusted him. You trusted him with your life and you had a distant feeling you could trust him with anything; the problem was you couldn’t afford to take such leap, not when every time you had taken a leap of faith, there was no one there to catch you in the end, the landing breaking what you thought couldn’t be broken further.

Protect your heart. Protect yourself. Especially from men like him, a voice whispered in the very back of your mind, pushing through the sea of musing to be heard.

A man like him wouldn’t want anything less than perfect. He’d deserve nothing less either.

And yet, when his hand brushed over yours, the rapid beats of your heart could not only be blamed on the blood loss, nor could the way your pulse thundered in your ears. The cold of your skin might have though and it clearly bothered your companion; Steve moved to cover your bare legs with your skirts as much as he could before taking off his vest as well, spreading it over your shins and feet.

“You’re going to be alri-”

The sound of footsteps reached your little bubble of surreal reality too late – barely a second before the key rattled in the lock and the door was swinging open just as the startled cry erupted from your lips.

“Steve-!”

He only managed to whip his head around, moving but a fraction.

As the time seemed to slow for a long moment and you became a mere observer of the scene, you noticed, much to your irritation, that Steve’s minuscule movement was towards you. To shield you again.

He never got that far when the sound of a gunshot tore through your very soul, his body thrown backwards at the impact.

A single bullet to his chest.

You choked on the scream of his name, tears springing from your eyes as you tried to launch forward – but his body never hit the ground.

It disappeared into thin air.

You panted, violent shudder shaking your body, your eyes squeezed shut as you failed to get the scene you had just witnessed from where it got burned into your retinas.

The only thing you achieved was that it was now replaying behind your closed eyelids, claws of terror digging into your flesh, tearing at your heart.

The shock of the pain must have made Steve snap back into his body. That was all, that had to be what happened.

It had to.

You knew, rationally, that Steve was likely fine, because such was your experience with the powers: his physical body remained unharmed bar the pain, as unpleasant and exhausting as it was. He was alright, because you would have been.

But fuck.

The horror of seeing him shot in the chest right in front of you. Steve Rogers, who – except for the past few minutes – had only ever been in his physical body, tangible and real, to whom getting shot in the chest meant real damn consequences which could and would equal death.

And what if it doesn’t work for him the same way it does for you? a tiny but very loud voice screamed in your head, causing your hands to shake harder, the dried blood on them now a pleasant sight in comparison of imagining Steve’s own blood oozing out of his chest.

You hadn’t taken all of Steve’s enhancement – you hadn’t grown two feet taller or gained a hundred pounds of muscle and he hadn’t changed back into the state before given the serum. What if your abilities in his body worked differently? What if he managed to project and now snap back, but the injury stayed with him, transferring back to his actual body?

What if he was bleeding to death?

What if he was dead?

You swallowed the sob fighting its way out over the lump in your throat, desperate to grasp at any resemblance of rationality instead of panic. Gritting your teeth, you willed yourself to focus on the sounds on the other side of the wall with all your might, hearing nothing but the rapid thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of your own terrified heart.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, dammit.

Breathe, Rogers, or I’m going to kill you myself!

Could you hear his ragged breaths of was it just your wishful thinking?

He had to be still breathing. There was no time for his spectre to lose blood – the most likely outcome was that Steve’s chest hurt like hell, but hopefully he was still alive and conscious. And more importantly, he wasn’t bleeding to death.

Right?

Right?!

“In case you still need it,” a rough voice hummed from the doorway, causing your eyes to snap open.

You caught a glimpse of an object flying your direction from the corner of your eye, a dark one, then a transparent one. One landed with soft thud, the other with a hard one; a small first aid kit and a bottle of water.

You didn’t give a damn, even if water – or anything to drink really – sounded like salvation. Instead, your glare snapped to the man. The first proper look at the bastard who had the fucking audacity to shoot Steve.

For someone being so daring and such a pain in the ass, he was desperately boring. Average height, dark hair, dark eyes, no expression at all on his face; dressed all in black, the Hydra emblem sitting proudly on his biceps, as if that was the only thing that could have separated him from the pain of being so awfully ordinary.

Someone should really tell him that joining Hydra to achieve being extraordinary had been a step in the wrong direction, because ethe only thing it had made him was an extraordinary dick.

He glanced at you without as much as mild interest, already moving backwards; eyes still on you.

But you didn’t give a damn. Let him see you as you gritted your teeth and pushed up on your arms, Steve’s vest sliding down your legs as you tried to get to your feet despite the sharp protest of your damaged muscles.

Sometimes people just needed the right motivation to outdo themselves; and the desire to snap the asshole’s neck was plenty motivating.

You still couldn’t tell if the echo of Steve’s harsh breaths was your own imagination or a real thing. You’d deal with that later.

The Hydra man arched his eyebrow, stopping mid-step, something akin to faint amusement on his face.

“I wouldn’t do that. You’re hurt. Lost a lot of blood,” he reminded you as if the smell of copper didn’t tickle your nostrils with every breath, as if you couldn’t feel muscles shaking with exertion when you as much as tried to fold your legs under you to stand up. The surge of adrenalin was potent, but not almighty. He tilted his head a you managed to rise up. “Not to mention that one word and the Captain won’t live long enough to say as much as a goodbye. If you stay down, we’ll just make sure that he’s not… able to jump around this compound. Maybe.”

Your breath hitched, relief flooding your veins.

He was alive. Steve was alive.

This excuse of a human being had plenty of reason to lie to keep you obedient; but you didn’t think he did. If they hadn’t killed Steve until now, they had no reason to--

“Mitch?” the man called out, giving you precisely one second to wonder who the hell he was talking to or what kind of a signal that was and then it became terrifyingly clear.

Another gunshot rang in the air, this time from the other room.

The helpless cry of NO erupted from your throat, your blood turning into ice, heart stunned. You didn’t realize your hand flew up to cover your mouth until you tasted the dried blood on your lips.

All but a hiss of pain from behind the wall.

One second ticked by. Two.

And then you were urging forward, a pathetic but wholehearted attempt to charge after the bastard despite the blinding pain and weakness.

You were back on the ground before you could take a single step, pain exploding in your nerves in burning circles heading straight into your open wounds. Your head pounded, a soundless scream on your lips, the figure once again disappearing from sight, at the very same angle like the last time; with you on the floor, shaking and unable to get up.

But this time, you lied closer to the wall; and were terrified for your Captain. For Steve. Kind idiotic Steve who had insisted on taking care of you and had caught two bullets for his trouble; one to his chest and the other… you had no idea.

Unsure how to control your movements, hands and feet twitching in the aftershock of the taser shot, you managed to all but creak Steve’s name.

You weren’t sure if it was him or the heavens above who heard you. But when he responded, you thanked the latter.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m here,” he choked out in between heavy breaths.

You could hear it clearly now, every ragged breath; you prayed his troubles was caused only by the lingering pain in his chest and not the other gun--- you swallowed, blinking away tears, guilt twisting your stomach.

They hurt him. They hurt him because he had been trying to help you. How was that fair? Hydra didn’t play fair, people like them rarely did, but they had really crossed a line there. 

“Steve? What-”

“Just a shoulder. I’m fine,” he assured you swiftly.

You truly wanted to be mad at him and yell the fuck you are, you the relief and guilt bulldozed the anger quite effectively.

They shot him because of me.

You hoped he couldn’t hear your absolutely embarrassing sniffle even as that was the smallest of your concerns right now.

Just a shoulder. Just a shoulder. Not the chest. The injury didn’t transfer back to his actual body.

“They--- I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. In fact,” he panted, a breathy chuckle escaping him and you didn’t know whether to hysterically laugh or scream, “you warned me. Feel free to tell me I told you so. Are you-“

“Just a taser,” you mimicked his words, hearing his sharp inhale. Propping on your elbows, you tried to shuffle closer to the wall so you could sit up again. With his jacket still on, you could feel fresh sweat trickling down your back. But at least his scent was comforting in certain way. “Definitely not cold anymore. Not feeling peachy enough to say I told you so. Is there a way you can put pressure on that?”

Please say yes. In fact, but a pressure on that right now. That’s an order, you wanted to throw back, managing to only groan as you pushed up and let your back hit the wall again with a blissful relief.

Steve sighed in between his gasps. “Not really, no. But I think it’s just a graze. And it serves its purpose. I’m don’t think I can project again.”

You couldn’t exactly say you blamed him. It was unfortunate though, projecting now would work well for him – if he projected to the room he was in, he might still not be able to free himself, but he might be able to put pressure on that wound. Maybe. Unless he’d pass out.

Jesus fucking Christ, how had you gotten into this mess again?

Don’t say it-

“That’s okay,” you said instead, taking a deep calming breath, realizing your roles were reversed now. As strange as it was, he needed your support now. Or maybe he didn’t need it, but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get it. “Just hang on, okay? I know it hurts like son of a bitch…” and you didn’t only mean his actual gunshot wound, “but I know you’ve pushed through worse.”

“Yeah, sure.”

His chuckle, no matter the scoff that followed it, made you smile a bit and eased your nerves. He’d be fine. He had fought off worse.

The question was, how long he could hold on without the serum?

Stuck now more than before, you prayed to every god you knew, including the Asgardian ones, for the Avengers to somehow be on their way even without your trackers at hand.

Because the scary reality was your body might be healing, but Steve was only about to lose more blood. And you had no idea if he wasn’t downplaying his injuries in his very own Steve Rogers fashion – after all, you had seen it happen just five minutes ago.

And lastly, despite having too many theories circling through your head, you were terrified at the fact that you no idea what the Hydra’s real plan was; what was it they were wating for, why the only thing they had done so far was hurt you both and observe.

You had no idea how much time you had before they changed their mind about letting you idly sit in a cell and chat and bleed, and moved on to something considerably more deadly.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Hurt and comfort let's goooo.

Not going to lie, as much as I enjoy their bickering, I was very very much looking forward to some more soft&protective!Steve🥰

Also, some of you guessed the plot-twist (some of you shared it too). Now I can finally admit that the initial title of the fic was meant to be “Walk a Mile (in My Shoes)” but that would have been just too revealing right away, wouldn’t it? 😁

(I can also disclose where the inspiration came from (except for the obvious one Freaky Friday and it being a trope) – from this ancient TV series called Charmed, where Piper and Leo just fight and fight, until the Elders have them switch their roles/abilities for them to find more understanding for each other again. In another earlier episode, the three sisters accidently switch powers, and one of them actually calls is a Supernatural Freaky Friday. Just for reference.)

