#i can never be a good doctor let alone willingly choose it

[violettierre]

I : majored in english, has a masters degree in it, studying philosophy, and have been an English teacher/Junior translator for almost a decade now.

My grandma : there is our future doctor <3

[natequarter]

Me on a date: The Sarah Jane Adventures lures you in with a closed-off and paranoid single woman living alone who slowly opens up to her much younger friends in an obvious parallel to the Doctor, particularly the Third Doctor (alone and miserable on Earth, which she cannot leave, unwilling to open up to her friends but slowly coaxed out of her shell); Sarah is the protagonist of The Sarah Jane Adventures, but she is not its hero. We see hints at her trauma, emotional repression, and paranoia over the course of the show; she repeatedly lies to her charges, to the point where they essentially have to stalk her to keep track of her, and she’s fundamentally incapable of relating to ‘average’ people, because she never really adapted back to life on Earth, emotionally or psychologically, and never learnt to grieve. All of this is a compelling, if implicit, storyline on its own, but it hits much harder if you’ve listened to the Big Finish audio series Sarah Jane Smith, in which Sarah is explicitly depicted as an antihero who willingly and recklessly endangers herself and her friends because she’s miserable without the adrenaline of danger and saving the world. Her heroics more often than not cause more harm than good; she cuts herself off from her friends just to solve mysteries (to the point it puts her life at risk), she throws herself into situations that nearly kill her multiple times, and many people die because of her intervention, some of them innocent. The only way she can rationalise the Doctor leaving her to herself is that there was some higher purpose. The artifice of prophecy pervades the entire series; time and time again it becomes clear that any instance of ‘coincidence’ or ‘fate’ are actually down to the machinations of time travel, Sarah, or the cult that has dedicated itself to fulfilling its doomsday predictions. Sarah in The Sarah Jane Adventures is an obvious Doctor stand-in for the narrative, but in Sarah Jane Smith it goes further than that: Sarah embraces his manipulative behaviour, his darker side, his tricks and bluffs. She pretends to be blind to outwit her enemies. She defeats her enemies through words and kills a villain through intentional inaction. At one point she’s forced into a moral dilemma reminiscent of the conflicts that the Doctor faces, where she must choose between the lives of thousands of innocent Londoners and her friend. In the end, it’s no question to her; she chooses to let her friend die. She’s willing to let both her friends die, if it comes down to it—and one of them ultimately does. Sarah is an unusual character; unlike most ex-companions, she’s fundamentally incapable of readjusting to normal life, and has pretty explicitly spent her life since leaving the Doctor isolated, miserable, and in constant peril. But she also doesn’t fit in with the companions who ultimately meet their doom travelling with the Doctor; unlike, say, Clara Oswald, she’s given the chance to back out before it’s too late, and she takes it. But it’s clear that she never recovered from leaving the Doctor, because the Doctor’s lifestyle is the only thing that makes her feel like life is worth living. Sarah Jane Smith clearly portrays Sarah as someone transformed by the Doctor into the Doctor. But this is not a good thing, and the series occupies itself with deconstructing the damaging psychological effect the Doctor has on both people in general and Sarah specifically—Sarah is not a nice person. She is not a better person for having known the Doctor; in fact it’s only made her worse. She’s a danger to the people around her. She’s irrational and obsessed with getting what she wants to the exception of all else. She’s sometimes outright cruel. It’s a fascinating play on a usually much kinder (if imperfect) character, and personally, I love it.

My date: What the hell?

[bakugosbratx]

Hi love💜 Can I request a smutty dark Eren x reader???

NSFW 18+ Broken Pieces— Eren Jeager x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Everyone is age up and consenting. Smut, sexual encounters, cursing, degrading, some power play, unprotected sex, angst, etc.

Click here to see my other works

A/N: Thank you so much for your request. I hope it met your idea. I am only on season 3 of AOT so if anything seems uncanny I apologize. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 1,865

Loving Eren Jeager was not an easy task it seems. He is a soldier after all. You would await for him to arrive home after long missions with the military in hopes he will still be in one piece, but each time the soldiers marched back, the pit in your stomach grew with anticipation. Especially when Eren was nowhere to be seen.

“Captain Levi,” you huff, walking beside him as a row of soldiers follow him, “where the hell is Eren?”

“Hello to you too, brat.” Levi responds, not even looking down from on top of his horse. He is used to you doing this by now.

“With all due respect, sir, now is not the time for your smartass remarks. Where is Eren?” You snap, keeping a fast pace to keep up with the group. You and Levi have built an understanding over the years. He knows you are concerned about Eren and he cannot fault you for that.

“Eren decided he was going to play hero and injured himself in combat.” Levi sighed, mumbling “what an idiot” under his breath shortly after. You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows while glaring up at the Captain.

“Please tell me he isn’t dead..” You stammered.

“Like I would let Jeager die.” He scoffed. “He is in the wagon with Mikasa.”

“Okay, thank you, sir.” You nod, standing still so the line can keep moving. Once the wagon that is holding Eren came along, you hopped on. Your man laid on his back, Mikasa right by his side. You kneel on the other side of him.

“Please,” you softly whimper as you meet Mikasa’s emotionless eyes, “tell me he is alright.”

She nodded.

“He is in-and-out of consciousness, but he should be fine.” Mikasa reassured. You let out a sigh of relief.

Softly cupping his scratched up face, you release tears filled with stress, sadness, and even glee. “Oh, Eren. Whatever will I do with you?” You chuckled, softly.

You sat beside Eren’s bedside all evening. Mikasa kept you company. You and her have grown close over the years. She can see how much you truly love and care for Eren which he needs. This does relieve some stress off of her when she cannot be around to protect or scold him from acting on impulse.

Silence filled the room as you both stared at bandaged up Eren. The doctor said he does have a concussion, but should be alright. This calmed both of you.

“How do you do it?” Mikasa finally asks after more minutes pass. You raise an eyebrow, gazing in her direction. She refuses to meet your orbs.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you still willingly love Eren?” She rephrased, her hands finding refuge in her red scarf Eren gave her years ago. You are aware of their history, but your brain cannot seem to compute her question.

“I’m not understanding—“

“Eren is not,” she paused to find the right word, “normal. He comes with a lot of risk. He is a loose cannon. He will more than likely die in battle from his impulsive nature. Why put yourself through that?”

You hesitate to answer. Mikasa is not wrong, unfortunately. Everyday is a worry when it comes to Eren’s wellbeing along with your own. You will never dream of stopping Eren from chasing his aspirations. That wouldn’t be right, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish he was not a military man. He would be home every night with you. So many lonely evenings and deafening sobs.

“I don’t know,” You spoke honestly. Mikasa finally looked at you. “Eren is worth the risk.”

Before Mikasa could pester you any further, Eren stirred in his slumber. His eyes soon awaken and gaze over at you two. You and Mikasa let out a small gasp.

“Eren..” is said in unison by you both.

“Where,” he swallows and places a hand on his forehead, “where am I?”

“You are in recovery. You injured yourself in battle.” You explained to your significant other. Eren nods and starts to sit up, but Mikasa pushes him back down.

“You need to rest.” Mikasa scolds.

“So do you.” Eren argued.

“He’s not wrong, Mikasa.” You concur, placing your hand on her shoulder. “Go rest. I got Eren.”

Usually, Mikasa would protest, but she is exhausted. Her aching body is craving sleep. She also knows that Eren will be in good hands with you around. So, she let out a small sigh and headed out the door. You and Eren are now completely alone.

“You need to rest too, y’know?” Eren states.

“Hard to rest when you are getting injured all of the time.” You countered. Eren rolled his eyes in response.

“You knew this going in, Y/N. It’s my job to keep you safe.“

“You can only keep me safe if you stay alive, Eren.” You snap.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked at your twiddling thumbs, not meeting his intense gaze. You did not want him to see the tears in your eyes. What use would it do? Eren will always choose the army over you. That’s just the facts. You know this is his life purpose. You cannot stand in the way of that.

“Barely.” You finally utter out, still not looking at the man before you. Eren’s breath turns noticeably shaken.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Y/N?” He interrogated, his voice not coming out as tough as he would appreciate.

“We can discuss things a different time, Eren.” You stand up from your chair and start heading towards the door as tears fall. “You need rest.”

Your hand goes to turn the door knob, but Eren’s is quick to land on-top of yours. You spin around to face your significant other.

“Eren, what the—“ Your question was cut off by Eren’s hunger filled lips. His hands cup your face as all his passion is poured into your dry mouth. You missed these kinds of kisses. You missed the drive this man used to overflow you with. He is making up for it now.

Eren slowly pulls away, keeping his lips inches close to yours as he still holds your face. “Don’t you dare leave me.”He dominantly whispers.

“Like I would.” You mutter out.

A small smile appears on Eren’s face before he proceeds to kiss you. Only this time he forces you against the door. One hand finds their way to your breast while the other still holds your face. His index and middle finger ever so gently play with your nipple as the palm of his hand squeezes your areola. He’s torturing you at this point, but who are you to protest? You missed Eren. You missed his not-so-gentle touch and his way of words.

You missed him.

Eren’s lips left yours to suck and nibble on your earlobe. Soft moans escaped your mouth as you begged for more.

“Better be quiet, princess. Don’t want anyone to hear you.” He scornfully chuckled into your ear.

“I don’t care if anyone hears me. Just fuck me, Eren.” You breathe out. Your sexual drive could not be contained anymore. You need Eren in more ways than one.

Your lips never disconnected as you made your way towards the bed, both of your clothes being discarded within the process. You laid on your back as Eren climbed on top. Your lips finally disconnected. The moonlight lit up the dark room through the window. It laid perfectly on Eren’s features. His muscular form hovered over your naked body. One hand trailed every line of his abs while you moved some of his long brown hair out of his beautiful face.

“This isn’t resting.” You scold, playfully. He rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“Shut up and just take my cock, will ya?”

You both snicker at his remark and begin kissing again. There will never be enough make out sessions to fix what is broken, but it is sure one hell of a start. The skin on skin contact is well perceived. You both just can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Eren pulls away to sit up. He pushes your knees towards your breast, revealing more of your begging cunt. You keep your legs in place with your arms as he aligns his cock with your entrance. You’re already dripping from the anticipation. It has been far too long since you two had sexual intercourse.

“Already a soaking mess, huh?” Eren teases. You did not even have time to make a remark back as his length enters your soaked pussy. Immediate moans escaped your lips as he thrust himself in-and-out. Your tight walls hug his girth and length perfectly.

“God damn, you’re still so fucking tight, babe.” Eren groans as he continues diving every single inch into you. “I need to fuck you more often.”

“Eren—“ You cry. His hips keep colliding with your exposed ass as he hits all the right spots. His hand finds a way to your throat, choking you as he wrecks your precious pussy. Your legs eventually wrap around his waist to keep him from leaving you for too long. His other hand gives occasional hard slaps to your outer thigh. All you can do is moan in pleasure.

Your walls clenched around Eren’s member. His smug smirk grew wider as he felt your cunt’s walls beg him not to leave you hollow for the tiniest of seconds. His blue orbs meet yours.

“HA! Such a cock hungry slut. Already wanna cum again.” Eren cheekily remarks. You feel flustered, but you cannot help that your body betrays you.

“Please let me cum, Eren.” You begged. He always did love playing dominant in the bedroom. He finally let go of your throat so you can provide oxygen to your lungs. His rhythm increased to a higher speed, almost making it impossible to wait for permission.

“Have to beg better than that.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. He really was not going to let you just have this. Your pussy was not going to last much longer. If you want him to continue providing you dick tonight, you need to give this your all and make it count.

“Please Eren. Please let me cum. I’m begging you. I’m,” you gasp as you almost lose control, “not going to last much longer.”

Eren waited a moment to answer. He loved seeing you in agony because of his cock. Feeling your cunt not being able to last much longer as well as him, he nods. “Go ‘head and cum.”

He hardly could get the words out as your pussy released on to Eren. He was sure to follow shortly after as the veins in his member twitch. Cum flowed from the head of his dick into the depths of your cunt. You whimper softly as he milks every drop into you.

He lays next to you once he’s done, holding you close. You both pant, sweat droplets formed at the top of your foreheads. The room was musky, but still. For right now, everything is alright until he leaves once again.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[tirednerd2012]

IWLG Second Part, Ian goes Missing

“Barley, listen to me, you’re going to be okay, okay? I promise! I’m right here, I’m right here, Barley. I’m not leaving you. Kirk’s gone. It’s fine,” Ian kept talking, but he wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or his brother’s that he was. He managed to stop most of the bleeding.

A car drove by and came to a rough stop. Two cyclops jumped out.

“Well, two elves, that’s definitely them,” one said. The girl looked over at her partner and rolled her eyes before kneeling down beside Ian.

“Excuse my idiot brother. My name is Taena, and this is Randil. We are friends of Corey, and we are here to help. You must be Ian, and this is Barley, correct?” she asked in a very gentle voice. Randil looked around at their surroundings, gripping his sword tightly.