Thank you for reading and potential feedback💕

And please, let me know if you feel like I missed a warning, I'll add it :)

[writersblockedx]

If I’m Not Mistaken

Pairing - College!Conrad x Fem!Reader Summary - When you mistake a boy for the local drug dealer, he ends up offering you some help anyway. Warnings - Drug and alcohol use Words  1.7K

Masterlist

You didn't know his name. You didn't know what course he was doing. You didn't even know if he was a student or not. But, considering he was always on campus, you came to the conclusion he was either a student or looking for customers. He sat on the brick wall right outside your lecture building, a joint between his lips. Sometimes he read. Sometimes he was on his phone. Sometimes he was doing nothing at all.

For a long time, you thought about asking him for some of his substances. But it wasn't until you were hosting a party, you finally pushed yourself to ask. That Friday, you came to the lecture 10 minutes early just so you could catch the mystery boy beforehand. As per usual, he was sat at the wall, lighting the joint in his fingertips. Before the flame could catch alight, you took a grip over his lighter.

That sparked his attention as he looked up at you. His eyes were blue and they seemed to be piercing into your soul. "What do you sell?" You questioned before he had the chance to ask what the fuck you were doing in front of him; he certainly didn't seem like the talkative type. "I've got a party and I could use quite a bit."

His brows furrowed and you almost doubted that he hadn't heard you correctly. "I'm sorry?"

You pointed to what he was about to smoke. To which, he was still acting oblivious too. "Look, if you don't want to sell to me, fine, I'll find someone else that does." Like that, your eyes rolled and you went to leave, cursing yourself for the man's rude behaviour.

"Hey, hey, wait." He stood from the wall, reaching his free hand out to grab yours. With no other choice, you faced him. "What? Did- Did you think I was a dealer?"

Now you were the one with narrowed brows, "You're not?"

He almost laughed but settled on just shaking his head at your assumption, "No." He took a breath and let his grip on your skin fall. "I'm Conrad," He put out a hand for you to shake.

You thought about it. Looked him up and down before accepting, "Y/n." He took a grip on your hand, shaking it and then letting you go. "Sorry, I thought you were a dealer." You spoke after an awkward moment of silence had passed. "You're just like, always here, always smoking so I just, I don't know, I assumed."

"No, I get it, it's alright." He offered a smile which you returned. "You said a party?"

You weren't sure where he was going with this, you weren't sure why either of you were still here, but you didn't plan on moving any time soon. For some reason, this boy already had you stuck. "Erm, yeah, just something before we all go away for Christmas break."

"On White Lane, right?"

How he knew where you lived was concerning, "Yeah, there." You confirmed.

"I've got some friends going is all. They go to every party pretty much. Most of them are on the college Football team so it's sort of their duty. Or they think it's their duty anyway." Oh, you knew them. Everyone knew that group. They played beer pong, preyed on girls and screamed the lyrics to songs.

But as you thought about it, you became curious, because the boy in front of you certainly didn't seem like that type. Now you thought on it, you had never seen Conrad at any party before. "You don't go with them?" You asked.

His head shook, "Oh, no. I like it when the dorms are quiet." Suppose that was a pro of being introverted.

"Well, you should definitely come to this one." A smile grew on your lips. "There will be drinks and hopefully, I'll find some weed from someone."

"I can give you the number of my dealer if you want." He offered.

You were already nodding, "That'd be great, thank you." You shuffled through your pockets before pulling out your phone, handing it over.

Conrad started typing then he paused and said, "I'll erm put mine in, just in case you need anything from me." He added, not daring to look up from the screen. "I know someone with a sound system and all that."

When he finally did look up, there was a flush of pink across his nose. You couldn't be sure whether that was his nerves or just the cold hitting his skin. "I've got that covered but, erm, I'll let you know if I need anything else." Your smile didn't fade.

Conrad shoved his hands into his pockets, "I'll see you around then."

"Definitely." Like that, you were walking to your lecture with a pretty boy's number saved in your phone - as well as a drug dealer's.

It hadn't taken long for your house to fill up. Fellow students swarmed your floor with kegs and bottles and a demand to not remember the night. And you had been right there with them; cup in hand, swaying to the music that blared in the background, mingling between the different people. But the whole time you had been waiting to run into a certain not-drug-dealer.

It had been a few hours, the party was in full swing and Conrad had yet to show up. By that point, you were beginning to think he wasn't going to at all. His 'friends' had been the first people here, swarming the kitchen counters with beer. With the drink swirling around in your system, you caved. You took your phone and messaged the boy before you had any time to regret it.

You Are you coming?

It wasn't long before your phone pinged in response.

Conrad Here.

A part of you was nervous, the other was reminded of the fact you had had one conversation with the guy. Sure, he was pretty and yes, you had seen him almost every single day before going in for your lecture. But you didn't know him. Up until today, you were under the belief he was a dealer.

When Conrad arrived, he paid no attention to what else was going on. He headed through the crowd, ready to find the very reason he had shown up tonight. "Conrad!" You yelled over the music. His eyes caught yours in the crowd, prompting a grin before you gestured for him to follow you into the kitchen where things were a little quieter.

"I can't believe you're cool with all these people in your house." He started.

You shrugged, gathering a bottle of beer for him. "It's not too bad when you're just as drunk." You offered the boy the drink.

To your surprise, he rejected it. "I'm driving." He excused.

"You're at a party!" You pointed out as a giggle fell from your lips. "Why are you even here if you're not gonna drink?"

Conrad shrugged, "You wanted me here." And like that, your giggles stopped and it felt as if your heart had too.

Maybe it was the drink or the spark of confidence but your hand reached out, holding onto his bare elbow where his shirt was rolled up. "Thanks for coming." His eyes traced your lips as you spoke. "And thanks for that number."

"More than happy to help. I'm guessing you were a very happy customer?"

"I don't know, you're better asking the pot-heads in the dining room."

He leaned in closer and suddenly goosebumps were growing on your skin - when did it get so cold? His hand sat firm on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "I've got a joint with me if you wanna go somewhere more private." When he leaned back, you nodded.

The party was nice, sure, but the idea of escaping it was even nicer. You laced your hand within the hand of someone who was a stranger not even 24 hours ago, weaving through the drunken college students as you headed for the stairs. The music became nothing but a lull background noise as you entered your own room, shutting the door.

Conrad headed straight to the bed, retrieving the joint that was in his pocket. Without asking, you sat next to him. "Are you sure you're okay mixing?" He had one brow raised at you as your shoulders brushed against one another.

You shrugged, "As long as I don't have too much."

From there, the shaggy-haired boy raised the joint, placing it between his lips and lighting it. You watched as the flame flickered and the smoke hit his throat. He inhaled in before pulling away and letting the smoke fill the air. By the time he turned to look at you, you were already fully staring his way. You almost doubted yourself; did you look like you were staring too much? What else were you meant to do?

All your worries evaporated when his hand offered the joint. You took it without a word, doing the same as he, letting the smoke fill your lungs like it was air. When you pulled it away from you, Conrad was already speaking, "Where did you come from?"

You didn't know what else to do so you smiled. "I could say the same thing about you."

His hand soon reached the side of your face, trapping you in his stare, "Well I'm glad I found you." Maybe it was the smoke, but your throat suddenly felt choked, unable to let any words come out. Before it could concern you, you found Conrad much closer. So close, in fact, he was able to press his lips into your own.

You tasted the smoke on his lips, making the kiss even more intoxicating. The need for air was desperate when you finally pulled away. For a moment, you could only stare. You weren't sure if it was the drink, or the drugs, or the kiss, but you had never felt this high. All you could think was that you didn't want to ever lose this feeling.

[dewsgremlin]

The ghouls before being ghouls 💫

Part: Rain

cw: drowning

The ghouls were once human, before they sold their souls and gave up humanity. Most of them, anyway, because not everyone had to sell their soul. For some, it was a way of making amends.

Rain, for example, grew up in the Victorian era. His family was very wealthy thanks to their involvement in the construction of the railway. Accordingly, Rain was sent to a prestigious private school, where he was one of the best students. With five older sisters and two older brothers, Rain was the youngest child.

Rain has always been very sickly. Whether that was due to the poisonous substances such as mercury, arsenic or radium which were contained in many things at that time or because he suffered from extreme nightmares since early childhood.

His parents took him to the best doctors, but nothing seemed to help. Neither the medicine nor the most bizarre treatments like leech, phosphor or vomiting helped. Rain remained sickly and hardly slept a night without nightmares.

In any case, it was the nightmares that ultimately caused Rain to end up in the mental asylum.

For a delicate soul like Rain, this was the worst thing that could have been done to him. Locked up in a huge building with grey and cold stone walls, surrounded by an iron fence whose spikes rose sharply and threateningly into the sky and threatened to cut anyone who dared to climb over. Whenever Rain had the chance, he wandered along the iron fence in the garden. How small his world had suddenly become. Before, he had been able to go wherever he wanted - now he had to ask permission if he wanted to use the toilet.

His treatments took place in the mornings. He was usually led into a small, stuffy room with barred windows that barely let in any light, so thick was the layer of dirt on the glass. But it wasn't just the window that was dirty - the metal instruments that the doctor used on Rain also looked as if they had definitely not been cleaned since they had last been used.

Numerous diagnoses were made, from physical causes to mental causes. Finally, it was said that Rain had hysteria - a mental illness that is actually mostly attributed to women. This is due to Rain's gentle disposition, his family explained when the doctor announced it. Rain himself said nothing about it, he just wanted to get out. The sometimes painful treatments only seemed to worsen his condition. His dark circles under his eyes became darker, his nightmares worse and Rain became more and more desperate.

Ironically, Rain drowned when he tried to escape the cruel treatment in the asylum and stumbled into the small duck pond, completely dazed by the pills he had been given.

The icy water was like a sharp slice of reality penetrating Rain's foggy brain. His lungs burned as the water forced its way in. His whole body screamed for oxygen, his vision turned black. So that was the end of him. Drowned in a pond, pumped full of medication laced with mercury. So many unfulfilled dreams that went down with Rain. His heartbeat got weaker and his attempts to stay above water became more and more difficult.

Rain's pale body was floating lifelessly when suddenly a strong, burning hot hand grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him out of the water with a jerk. The heart in Rain's chest had stopped beating, but something seemed to be keeping him alive. Something, or rather someone...

"It's too early for you, my boy. I have another plan for you."

[sky-neverending]

Eddie rockstar au featuring past fwb Steddie who are reuniting to be more?? and an original song I wrote?? Slay! (lemme know if you want me to do a part 2 or post this to ao3?) under the cut cause its a LONG BOI

Eddie grew up drowning out the noise. He was used to covering his ears, to turning up the music. So the screams and shouts of others had grown cold on him, never really affecting the way he lived.

But this? This was a whole different story.

He peeked his head out from behind the curtain, glancing at the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage. The crowd that was there to see him. It was odd, the fact that so many people wanted to be there for him, wanted to hear him make music he used to use as a distraction in his home, and after the fight, in the dingy bedroom of Wayne’s trailer. 

Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the crowd before they could spot him. “What do you think you're doing?” a girl hissed, and he turned around to grin at her. 

“Checking out my adoring fans, Chris,” he joked, running a hand through his curls. “Gotta see if anyone stands out to me, ya know?”

She rolled her eyes at him, but a fond smile crossed her lips. “You go on in 2,” she warned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Good luck out there.”

“I won’t need it,” he responded with a wink. 

As Chrissy walked away, Eddie’s heart started beating louder. Adrenaline and pure anxiety mixed in his veins, a feeling stronger than one he had ever been given by any substance. 

It was show time. The crowd wanted a rockstar? He was going to give them one. 

Stepping onto the stage, Eddie let the roars of the people before him soak in. He threw his head back, taking a long, deep breath before addressing the crowd.

“Are you ready to rock, freaks?” 

The show went on as normal, Eddie playing and singing and basking in the reactions of the crowd. It wasn’t until he got to his final song that he spotted a familiar face in the front row.

“Alright, alright,” he began, putting a finger to his lips. “Everyone hush now.” Taking a deep breath, he looked straight at the first man he was ever in love with. Straight at his high school hookup that could have been something more. Straight at Steve Harrington himself. “This last song is dedicated to someone I knew once. I hope he knows it’s about him.” 

And then he started to sing.

Denim, denim jeans

Polo with a band T hidden underneath 

All the girls wrapped around his finger

But i’m standing just where he can’t see

Midnight kisses and early morning drives 

To the lake down the street where he can hide

Cause you know he’ll never be 

Brave enough to see

That he’s dying simply because he’s living

A lie

He took a breath before launching into the chorus, fingers shaky on his guitar.

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Farah Faucett hair spray 

And a smile that could kill

I think it already did 

But at least I’ll die on this hill

Sayin’ there’s no point in loving if

You can’t love yourself

So walk away, trophy boy

Let them put you on your shelf

Do you care

That I’m not there 

Or was I never on your mind in the first place 

Do you see me?

I’m screaming, screaming 

I’m reaching, reaching out

But you turn away

So what else can I say?

Yeah what else can I say?

The song ended on a solo guitar riff, Eddie pouring his heart and soul into every note. He opened his eyes on the last strum, looking right at Steve and winking. 

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight,” he said, addressing the crowd as a whole. “I can’t put it into words how happy I am to be here. Goodnight, Indy!” And with that he threw up his horns, swung his guitar once around his body, and strutted off the stage like he hadn’t just indirectly confessed his feelings to someone he never thought he’d see again. 

His heart thumping in his chest, Eddie turned to Chrissy with the little hope and prayer he had left in him. “Front row,” he said, “Harrington. Looks the same as he did in school, sticks out like a sore thumb. Bring him back here.” Chrissy raised an eyebrow, but upon seeing his desperation, turned and walked toward the side exit of the stage. It led out to the gates that separated Eddie from the crowd, and he could hear the clatter of them opening as she hurried Steve through before letting the security guards handle whoever else clamored after them.

Curtains fluttering with movement, Eddie held his breath. He watched as Steve stepped through, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. 

“Harrington,” said Eddie, almost a whisper. “I’ll be damned.”

Steve smiled, and fuck if that smile didn’t buckle Eddie’s knees. “Hey, Munson,” he greeted, hands at his sides. “Nice show.”

Laughing, Eddie stepped closer. “Didn’t take you as part of this crowd,” he stated, looking Steve up and down. The faded yellow of his jumper was probably the preppiest thing in the audience, amongst the blacks and rips and chains that his usual fans sported. “You get a girlfriend who’s into our kind of music? Or did you just decide to show up and look like an outcast?” His words were teasing, and he hoped Steve could see that.

“Uh,” Steve pressed his lips together, looking at the ground. “No, Robin dragged me down here. Said it would be good for me to get out of my comfort zone… and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Eddie repeated with a grin. “Not going to lie to you, Stevie, I didn’t think you and the band geek would last.” He tried not to let jealousy seep through his tone. 

With the kick of his foot, Steve’s shoulders loosened. “She’s not the band geek I’m after, trust me.” He looked Eddie directly in the eye. “I messed up, Eds.”

Eddie stared at him. “What?”

“I messed up, Eddie Munson,” Steve repeated with intent, “and I want to make things right.” He advanced, tilting his chin up just the slightest bit. “I shouldn’t have hidden from you. I shouldn’t have turned you away, and I’m sorry. And that song-” he paused, biting his bottom lip, “God, Eddie, you have some real talent.”

“It took a song about you for you to realize that?” Eddie joked, and Steve rolled his eyes in response. He sighed, reaching a hand up to Eddie’s cheek. The touch was tender, sweet, all the things Eddie had dreamed of when they’d been apart.

“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and let me take you out on a date.”

Heart lurching, Eddie’s face broke into a grin so wide it was painful. “What’s in it for me, Harrington?” he asked slowly, leaning into the touch. “I’m a rockstar now, why should I go out with you?”

“Because I asked nicely?” Steve whispered, curling his hand and letting the tip of his nails trail down Eddie’s cheek. “And because I want to make things right?”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Ever the romantic, sweetheart.” His tongue pressed up against his cheek, like he was contemplating the question. He wasn’t. “Sure, I’ll go out with you. Meet me behind the venue in half an hour?”

Steve nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “I need to go talk to Robin, I owe her money.” With that, he pulled away, leaving Eddie longing for his touch again. “I’ll see you later,” he called out, walking with Chrissy toward an exit that would lead him past the crowd. 

Eddie watched him leave, a smile on his face.

He had himself a date, and all it took was one little song.

[darethshirl]

34 for both your Inquisitor and your Rook :)

ohoho this is a fun question! 👀

Do they have vices they don’t want others to know about?

Sooo my poor Lyanna is generally a very calm, well-adjusted person, so I think her greatest vice that she's most ashamed of is... having really fancy baths. 😂 listen! she just got used to them okay! she did always feel bad that it was such a Production to prepare them (servants carrying buckets of water all the way up to her room etc etc) but at least Solas took only one second to heat the water up, and they used lots of scented candles and fragrances and Elvhen Style soaps that Solas mysteriously procured, and it was just such a lovey-dovey quality couple time for them that she couldn't resist. 🥺 It's one of the things she misses the most after disbanding the Inquisition.

For my babygirl Irilla, I'd say it's definitely something food based. She grew up in an alienage so she instinctively learned to hoard whatever tasty morsel of food she could find... but when her family joined the dalish clan that habit stayed with her. 🥲 I think she definitely got into trouble for squirreling away fruit and sweets, especially since in my headcanon the Dalish are all about Sharing and the Good Of The Group etc etc. and she's STILL doing it during veilguard! just taking little pouches of honeyed almonds or dried figs and hiding them in her room! it drives Lucanis absolutely bonkers cause it messes up his lists, but when he confronts her about it she's all "whaaaaat that wasn't me, maybe there's a Fade mouse around here or something 🤷‍♀️" lmao

And actually I'm gonna add my boy Aeneas too, cause he's the only one with an ACTUAL vice. 😂 I like to think that while experimenting with poisons, he chanced upon a substance that gave him an unintentional high. 👀 He used it religiously cause it made his confidence and mood soar while also improving his reflexes, but Viago eventually found out cause Aeneas's eyes were always dilated, and it turned out the substance was destroying his optic nerve. So Viago flipped out and destroyed all the bottles, which in turn made Aeneas flip the fuck out and start shouting at him about ruining his personal property, and so and so forth until they were having knock-down screaming matches in front of everyone. Even to this day they don't mention The Incident or they will start ugly-fighting about it.

[OC Questions]

[shions-new-blog-of-stuff]

"It Ain't Much but It's Honest Work" (Canon x OC/Named Tav)

Minthara was watching Kinsley prepping tonight's stew -- he diligently cut the potatoes and seasoned the meat, dropping them in the pot. She noticed he had a little purple pouch in which he took a few pinches of spice, sprinkling it evenly into the broth.

"That is a peculiar substance I've never seen before," she says leaning down for a closer look.

"Secret ingredient," Kinsley replies, "I grew 'em in my garden, ground the seeds myself. A big hit back home."

"...It's very clear that you carry the blood of devils in your veins. Who are you descended from?"

Kinsley stirs the pot, "Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth. Every fifty years or so, someone in my family is born like me. The reason why is long lost to time but I believe one of my human ancestors made a deal with the arch devil."

He brings the spoon to his mouth to taste, "I was Lucky to grow up in my village. My parents were fleeing from a terrible calamity, and the people welcomed us. I was still just a wee babe all swaddled up in my mum's arms."

Kinsley continued to speak of his life in the village -- taking up the life of a simple farmer, herding sheep, harvesting crops. He poured his heart out -- about the yearly harvest festival, the joy when someone in the village or one of the animals gave birth.

"I had just got done herding my sheep...when I returned, everyone and everything I loved...all turned to stone. Mama, Papa...the whole village were now just... statues. It was too quiet..."

Minthara was taken aback, "An entire village...cursed."

"I...My house was spared. Only because I caught the attention of the fae. I remember...I remember just going home and collapsing on the floor. I screamed. I cursed. Why did this happen?"

"Do you know the culprit?"

Kinsley shakes his head no, "I need to find out. I need to restore my village to the vibrant place it used to be. But despite my lineage I never learned to fight. And that's when a tiny man in colorful clothes, with the features of a bird appeared before me. He said his master wanted to see me. That she could help me."

Kinsley recalled the swarm of butterflies surrounding him -- his first meeting with the Maiden of Spring.

"Lady Roisin. She said that she'd give me the strength. But of course one day, I'll need to give her something in return."

Kinsley takes out the book given to him by his patron.