“Yes,” Ian answered. The girl nodded and looked over Barley.

“We need to get him to the hospital, okay? Randil, help me get him up, but be careful. Ian, get in the truck.”

“How do you know Corey?”

“She helped us out of a rough situation. We don’t know much about what’s going on, we were just told to get to you,” Randil answered, somewhat impatiently. Ian rolled his eyes.

“We can call her if that would make you feel better. I need to wrap Barley’s wound anyway,” Taena offered, and Ian nodded, bringing out the phone Corey gave Barley and called her.

“Barley, what’s-?”

“It’s Ian. Barley’s hurt, but did you send two cyclops to help us?”

“Yes, Taena and Randil. What do you mean Barley’s hurt?”

“He… Kirk tried to shoot me, and Barley took it instead and now he needs a hospital and-,” Ian stopped upon hearing his voice crack.

“It’s okay. Look, you can trust them. I will be there as soon as I can, but I still have a few hours of traveling. So does your mom and Colt,” Corey said. “It’ll be okay. I promise, okay?”

“Alright, just hurry, please.”

Three hours later, Ian sat beside his older brother, who was in the hospital bed clinging to life. He lost a lot of blood, apparently, but they got a blood transfusion in the process. He desperately wished he knew some kind of spell that could save him.

The doctors also treated his basic wounds and gave him something for his pain. Now the exhaustion was taking over and making it difficult to even hold on to his staff. His mom and Colt were coming down now, but they would be a few more hours. Corey was closer than them, but she would still be another 3 or so.

Barley still hadn't woken up. Ian squeezed his hand once more, but there was no sign that Barley could even respond to it if he wanted.

“Bar, I wish you didn’t take that hit for me,” he said. “I mean, I know you want to protect me, and I know you do it because you love me. But I-I can’t be the reason for something terrible happening to you. Please. Just be okay.”

He never got a response. Randil and Taena were talking to Corey on the phone somewhere, and now that he felt that he was truly alone, he sobbed. He cried until he couldn’t breathe. He cried until his chest hurt and he could barely see. Everything in him ached and made him want to disappear.

This was his fault. Barley was just protecting him because a lunatic was after him. And Barley couldn’t handle the idea of something bad happening to his little brother. He wished he was never born, because at least then Barley wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself for him.

Kirk was still after him, too. And now, without Barley around, Ian knew he didn’t stand much of a chance. But when Barley woke up, he knew that his older brother would stop at nothing to find him and that made him more sick than the idea of Kirk getting him. Barley was reckless with his life when it came to Ian. If anything happened, it would be Ian’s fault.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mistake, Barley. I wish I was never born,” he confessed to his brother’s sleeping form. He wiped his eyes and finally felt the exhaustion hold his body hostage and before he knew what was going on, he fell asleep.

He woke up and his staff was gone. He looked up and saw Kirk standing there in the doorway, gun in one hand and Ian’s staff in the other.

He jumped up and went towards Barley, but Kirk held the gun up.

“Move and I’ll kill him,” Kirk warned, taking the safety off his gun and pointing it at Barley, who was still unconscious. Ian stopped and Kirk smiled. “Now, Ian, I’m going to let you choose how this is going to go down. Either you come with me, willingly, or I’ll kill your brother. The same one who just took the first bullet for you.”

“You knew he would do that, didn’t you?” Ian snapped. “You want me alive for whatever reason and you knew Barley wouldn’t put my life on the line.”

“Of course I did. I do need you alive, but I don’t need him. In fact, life is going to be a lot easier for me once I kill him.”

“No. Don’t,” Ian said. He looked over at Barley again and then sighed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Good, that’s what I thought,” Kirk responded. “Now, come on. We’re leaving.”

“Fine, just get that gun away from him,” Ian said. Kirk laughed as Ian walked over towards him. He lowered the gun and then put it away. Ian caught one last look at Barley before willingly going with Kirk.

I’m so sorry, Barley. Please, don’t come after me.

[awesomerextyphoon]

A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome – 3

A Hero’s Welcome?

Summary: When someone with a connection to Steve’s past dies, he’s reminded of the promise he made to Dr. Erskine and whether or not he’s failed. Can Ife help him see that he hasn’t?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Ifekerenma ‘Ife’, Abraham Erskine (mentioned), Marlene Erskine (mentioned), Nick Fury, Eliza Maza, Azeneth Ramirez

Main Pairing: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 5,801

Warnings: Depression, Talk of Death, Slightly Cynical Steve, Politics, Smutty Thoughts

A/N: I’m sorry that this so long. I really wanted to try something different with Erskine and the time around CA:TFA. Also, I wanted to explore how Steve would be feeling right after AoU (little bit of a downer, but it will get better). Furthermore, this story will diverge a bit from MCU in terms of Steve’s and Bucky’s abilities. Feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated. Dividers were by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for the beta!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<<Previous

Early June 2015

“What do you have to report, Ifekerenma?”

Ife pursed her lips together,”Wanda is doing well with her training. Djamila and Nazaret had some sung her praises during their first session.”

It took a few days to convince the team and Fury to let her friends train Wanda. Luckily Nat had her back and Wanda was able to show the compound how much she improved from what Ife was able to teach her. Unfortunately, Azeneth was unable to make it due to being tied up with a BNA mission and relocating to the NYC division.

“That’s good to hear. Have you made made any progress with the others?”

Ife’s eyes casted down in thought. Vision was a no-go for now. Pietro was warming up to her, but he thought she was still suspicious (wasn’t wrong). She didn’t want to try Rhodey yet (too close to Tony). Nat was..difficult; she’ll try again later.

“I’m going to try Steve next. He seems like a safe bet, even with the serum. Hopefully, he won’t catch before it’s time. I will need Erskine’s folder though.”

Eliza’s lips turned upward in a small smile, “Agreed. I’ll have it sent to you within the hour. Best of luck, Ife.”

And with that, Ife got dressed and headed towards the common room.

  Steve leaned back and clasped his hands together behind his head in thought and vexation.

The 21st century must be fucking with him.

Right after Operation ‘Captain Briar Rose’, Steve went to Brooklyn. He could barely find any trace of his old neighborhood. The apartment complex where he and his mother lived was now a ritzy condominium with a Starbucks on the ground level.

All of the places he���d go with Bucky were now soulless veneers filled with empty promises of ‘happiness’ or ‘self-esteem’.

He remembered the time Bucky bailed him out of yet another beating by Arnie and his gang back in 1928. His mother berated him for getting in yet another fight while Bucky’s mom laughed and treated them to ice cream from the local sweets parlor. Bucky’s sisters – Rebecca, Rose, and Annabelle – were making a fuss and bursted out in giggles when Annabelle got ice cream in Bucky’s hair. It was one of the best days that year.

A T-Mobile now stands in its place.

All of his friends and comrades save Bucky and Peggy are dead; he nearly bawled in the middle of briefing when found out that Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan died and had a cry alone in his quarters afterwards.

Felt shitty about the current state of the country. It seemed as though everything has gotten worse. He found out about the Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq Wars. How income and wealth inequality has somehow gotten as bad as, if not worse, than the Gilded Age. Corruption has turned DC and NYC into dog and pony show.

He was furious at all of the politicians and corporations that wanted him to endorse them or their actions. They wanted Captain America’s helmet and shield to mask their heinous acts. They were the same if not worse than Senator Brandt.

Some days Steve wished SHIELD let him stay in the ice. Even worse, there were days he felt that Captain America was for an America that never was.

Nowadays, he felt even more like an anomaly.

It started when he got out of the ice. He felt a lot stronger and faster; only Thor knew the extent of it and he has to hold back a lot when fighting for fear of government asking for more of his blood. Though he suspected Ife and Natasha might be onto him.

He was a lot hungrier than before he went on ice as well. Often time, he would have late night ‘dinners’ (now it's every night), To be honest, he was a bit embarrassed at how much he ate, though the thought of pinning the blame on Ife did cross his mind. It wouldn’t work due to Ife almost never eating with the team and Sam said that he would know if Ife was the culprit. Steve suspected that Ife has been using her connections to restock the food between when he retired to his quarters and before the rest of the team came for breakfast. Also, she kept leaving him fun pop culture facts and media recommendations for the night.

Steve didn’t feel he could go to Dr. Cho since he doubted she had anything to go on in his case.

He did wonder if Ife could help him. She seemed to like helping the team and she was knowledgable about Non-Humans. Wanda’s rapid improvement in her powers and control bolstered his decision.

Sighing, Steve sat up straight in his chair and picked up the letter he received that morning. Marlene Philomena Erskine had passed away and he was invited to her funeral.

It was sad to have yet another link to his past slip from his grasp.

  Steve was finishing up another book to fight off his jitters. It was the night before the operation and he needed to have a few moments of respite from the war.

He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he failed to notice Dr. Erskine entering.

Erskine, for his part, was eyeing several books in Rogers’ makeshift bookshelf: They Odyssey, Of Mice and Men, Murder on the Orient Express, Tender is the Night, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Homage to Catalonia, and To Have and have Not.

“What do you think of the book?” Erskine asked as he sat across the startled recruit.

“Just finished. Y’think it wise to get buzzed before a major operation, sir?” Steve noted when he saw the bottle and two shot glasses on the bed.

Erskine chucked, “Calms my nerves a bit. What did you think of the book?”

Steve pressed his lips together for a moment, “It was a good read. The book had a lot of good points for something written eleven years ago.”

“What truths?”

“Well, for one thing, how technology is used to make the populace happy, but not better. The World Government found a way to get people to willingly trade self-expression, self-awareness, and their happiness for cheap happiness and comfort. Makes you wonder if the US was next, you know?”

Erskine was taken aback by his answer. It was much deeper than most of commanding officers gave if they even read the book.

Though that last sentence was interesting.

“What do you mean next?”

“Isn’t that what happened in Germany?”

Erskine sighed, “Yes and no. Most people here think Hitler came out of nowhere, but he didn’t. Not everyone in Germany was for WWI. There was a 100,000 person march in Berlin, but it didn’t matter since the Social Democratic Party failed to rise to the occasion and went along with war effort. Many were scapegoated for Germany failure, Matthias Erzberger for instance.”

“What about the Weimar Republic?”

Once again, Erskine was taken aback by Steve’s knowledge, “Weimar Germany was a great place to be creative, curious, and make new discoveries. I met my wife, Greta, in Berlin during that time. I made a lot of friends, friends I had to leave behind.”

Erskine frowned as his face darkened,”The terrible thing, my friend, was not that Hitler was dangerous, it was that either people didn’t take him as the threat he was or they wanted to use him for their own ends. The cops and judges sympathized with the Nazi Party to get one over the Socialists and Communists. Industrialists wanted to make money off of the Nazis getting into power. Even the German and International newspapers didn’t cover him with the urgency required.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Ja, and it almost happened here, didn’t it?”

Steve nodded in reference to the America First movement and the German American Bund. He still remembers getting the crap beaten out of him by the Silver Shirts when he spoke out against them a few years ago.

“So why did you choose me?”

“I suppose that is the best question.” Erskine admitted while glancing at Steve’s bookshelf, “What do you think of the Odyssey?”

Steve shrugged, “The adventures were fun, but they were just fantasy.”

“They may not be, Mein Freund. How old do you think I am?”

“Uh, mid sixties?”

Erskine laughed, “You’re too kind. I will be 94 this September,” he smiled noting Steve’s shock, “Things are not always as they seem. I come from a long line of ‘healers’ dating back to before Rome. One of them was able to ‘make a man more’. They inspired me to go into this profession.”

“Making super soldiers?”

“Medicine and bio-chemical engineering.”

“Oh”

“Did you know that you will not be first to undergo this?”

“Who was?”

“His name was Konrad Jager. He was a lot like you: small, frail, but had a great deal of courage and compassion. He was willing to fight Nazis in the streets knowing he’d lose. One day in 1930, his parents begged me to save him as the doctors had given up all hope.

I was woking on a serum that would make the body impervious to all diseases rather than wait for the next outbreak to occur. I thought it would propel the medical field.

The trial worked and he was healed. He became much taller and broader in size as a result.”

Erskine pulled out a picture of himself next to a tall, well-built young man.

“That’s Konrad isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was able to help eight more people through the earlier version of the serum. All but one turned out well.”

“What happened to the one?”

“Ah yes, Eren Kant. He was a shy young man before the serum, but then became more like Hodge: a philander, arrogant, and bit of a bully with a temper. He ‘grew too big for his britches’ as one would say and was arrested by the Munich police. He let his arrogance blind him and he escaped in a way that intrigued Der Fuhrer and was taken to Berlin soon after. By this time, rumors had spread of my work and the Nazis were anxious to be the ‘best of the Aryans’. They were able to get my whereabouts from Eren and sent Schmitt to fetch me, but I was already on my way to Switzerland when he reached my home.”

“How did he get you?”