"I just...want my village back..."

@squashfics @the-resident-vampire @mishwanders

[radation]

Heyyyyyy I was wondering if you could write an encanto tickle fic? With mirabel as the lee and any lers you like. If you don’t want to do this it’s totally fine it’s all up to you. :) please and thank you

No problem! I’m actually surprised someone would request Encanto considering the fandom is kinda dead but good to see people are still apart of it, including myself! So for this fic, think I’ll be aiming for is julieta and isabela as lers, I hope you like it!

Mirabel and the tickly situation.

The sun shone over Encanto once again as a brand new day began, julieta was one of the first to wake up, although Agustín begged her to stay and cuddle with him, she finally managed to get up and start her day by making breakfast for the family. Pepa soon woke up and began helping her sister.

The breakfast was laid out nicely and neatly on the table, the rest of the family had woken up by now and pepa gave julieta a high five, everyone came in and sat down and began listening to Abuela’s speech about how the village is recently doing well and blah blah blah boring stuff.

Soon breakfast was over and everyone headed out to do their chores, Mirabel however, she didn’t have much to do today so she got pretty bored. Until she had a cheeky idea and grew a mischievous smile, running off like the little troublemaker she is, she went off to find her rowdy and wild older sister isabela.

“Now just a tiny little drop…” *isabela muttered as she was add some substances onto her cactus to see what would happen*

“Hey isa!” *Mirabel popped out of nowhere*

“AH-“ *isabela jumped and accidentally dropped the substance and made the plant not only enormous but also man eating*

“Oops.” *mirabel mumbled*

“Stand back!” *isabela yelled and quickly trapped the plant down with her vines before it could have a chance of eating anyone, she got another type of substance and added a few drops making it change back to normal. She faced her sister with an annoyed glare*

“Alright, what is it now mira? And you’d better have a good reason for nearly getting us killed.” *she spoke in an annoyed tone*

“Well, I just came to spend time with you!” *she smiled and hugged isabela*

“Hm…ugh fine, you win.” *she giggled and hugged her sister*

the two sisters began chatting, Isabela began laughing by Mirabel’s stories but isa seemed to be distracted by something from time to time. Mira sighed because she has been telling Isabela many times to focus.

Mira got an amazing idea, atleast to her. While isabela seemed to be starting at something Mirabel snuck her hand in isa’s neck and gave her a light tickle. Isa jerked away and covered her neck with her shoulder, letting a little “eep!” Sound out.

She looked mirabel dead in the eye.

“What the heck was that for?!” *she giggled and rubbed her neck*

“Focus.” *mirabel teased*

“I suggest you don’t tickle me before you become a giggly mess your self little sister~”

*mira blushes but knew if she backed down now, her sister would take victory so she stayed strong*

Mira: “meh, don’t care.” *she tries to hide her nervousness cuz her sister doesn’t hold back in tickling*

Isabela: “oh really?~” *she teased and began chasing Mira, mirabel had quiet good reflexes so she booked it before Isabela could catch her, leading to a chase*

*mirabel was screaming every time her sister got near her. Out of the blue, julieta walked out and got a bit startled as Mirabel ran into her arms*

Mirabel: “mamí! Pleasehelpme,itickledisabelabecauseshewoudlntfocusandnowshewantstoticklethehelloutofmesopleasesaveme!”

Juleita: “huh?” *she looked I’m at Isabela who just caught up*

*isabela chuckled*

Isabela: “what mirabel is TRYING to say is that “I deserve to get tickled after tickling my beautiful big sissy” *she gave a teasing smirk with an eyebrow raise*

Mirabel: Nu uh! Mamí! I only tickled her because she wouldn’t focus! Mama you know how she is with not focusing!

*jueliat thought for a moment*

Julieta: “I think isabela is right here, considering you did tickle her first.”

Isabela: “yes!”

Mirabel: “no!”

Mirabel: “mamí! No! This is so unfair! Is this because I gave you a small tickle on your side earlier this morning?!”

Julieta: “very much so.” *she quickly turned Mirabel to face Isabela and wrapped her arms around her* “alright isa, get her!”

*isabela smirked and without hesitation, began tickling her baby sister’s stomach, making mirabel blush and earning a yelp out of her*

Mirabel: “hey! Hehehey! Stahhahap! IHIHIT tihihcklehehs!”

Isabela: “I…would hope so…?” *isabela replies in a fake puzzled tone because she found Mirabel’s comment a bit dumb, the whole point is that it’s supposed to tickle*

Julieta: “aww, just some cute sister bonding time, hm?”*juleita’s grip was nice and strong on her daughter, preventing her from fighting back but allowing her to squirm a bit*

Isabela: “aww, tickle tickle tickle mirabel~ your tummy is real soft!”

*mirabel blushed even more as she knocked the grounds with her head shaking, hair flying in her face*

Mirabel: “Ihihim gohonaha kihihill yohohu!!”

*mirabel’s widened as to what she just said while Isabela and julieta create a fake overdramatic gasp*

Julieta: “oh Mirabel?! How dare you say that to your sister?!”

Isabela: “how rude!!”

Mirabel: “no wait!-“

*Mirabel was quickly pinned by her mother to the ground and saw isa coming at her with wiggling fingers*

Mirabel: “NO! nonononononono! No waihihit!!!!”

*Mirabel’s body jolted when she felt her sister’s ticklish fingers assaulting her body*

Isabela: “aww, now why should I wait?~”

Mirabel: “IHIHI wahahsnt reheadhyhy!!!”

Julieta: “too bad, you gotta suffer consequences.”

Mirabel: “hehahaha! Plehahse! Ihihm sohohryhy!!”

*isabela gave her mother a look and both woman shook their head, julieta smirked and held Mirabel’s arms with one hand, she blew a raspberry on Mirabel’s neck as she used her free hand to tickle Mirabel’s armpits*

Mirabel: “AHEHEHEHAH! *squeal* MAHAHAMIHIHI!! *she squirmed and kicked* NOHOHOHOHO!!!!”

*isabela wasn’t much help either, she just decimated Mirabel’s stomach, including the belly button*

Julieta: “nom nom nom! Nom! Mmm! Delicious!” *she kept nibbling Mirabel’s neck, allowing Mirabel to produce so many squeals and snorts*

Isabela: “now I wonder, I gotta check your ribs! Just checking on my wittle sissy!” *she pouted and began “counting” her ribs*

Isabela: “1….2…3…4…5- oh for god sake’s mirable, quit moving and let me count!”

Mirabel: “ahehwhahAHAHAHEHHA! StahahAHAHHAP!”

Julieta: “hmm…no.”

Mirabel: “NOHOHO! IHIHITS SOHOHO BAHAHD!!”

*isabela and julieta slowed their tickling down but still tickled the poor girl*

Mirabel: “pleahahhsee!! Ihihm sohohrrhyhy!!!”

Isabela: “no way, you were gonna kill me! That is such a rude thing to say!”

Mirabel: “Nohoho! IHIT whahas ahaha Johohokehe!”

Julieta: “oh so you can make jokes but we can’t tickle you? Doesn’t seem very fair mija~”

*mirabel couldn’t answer and just kept laughing as her mother had isabela kept tickling her, one squeeze to the side made mirabel yelp, on spider to the armpit makes mirabel squeal- this girl is just ticklish as hell.*

Isabela: “I just love hearing Mirabel’s bubbly laughter, don’t you mama?”

Julieta: “oh I very much do, it’s really adorable!!” *she pouted and nuzzled her nose with Mirabel’s nose, making Mirabel giggle*

*isabela began scribbling on the stomach*

Isabela: “give up?!”

Mirabel: “I GIVE! HAHEHEHAH! IHIH GIHIVEHEH!!”

Julieta: “good.”

*both woman release her, allowing the girl to lower her hands and curl up into a ball panting*

Mirabel: “ughh!! Why?!?!”

Isabela: “because you deserve it you brat!”

Mirabel: “Nu uh!”

Isabela: “yu uh!” *she giggled and pressed her forehead against Mirabel’s forehead, the two were at a giggly “Nu uh” and “yu uh” back and forth banter, julieta just sighed, happy to see how fun her daughters were having*

Isabela: “I’ll tickle you again!”

Mirabel: “NO! Mamí!-“

Julieta: “okay okay okay, instead of continuing these little shenanigans of yours, who wants to help me bake arepas?”

Isabela & mirabel: “ME!”

Isabela: “last one there is a huevo podrido!!”

Mirabel: “hey!!”

*both girls took off into the kitchen, giggling julieta chuckled as she stood up and walked behind, smiling at her two daughters*

Julieta: “Those two…” *she sighed with a chuckle as she shook her head*

-the end-

YESSS, FINALLY GOT THIS ONE OUT AND I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE IF I HAVENT GOTTEN IT OUT EARLEIR, SCHOOL WAS BEING STUPID AND NOW THAT ITS THE WEEKEND, I CAN FINALLY FOCUS ON THESE REQUESTS! I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND IF YOU DONT WANNA REQUEST ANYTHING AGAIN WHO EVER YOU ARE ANONYMOUS AND IM REALLY SORRY!!! </3

[elorwen]

I am thinking of writing a fanfic on the movie Hellboy (2008) with Nuada as the love interest. I have written the prologue so here it is! Tell me what you think of it.

It has been years since I escaped them, decades even, but I could never forget what they did. Each morning, as I wake up, I am reminded by my appearance that I could never go back to my past life. I knew that very well, I was no longer human and there was nothing I could do about it.

It had been a quiet night as I was getting home from school. Two men grabbed me on the dark streets and knocked me out. When I woke up, it was in a dark cell with a throbbing headache. I soon learned that I was in an illegal genetic facility. They took children and teenagers from the streets to experiment on them.

The researchers injected me with so many different animal genetics that I didn't know if I was more animal than human anymore. My body began to change and grew limbs and features I did not have before. The process was painful and almost drove me mad. I heard my bones cracking and twisting as my appearance changed, I heard my skin ripping as new bones and muscles were created, I heard my screams as the scientist studied and laughed at me like I was a lab rat.

As months passed, I grew wings… Large powerful barn owl wings. I also began to feel my nails getting tougher and longer, my teeth getting sharper and my eyes adjusted better to the dark. I grew a tail, a mix between fur and feathers covered it and the end split in feathered tail fins. I watched my body change without knowing what would grow next. A russian roulette of new features…

Years had passed and I began to accept my new body, finding that some features were actually not that bad. Night vision is a big plus when you are constantly in the dark. I had become used to the lack of sleep and the constant visit of my captors, but nothing could have prepared me for that.

They came to my cell and they took me to a new room, a cleaner one. It sent chills down my spine. I fought against their hold on me but they still managed to strap me to the medical table at the center of the room, not without casualties though… Three men fell at my claws and one got his breath knocked out by my wing.

I was feral, struggling against the restraint with violent shakes and tugs. I snarled and for the first time in this facility, I did not mind the animal sound that came out of me.

The researchers were moving around me in silence as they ignored my growls and snarls. Suddenly one approached me with a syringe full of gold liquid and my eyes widened in fear. I tried to snap my teeth at him but nothing I did permitted me to reach him. The man injected me with the substance and instantly I felt a burning pain starting from my neck and spreading to all of my body.

I had never experienced such pain before, it was much stronger than anything they had done before. I screamed as all my limbs felt like they were on fire. The only thing that kept me from fainting was my resolve to stay awake when someone was near. I had soon learned that sleep was one of my biggest enemies here. It left you vulnerable, completely at their mercy.

Minutes passed and the pain went away gradually. As soon as my cries and screams died down, they threw me back in my cell. I had no strength left and simply fell on the floor. My eyes closed and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

⭒◃○▹✩◃○▹⭒

I woke up to an explosion. That was a new sound and my lips quirked in something that looked like a grimace but was a smile. I could only imagine that it meant that one of their machines had blown up in their face and it brought great joy to me, even in my weakened state.

My short-lived joy was renewed when I heard screams and gunshots. The researchers never used guns on us, we were too precious to them for that. It meant that someone else had entered the facility. I got to my feet in a struggle and clutched the bars of my cell as I watched the chaos unfold before me. My captors were running away from men in military gear.

The guards of the facility were taken by surprise and didn’t have time to react and fight back as they were shot and killed. I grinned as I watched the downfall of my persecutors. The carnage was finished in half an hour and all of the sane prisoners, including me, stayed silent as we watched the men that killed our previous captors.

We didn’t know if we had to feel relieved or scared. Suddenly, a man with round glasses and curly brown hair stepped before my cell. I watched with a curious but guarded gaze as he looked over me. His eyes widened and he clutched his book and rosary tightly. “What happened to you? All of you?” he asked me softly as he gestured to all of the cells.

I stared at him for a bit and straightened my back as I spread my wings. “God left this place a long time ago.” I replied as I watched him with wary eyes. “We are not his creations anymore, but theirs.” I finished as I gestured to the dead men.

“How old are you, my child?” he asked with a softer tone. My heart leapt in my throat and I clenched my teeth. “What year is it?” I asked in a whisper. His eyes widened slightly and softened in realization. “Today is the 9th of october 1967.” I stayed silent for a moment and my eyes watered slightly. Its been two years, two fucking years of torture. I wanted to scream, let all my rage and pain out, but all I managed to croak out was: “I will be nineteen in december.”

The man’s eyes softened even more and he glanced at the armed men behind him. He shooed them with his hand and they left with reluctant steps. He turned back to me and smiled in reassurance. “I am professor Trevor Bruttenolm, or as many call me, professor Broom. What is your name, little angel.” he said as he introduced himself. The nickname went straight to my heart and a tear fell down my cheek. I scoffed and sniffled as I wiped my cheek. I had not allowed a single tear to fall in the presence of my captors, I would not give them this pleasure, but now, those words and his tone made me crack. “Frederika, Frederika Walsh.” I replied with a small smile. “And I am no angel, professor.”

He smiled and waved his hand dismissively. “When I see a young and beautiful girl with wings like yourself, I can’t help but see an angel.” He replied with a sincere tone. I sniffled once more and looked at him with grateful eyes. “I am from the B.P.R.D., it stands for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. There, you could be welcomed and safe,” he continued with a small hopeful smile. “All of you could.”

My gaze became harder and I stepped back. “But at what cost?” I asked as I heard the others agree and pace in their cell. The professor saw my change in demeanor and frowned in disappointment at the fact that he was unable to earn my trust. “Freedom. Freedom is the cost.”

I clenched my teeth and glared at him. “There is a facility in Antarctica ready to welcome all of you, but if you go there, it will be forever,” he continued with a sad smile. I heard some sighs and defeated sounds from the others as I watched the professor with a neutral gaze. “There is another option,” he added quickly.

I raised an eyebrow at him and waited for him to continue. “Work for us and you could roam the world.” I inhaled sharply and clutched the bars of my cell. “I want in,” I said immediately. The professor smiled and looked around the cells. All the others shook their heads no and chose Antarctica. He nodded and asked for each of us to be released but kept under watch.

He personally opened my cell and I stepped out quickly. I looked back at the awful cell and watched as all the others got out. We were only five sane prisoners, all the others were either dead or turned into mindless beasts. I took a deep breath and gave a small nod accompanied by a smile to the professor. He smiled and gestured for us to follow him. “Let’s go home.”

Home. A word I had forgotten. A word that I would soon use frequently.

[babmaoau]

Chapter Three: "Wednesday"

TW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE

“It happened. Again. The same thing.”

“I was trapped in the darkness, unable to run, unable to scream.”

“Her light… still bright as his voice mocked me.”

“I didn’t know who He was. All I knew is that he was a mildly irritating recurrence.”

“You’ll amount up to nothing in this pathetic life.. The world is better without you. He’d say.”

“As I sank into the ink my eyes grew weary.” 

“As I lost my breath my lungs ached, fighting for air…”

“Then she appeared.”

“Interrupting his voice, once again, saying–”

“Wake up, Bendy.”

. . .

Bendy jolted awake to the sound of a bell going off. At his door, Boris stood looking scared. 

“It’s the bell!” Boris gasped.

. . .

The town bell meant many things, but none of them were good. Ranging from evacuation, immediate danger, a warning, war, or even as small as an important announcement. Everything regarding the bell ment our safety was at stake in some way shape or form.

It’s just finding out which one it was…

Bendy got up, grabbing a shirt as he and Boris rushed down the stairs of their apartment. They watched as people rushed out of their buildings and homes, holding children and anything they personally owned that they deemed of value.

“What’s going on?” Boris questioned watching everyone head hurriedly for town square.

“I don't know…” Bendy answered honestly. He searched the crowd to see if he saw anyone he knew. No luck. “But we’re about to find out.”

They followed the crowd, eventually running into Max. No Bonnie. He must’ve been at work because he wore a black shirt with Mickey’s signature emblem on it, adorning a matching black barista waist-apron. He asked Bendy the same thing Boris had moments prior, receiving only the same answer Bendy had given.

Once everyone was huddled in the center of the town the bell hushed. Everything and everyone fell quiet.

At the top of the bell tower a short light yellow cat with white striped toned hair walked to its edge, seemingly greeting the people. 

“It’s the mayor!/What’s going on!?/It’s too early for this!”

The people all at once began to speak, asking numerous questions and making assumptions and comments. It was chaos. Bendy hadn’t noticed right away, but as a wind gust hit the crowd he realized it was a little chilly that morning. A tad bit chilly for a June morning…

Should’ve grabbed my jacket… He thought.

“Ah, it’s cold-!” Boris said, holding himself. Even with fur it chilled the people to the core.

After a moment or two the Mayor finally raised her hand, getting the people’s attention.

“I assume you want to know why we’ve gathered you here.” She spoke, her voice was small and light.

“Yeah, what the hell! It’s 5:00 in the morning– the sun’s just coming out!” An old human man shouted. His comment caused an uproar in the streets. Apparently plenty of people felt the same way.

“I know, I know.” She started. “I brought you here this morning because there is a grave danger threatening our city, our town especially.”

Murmurs filled the crowd as Bendy looked at Boris, who looked back at Bendy holding his hand.

“I assume you all have heard of the Nightwalkers, either by internet or newspaper, maybe in a letter from your loved ones in another city or state. Well… they’re here. They’ve re-emerged.”

Everyone froze. 

“For those that don’t know, the Nightwalkers are beasts that seemingly appeared out of thin air one hundred and twenty five years ago in the 1700’s. They are endangered, highly invasive… and dangerous. They have been making their way across the lands for years, especially when it’s time to feed or to mate. They have helped greatly in the spread of the Ink Illness and contributed to many animals going extinct, almost going extinct themselves after being hunted to few numbers for medicine. We have been very lucky so far to not come in contact with these creatures, but I’m afraid our luck has run out.” She took a breath. “It is now our turn.”

“The only known thing that we can use to protect ourselves are UV ray flashlights. These lights emit a light similar to the suns’, which is the only thing we know that can hurt them.” She showed off a flashlight turning it on. Its beam was bright, lighting up the cloudy sky. As she did so, police and officials handed out flashlights to everyone in the crowd, giving each man of the family no more than four.

“You know a lot of nothin for being our mayor, old lady!” An old toon yelled. 

“Please..” She continued. “I am finding out this information shortly before you guys do. As much as you know, I do also. The same with the knowledge we lack. I am doing my best to protect the people of our town by giving you all a warning ahead of time…”

She took a deep breath. Her eyes were tired as big bags hung under her lids. Sophia Kitty. She used to work as a simple hotel manager before she decided to run for mayor. She was small, but she was a beast. Running a town of this one’s stature was no easy feat, but she did it! Her hair was curled into a neat little poof as the wind tried to blow it out of shape. Her suit was in neat disarray, perfectly pressed as the wind blew. She fumble with her glasses as they threatened to fall off the bridge of her nose as she tried to regain herself.

“In the coming weeks it is going to get cold, very cold. For some reason the coming of these creatures sends the land into a temporary winter. Other cities and towns have been long prepared for such an occurrence. Ours has not. I suggest you all stock up on food and water; drip your pipes and contact any family outside of here for I do not know what communications will be like in the coming months…”

“W-how long is this supposed to last for?” A mother asked, holding her child.

Sophia shook her head. 

“I do not know.”

Everyone erupted into fits of anger, yelling at her, or stayed silent as they took in this news.

She raised her hands, trying to calm the restless crowd. 

“We will be enforcing a curfew and locking the gates!” Sophia said. “Nobody is to be outside before 7:00 AM or after 7:30 PM. There will be no guards outside, but we will provide every household a minimum of four flashlights. No one is to leave the perimeter to avoid infection or the spreading there-of! Please, get all of your supplies sparingly in the coming days, and stay safe…”

With that she disappeared into the bell tower, leaving the town in panic.  She didn’t mean to, it just happened that way.