Erskine slightly jerked his head to the side and back, “A year prior to my attempted escape, I met a man in Geneva who warned of the dangers that lied in Berlin. He gave me his card if I needed to escape. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have waited so long before I made the phone call. I was tipped off by an old colleague of Eren entering Nazi custody.

Everything was set. My family and I were to enter Switzerland by crossing Lake Constance. We made it to Meerburg and the lake was in sight when Schmitt and his agents cut us off.

Schmitt believed that there was a power left behind by the gods. He believed himself to be a leader of a new race of men. He wanted me to ‘perfect the serum’, make him stronger than Eren. He had my children, Klaus and Marlene, taken to the outskirts of town as insurance implying that they would be sent to Dachau if I should fail.

I stalled for as long as I could hoping Schmitt would forget about me, but it was not meant to be. A few years after I was taken hostage, Schmitt stormed into my lab and pointed a gun to Greta demanding I give him the serum.”

“Did it make him stronger than Eren?”

“It did, but it had...side effects. The serum was not ready. Schmitt’s skin turned red and his face became so disfigured that Hitler called him the Red Skull. He killed Greta with his bare hands,” Erskine wiped away a few tears, “and ordered Marlene and Klaus to be sent to Dachau while I was banished to the dungeons.

Fortunately, Agent Carter and the SOE were able to save Marlene and myself. Though Klaus sacrificed himself when the agents could only save one of them.”

“Your son is a hero.”

“I only wish I could’ve told him that myself. But, back to your original question. I chose you because, like Konrad, you are a weak man. You see, the serum amplifies everything; good becomes great and awe-inspiring, bad becomes worse and a nightmare. Men who are strong their entire lives often do not value strength and abuses it. However, a weak man who is compassionate and brave will use it to help others. You were chosen because you had the aforementioned virtues and because you use your mind.

The world does not need perfect soldiers, look where that has gotten us. No, what we need right now are good men.”

Erskine poured out two shots and gave a glass to Steve.

Steve raised his glass, “To the little guys.”

The liquor was just about to touch his lips when Erskine snatched the glass from him, “What are you doing? You have an operation tomorrow. No fluids.”

Steve chuckled as Erskine bid him farewell and good luck tomorrow.

  Ife found Steve in the Common Room hunched over a chair with a letter in his hands. Emotional echoes of gloom came off in waves as she approached him.

“Whatcha looking at, Steve?”

When Steve didn’t respond, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Steve finally turned to Ife, “I received an invite to a funeral. It’s for Marlene Philomena Erskine, Dr. Abraham Erskine’s daughter.”

Ife nodded in understanding; he feels that he failed Marlene by not protecting Dr. Abraham Erskine.

But in fact, he didn’t fail her.

She lived quite the life for a human.

Not long after her father’s assassination, Marlene became a badass mechanical engineer and physicist. Her designs and schematics for transportation vehicles and energy storage/distribution gave the colonizer nations a fighting chance during the Wars Against Colonialism.

Though part of it was because the UA was a little cocky at that point. Marlene sure lit a fire under their ass! Ife can still hear her Aunt Eziamaka pouting at the news of one of UA bases nearly falling into their control.

Marlene’s assistance with the war effort didn’t last long as her gratitude towards the people who saved both her and her father wasn’t enough to overlook the Military’s treatment of some her colleagues.

Her life from there was pretty standard. She became a professor at MIT, got married and had a few kids.

BNA took her off the ‘humans of special interest’ list in 1971.

Thinking back on it, Marlene may have had a better life by her father not making it past WWII.

Though Ife thought it would be wise not to mention this to Steve.

“When is the funeral?”

Steve didn’t raise his head, “It’s in a week.”

“In that case, might I accompany you?”

“Yes...and thank you.”

“No Problem! See you later.” Ife wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug and went on her way leaving Steve slightly bewildered.

  Steve didn’t know what to make of Ifekerenma.

She was always asked the team how they were feeling at what seemed to be the right moment. Shoot, she even talked to custodial staff that few of ever acknowledge. Compassionate to nearly everyone, especially the child hostages during the last mission.

She’s nerdy to the point of Sam jokingly calling her a weeb (anime lover?) when she walked around in an oversized Cowboy Bebop t-shirt once. Wanda mentioned a ‘digital friend’ in her room and caught her mentioning how slow Stark’s tech was much to the amusement of team at Tony’s expense.

Steve’s certain Nat sent Clint a video of the whole thing.

Also, she was what Sam called a ‘Supreme Chef’. He contently patted his midsection remembering the feast she prepared for the team last night. Her cooking would’ve put some of Stark’s gourmet chefs to shame. She asked the team what they liked and she ended up having to create a dinner rotation. Steve was especially touched when she went to an antique bookstore for a recipe that was close to what his mother would’ve made for him.

Furthermore, she would leave out little homemade treats/ snacks at night. Pietro and Sam would sneak some when they thought no one was looking. She even giggled when he accidentally let out a huge belch after an amazing dinner a couple nights ago saying it’s a sign of thanks on her home planet, Avlenia.

Ife always called him Steve; not ‘Captain’ or ‘Cap’ or even ‘Good ol’Century Virgin’ (damn it, Tony!). She never made light of him ‘taking an ice nap’ or asking him about the 1940s in a demeaning way like some reporters and ‘little upstarts on social media’. Somehow, Ife found out about his love of drawing and got him art supplies with a list of recommended artists

She made him feel more like a person and not a symbol or a far off figure who’s emotionless.

Steve felt warm whenever he was around her in a way not unlike Bucky or Peggy though much more like Bucky. She seemed to sense that he was desperate to truly be seen in way that only Sam and sometimes Nat has.

It also didn’t hurt that she was a total knockout. He had the, ahem, pleasure of seeing her out of her uniform and training outfits a few times. She usually wore clothes that were more on the modest side...except for that one time when she wore a Sailor Moon crop top and high-waisted shorts as a dare from Nat. Half of the compound was staring and Steve spent most of the day in his quarters nursing a hard on he was so aroused.

And yet, Ife was one of the toughest women he knew; even Nat was a little scared of her (at least, he thinks). She might be the strongest person physically and she doesn’t take shit from people who badmouth her or the team; Agent Roussel learned that the hard way.

All in all, Ife was...something else, someone he wanted to get close to.

  The day of Marlene’s funeral started out well enough.

Ife spent the early morning making Sam’s request of cinnamon rolls, sausage, omelettes, waffles, and hash browns since he won the raffle of Vision’s turn as he doesn’t eat.

She was handing out everyone’s first servings (didn’t care what happened afterwards) when she felt Steve’s emotional echoes of depression, melancholy, and despair noting how his eyebrows furrowed and how tense his body language was.

She just hoped she could get to him.

  Steve was walking to garage hoping his outfit wasn’t too much.

Nat somehow convinced him into wearing a Highbridge Black Custom Suit with an Eastley Dobbey Blue Shirt, a Black Solid Tie, a Navy Blue Pocket Square, and Ink Black Dress Shoes.

He ��upped the swoon dial’ as Nat put it. Could’ve sworn he heard Sam snickering.

Steve reached the entrance hoping not to keep Ife waiting when he heard clicking of heels behind him.

He turned around to find Ife looking almost unearthly.

She was wearing a black Ankara (?) dress with a cape that was black on the outside and golden on the inside with various blue, silver, and khaki rectangle clusters. Her hair was mostly contained in a wrap with a few strands framing her lovely face. Her full, plump lips were coated in a Light Plum (?) Matte Lipstick and she wore minimal gold eye shadow.

Her outfit did a splendid job of hinting at her voluptuous curves without needlessly flaunting them like the women who throw themselves at him at press tours.

Ife smiled at him and asked which car were they taking.

Steve motioned to one of the Black SUVs and the two of them strapped in for the three hour car ride.

  Ife sighed and gazed out the window at the scenery. Neither one of them had said anything in the past twenty minutes. Steve wasn’t a fan of most of the music that’s on the radio despite Sam’s best efforts. Ife had to break out her puppy dog eyes to get him to let them listen to some instrumental music from her favorite movies.

It seemed that they weren’t going to say anything until Steve cleared his throat.

Ife, not wanting to suffer in silence, decided break it, “How did you know Marlene?”

Steve raided his eyebrows for a split second, “I didn’t. I just feel like I should pay my respects, you know? I mean, I should attend the daughter of the man I failed’s funeral.”

The last sentence struck a chord with Ife. Emotional echoes of despair hit her like a tsunami.

Tentatively, Ife continued, “How did you fail Erskine?”

“I-I don’t think I’ve fulfilled my promise to him. The country has changed so much since I was on ice. It’s funny; I thought that Brave New World would only have a one of two aspects come to life, but I didn’t see nearly the whole book being right.”

Ife didn’t argue with the last two points. The US was nothing but a never-ending commercial sometimes. People were too busy being ‘happy’ or trying to get the newest thrill to realize that they were living in a sham of a republic.

Though she was concerned about the first sentence.

“What was the promise you made to Erskine? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve turned slightly, “To be true to who I am; a good man, not a perfect soldier. To be more like Konrad.”

Ife nodded musing on his answer. Erskine would want everyone he helped to be a good person considering the dangers of such power.

Though she wondered if she knew Dr Abraham’s full history.

Abraham Erskine came from a long line of Homo Magis who specialized in Alchemy . He turned to science when it was clear that his magical powers would never manifest (being only 1/16 Homo Magi). Erskine started working on what would become the Super Soldier Serum in 1920 after the witnessing the horrors of WWI firsthand as a medic.

He made a breakthrough in 1927 when he found what looked to be an old power cell in the attic of his childhood home. Turns out it was a modified Atlantean battery dating back to the 1600s, but whatever.

Konrad Jager was the first of nine volunteers; most of whom went on to fight in the Spanish Civil War with the International Brigades and be part of the German Resistance’s Special Forces during WWII.

Needless to say, they were recruited into BNA’s European Division.

Only Eren Kant was deemed a failure in the end.

Ife shook her head at the info in Erskine’s folder.

Eren was pompous dumbass who broke himself out jail by bending/breaking the bars of his cell after getting arrested for being a player and bully by the Munich Police in August of 1935. His show of superhuman strength got Erskine’s work onto the Hitler’s radar. BNA had to send a cleaner to ‘handle’ Eren before he could get everyone in even more trouble.

She wondered if Konrad and the others would make an appearance.

“What do mean by not staying true to yourself?”

Steve sighed, “It seemed a lot easier to do so in my time.”

Ife wanted to go further, but she couldn’t. Steve was punishing himself up for something he couldn't control and it was tragic.

She hoped that she could actually help him, not for the mission, but for himself.

  They arrived at the venue twenty minutes early. Steve was trying (failing) to fix his tie while Ife was looking as glamorous and poised as can be.

Sensing Steve’s unease, she gave his hand a comforting squeeze, “You’ll do fine,” she whispered as she fixed his tie while not trying inhale his delicious natural scent like a creep (again).

“Let’s go inside.”

  Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing when they entered the venue. Though Ife had to hand it to the guests; no one asked Steve for an autograph or a selfie. She noted several BNA officials and a couple of Earth-based Non-Human big wigs in attendance.

Guess Marlene was popular.

“Ife!” Azeneth shouted as she strode over to from a corner and enveloped her in a hug.

“Azeneth, how are you? I didn’t think you would be back from Mexico City so soon.”

“Well, the mission was short and they wanted me in New York to accompany Eliza here. Now, who is this fine gentleman, Ife?” Azeneth queried while Steve started shifting uncomfortably.

“This is Steve Rogers, one of my new teammates and Ca-”

“Captain America. I know, Ife. I was jesting.”

Ife sighed dramatically while rolling her eyes, “Steve, this is Azeneth. She’s one of my best Earth-based friends.”

“Kickass friend.” Azeneth corrected, “How are you liking Ife? She’s not too much trouble.”

“Stop it, ‘Aze!” Ife playfully hit Azeneth’s shoulder, “Feel free to ignore her, Steve.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I will, especially after the stunt you pulled on the first day at the compound.”

Azeneth burst out laughing at Ife’s shocked expression and Steve’s sly grin. She probably would’ve kept goin if not for Eliza cutting into their conversation.

“Excuse us, Mr. Rogers. I’ll have to speak with Ife for a moment. My name’s Eliza Maza, by the way.”

  Once they were out of Steve’s line of sight (Azeneth was keeping him busy), Eliza activated a noise canceller.

“So did anyone die in the attack on the Magic Council?” Ife asked as she made sure Steve wasn’t looking at them.

“No one was harmed, but several books are missing from the library.”

“Shit! Okay. Well, would Dr. Strange be available to assist Wanda with her training? Wong and Nazaret are at the Sanctum and he said that he knew of some spells that could help.”

“I’ll look into it. I should have an answer in a week”

“Okay.”

“Ife, please give me a call when you get back to the compound.”

Ife eyed Konrad Jager, Gregor Eisenberg, Sonje Decker, and Lukas Denhart making their way to Steve. She hoped they weren’t going to drop an info bomb on him today.

“I will.”