Bendy turned to Boris who was shaking subtly, a combination of the cold and his nerves. He held Bendy’s left hand tightly…. 

Bendy turned to Max, who stood still with mouth agape and eyes wide. 

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He had heard about this happening to other cities and states a long time ago, in like the 1950’s but.. he never thought it would happen to theirs. They were so close to the ocean and so far from the mainland that he didn’t think nightwalkers would travel out this far. Plus they never got actual winters, just a mild chill at most.

“I gotta go.” Max left, hurriedly.

Boris cowered back as he whimpered, lowering himself to Bendy’s level and grabbing Bendy’s arm. 

“What are we going to do?” Boris asked.

Bendy looked at him. In all these bad situations he tried to stay hopeful, not for his sake but for Boris.

And this was one of those times where he needed to again.

“What we can do.” Bendy cupped Boris's face as the pup nuzzled his muzzle into his hand.

“As far as we know they aren’t here yet. You’ll stay home from school today, and we’ll prepare.”

“Everythings going to be okay…”

. . .

“Cup… did you–?”

“Yeah, I did.” Cuphead stood still, staring at the bell tower where the mayor once stood. 

The two stood a ways away in the very back of the crowd. The air was cold as the trees and bright green grass shook in the wind. 

“We’re running out of time…” His brother grabbed him by his arm. He was beyond scared. 

“I know…” Cuphead repeated himself.. He looked at his brother, taking his hand. 

“We’ll be okay..” He breathed. Still looking at the clock tower. His jello-like hair flowed gently in the wind.

Mugman looked at him. Then at the tower.

“I pray we will…” Mugman added.

. . .

The streets were crazy. Everyone ran in and out of their homes, carrying boxes and boxes upon supplies and food.

This is when you figure out the kind of person someone is. Do they take more than they need? Do they help those struggling? Do they fight? Or do they run?

If Sophia hadn’t ordered that extra shipment a month ago… Mickey thought to himself.

Mickey stood, looking out the top window of the diner watching the chaos below. The Diner was made up of three floors. The first one was the Diner itself, the upper two were where he lived. He and Minnie lived there together, taking care of his brother Oswald while his kids were on vacay. 

Ever since Ortensia died three years prior the rabbit hadn’t been the same. He didn’t talk, he slept all day, they forced him to eat– He was fragile and broken. They had sent all his kids on a paid trip to wherever they pleased with their grandparents so Oswald could recuperate. It was time. He had to get his mind right so he could be a better father for his kids.

The mouse turned back towards his wife. She stood, looking back at him the same. Worried. 

She walked over and hugged her husband. 

“Mickey…”

“I know.” He said, stroking her fur. 

“Do you think we’ll be okay…?” She asked, rubbing his back.

The mouse took a deep breath. 

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked down at her and smiled. 

“We’ve made it this far, there’s no stopping us now.”

Minnie smiled, placing a soft kiss on her husband's lips. When they broke, she took a deep breath.

“We’re going to have to cancel the talent show…” She said sadly.

“No.”

“But Mickey…!”

“The people need this right now Minnie. If we… if  I can’t provide a light in even the darkest of times, who am I?” 

Minnie listened. She understood, but she disagreed. It was too dangerous in her opinion, but her lover of seventy-one years knew what he was doing. He had never led her astray before and he wouldn’t do it now. 

She took a deep breath, giving in.

“All we’d have to do is change the start and end time, right? Give them enough time to get home safely. Flashlights are mandatory if you are to attend.” She smiled at Mikey, who smiled back at her, embracing her tightly.

“Everything will be okay.” He told her. Though, Minnie was still uneasy about their most recent decision.

. . .

“There’s no way you are going out there alone in this chaos!” Max argued. 

“Dude, it’s fine I have pepper spray!” Bonnie insisted as they walked down the street. Upon Max’s return to the restaurant Bonnie asked Max to catch her up since she stayed behind to keep an eye on the place. She was, deep down, scared, but she had been through something similar before in her younger days back home, so she wasn’t as worried as others would be. Keep calm and carry on, she told herself.

It was hectic. People bumped into one another, fights started to break out. She rolled her eyes. Yeah! Hard times were coming but this was ridiculous. Nothing good is going to get done if everyone is freaking out.

“Yeah but you’re small! What if someone–” 

Right before Max could finish his sentence Bonnie was nearly run over by oncoming passerbys. Luckily, Max had snatched her out of the way. 

“See!” Max insisted as Bonnie looked at the people running down the sidewalk. She shot them an evil glare as she pushed herself off of Max.

“Fine.” She said, giving in. “But just this once!”

. . .

The store was even worse than the streets. Bonnie felt incredibly uncomfortable as she entered the store, but she was a big girl! She could do this!

She took a deep breath and marched in, grabbing a cart. Max followed, grabbing one too. He kept an eye out. People were basically sprinting from isle to isle. Yeah he understood the panic, but the rush? It was literally 7:00 in the morning. The town, with a population of no more than maybe 500–1,000 people, had plenty of time to get what they needed. Sophia even had extra shipments of food and supplies ordered in just for this occasion. The staff at every store and pharmacy were on top of everything, passing out must-need essentials like first-aid kits at the front doors so that everyone could get in and out without worrying about medicine. Each box contained bandages, Aspirin, Insulin, everything anyone of any kind would need in an emergency. 

“Okay, you get that side and I'll get this one.” Bonnie said.

“What? Wait!” But before Max could say another word she had disappeared in the crowd. 

He groaned, going on his way.

Bonnie walked hurriedly and swiftly through the isles. As she grabbed what she needed she checked off  the items on her list. She was only in there for about 10 minutes and she had almost everything she needed. Plus, her roommate was also getting supplies. She had gone home after she and Max closed up shop, with Mickey’s permission, to get properly dressed when they came up with the idea to split their household items. They would handle the non-consumables and Bonnie would get the food.

“Almost done… I just need bread, milk… cereal, some non-perishables… SHIT!”

She yelled as she was bumped into, her hands slipping from the buggy and her face hitting the floor as her phone went flying.

She sat up slowly as her eyes watered. Her mouth filled with blood as she held her chin, also busted from the fall. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck…!” She winced. Her teeth ached. She sat back against the aisle, trying to stand herself up. All of a sudden she was lifted up off the floor.

“I am so sorry!” A slightly raspy, very young sounding voice told her. “Are you okay–!” 

She was met with bright blue eyes and a cup.. mug–head? A strange boy helped steady her. She was about to snap at him, but then she saw the genuine concern in his eyes and let it go. It was bound to happen anyways in this ruckus.

“Ah, I think so..?” She winced. “Am I bleeding bad…?” She asked. She removed her hand from her chin, revealing all the blood on her hands. 

“Uh…” The kid said, looking sick. “Hold on, I'll be right back! Stay here!” 

She sighed as he ran off. She grabbed her phone, which luckily wasn’t stolen in the comotion. She grabbed her buggy, standing by it to make sure that no one took anything.

So much for the pepper spray… she thought. In moments the kid was back. He handed her an ice bag covered with towels.

She placed the bag on her chin as she checked her mouth. She bit her tongue a little bit, which explains the extra blood, but no teeth were lost. 

She sat back in relief as the bag numbed her jaw. 

“T-thank you..” she stuttered through the cold press. But when she looked up at the kid he looked like he was about to cry.

“I’M SO SO SORRY!” he said again.

“I– it's okay! Don’t worry about it! I’ve gotten hurt worse than this, don't worry.” She lied. 

This is when she got a good look at him. He had, and she was sure this time, a cup for a head with dirty-blonde… hair? Protruding out the top followed by a white and blue striped straw. His face was clean, but the shirt on the other hand looked dingy and dirty, she didn’t know if it was just the grey color or if it was actually dirty. He wore blue jeans with a jacket wrapped around his waist, and brown torn up shoes on his feet. His pant leg was torn on his right side and, now that she was getting a closer look, he looked very tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days…

Her curiosity peaked. She asked him:

“...are you okay?” She was asking genuinely. Yeah he bumped into her but obviously no damage was done. But he looked emotionally not okay, and she could tell.

“I– um…” He started but was cut off. 

“Mugs!” A raspier yet deeper voice called out in the store. The two turned to their left to see a taller version of the kid that sat tending to Bonnie. He, instead, had red eyes and a matching white and red striped straw. His hair was longer than his brothers, sweeping over his left eye. He rushed over, grabbing his brother up by his arm. The kid, who was named ‘Mugs’ apparently, winced as his brother, harshfully, pulled him away. “I was looking for you idiot!” 

“Hey! He was just helping me, don’t be such an ass!” Bonnie snapped at him. She didn’t know if they were family, or friends, but ‘Mugs’ looked scared upon the other one's arrival, like he had done something wrong.

He growled in her general direction, approaching her, until ‘Mugs’ pushed him away. “Don’t! It’s not worth it, let's just go.” He said. With that they left her, still bleeding, but at least taken care of in some way. She waved goodbye to the boy as he tried to wave back, but was pulled into the next aisle.

She shook her head, scoffing. “The deal with some people," she said aloud. She continued her shopping and met back up with Max, who was not happy, once finished.

“Look what happened because you wanted to be hard headed.” He told her, getting her some proper first aid. She had the ice pack taped around her head, looking like she just got her wisdom teeth taken out.

“Shut up. Let’s just get home.” She told him, loading up all their items into Max’s truck.

. . .

“Cuphead, I'm sorry! She was hurt because of me I had to do something!” Mugman pleaded.

Cuphead shook his head, his brows furrowed as he stocked up their room’s mini-fridge. 

After being put on this mission, they had finally found shelter in a small town off of the coast, not far from where they had previously lived in the Ink-well isles.

“You could’ve not helped her at all!” He argued.

“You know that’s not like me!” Mugman argued back. “Jeez it’s like since we’ve got into this situation in the first place you’ve become a total ass! You used to be so nice!”

“That’s because this ass is trying to keep us alive! We could get caught! Elder Kettle could be dead for all we know. We’re running out of time and you’re getting all cozy with a girl in the store when we’re supposed to be taking care of ourselves!” Cuphead snapped at his brother. “Now is not the time to be nice! We have a bounty on our heads!”

“We only have a bounty on our heads because YOU made that STUPID DEAL!”

“DO YOU want our grandfather, our ONLY family back or NOT? It’s either us or them!”

“But we aren’t hitmen!! We are practically still kids Cuphead! We SHOULD NOT have made that deal and you know it! Now look at what's happening– we are falling apart! ” 

“I KNOW!” Cuphead yelled at his brother. He turned towards him, fuming. He breathed heavily as the liquid in his head bubbled. The drink he was trying to put away was crushed in his hand. Soda fizzed and spilled onto the carpet…

“I– I know….” He broke. He blinked fast, as if something was in his eye.

Mugman, in an instant, fell silent. He watched as his brother took hard, deep breaths, trying to control himself. 

Cuphead quickly turned his head as he grabbed his orange jacket, walking towards the door.

“Cuphead…!” Mugman called after him. 

“I’m going on a walk. Don’t follow me.”

As the door slammed shut, Mugman stood in silence. He shouldn’t have gotten so angry…but…

He sighed as he sat down on one of the two beds in the room. Covering his face with his knees.

He just wanted out, and most of all…

He wanted to have his brother back…

. . .

Cuphead stomped down the hallway of the hotel. Once he got outside, he breathed as the cold air hit his face. The sun was nearly set. It was dangerous to be outside, but he didn’t care. He never did.

He didn’t want it to be this way, but if he hadn’t, his brother would have no one left. 

If he didn’t fight everyday they would both be dead already…

He…

He breathed slowly as he wiped his eyes, sitting on the edge of the concrete. 

He slowly took out a cigarette, and lit it. 

He took a long puff, slowly feeling the nicotine ease into him as it did so many times before for about three years now... 

He put his head down on his knees, guarding his head with his arms. He let out a shaky breath as the tears ran down his face.

This was all his fault, he knew it. He owned up to the responsibility, reaping the repercussions day after day…

He wished he had done things differently back then. Then maybe… just maybe…

He shook away the thoughts…

He continued to drown out his emotions in his cigarette.

[thatcoyperson]

Hi

So uh, no one asked for this, but I found an thing I wrote for a backstory for Etho a little under a year ago in my notes app, read it, and thought "Yeah tumblr can have this"

And now here we are

[CW for blood, death, and whatever CW seeing your own corpse falls under]

• -------- • -------- • -------- •

Long ago, before servers were even thought of as a system, Ancient Cities were still home to many many people. Those who lived there are known as the ones who discovered the Redstone system and perfected it over hundreds of years. Sadly, they aren't talked about much anymore, as a threat that plagued all Ancient Cities had wiped all those who lived in them out. All but one.

Etho.

Well, sort-of.

His story starts in the Redstone schools that used to reside under the center structure, that now lay only as historical landmarks, if anything at all. Growing up, all children in the Ancient Cities would go there to learn about it, to have the knowledge of generations prior passed down to them. Some would grow up and still work with the fine dust, others would move onto other roles in the city. But no matter what, all were welcomed and accepted.

Etho was one of those who continued working with Redstone as he grew up. The substance always fascinated him, how it could so easily pass a current through it to provide power to things. Whether it be to turn on a light or open a door, the white-haired man could explain how each part worked. He truly was someone to be looked up to by the children in the school. So, there he worked, helping to teach the next generations about Redstone. One of his students even gave him a headband as a gift, as his hair often got in his eyes while working. Another student, who was skilled in metal working, made a metal plate for the band that read "ETHO" on the front in big letters.

"Its so you'll always know it's yours!" The child explained, their own long white hair tied back in a pony tail.

Working with the children was truly something special, and he enjoyed every moment of it. Despite the constant need of masks to keep from inhaling the dust, Etho was able to name each of the kids he worked with off of what little of their face was visible.

Even though he was well known around the city, he never let it get to his head. No matter what he continued to remain humble and keep a level head, despite the somewhat consistent praise. Etho was beyond greatful for what he had, and would give up his life 10 times over for it.

However, the peaceful hustle of day-by-day life slowly started to come to an end, when something new began to creep its way into the city. It looked like how ancients described the night sky, dark and sprinkled with glittering dots, but grew and spread like a moss or fungus. It clung to any surface it could and fed off of energy to spread. Something the Redstone in the Ancient Cities had plenty of.

At first, no one took too much note. A few even tried to use it for Redstone work. However, those who were cautious were proven right, as it soon began to latch onto and feed off of those who lived in the city. The growth would latch onto someone and begin sapping away at their energy, then spread some more until they were coated in it. They died shortly after. It was slow, and it was miserable. Eventually, ways to make the process more bearable were discovered and used, but there was never an official cure. A growth would always end in death. Some when they discovered a growth, would take their own life in order to avoid suffering. Truly, it was a sad time for all those who lived there.

But it only got worse... at least, the day it appeared.

The day seemed normal at the start. Etho was once again working away in the school, helping children left an right. There hadn't been many problems there either, everyone seemed to be behaving well. A day with few serious issues was always a blessing. However the hope of a fully peaceful day was ruined when the sound of panicked screams rang into the school from outside.

After trying and failing to ignore it, Etho as well as some of the other teachers gathered all the kids - who were beginning to panic - into one part of the school before trying to decide who would go check what was wrong. Both a mix of curious and concerned, Etho was quick to volenteer.

Once he stepped outside, the problem was quick to spot. A large beast made of the infectious growth was rampaging through the city, seemingly attacking at random, killing anyone and anything in its path. There was no method to the madness, the monster was just going after anything that moved. It was worse than terrifying. Etho couldn't bring himself to move while watching his friends, family, and acquaintances alike get brutally murdered by this creature. He just stood frozen. Watching as the creature began to come closer. Etho only snapped back when the thing was only a few meters away. His blood went cold, and he took a scared step back towards the school.

His foot hit the ground...

And growths on the side of the creatures head lit up. Was it... listening? Etho watched in horror as the creatures attention turned to face the sound. There was something Etho noticed then that was definitly important. It had no eyes. No wonder it was attacking so recklessly, it was attacking anything that made sound.

"Shit..."

The creature charged. Any attempt to flee would have been useless, and it slammed into Etho, throwing him into one of the deepslate brick walls that surrounded the school. He was barely conscious, and the world was spinning around him. Blood dripped down the back of his head and soaking into his turtle neck, and he felt the hot sticky liquid coming from the left side of his face. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Just barely over the ringing in his ears, he heard the kids inside the school scream.

'NO!' He wanted to shout, 'GO AFTER ME NOT THEM.'

No words came out.

The ringing in his ears got louder and his vision quickly began to blur.

'No no NO! ANYTHING BUT THEM! PLEASE!' His pleas were silent.

The world went dark.

...

Next he remembers is seeing a lady standing in front of him. She was tall and had a notably bigger frame. The dress she wore was darker than deepslate, same colour as the large-brimmed hat she wore. The lady's face was framed by long dark brown hair. To top it all off, she carried a cythe with her too. Exactly how the ancients described Death.

"You're more reluctant than most to move on," she spoke before he could get any words out, "Why? Is it due to the circumstances of your death? Or is there something else?"

Etho didn't even bother answering her questions when he responded. "Please!" He begged, "You have to send me back, please I- I can't die yet!" Death tilted her head to the side, curious as he explained himself. "There are children there- down there with that- that thing! It's going to go after them and they deserve better than to die like that! Please I have to protect them!"

The pure desperation that filled his words seemed to pique Deaths intrest, "What are you willing to do to go back?" She questioned, "How much are you willing to give up?"

"Anything," Etho was quick to answer, "I'll do anything you need! Just please let me protect them! Let them lead full lives."

Death looked at him thoughtfully before answering. "I cannot control whether they will die or not, however there is something I can do for you," she heald her hand out as though expecting to be handed something, palm facing the sky. Though that wasn't quite what happened, something did appear in the hair above it, staying there briefly before falling and landing in her hand. Adjusting the way she was holding it, Death heald the small item up so Etho could see it.

"...A jar of rocks...?" The man muttered, confused as to what it would do to bring him back. Each rock in the small glass jar was a different colour and glowed slightly, and the cork of the jar appeared to be connected to a chain.

Death nodded. "Each rock in here represents a favor you have to do for me. One you can't turn down. Once all the favors are completed you will be able to move on whenever you are ready, however you will have no limbo. If you choose to decline this offer, then i will send you to your limbo until it is your time to be brought back, however I feel that you will be choosing to go back despite that."

"Yes! Yes I accept your offer!" Etho felt relief wash over. He might be able to do something to protect them after all.

Giving a nod, Death passed him the jar full of 7 small colourful rocks. "Once you are brought back, you will not be fully alive," she explained further, "you will be in between alive and a spirit. Able to interact with those around you as though you were alive, but you will have no heart beat and no need for breath. Along with that, if you take a fatal injury, you will simply pass out and wake up a short while later wherever you last slept, even on hardcore worlds."

Catching the jar, Etho listened to what she was explaining. "Right..."

"Good luck, Etho. I hope you do not go on to regret this decision. If you are to fail to save them, I'll ensure they pass peacefully."

And as quickly as it came, his vision went black before he could thank her.

...

When he awoke, Etho was back in the Ancient City with the jar worn around his neck. Blood was still dripping from the wound on his head and over the left side of his face, but neither hurt anymore, only stinging slightly if he touched them. That in and of itself was a pleasant surprise. However only a brief moment passed before Etho remembered why he was back.

The kids!

In a panic at the silence, Etho pushed his hands against the ground to push himself up and-

He froze as he felt a body below him. Terrified as to who's it was, Etho took his time craning his neck down to look at it. It took a moment for him to realize who it was.

It was *him*. It was his own bloodied corpse laying completely still on the ground. The still intact side of his face looked relaxed, which was far from how he felt at the moment of his death. The other side however, was covered in blood which had begun to pool beneath the head. The sight made him want to throw up. Etho pulled his mask down as his stomach churned, but nothing came up. This was something he would never unsee for the rest of his life.

Well, afterlife.

The way the blood poured from his body and pooled on the stone floor, a body which was so unaturally still and unmoving it sent a chill down his spine. But that wasn't the worst part. As soon as the shock of seeing his own corpse on the ground passed, the defening silence seeped into him. If it weren't for him hearing his own panicked breaths, Etho would have assumed that he was deaf.

The silence meant one of two things. One: The children were safe and hidden away, somewhere that creature couldn't reach them. Or two: it had found them, and every single one of them were dead. Option two, sadly, felt much more likely despite how much Etho wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell himself they were safe. Having last heard their screams before passing out meant that, logically, they were found. And as much as it hurt him now, Etho was a very logical man.