  The service was short and sweet as Marlene didn’t want everyone to be bored to tears on her behalf. The crowd got a laugh out that joke.

Afterwards, Marlene granddaughter, Zahara, requested if Steve could stay for a bit. She gave him a beautifully wrapped package.

“My grandmother wanted you to have this. She saw you fighting in the Battle of New York and knew you would know what to do with it.”

“It would be an honor, Miss.”

  Ife thought about her earlier conversation with Steve on the say back. She realized what’s happened to Steve was heartbreaking.

Here was a man who gave up everything for a country that only wants him as a cudgel for their heinous deeds. Someone who, if he hadn’t fallen into the ice, would’ve probably been ruined by the same country he swore to protect. They would’ve labeled him as a communist and destroyed his good name for not immediately getting on board with the next war.

To be honest, Ife didn’t think much of Steve before joining the team. She thought he was just the banner boy for colonizers to feel good; he was the reminder of that brief moment when the US was totally the bad guys (totally being the operative word).

But now?

She saw the toll the helmet and shield had on him. Ife doubted he knew that he was going to be alive for awhile judging how neither Konrad or the others aged a day since they received Serum 1.0 and Steve supposedly got one that was at least 3x as powerful.

She wanted to comfort him somehow, but she was lost on what to do.

When she got back to the compound, she gave Steve a hug and went straight to her quarters to call Eliza.

“Eliza. I can’t do this by myself, and if we’re going to pull this off, I’m going to need some serious backup because the Avengers need some serious help.”

  Fury was going through some mission reports when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

Oddly enough, Ife was the one to enter the room and not Maria Hill.

“Good Evening, Fury. I have someone who would like speak with you.”

“Well, give me a name and contact info and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Actually,” Ife reached in her pocket for a disc, “I can do you one better.”

Ife tossed the disc into the air and a moon-door portal formed from it. Out came Eliza, Azeneth, and Angela in her gargoyle form.

Eliza gave Ife a quick nod and turned to Fury, “Good Evening, Nicolas Fury. My name is Eliza Maza and we’re from the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs or BNA. I would advice that you lower your weapon. It won’t do you a lick of good,” Fury lowered his gun,” Good. Put Maria Rambeau on speaker, we need to talk.”

  -Somewhere in France-

 Maeve was enjoying her brunch while watching the footage of Eliza officially making contact with new SHIELD and SWORD.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to ‘get the band back together’ as the kids would say.” She chirped to the woman across the table.

“That expression pretty much died in the 90s. No ‘kid’ uses that phrase anymore.” Koronis deadpanned.

Maeve scoffed, “Anyone born after 1800 is a ‘child’ to me. This is what I get for trying not to sound like ‘an old hag’ as you put it.”

“Well, is everything on track?”

Koronis, or Carol, closed her eyes for few seconds, “I see nothing standing in our organization’s way. However, we should have the meeting sooner rather than later.”

“Duly noted. Anything else?”

“The new variable, Ifekerenma, will be more useful to our plans than I originally anticipated.”

“Oh, I do love surprises! I mean, I know how it will end, but I still like to be at least a little surprised. I knew it was a good idea to let Klaue be discovered by Ultron in Istanbul!”

Another woman walked up to the pair,”You wanted to see me, Mistress?”

“Yes. Svetlana, call the others. It’s time to put our plan into high gear. Hell’s Moon is upon us.”

  Steve was having a shitty birthday.

The press was pestering him about the presidential election. Several outlets have called him a sellout and a coward for not endorsing anyone.

He was figuring out the best way to take a shower and hit the hay in less than 30 minutes when he found a beautifully written note taped to his door.

It said to come to Ife room wearing his best dancing clothes.

Ten minutes later, Steve knocked on her door and it instantly opened to reveal a modest dancing hall not unlike the ones he went to with Bucky before the war.

He was so lost in thoughts admiring the place that he failed to notice Ife hovering a few feet from him.

“Happy Birthday, Steve! How do you like it?”

Steve turned to see Ife in a knee-length golden yellow African Wax Print Ankara dress with cold shoulders, ruffled sleeves, and a v-neckline. He didn’t miss the modest view of her cleavage or how her legs looked oh, so smooth in the dress.

Ife, for her part, was super nervous about this. Nat said that people went to dance halls all the time in the late 1930s and 1940s and it took her five days to get the architecture, the music, and the lighting just right.

She hoped that Steve wouldn’t be angry with her.

Steve looked incredibly handsome in his simple dress shirt and slacks. His powerful shoulders, thick biceps, trim waist, and beefy thighs were accentuated by the lighting which made him look like he was glowing.

Ife would’ve drooled if she knew that he didn’t like it when most women would throw themselves at him.

“It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about the dress. I couldn-”

Steve raised a hand to stop her from going off on a tangent,”You look beautiful.”

Ife felt a flurry of warmth in her core at the compliment.

“So, what would like to do?”

Before Steve could answer, Duke Ellington’s Don’t Mean a Thing starting playing.

Steve stretched out his hand, “Would you like to dance?”

Ife took his had and they glided onto the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“Bucky’s mom made us learn when Bucky started getting attention from the girls at school. She thought it best that we knew how to treat them to a good time.”

“I see,” Ife giggled, “Then she was wise to make take the lessons. Though I’m more familiar with the jitterbug.”

Steve chuckled as they resumed swinging. He hummed a bit as they danced to Ella Fitzgerald, Caro Emerald, Jo Stafford, Billie Holiday, and Gene Krupa.

Ife was impressed with Steve’s dancing skills. What were those women thinking passing him up like that?!

After a couple more rounds of dancing, the music shifted to something more modern but not (it was Howl’s Moving Castle’s Main Theme) , the colors on the walls and ceiling brightened, and several chandeliers formed on the ceiling.

Steve gave Ife a slightly confused look and asked her if she would like to try a waltz this time.

The song lasted a little more than five minutes. Steve was somehow able to lead their movements in sync with the song.

Ife felt her body was aflame with gentle yet commanding touches Steve was giving her. He even lifted her a few times making her feel as though she was flying with how gently he held her.

They were absorbed in their own world they either failed to notice or ignored Nat and Wanda entering Ife room to see if they could have another spa day. Nat even got a few pictures of the two dancing.

Steve gave Ife one last life during the climax and pulled her in when the music came to a close. They were about to come in for a kiss when Ife pressed her lips together and back away.

“We should probably retire for evening. Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but left Ife’s room with a simple goodnight with Nat and Wanda in tow.

Ife frowned. She knew Steve wasn’t in the best place for a relationship and her conscience wouldn’t let her take advantage of that.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror / Six: The Musical AU (X Reader) || Headcanons

Explanation: So all the songs are being sun by different readers with different Henry’s (The Horror Villains of course) instead of one Henry. I think its pretty straight forward apart from that! I hope to make a second part to this where the readers actually meet up and complain about their times with their respective horror villains. This is fun XD Had the idea a couple months back and I posted it and one blog commented saying Six is their favourite musical, so this is basically for me and them haha XD 

Character Included: Michael Myers, Chucky / Charles Lee Ray (And Tiffany Valentine), Bubba Sawyer, Norman Bates, Mayor Buckman (And Harper Alexandre) and Jason Voorhees. 

Warnings: Murder of the readers (By respective Horror Villains and a non-explicit difficult birth in Bubba’s), birth / pregnancy, toxic / abusive relationships, sexual harrassment / maybe rape (All You Wanna Do- Buckmans), language, suggested mother / son grossness (Norman and Norma of course). 

I laugh in the face of those who would subdue my mad ideas. 

‘No Way’ (Reader as Catherine of Aragon): Michael Myers as Henry

My name's Catherine of Aragon Was married 24 years I'm a paragon of royalty, my loyalty is to the Vatican So if you try to dump me You won't try that again 

You were in a, of course, very unequal relationship with the shape of Haddonfield. He saw you one day, was completely taken by you, and decided to let you live. He would come by and use you however he liked, kill the people you loved when they got your attention over him, etc. Like any other Michael Myers x Reader.

And, years and years later (Because it’s not like Michael finds someone every day that he gives even a bit of a shit about like he does - did, - you) he comes upon a new person. Someone he, like he was you, is drawn to.

And he tries to drop you like a hot potato.

And this infuriates you. You are not about to let go! He has ruined your life! You have no friends, no family, no life, because of him! All you have, is (regrettably) him and you are going to be his for the rest of your life. That’s what he wanted, that’s what the bastard’s going to get.

(Many, many years with him has caused your courage against him to grow spectacularly. You can say nearly anything to him)

|- ‘You must agree that, baby, in all the time I been by your side

I've never lost control’

‘I've put up with your sh- like every single day’ -|

You give him one more chance- if he can tell you one thing that you have done to him to legitimately hurt him… then you’ll leave willingly.

…

But he has nothing. And he doesn’t care.

|- ‘You got me down on my knees

Please tell me what you think I've done wrong

Been humble, been loyal, I've tried to swallow my pride all along

If you can just explain a single thing

I've done to cause you pain, I'll go

No?’ -|

//

|- ‘You wanna replace me? Baby, there's

N-n-n-n-n-n-no way

You made me a wife, so I'll be queen 'til the end of my life’ -|

He ends up strangling you to death when you won’t shut up.

‘Don’t Lose Your Head’ (Reader as Anne Boleyn): Chucky / Charles Lee Ray as Henry (And Tiffany as Catherine of Aragon)

I'm that Boleyn girl and I'm up next See I broke England from the church Yeah, I'm that sexy Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green but my lipstick's red 

Chucky and his filthy ass catches sight of you. Young, French and vivacious and he’s got heart eyes on the spot. He wants you, but he also doesn’t really want to lose Tiffany.

So... yeah, you end up living with them both for a while and its very awkward and a very hostile situation.

|- ‘Here we go

(You sent him kisses)

I didn't know I would move in with his misses

(What?)

Get a life

(You're living with his wife?)

Like, what was I meant to do?’ -|

You don’t like it. No one likes this. Chucky! Make up your mind!

|- ‘Three in the bed and the little one said

If you wanna be wed, make up your mind

Her or me, chum

Don't wanna be some

Girl in a threesome

Are you blind?’ -|

Tiffany is of course Catherine, and the fandom (The people of Britain for the sake of this AU) loves her (As we all know), so when you come along and insult her because Chucky is now your man (Supposedly.) and of course you two aren’t getting along with each other in the first place because of him … you get a bad name.

|- ‘Ooh, why hasn't it hit her?

He doesn't want to bang you

Somebody hang you

(Wow Anne, way to make the country hate you)

Mate, what was I meant to do?’ -|

When eventually Chucky is able to grow the balls to boot Tiffany out (My heart hurts writing this, trust me), he pulls a ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’ kind of shit and has no loyalty to you or respect for the sanctity of your relationship, and starts having one night stands here, there and everywhere. He tries vaguely to tell you you’re being silly and that’s not true- but he has lipstick on his shirt collars and perfume smell all over him.

Its not a nice living condition.

So you, still very much being the vivacious bitch that he ‘fell in love with’, go and flirt with some other guys. Just to make him a teensy bit jealous! I mean, its not like he’ll really care, right? You just wanna spark the fire again!

|- ‘Henry's out every night on the town

Just sleeping around, like what the hell?

If that's how it's gonna be

Maybe I'll flirt with a guy or three

Just to make him jell’ -|

But he finds out as planned… and is p i s s e d. He threatens that if you do that again, he’ll fucking kill you.

You, not going to let him talk to you like that, flirt with one more man. Just to be disobedient. 

|- ‘Henry finds out and he goes mental

He screams and shouts

Like so judgemental

You damn that witch

Mate, just shut up

I wouldn't be such a b-

If you could get it up’ -|

And you find out that he very much meant it when he said he would kill you.

|- ‘And now he's going 'round like off with her head (No)

(No)

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he means it’ -|

‘Heart of Stone’ (Reader as Jane Seymour): Bubba Sawyer as Henry

Jane Seymour the only one he truly loved (Rude) When my son was newly born, I died But I'm not what I seem or am I? Stick around and you'll suddenly see more 

You were an intended victim of the Sawyers, but like with Stretch, Bubba crushes on you instead. The difference here, is that you see the gentleness to him compared to his brothers, and how scared he is when one of them yells at him, and all the other little signs that he’s not as vicious or evil as his first impressions might convey. You have a big, brave heart, and you realise right there that its death and cannibalisation or understanding and caring for this man and you choose to love.

|- ‘You came my way, and I knew a storm could come too.’-|

//

|- ‘You've got a good heart

But I know it changes

A restless tide, untameable’ -|

So you take his hands in yours, all shaky and meaty as they are, and promise him that you will never leave him. You’ll protect him. You’ll take any mess he and his family can throw at you- you’ll always be with him. Your promise.

|- ‘But I took your hand, promised I'd withstand

Any blaze you blew my way

'Cause something inside, it solidified

And I knew I'd always stay’ -|

And he believes you, of course. Its so nice to be looked at so softly, especially by someone as pretty as you.

I- ‘You can build me up, you can tear me down

You can try but I'm unbreakable

You can do your best, but I'll stand the test

You'll find that I'm unshakeable

When the fire's burnt

When the wind has blown

When the water's dried, you'll still find stone

My heart of stone’ -|

And you prove yourself. You prove over and over again that no matter what he, or the twins, or Drayton, or even Grandpa throws at you- you’ll survive and you’ll stay, and you’ll never stop looking at him in that lovely soft way.

|- ‘You say we're perfect

A perfect family’ -|

You get pregnant of course because everyone in the Sawyers / Hewitts family has a breeding kink and you can’t tell me otherwise, and the birth is of course very difficult because Drayton isn’t about to pay for hospital bills. So you’re in their home, in all the mess and the dirt and with no sort of aesthetic, and…

|- ‘Soon I'll have to go

I'll never see him grow’  -|

You don’t make it. Your babies born fine and healthy, and you bring another strong Sawyer boy to the family, but you’re gone.

‘Get Down’ (Reader as Anne of Cleves): Norman Bates as Henry

Ich bin Anne of Cleves Ja! When he saw my portrait, he was like Ja! But I didn't look as good as good as I did in my pic Funny how we all discuss that but never Henry's little- 

So, one day, Norman decides its time to properly settle down (Long after his mother… ah… ‘dies’) and get a partner, and because there isn’t really anyone around where he lives to date or, even, who wouldn’t get creeped out by him and his taxidermy, he turns to online dating.

He meets you there. You own and run your own hotel in the next state over, you don’t mind his taxidermy at all, and your profile picture looks… hauntingly familiar (If you look nothing like Vera Farmiga go by the original movie- she was but a skeleton there so she really could be anyone).

|- ‘Sittin' here all alone

On a throne

In a palace that I happen to own

I'm not fake 'cause I've got acres and acres

Paid for with my own riches’ -|

And you two get along great over messages! You online date for a good year before Norman proposes you elope and come to live with him! You think you’ve known him long enough, and you trust him!

So you fly right over, and he meets you at the airport, and…

He’s disappointed.

Like, ‘sorry, nah, you don’t look enough like mama so this isn’t gonna work’. In a more fidgety, quiet, subdued kind of way though. He’s so awkward with communication that he even suggests that you doctored your profile picture.

I- ‘You, you said that I tricked ya

'Cause I, I didn't look like my profile picture’ -|

And, understandably, you’re p i s s e d, and disgusted! But ya’ll already got married over the internet, so theirs no stopping that! This is your husband. You realise you’ve made a huge mistake and go right back to your home and your hotel to get divorce papers drawn up.  

You’re the queen of your own fucking castle, who needs him?

|- ‘I'm the queen of the castle

Get down, you dirty rascal

'Cause I'm the queen of the castle’ -|

You are understandably, very very mad. And you say some things to Norman about he and his mother, that… may be true… but that he certainly doesn’t appreciate.

When you finally get the papers, and you’ve been separated long enough for it to be legal, you go back to the Bates Motel to get Norman to sign them and stay over a night. You’ve calmed down enough that you’re able to have a pleasant conversation with him, and you decide that you’re too tired to take the plane back home right away so you take up Normans offer to stay in one of vacant rooms (*Cough* So you basically have the run of the place. Or they do. *Cough).

Norman is also pretty calm about the whole thing as well, like you! But… Norma, is still seething.

You don’t wake up the next morning.  

‘All You Wanna Do’ (Reader as Kathrine Howard): Mayor Buckman as Henry (And Harper as Thomas)

Prick up your ears, I'm the Catherine who lost her head (Beheaded) For my promiscuity outside of wed Lock up your husbands Lock up your sons K. Howard is here and the fun's begun 

Right, so, you haven’t had good luck in love throughout your life, so you decide to give up on boys entirely. 

|- ‘So I decided to have a break from boys

And you'll never guess who I met’ -|

… And meet a man, not much later. A man in power; A mayor. A man who’s been married before and has a beard (So you know; He’s a man. XD No little boy.). This is of course Buckman. He calls you love, and you get a job in Pleasant Valley that keeps you comfortably busy. You feel like, finally, you’re where you belong. You feel fulfilled- no committed relationships are necessary.

|- ‘Globally revered

Although you wouldn't know it from the look of that beard

Made me a lady in waiting

Hurled me and my family up in the world

Gave me duties in court and he swears it's true

That without me, he doesn't know what he'd do

He cares so much, he calls me love’ -|

But then Buckman tells you that he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more. And, though you are a little disappointed that your solitude didn’t last, you decide that he’s decent enough (’He is rather kind to me, and he does makes me smile a fair bit’, you try to reason with yourself that this is a good idea) and so you start to go out. Its not long before you’re married.

|- ‘So we got married Woo…’

Woo…’ -|

But being married to him isn’t easy. Not at all. You’re not use to politics; There are so many rules now, and he’s always too busy to help. And the rest for Pleasant Valley are a bit… odd. And you just don’t fit in. And this is wear Harper (Thomas) comes in.

|- ‘With Henry, it isn't easy

His temper's short, and his mates are sleazy

Except for this one courtier

He's a really nice guy, just so sincere

The royal life isn't what I planned

But Thomas is there to lend a helping hand

So sweet, makes sure that I'm okay

And we hang out loads when the King's away’ -|

And he’s so lovely and caring towards you (Never more then when Buckman leaves for business in other towns), helping you through the transition from your old life to this one. He’s a good friend, to you. And that is most definitely all he is, on your side of it. A friend. You don’t feel attractions towards him at all apart from that, and he doesn’t try to make any moves. Its wonderful!

|- ‘This guy, finally

Is what I want, the friend I need

Just mates, no chemistry

I get him and he gets me’ -|

… Until one day when Buckman has been away for a month, he tells you he cares about you. You have a connection. He doesn’t feel just ‘friendly’ feelings towards you- he wants more.

|- ‘He says we have a connection

I thought this time was different

Why did I think he'd be different?

But it's never, ever different’ -|

Lets just say one things leads to another, despite you at first turning him away and saying no. He’s so insistent, and a little scary, and you’re lonely because your husbands’ has been away so long, and… something happens that you regret and feel gross about.

|- ‘Squeeze me, don't care if you don't please me

Bite my lip and pull my hair

As you tell me, I'm the fairest of the fair

Playtime's over.’ -|

You tell Buckman when he gets home, and you watch as every bit of warmth and love in his eye disappears, just like that.

Its not long after that that his jealousy and betrayed rage takes over… and… you die with a rope around your neck and your feet swaying above the ground.

|- ‘Playtime’s over’ -|

(Alternatively, Sheriff Hoyt as Henry and Thomas as Thomas)

‘I Don’t Need Your Love’ (Reader as Catherine Parr): Jason Voorhees as Henry (Your last love was Jason when he was alive)

Five down, I'm the final wife I saw him to the end of his life I'm the survivor Catherine Parr I bet you wanna know how I got this far I said I bet you wanna know how we got this far Do you wanna know how we got this far then? 

So, you’re like the leader of the ‘Slashers Ex Squad’ because you, unlike the others, survived your time with Jason. This is because Jason did, truly, love you (To an extent- not enough to let you go and live your life without him or be free). None of the others really did. Not like he did.

|- ‘Became the one who survived’ -|

Your story:

You and Jason had an adorable little 11-year-old puppy love relationship when he was alive. You were his only friend, and he had it bad for you because of it. Pamela loved you, too.

When he died you were of course devastated, and years later when you were 30 (Making him also thirty- not that you know that. You still think he’s dead at this point) you’re taken by the need to go back to Camp Crystal Lake and pay your respects to your childhood love / friend. Its just one of those nostalgic days.

When you go, and you set flowers down by the lake, Jason catches sight of you. He thinks about killing you… but then your features start to make sense to him. He recognises you, and for the first time since his mother was killed, he feels his heartbeat speed up and swell with hope.

Jason of course kidnaps you then, and keeps you hostage for himself. He missed you. He doesn’t want to survive anymore time without you. You’re all he has left!

… After you realise that this is Jason Voorhees, you quickly learn that this Jason is, of course, not the boy that you cared, and care, so deeply about. He’s done horrible things, and he is never going to stop; And frankly, deep inside… he scares you.

But its not like you can leave him! He would never let you, he’s made that clear. You are all he has, and now, he is all that you have.

|- ‘I don't have a choice

If Henry says "it's you", then it's you

No matter how I feel

It's what I have to do’ -|

So you write a letter to the old Jason (And your old life), saying goodbye, in admittance to the fact that you’ll never be able to get away from this new Jason. This is you letting go of your freedom and any preconceptions that anything will every be the same- with Jason, or otherwise.

|- ‘It's true I'll never be over you 'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you And now the hope is gone There's nothing left for me to do’

'Cause I have built a future in my mind with you

And now the hope is gone

There's nothing left for me to do’ -|

You never stop hating him for how he’s changed (How he’s taken your Jason away, and wont even attempt to go back) and how he’s stolen away your freedom.

|- ‘I'd say "Henry, yeah it's true

I'll never belong to you

'Cause I am not your toy, to enjoy till there's something new

As if I'm gonna give up my boy, my work, my dreams

To care for you"

"Ha, darling, get a clue”

But I can't say that

Not to the king’ -|

You eventually die of natural causes at, like, 60.

[whump-town]

Quantico  Hope

Based on the text post created by @criminalmindsgonewrong so lots of praise goes to her (if not for the idea than because she’s a queen and I love her content). All of my medical scenes came from E.R, Grey’s Anatomy, or Chicago Hope so don’t come for me. Hotchniss is the main ship, warning for language

Emily Prentiss wakes up in a stranger’s bed. The comforter is thick, soft but the pattern is something only a bachelor would choose. It’s a flannel pattern, blue flannel. Knowing that no woman would willingly buy it is a small comfort. She’d never done it on purpose but she can still think of more than one occasion in which a one night stand came to a crashing halt as a spouse made their existence known. She had been chased from quite a few apartments half-dressed.

Topless, she wraps the sheets around her breast as she sits up. Her John is laying on his side and she has to lean close to see his face. She peaks over his shoulder but her quick movement catches nothing but thick brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. It does nothing to spur her memory so she places a hand on his hip to stabilize herself as she leans over him. 

“Fuck,” she grunts, pushing herself back away from him. 

On her back, hand slapped on her forehead she breathes out a shaky sigh. “No, no, no,” she rolls off the bed. Blindly scooping up her things on the floor. Waking up in a stranger’s bed can be disorienting but waking up in a bed that is unfamiliar with your best friend sleeping right beside you- so, so much worse. This is all Jennifer Jareau’s fault. Her and her stupid sentiments about how one more drink can’t possibly hurt. 

She hears a groggy groan from the bed and she winces as she draws her arms to her chest. It’s instinct to squint her eyes, her subconscious encouraging the childish idea that if she can’t see him he can’t see her. As still as she can, frozen in her spot she waits for him to move.  

She is beyond relief when he sighs and settles back down. 

This time, she tiptoes, now far more conscious of the noise she’s making. Her eyes sweep the floor, searching for her lost bra. She’s missing a sock too but she can leave a sock here and not think twice about it but a bra? 

Last night is mostly a blur. She has a faint memory of his hand cupping her bare breast. 

“Hotch,” she breathes against his neck. She’s working his belt off, letting him attack her neck. “Jesus,” his pants fall to the floor, weighed down by his useless belt. Her mouth opens to make a comment about how hard he is but the rough pads of his fingers cup her breast and she arches into the touch.

“Are you sure?” He whispers. “I don’t want you to-”

Both of her hands wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Trust me,” she says, breathlessly. “I want this.” She’s wanted it for as long as she’s known him but he was married. So, she stuck to being his friend. His sounding board. “God,” she’s standing in his room, his rough hands pulling her panties to the side to work a finger inside her. 

He pushes her onto the bed, laughing that silly laugh that makes her chest ache, and for the first time in her life, she’s able to kiss him. She shares his goofy joy and she can feel him smiling as he kisses her tenderly. It occurs to her that their quick drunk fuck isn’t going to be so simple. His eyes are sober and his actions are soft.

His lips start to wander and her stomach flutters as he kisses her hip bones. He looks up at her suggestively, his hands spreading her thighs. He kisses the inside of her thigh, smiling as she can’t control the way they shake. 

“Aaron!”

Emily shudders as she’s pulled from the memory, heart pounding as he groans from beneath the mound of comforter he’s curled under.

The sheets rustle and Emily turns from the door to watch Hotch bolt upright in the bed. He’s on his feet in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom. He’s not of the state of mind to shut the door behind him so she hears as he gags and vomits into the toilet. 

She closes her eyes and curses him. She can’t leave him alone and if the clock on his nightstand is right, she’s got three hours before she’s due for rounds anyway. Which means, she’s just an awful friend to leave him like this. 