So, after spending far longer than he would ever care to admit stood frozen, he moved a step forward. Then another. And then another. He kept taking steps until he reached the doorway to the school. A doorway which, much to his dismay, had been broken open much wider than it was ever intented to be, bits of brick still crumbling away. The sight of that alone made his cold, unmoving heart feel as though it were about to break. Seeing the door broken so wide almost certianly meant that the creature got in. Got in and killed them all.

With one look around the corner, it was confirmed for him. The room had been torn apart, tables and chests flipped and open. Redstone components littered the floor, the red of the dust mixing with the crimson blood of the children. All of who, were dead. Bodies tossed around the room like they were another table, or chest. All limp, unmoving, and some disfigured to the point they were unrecognizable.

That. That's what broke him. Etho collapsed to the floor, hands clutching his shirt, and cried. He wanted to throw up, but the deal he had made made that impossible. The deal he had made to try and save the children. The deal he made, only to fail in the end.

He had failed.

"What do I do now..." he asked no one, voice hoarse from crying.

"I don't know," a voice - Death - answered back. "But I will tell you this; whatever answers to those questions you seek, you will not find them here," her voice was firm.

"Leave, Etho. You have no reason to be here any longer."

[kierancampire]

Percy Jackson spoilers.

I was so excited to watch the show but I think I honestly dunno if I can continue watching it. I've got 8:30 minutes left of episode 3, yet to watch episode 4. But god it's just pissing me off constantly! I know it's for younger audiences, but some of us grew up reading and loving the books! I wish there was something for us older fans! And I get it can't mirror the books exactly and it needs changes, but god I am so absolutely fuck sick of the show telling you everything and not leaving you any time to guess anything or to sit with anything! It just spells out and screams everything at you! And the changes it makes are crap!

Sally telling Percy everything instantly, Luke telling Percy the Annabeth and Thalia story, Grover telling Percy that Hades has his mum, Annabeth telling Percy that Grover was their protector, Medusa instantly telling them who she is, now Percy is immediately telling them the prophecy in full that he heard!?! What the fuck is up with this show and subtlety!?! It's leaving no complexities to the characters, it is leaving no mysteries, and it is making such huge and shit changes! Like the first Dodds fight, except oh wait, they didn't fight, Percy accidentally stabbed her. Or like the fight where Percy discovers his powers, except oh wait, that never happened either as Annabeth pushed him in a lake. Or like how the Furies show they are really formidable on the bus and they have an almost deadly encounter, except oh wait! That never fucking happens and just a queue of 4 people is apparently enough to stop a high ranking monster! Medusa was barely anything! The monsters aren't scary and have posed no threat because all they do is stand there! The Minotaur was impressive and intimidating, that's it! Then they just are constantly arguing and bickering over nothing, and they're accusing Percy of being scared and defensive when they keep starting on him, firstly he wasn't acting differently at all? So that feels out of nowhere? And of course he's gonna get defensive when they keep fighting him? They've had no kind moments together, just fighting and accusing!

Like, I will try episode 4 once this is done, I will give it a go. But if this show shows one more thing then instantly explains it, or explains a thing before it is even shown or mentioned, honestly I'm dropping it! I just do not get why they wrote it in this way where they do nothing but explain EVERYTHING in the first 3 episodes, and leave nothing for suspense! Especially when it completely goes against the story and characters! The characters in the show are so fucking flat! You are getting spoon fed EVERYTHING, even before you/Percy really know anything about it, like Thalia, they are so one dimensional and bland because they're extracting all the substance! Or like in Mr. D's case, none of his threat is there, Gabe's a pushover, Luke hasn't really shown any anger at the gods, Annabeth hasn't shown any sadness about her arrival, Grover hasn't shown any upset about his past, Percy wasn't allowed to secretly hope to save his mum, they characters have no depth! The show has written them so one note, and anything that could be deep, it just instantly explains or tosses aside! Also, I know he's a kid, but Grover's actor ain't the greatest, and just adding on everything else. If somehow people are enjoying this show, good for them, I'm glad. I was so excited to watch this and was really looking forward to it, especially with how more book accurate it was meant to be. But it's like they're actively going out of their way to ruin the story by removing all the fights, all the excitement, all the mysteries, all the depth, then replacing it with non-stop bickering. The movie did quite a few things better and no one should be saying that.

Edit: LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA IS FUCKING HERMES.

[klm-zoflorr]

For me it's that they get so much wrong about everyone's character not to mention simple logic I don't see it as worth it to consider whatever new things they bring to the table. They couldn't be arsed to follow Ursa's show characterization the slightest bit, the Search is essentially a retcon with childish morality (ursa zuko iroh good, azula ozai bad. When it is a lot more complex than that, with all of the fire family having been, at least in the past, fully involved in Fire Nation imperialism) and cheap plot twists (omg zuko isn't ozai's son! Wait he is. But then why would he treat him like that...? Oh right because Ozai is apparently stupid and petty enough to throw away his heir over one thing his wife he doesn't even like said. Does that man actually think? Like does he have any sort of logical processes? The answer is no.)

It brings no substance to these characters. In fact, it flattens whatever was already there. Do those villains have any reasons for their motivations? Don't care. Isn't Azula hurt by her brother constantly attacking and screaming at her? Doesn't matter. Does Ursa realise how fucking stupid sending that kind of letters to her ex bf is? Is she supposed to be an idiot? Not elaborated upon, no consequences for her, learn from no mistake. Does Ozai feel any kind of way about being forced to marry by a father who hates him? Ah, silly us, characterisation is only for good guys apparently. Why would the fire nation not send an assassin after Ikem right after Ursa and Ozai got married? They're monsters but only when it has no bad consequences for the heroes you see. Ozai in canon was at the very least manipulative. Did he never try to make Ursa happy instead of treating her horribly, does he not realise how much of an advantage having a wife that does not want to kill you is? Why didn't Ursa poison him earlier, by the way? Oh sorry, is the skillset you gave her incoherent with her motivations and the end result?

Ursa chose to forget about her children and give up on them, while claiming she loves both Zuko and Azula. That is, firstly, not coherent with the version of her we saw in the show, but also no matter how understable it is why does Zuko have literally no reaction to it? He doesn't care? You're telling me the boy who grew up all alone for whom a pretty clear core memory was losing his mom, looked at this woman who left him there and didn't even try, and went "oh hi by the way"? Zuko, anger issues was mad at Iroh for trying to help him, this Zuko, had no feelings about it whatsoever?

Writing a backstory for an already existing piece of media is hard, don't get me wrong. I am however certain it takes a lot of passion and commitment to fuck it up that badly. But hey, art's cool tho!

A Point of Clarity

Characters who don’t sexually assault anyone in ATLA: Aang, Hahn, Ozai, Azula, Chan.

Characters who commit sexual assault on screen in ATLA, in a children’s show: Iroh. 

[fickleminder]

Inner Demon

Crack-ish fic inspired by this post. (Or: the one where the human exchange student gets possessed by a lesser demon.)

Content warnings: mild body horror

It’s quiet... Lucifer realizes one morning. Too quiet.

Normally his days would be interspersed with episodes of wrangling his brothers and dealing with whatever mess they’ve caused with or without your help, but it seems as though everyone has been on their best behavior lately. 

In fact, if Lucifer had to narrow it down, the most notable difference would be that you’ve stopped chatting everyone’s ears off about whatever you’re currently hyperfixating on. Despite the bumpy adjustment period when you had first started living at the House of Lamentation, your talkative and easily excitable nature eventually grew on them. Levi and Satan especially, are always more than happy to chat with you late into the night now.

While Lucifer would normally capitalize on this opportunity to savor the fragile, likely short-lived peace, his big brotherly instincts are screaming that something’s amiss. His sanity is at stake, but your well-being takes precedence.

“How have you been?” He asks at the next family dinner, watching your body language carefully.

You jump slightly at his question, and the room falls silent as the other brothers turn their attention to you. “I’m good, thanks for asking Lo— Lucifer.”

The first-born narrows his eyes. You’re slightly pale and sweaty, trembling almost imperceptibly in your seat. Perhaps you’re ill and trying to hide your symptoms. “You’ve hardly eaten anything. Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel finE!” Biting back a shout through gritted teeth, you grab the dinner fork and violently stab at your untouched salad.

“Geez human, what’d a bunch of leaves ever do to —”

Mammon’s offhand comment is cut off by a hissed “shut up”, causing raised eyebrows and slack jaws all around.

If the fact that you just breached basic fine dining etiquette isn’t ringing any alarm bells — Lucifer should know, he’d drilled it into you himself in preparation for a formal gathering several weeks back; the habits stuck, often earning you light teasing from his brothers when they observe your precise use of the salad fork for appetizers — your cruel words towards your first man are.

“Hey normie, you don’t look so good.”

“Levi’s right, honey. Maybe you should go lie down for a bit and we can —”

“I said shUT UP!”

Your chair flies backwards with a high-pitched screech as you stand up abruptly, clutching your head and pulling at your hair. As you stumble backwards, muttering unintelligibly under your breath, faint wisps of black smoke begin emanating from your skin. 

Satan recognizes the signs in a heartbeat. “Possession,” he breathes in horror, unable to believe that some lowlife is currently inhabiting your precious body. “Everyone, we need to —”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP JUST STOP TALKING —”

Dark liquid drips from your eyes like tears, the same viscous substance gathering at your lips as your body doubles over and heaves with the effort of expelling the intruder. Beel steps in front of his frozen twin while Lucifer and Satan prep exorcism spells, ready to force the bastard out of you.

With one final, loud retch, you fall to your hands and knees. The puddle of tar on the floor coalesces into a solid mass that quickly darts towards the first- and fourth-born.

“Lord Lucifer, Lord Satan, please save me!” The lesser demon begs feebly at their feet, scrambling to put as much distance between you and himself as possible. “Have mercy, I’ll do anything! Just make the human SHUT UP —”

Lucifer grants his wish by letting Satan go wild. It’s technically mercy; he would have done much worse to that scumbag. Instead, he joins his remaining brothers in fussing over you.

Beel props you up while Belphie rubs your back soothingly. “How in the nine circles did you manage to get him out yourself?!” Mammon demands to know.

“I may have gotten possessed by a demon, but they also got possessed by me,” you rasp with a crooked grin. “Say, did I ever tell you guys about this song we used to sing back in school...”