“That was gross,” she leans against the bathroom door frame. “You got a little-” she pats the side of her lip. She’s grinning ear-to-ear at his expense. He may be her best friend but it’s still far and in-between when she gets to see him so human. Without the white coat and stoic frown, he can be himself. He can be the stressed-out single father, going through a tough divorce, who spends nearly all of his waking hours depriving himself of comfort.

He drops his forehead against the cool toilet lid and groans. Wrapping a hand around his stomach, he curls his long legs beneath him. “Why are you being mean to me?” He rubs at his mouth, disgusted when his fingers find a bit of vomit on his lip. It makes his stomach roll with a vengeance that makes his head pound mercilessly. He ends up, gagging miserably again, nothing coming up. 

“Alright,” Emily steps in, rubbing at his back. She stands beside him, rubbing his back until he pulls his head up. “Let’s get back to bed,” she hooks her arm under his. It takes a moment, he doesn’t want to let her help him. She doesn’t relent and he caves, allowing her to ease him to his feet.

She’s pretty tall for a woman but getting him to his feet is nothing short of a small feat. "Jesus, " she grunts. He stumbles, leaning heavily on her. Everyone had noticed the weight he dropped after Haley filed for divorce. She can barely keep him on his feet now, she'd hate to have had to do it three months ago. "You're heavy!"

Hotch stops, glaring down at her. It’s a mystery to her how he can look exhausted, nauseated, and angry at the same time. He puffs like an angry little fish, strangely cute. “Are you saying I’m fat?” He makes a failed attempt to stand up straighter, making a soft grunting noise as his stomach revolts against the idea. 

Emily rolls her eyes, drama queen. “No,” she pushes him onto the bed. “You’re just a giant.” He bounces as he sits, frown set right in place. “Aaron,” she puts her hand on her hips and frowns right back at him. “Just take a nap, nurse your hangover, and remember to be in at ten when your shift starts.” She pats his shoulder and plants a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll bring you a coffee, huh?”

He yawns, grimacing as his head and stomach both protest. Sleepily, he rubs at his eyes, laying back on his bed. “I gotta…” he yawns mid-sentence. “Going to a parent-teacher meeting.”

She tries very hard not to look completely devastated. “Oh,” so no coffee. “Okay, I’ll see you after that then.”

He nods, “and I’ll  bring the coffee.”

__________

Last Friday when Aaron had cornered Dave and asked him to cover some basic stuff for him, Dave imagined he’d be doing some rounds, picking up after an intern, or fussing with an attending. He hadn’t expected a very specific, in-depth list of things for him to do:

8 a.m. take Reid to check-in on patients (keep communication at a minimal)

8: 30 a.m. bust Savannah Hayes (the nurse from the Emergency Room) and Derek Morgan in the second-floor on-call room

8:45 a.m. bring Garcia a non-fat almond milk vanilla lattee--

The man has stones… and that wasn’t even half the list. There are annotations, they came color-coded with sticky notes on additional pointers. Thumbing through the several pages worth of notes and instructions, Rossi shakes his head. Of course, he knows his old prodigy is a busy man. As much as he would like to think he’s what keeps this hospital on its feet… Aaron has a lot to do with it, too.

He’s got a knack for running into trouble just as it’s happening and juggling fixing the problem with making sure it never happens again. Which, in this hospital,-- a cesspool of one night stands, rule-bending, and overbearing masculinity-- makes him a very valuable member for the good side. Good meaning one of the few members of staff without his hands in another staff member's pants.

The problem is, Dave’s hardly got the time to comply with the whole list of nonsense demands Aaron wants him running about doing. He loves Aaron dearly, the boy is like his son but he’s a bit anal-retentive and Dave just… well, he doesn’t want to do all of this stuff. The hospital isn’t going to fall apart if he doesn’t meet every single thing on this list.

Well… hypothetically, right?

“Where’s Hotch?”

Rossi steps out of his office and finds Reid standing on the other side, weirdly close. “Woah,” he takes a step back when the genius doesn’t. He shakes his head, folding the list in his hand in half before regarding the doctor in his doorway. “Reid,” he acknowledges, stepping around the genius, and shutting his office door behind him. “I believe we’ve got rounds to attend to, correct?”

Brainbox is what a few members of staff have taken to calling the young genius. Hotch had made a point to talk to the other leading heads in departments to make sure they weren’t calling Reid that and for the most part, that had slowed down the spreading of the nickname. Dave understands why Hotch got ahead of that problem but on the same hand, it’s kind of fitting.

Reid nods, looking around Rossi and into his dark office. “Yeah but Hotch always takes me.” Technically, taking Reid on rounds is supposed to be Dave’s job. Hotch just made time for it. If Hotch times everything just right, he can get Reid on the second floor near the on-call room to bust Derek and Savannah with enough time to get Garcia her coffee and have time to swing by the cardiac wing and say hi to Emily.

Speaking of--

“What are you two doing down here?” Emily and JJ are standing where Dave is supposed to be, a smooth-talking Derek and meek looking Savannah standing between the pairs. Which means that the pair busted the couple before Dave could. It burns Dave. That skinny little runt. That bastard. Hotch has Emily on the same hunt as him because Hotch doesn't think Dave would do the list.

He’s right but… still, it kinda hurts. 

Emily isn’t wearing her signature smirk. For once, she’s got a one-up on him and she’s not biting. Something’s got her down. She offers a simple tight-lipped nod. “Hotch has me trailing you,” she informs him and Rossi understands exactly what it is that’s bothering her or better yet <i>who</i>. “He just doesn’t want the hospital burning down.”

So much for Dave’s earlier sentiment of Hotch keeping his hands to himself. Now, what’s he to do? He’s pissed that Aaron has hurt Emily but they’re both like his kids. What he needs to do is strangle for being stupid. Aaron for never outright telling anyone how he feels and Emily for letting men hurt her.

God, they just… The little idiots get under his skin like nobody else. 

“He’s a tight-ass,” Rossi mumbles, shaking his head. And a dumbass if he’s right about Emily. He puffs, “this place isn’t going to fall apart just because he misses a few hours.” Dave has been doing this for a long time. He didn’t get Chief of Surgery dicking around… well, he did a little bit but that’s not the point being made. 

Emily smiles, even if it looks a little forced. “Tell him that,” she offers with an eye roll. “I’m just not going to waste my energy with that argument.” Arguing with Hotch is a very taxing and pointless excursion. Especially, if the subject at hand goes against his paranoias and anxieties. So, in other words, the idea that the hospital won’t burn down without him.

Rossi can feel the mood shift and Derek must too because he kisses Savannah's cheek and excuses himself. “I’ve got my own rounds to attend to,” he admits. “Pretty boy,” he calls Reid to him. “Care to join me?” Morgan can handle a little responsibility. He won’t let Reid’s work slack on account of him.

Reid looks between Dave and Prentiss, unsure if he’s allowed to agree with Derek. Ultimately, he sees no qualms being raised by either of them so he nods and his head. He tucks his hands in his pocket and stands by Morgan’s side. Waiting for the plastic surgeon to leave.

“I’ll catch you later,” Derek says with a wave of his hand. Fully intending to make good on that promise at lunchtime where he’ll attempt to tear down Emily’s walls to get her to talk about whatever is bothering her right now. With any luck, it’ll be something juicy.

Rossi turns and watches the pair walk away, wondering how many more chores he’s been left to do. “I should probably--” he lets his voice wander off as he pulls the list from his pocket. He motions to with an air of defeat, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Can I trust you two to behave?” 

JJ smiles, “I think we both know that the only pair you should be worried about just walked off to do rounds.” Her smile broadens as she considers all the mischief Reid and Morgan can get into. “However, if I were you, I’d go investigate what they’re really off doing because I’ve never known Morgan to do his work on time and not last minute.”

Dave is obviously not buying her diversion but she’s planted the seeds of fear in his mind. Unable to think of anything aside from whatever Morgan and Reid are out ruining, he lets them go. Besides, he’s certain he’ll figure it out sooner rather than later anyhow.

As soon as Dave turns the corner, JJ turns back to Emily. 

“So,” the blonde inquires knowing they’re both working on a tight schedule. “You and Hotch?” 

Emily nods. She doesn’t regret it. That’s what she’s learned from her morning full of nothing but introspection. She wishes she regretted it because then she’d be able to tell JJ that she's not madly in love with him. “We were drunk,” she tells her because somehow that makes it okay. But then she remembers how he kept asking if she was okay. 

It’s the bare minimum but… no one’s ever actually done that before.

“I’m surprised he could,” JJ admits. “He had a lot to drink.” They’d been celebrating… something. Reid and Garcia were celebrating, actually. The rest of them were just drinking away another miserable day at this hospital. 

Emily nods her agreement. It’s unusual for Hotch to drink let alone get drunk enough to have sex with her. “He was very sweet,” she admits.

JJ smirks… What else was she expecting? Hotch can be an asshole but the majority of the time he really is a gentleman. Unless you incur his wrath and if you do… well, that’s your business. He’s a bit of a hothead but it does take a lot to get him worked into yelling. 

Besides, Hotch is nothing but a sweetheart to Emily. They can act as blind as ⅔ of the three blind mice but that doesn’t change the heart eyes they exchange. It still leaves a lot to be desired on a lot of their exchanges, though. The way he reaches over and, without prompting, opens boxes or bags for her. The way Emily creeps into his personal space and he doesn’t comment or even step back.

“I don’t think it’ll work out, though.” Emily takes a long sip from her coffee, eyes thoughtfully trailing off. Actually, she’s not sure it won’t work but she’s about thirty percent sure he doesn’t love her and she needs someone to tell her that she’s not making it up. 

JJ scoffs at that. 

Emily stops walking, eyeing her friend up. “What?” Of course, she wants to know exactly what’s warranted that reaction.

JJ rolls her eyes, “Emily, I have watched you two make some of the most disgustingly adorable faces at each other for the better part of the last year. I’ve seen Haley watch your every move.” JJ picks her pace up, leaving Emily in her momentary frozen state. “He’s hopelessly in love with you Emily and if you don’t feel that way back then you’re lying to yourself and to him.” JJ turns around, walking backward so that her words are met with Emily’s full attention. “And you both deserve better than that.”

__________

Penelope Garcia is certain that someone is leaving her out of the loop.

For starters, Derek and Spencer are giggling in one of her observation rooms. Meaning that they’re not being watched… as they should be.

Emily and JJ brought her coffee this morning.

Dave has been MIA, besides coming down here half an hour ago to ask where Morgan and Reid had “fucked off to”. She would have happily informed him of the shenanigans, no doubt, happening in her emergency room, but Morgan had gotten to her first. Who is she to say no to her Chocolate Thunder so of course, she told Dave she hadn’t seen him yet this morning.

“MVA with three vics incoming!”

Garcia sighs, standing up from behind her desk. She looks over the doctors and staff floating through the emergency room. “Charlotte,” she calls the baby nurse over. Baby being the term she’s using because Charlotte is all of about twenty-three. She finds it adorable. “Honey, do you know where Hotch is?”

Another nurse, Savannah Hayes, steps up to the station. “Uhm, he’s on call.” There’s something about her knowing smile that tells Garcia exactly why Savannah knows that: Derek Morgan. “Off to a-a…” she snaps her fingers as she tries to recall what Morgan was telling her earlier that morning. “Parent-teacher meeting,” she recalls. “He’ll be back later though.”

Garcia frowns, making a mental note to ask about the meeting later. She’s about to ask how Morgan is since she hadn’t seen him that morning when the emergency room’s doors open and the EMTs run-in with the first victim.

“Forty-year-old car crash victim, head-on collision.” The EMTs come in running, shouting out information to whoever will listen. “Pressure is 50 over palp, his respirations were shallow in the field.” The stretcher is relinquished to the closest E.R. doctor. “Pupil dilation was equal and reactive at sight. ”

Garcia pulls herself together, clearing her throat as she steps up to the stretcher. “I want--” the order dies on her lips. The man on the stretcher is pale, paler than normal. His black hair plastered to his scalp, not in it’s usual combed but contained mess. His brow isn’t furrowed and he’s not looming and glooming but she’d know him anywhere.

Her brain blanks. Training and training and protocol and protocol but… It’s not very often she gets a friend in here. “Uhm,” she can feel the emotions taking over where she should be calm. Hotch needs her to be calm. “I need you to take him to--” her mind blanks but her pointing finger guides the seasoned EMT well and the two separate with a business-like nod.

“I need someone to--” Garcia turns and Charlotte is right there. “I need you to call the Chief down here and-and Derek and everyone!” She doesn’t look back or check to make sure she’s understood, she follows Hotch into the next room. There are ethics and protocol and so many things running through her head as she grabs her boss’s hand but there’s not a chance in hell anyone’s pulling her away.

Once in the room, she sets about doing her job. Looking up only as the curtain is thrown back and she finds David Rossi looking back at her.

“It’s Hotch.”

Garcia cuts through his shirt, the thin Hanes material giving like butter with her scissors. Tears sting her eyes, “oh, my liege.” She looks up and Derek and Spencer are right behind Dave, everyone filing in. It takes them a moment, just as it did her before they throw themselves into their jobs.

Rossi pulls the cut shirt away, shaking his head. “Chest movements are paradoxical,” he informs them, moving his hands to palpate Hotch’s abdomen. “Abdomen is rigid, too.” He places the stethoscope on Hotch’s diaphragm, sighing. “I need to place a chest tube, get me a cart.” He throws the stethoscope cord back around his neck, stepping to the side.

Out of the corner of her eye, Garcia sees Rossi going for the tools he needs for a chest tube. She doesn’t want to say they don’t have time for that but… “Pulse ox is 82,” Garcia informs them. “It was just 88.” Her hands are trembling as she moves around them, a flurry of movement all of them trying to do their jobs. “Oxygen is dropping.”

Morgan curses, “I need to intubate him.” The utensils are already gathered in his hands-- muscle memory to reach out for the tools that are cold and familiar in his palms. “Do you want to be the one to tell him he’s got heart damage or worse because we let his oxygen drop to below 80?”

Reid, standing by Hotch’s head, interlaces his fingers and shakes his head. His anxiety is sky high, it’s all too much. “Can’t,” he mumbles, shaking his hands out. “If a patient with pneumothorax or other indication for tube thoracostomy requires intubation and mechanical ventilation, the chest tube should be inserted first to avoid creating an iatrogenic tension pneumothorax.” He presses his palms into his temples. All the noise, everyone shouting is overstimulating him.

It’s why he doesn’t work in the emergency room.

“I just need a second, dammit!” Rossi’s hands are shaking, “let me get the chest tube in!” The scalpel in his hand trembles over Hotch’s skin. He’s pale from adrenaline and clammy to the touch. The emergency room feels different without Hotch looming over them. He’s not shouting out orders into the chaos or guiding anyone through procedures with his scarily calm voice.

“Dave? Come on, man!”

Rossi shakes his head, clearing his dismal thoughts. He clenches his jaw and makes the incision into the fourth intercostal space. “Clamp,” the cold metal is pressed into his palm and he places it inside the area. “Dissecting the pleural space,” he mumbles, working the clamp under Hotch’s skin so that the area can accept the tube.

Hotch’s body jerks away from Rossi, a soft grunt coming from his mouth. Reid steps back to his head, clicking his penlight on. “Right pupil is five millimeters and reactive,” Reid hovers by his friend’s head. He guides the light to Hotch’s left eye, yelping when the man jerks his head away from the light. “Hotch?” His eyes blink open, his head turning from the penlight. “He-He’s conscious!”

Rossi stands up from his spot, pulling his bloodied gloves off. He moves to Hotch’s head, “Aaron? Aaron, can you hear me?” He presses his warm hand to Hotch’s cheek, guiding Hotch’s attention to him. “Can you hear me, son?”

Hotch’s eyes are jerking around the room, his mouth open but silent as he writhes in pain. He can’t breathe. His chest is heavy but he’s only thinking about one thing: <i>Jack</i>. The strangled sound that leaves his mouth is inhuman, he doesn’t recognize it. The pain becomes excruciating.

“Sedate--” all too familiar with that word, Hotch turns his head towards Derek. The other man is red in the face, his anxiety bubbling into rage. Profanities litter his speech but Hotch’s mind is too exhausted to nitpick out the words. For now, the only one worth thinking about is sedate.

He pulls away from the bed, a burst of energy leaving him trembling but upright in the stretcher. “N-No!” Jack. Jack was in the back seat. He couldn’t reach Jack. He has to get to-- Something cold runs into his arm and looks down, body suspended by his friends and coworkers, and it’s Reid. In his hands is the syringe Garcia had gotten out. Hotch feels his chest tighten-- he feels betrayed.

“Easy, son.”

Hotch feels himself falling back but he doesn’t hit the hard surface of the gurney beneath him but rather hands. Gently, he’s guided back down. Sweat sleeks his hair to his face and he’s limp in the hands as Derek steps towards his head. They’re talking-- words he understands but…

Derek cranes his neck back, Hotch can see his lips moving, but he’s not taking in any of the words. He <i>knows</i> they’re asking him to do a simple task: blink on command to questions or offer a thumbs up. His inability to do these tasks, to even focus on anything other than the cold air on his exposed flesh is the reason they keep moving around him. Shouting as if he isn’t really there at all.

A thumb presses on his chin, forcing his jaw open. He grimaces as cold metal slides into his throat. Floating between conscious and unconsciousness, he gags and feels himself twist to get away from the tube pressing into the back of his throat.

“Easy--” someone comforts as hands press his shoulders down.

Air fills his lungs, it hurts-- every muscle, bone, tendon, <i>everything</i> hurts. He can breathe though, full lungfuls of air. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the ambu bag, bright blue, and in Reid’s hands. They make eye contact and Hotch watches as Reid syncs their breathing. The young genius’s shoulders rise as Hotch’s lungs fill and fall as he exhales.

There was once a time when Hotch had stood by Reid’s side, his hands covering Reid’s over the ambu bag. He’d always been able to be more patient with Reid than he was with many other students. Reid’s just a kid. So he made a point to remember that in every interaction he had with the genius.

And he’d grown to appreciate Reid’s unique sense of humor. He’s a good guy.

A good kid.

“Hotch?” Reid’s throat tightens as he watches a pained grimace come across his boss’ face. He’s uncomfortable and in pain but Reid can’t do much besides keeping the ambu bag moving at a steady pace. “Garcia?” He feels a flutter of anxiety knotting his heart up. “Can’t you do something? He’s in pain.”

Morgan interrupts whatever Garcia’s going to say with a shout, “just pulled a positive tap!” A second later, the metal starts hitting the table with a clatter. The wheels of the stretcher unlock, the guard rail going up. “He’s got blood in his abdomen, he needs to get into the OR, now!”

Dave takes a stumbling step back, his arms raised above his head. It’s muscle memory to pull them away from the field-- the field, of course, being his friend's bleeding body. His heart sinks to his feet but follows in the direction that Derek is pushing Hotch. His voice barking out orders that echo down the hall.

Dave watches them go.

“Sir,” an attending waves him down. “Hotchner’s wife is gonna need heart surgery.”

Dave’s got another job to attend to.

He has Savannah call Emily to the OR. He meets his team in the room. They’re working with silence. “If you can’t pull yourself together,” his voice is harsh because they’re past life and death. “Get out of my OR.” He looks around the crowd of faces, nurses and doctors he’s known for years. There’s a solemn understanding.

They wait on edge.

“Prentiss won’t know,” Dave tells the team. His eyes move to the woman on the table and without a word, he draws back the blue cloth over her eyes. The room stands in silent shock. All of them recognize her.

Haley Hotchner.

They’ve seen the evolution of the divorce. The way Aaron came into the hospital fresh-faced and new. Haley used to bring him lunch and Dave used to catch them in the on-call room. They’d gotten pregnant, had their ultrasound a floor down from where Haley now lays. Had their boy, Jack, and fallen into a pit.

Haley stopped kissing him between visits to the hospital.

She stopped visiting altogether.

Then Emily had come.

“Prentiss can’t know.”

She won’t know.

Emily Prentiss has mastered the art of chugging hot coffee and running, which is what she’s currently doing. Emergency heart surgery, she’s thrilled. Even more so when she steps into the room and things are already in motion.

“Dave,” she greets the older man as she steps into the operating room. Her hands are raised, waiting for a nurse to place gloves over her hands. “What’re you doing in here?”

It takes every ounce of his self-control to keep his voice steady. He clears his throat, “thought I’d watch the master at work.” Sure, Dave, win her over with flattery. Maybe then she won’t hate you for lying. “That alright with you?”

Emily shrugs, “I don’t mind dazzling you.” Gloves snapped into place, she adds, “but I do prefer Heart Goddess. You know, for future reference.” She turns to Savannah, who she recognizes behind her mask. “What do we have?”

Savannah glances at Dave. For a moment, Dave’s certain the cat’s about to be out of the bag but before he can fill the silence, Savannah clears her throat. “Thirty-five-year-old female with a suspected arterial wall collapse.”

Emily frowns as she walks past the patient, eyes scanning over the ultrasound that’s pulled up. “Suspected?” she repeats. She doesn’t like the sound of suspected but she’s not complaining. It could certainly be worse. She shrugs it away. “I’m gonna time myself,” she announces. “Have you started her on L.R.s?”

“Two liters L.R. and a unit of packed cells.”

Emily nods her head and moves back to the patient. “Alright, sounds good to me.” She extends her right hand, “ten blade.”

They all watch in baited silence as she sets to work.

“It’s a goddamn…” the frustration in her voice is clear. Her brows furrow and she falls silent.

Dave tries to keep himself calm but taking a deep breath doesn’t settle his nerves. He leans over the operating table, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches. “How’s it going,” he asks. He’s a damn good surgeon himself but it’s been a long time since he was running a heart surgery like this one. His specialty runs more towards general.

Emily shakes her head. When the monitors sound in alarm she doesn’t look up to see what it is, the curse she lets out says she already knows exactly what’s wrong. “Her…” Emily pauses as she works. “The inferior vena cava is completely collapsed. I don’t know how she’s--” Both of their heads snap up as the heart monitor sounds out in alarm.

Emily pulls her hands up, shaking her head as she works. “I can’t do anything,” she tells Dave. “Everything’s a mess. She’s bleed dry and I’ve maxed out the dopamine ....” Emily blows out her breath, letting herself think. “Let me try…” she leans back over Haley.

Whatever she’s doing, causes the monitors to get louder. “Dammit!” Emily keeps working, asking for different tools as fast as the nurses can hand them to her.

The monitor flatlines.

Emily pulls her hands out and she looks over at Dave. “There’s nothing I can do,” she admits. “The heart was shredded.”

Dave refuses to believe this. “No,” he tells her. “There has to be something.” His attention snaps up as Derek steps into the room adjacent to the operating room. He’s come for news but Dave can see his eyes travel to the monitor. His shoulders sag and his mouth opens in disbelief.

Dave looks to the ground, “go talk to Derek.”

Emily frowns at him, “what is your problem?”

He doesn’t mean to. It’s nothing against her. None of this is her fault. He stood right here. He saw. She did her best but sometimes there’s nothing you can do. “Go, Emily!”

Sulking away, looking more like a pissed-off teenager than an award-winning surgeon, Emily pulls her gloves off angrily. Making a point to throw them away where Dave can visibly see how hard she throws the limp latex. She shoves her way through the door and shakes her head at Derek. “What the hell is his problem?”

Dave watches through the window.

Derek starts talking, his hands gathering near his chest as he gestures and tries to work around telling Emily the truth.

Emily takes a step back, shaking her head. She argues with him, disbelief. No. Then her head turns to Dave and to the woman laying on the table. To the sandy blonde hair she just barely recognizes until Dave reaches down and moves the blanket draped over Haley’s face.

Dave can hear her muffled shout. Her voice grows frantic and angry as she accepts Derek pulling her to his chest but her fist hitting him. Fighting with everything she’s got for this not to be true.

For Haley to be alive.

Dave begins the slow process of pulling his own garments off. Someone’s going to have to tell Aaron.

He assumes that job is going to be left for him as well.

__________

It takes Dave a minute to find JJ. She’s lost in a sea of children, crouching so that she’s level with them as she speaks. Judging by the bandanna wrapped around her forehead, she’s got them into some game. Which explains how she’s oblivious to the news he’s carrying.

“Hey, kiddos.” He tries and fails to appreciate the youthful hope written across the snotty faces beaming at him. “I’m gonna need to steal Miss JJ for a moment, okay?”

JJ looks up and tells him to wait a moment, before she manages to wiggle out of the grasp of a rather small snot nosed child. Still, she gives the kid a pat on the head before stepping to the side with Dave.

“Aaron was in a car accident--” he tells her everything. That he lied to Emily and that Haley is dead. She takes it in stride. Nodding and inquiring about the surgeries. About Hotch’s outcome. 

“But you think he’s going to be okay?” she asks.

Dave hesitates before agreeing. “His intracranial pressure is being closely monitored but… they all worked to the best of their abilities and--”

JJ nods, right. They’ve got great surgeons under this roof. Hotch would be safer no place else. 

“I need to ask you a favor, though.” He rubs at the back of his neck, sheepishly recalling his short-circuited shout at Emily. 

JJ already knows, “I’ll take care of her.” She steps to the side, attempting to make good on her promise. 

“She’s with--”

“Aaron,” JJ finishes. “I know.” Because where else would she go? When Emily seeks comfort, she goes one to two places. To JJ or Hotch and considering Emily hasn’t been on the ward, the children love her so she’d know she must be with him. 

It doesn’t take long for her to find Hotch's room. JJ steps in, feeling her light bubble pop under the pressure of the blood not completely wiped from Hotch’s face. The additional loom and gloom do not help. “How’s he doing?” The room is devoid of all things light and cheerful. Sucked through the dark whole of her friends’ current moods. 

His vitals are good. A steady resting heart rate of seventy-two. He’s alive and that’s more than they can say for other victims of the crash. 

“He won’t wake up.” Emily stands up from his side. Uncurling her long legs from underneath her as she stretches out. Muscles ache and joints pop as she moves for the first time in several hours. She doesn’t look at him for too long, it makes her chest tight and her throat hurt to see him like this. 

She prefers the medicine of everything. 

She can understand pulmonary edemas, kidney failures, pneumothorax, and flail chest but… The comparison is medicine makes sense. Show her a blocked artery and she’ll work around it. Bypass isn’t an option? No problem. The surgery is over. Vitals are steady. There aren’t chest to crack or hearts to massage. All she can do is sit back and take watch. 

Her best friends sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to machines and she can do nothing. 

“Of course, he isn’t,” JJ grumbles, walking over to the light switch and turning on the lights. Bathed in the dark room, windows shut to cut out all natural light, and surrounded by artificial sound it’s no wonder he’s not waking up. They haven’t given him a reason to. “Emily, you’ve shut out all the natural light. Half of recovery is atmosphere and, if I were Hotch, I’d feel like everyone had given up on me.” 

JJ pulls open the blinds, the bright light making Emily recoil. The room, though, brightens, and JJ can feel the warmth in her chest. It occurs to her that maybe Hotch isn’t the only one who needs some looking after. While they can rest assured that Derek, Penelope, Dave, and Spence will cycle through the room periodically. Each of them checking sutures, drain tubes, and reflex responses. 

No one’s checking on eachother.

“Em,” JJ places a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Emily’s shoulders feel rock hard under her palm. “When was the last time you showered or ate?” 

Emily’s too tired to even think of numbers. Instead she leans into JJ, allowing her head to rest against the space between the blondes neck and shoulder. She’s fighting tears before JJ even hugs her back. “Are you sure you don’t want to run away with me?” she asks. “We can run away right now and do gay crimes and leave all the men in our lives right here.” 

JJ cups the back of Emily’s head, rubbing her back as she considers the offer Emily has been making a lot here lately. After a moment, JJ decides that she loves her best friend with all her heart and that gay crimes sound thrilling but she can’t. Besides the fact that she knows how good Emily is at sex and the gay crimes would be very gay and very nice… Neither really want to leave. “I think we’d better stay here, love.” She kisses Emily’s temple, “besides, I can’t leave in good conscience while Hotch is like this.”

Emily pulls away from JJ, moving her body so that she can lean into the smaller woman. She’s accepted with open arms and they stand leaning and silent as they watch Hotch breath. 

It’s artificial and that comes with it’s own sort of sting but it’s still him. 

“I killed his wife,” Emily whispers after a long moment between the ventilators hissing. 

JJ knows. Dave had come to tell her the minute Haley’s heart stopped the first time on the table. 

“She’s not going to be able to save her,” he’d whispered, hushed and frantic. “It’s going to crush her.”

Now, as JJ feels Emily sobbing silently beside her, she wonders how Dave knew. Emily’s never taken losing well. She’s heavily competitive. So, maybe this is the worst kind. Emily didn’t just fail… she let her best friend’s wife die.

“Ex-wife,” JJ corrects. Because that’s what Hotch and Halery were. Separated. Anybody with two eyes could see they still loved each other but the job always came first for Hotch. Haley… she wanted more. “She was his ex-wife.” Besides that, the distinction is important.

Emily knows it doesn’t matter. “I still killed her,” she replies. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

JJ looks at the man on the bed. There’s nothing she wants more than to reassure Emily that’s not true. She’s seen the way Hotch looks at her when no one else is watching. But she can’t really know. “Let’s go clean up,” she deflects. “You’ll feel better.”

God, Emily hopes she’s right.

__________

“We’re having a party.” Penelope Garcia is standing in front of her family, sans Hotch, with her hands on her hips and enough conviction in her tone to convince them that’s a solid plan. “JJ’s right,” she informs them. They had lunch together like they do every day. It may be normal to have one or two of them missing-- general surgery logs Hotch random hours and heart and brain surgery tend to run on the long side-- this is the first time any of their own have been on the table. 

The first time Reid wasn’t at the table because his hands were meticulously placing holes in Hotch’s head.

“This place is way too gloomy,” and she’s right of course. Even with the light funneling into the room from the blinds JJ pulled up, Hotch is still surrounded by their dismal moods. “We’re having a party.”

After a long moment, each of them rolling this idea around Dave speaks. He’s not against the idea but he’s not exactly going to give it the go-ahead, not yet. “Aaron would hate the attention,” he deduces because that’s the truth. Hotch wouldn’t even talk to them about the divorce.

The papers for which were delivered in the middle of the workday. JJ had been the one to go get Hotch. He was in the middle of a surgery… one that someone else had to finish. 

“He won’t even know,” Garcia informs them. “Reid’s keeping him in the induced coma for another night.”

This is, of course, news to the rest of the room. Reid had gotten out of the surgery and gone to collapse in bed. Exhausted. Emotionally and physically. 

Emily speaks up for the first time since the meeting had been called. “He could--” she realizes how helplessly hopeful she is as soon as the words start to come out. “He could still wake up.”

He could. Reid had decreased his dosage a little post-operation before he’d gone home but before Reid could even leave the hospital Hotch’s intracranial pressure had increased. 

“He could,” Garcia agrees. “That’s why, if he does. He’s going to be surrounded by us. Having a good time.”

And if there’s one thing that rings true through-out that hospital… If Garcia says it, then it’s Gospel.

“I feel stupid,” Emily grumbles, sitting still but not going through the party process as well as her friend would like. She’s in a dress because Garcia wants this to be a fancy party. Full of drinking and music. Emily knows Hotch would be just as happy if she were barefoot and daisy dukes. 

JJ taps her cheek, a small soundless reprimand for moving away from the eye-liner JJ is so meticulously placing on her eyes. 

Emily sits for the remainder of the make-up JJ paints onto her face. She can’t actively see it going on but she still knows it’s a lot.

“Oh my God,” Garcia beams when she sees Emily. “You’re gorgeous.” She looks at JJ, “I love it but we’re not trying to shock the man into another coma when he lays his eyes on our total bombshell babe!” 

Emily rolls her eyes and shakes herself loose from Garcia’s grip. “I’m not sure I can do this.” She admits, sinking back against her chair. “How am I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t fix Haley and I can’t fix my own heart… so, what am I, JJ? Because a heart goddess certainly isn’t it.”

JJ drops her knee, ignoring the way her own dress rides up her thigh. “Emily, you’re the heart Goddess whether you like it or not.” She cups the side of Emily’s face, wiping her thumb across a tear that dares to fall from her friend’s face. “Dave had you do the surgery on Haley because you’re the best surgeon in the damn county.” She shakes her head, “hell in the nation, probably. If you couldn’t save her then no one could and her best chances were when she was on your table.”

Garcia offers a hand on Emily’s shoulder. She squeezes lightly, “you did you best, Em. You tried to save Haley but now we have to go save Hotch.”

Emily nods, caving to the idea. “Fine,” she mumbles, “but I’m not dancing.”

She lasts four seconds because as soon as she steps through the door, Dave sweeps her up. “Dance with me, bella?”

It’s mostly shifting back and forth but she can feel the tension leaving her body as she accepts Dave’s proximity. After a moment of listening to Reid and Morgan’s bickering, Dave clears his throat. “I wanted to apologize for everything that happened earlier,” he tells her. They step closer to one another so that they can hear each other over the sound of the music and monitors. 

“It’s okay,” Emily whispers back, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I know…” she sighs, she’s not sure what she knows.

Dave rubs her back, keeping them moving. “At the very least,” he offers, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

She pulls away from his embrace just enough to stand on the tips of her toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you,” she promises. 

Air cleared and feeling a little better Dave looks over to Hotch. The kid looks better. It’s hard to tell if that’s a placebo or the truth. “Is it just me,” Dave asks, “or does he seem to be getting more popular?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe I should go into a coma.”

Emily snickers, “Dave, if you went into a coma… how would we ever know?”

Dave stops dancing, mouth open in shock. “I--” he shakes his head. “I can’t…” He shuts his mouth with an audible snap, “I can’t believe you’d say something like that!”

Behind them, Morgan and Reid are still in the heats of an argument about plastic surgery.

“Anybody can--” Morgan flusters, “it’s called aesthetic awareness, pretty Ricky. You don’t have it. It’s a fine-toothed skill and you can’t even color inside the lines.” He looks at Savannah for back-up but his girlfriend doesn’t offer it. “Never mind your mismatched socks. You just don’t have it, kid.”

Before Reid can offer a rebuttal on the matter, Garcia calls his name out.

“He’s waking up!” She dances at Hotch’s side, motioning them all over with a hurried flick of his wrist.

The music is turned down as Reid pulls out his penlight. 

“Hey, kid,” Dave greets softly. He takes Hotch’s left hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re all here. Reid, JJ, Garcia.” They watch as his eyes open, it’s just a sliver but the soft brown of his eyes greets them back none-the-less. “Morgan and Emily.”

A shiver goes down Emily’s back as his eyes turn over to her. She steps up, feeling awkward as the other’s part to let her through. Garcia lets go of his other hand, letting Emily takes his hand. “Hey,” she greets softly. She smiles, unable to contain her tears when his finger slowly crawls back around hers. 

“You’re gonna be a-okay,” Dave promises. “We’re all here, okay? You can get some sleep.”

His eyes flick over to Dave for a second before returning to her.

Emily looks around the room, uncertain… but her gut is forgotten by her heart as she leans over and places a kiss on his forehead. “Get some sleep, Aaron.”

Dave takes a step back, “good night, kiddo.”

She holds his hand until his eyes slip back shut. Waiting for another moment, just to be sure.

“He’s going to be okay,” Reid reassures her.

Emily steps back from the bed and nods. “I hope you’re right.” But Reid is never wrong and she holds onto that hope with everything she’s got.

@ssaic-jareau @emilyxprentiss @purple-scarf-mistress @blatant-attitude @torimea @jetaime-jespere 

[eggs-toast-and-daryl-dixon]

And I am back at it again trying to count the kills in The Walking Dead. I am slowly going insane.

That's the link to the first three seasons since I thought the post was getting a bit long :)

Season 4

Character introductions:

Patrick ? ep. 1

David ? ep. 1

Zack ? ep.1

Bob Stooky ep. 1

‘Mouldy lady’ (she doesn’t have a name I think) ep. 1

Lizzie Samuels ep.1

Mika Samuels ep. 1

Ryan Samuels ep. 2

Doctor S ep. 2

Tara Chambler ep. 6

Lily Chambler ep. 6

Meghan Chambler ep.6

Mr Chambler ep.6

Mitch Dolgen ep.7

Pete Dolgen ep.7

Alisha ? ep.7

Abraham Ford ep.10

Eugene Porter ep.10

Rosita Espinosa ep.10

Joe ? ep.11

Gareth ? ep.13

Gareth and Alex’s Mom ep.13

Alex ? ep.13

Top characters - in my opinion :)

Abraham Ford

Daryl Dixon

Beth Greene

Eugene Porter (don’t ask why, I genuinely don’t know)

Tara Chambler

On to the kills!

Karen: 5 walkers

David: 6 walkers

Glenn: 29 walkers

Daryl: 6 humans + 74 walkers (1 assumed) with a total of 80

Sasha: 22 walkers

Zack: 2 walkers

‘Mouldy lady’: 1 human (herself :( )

Carl: 28 walkers

Rick: 5 humans + 29 walkers with a total of 34

Carol: 3 humans + 10 walkers (1 assumed) with a total of 13

Maggie: 25 walkers

Tyreese: 26 walkers (1 was assumed when he put down a Mika)

Dr. S: 1 walkers

Michonne: 3 humans (1 assisted) + 32 walkers with a total of 35

Bob: 23 walkers

Herschel: 5

Martinez: 1 human (spoken of but never seen) + 1 walker with a total of 2

Governor: 2 humans + 5 walkers with a total of 7

Mitch: 1 human

Lily: 1 human (assisted) + 1 walker with a total of 2

Lizzie: 3 humans (not seen, but we can all agree she killed Mika) + 4 walkers with a total of 7

Beth: 3 walkers

Mika: 4 walkers

Tara: 10 walkers

Abraham: 14 walkers

Joe: 1 human (killed off screen and was by multiple of the claimers)

Rosita: 5 walkers

Eugene: 4 walkers

Total walker kills: 338

Total human kills: 27

Total kills overall: 448

Total walker kills over all 4 seasons: 1033

Total human kills over all 4 seasons: 121

Overall total kills in all 4 seasons: 1134

Main character deaths:

Zack: bitten on ankle and face, then crushed by a building ep.1-30 days without an accident

Mouldy Lady: stabbed self twice, left to turn ep.1-30 days without an accident

Patrick: ok I haven’t looked at this in a while and in my book it said he died of ‘extreme Covid’ so take that as you will ep.1-30 days without an accident

Ryan: Bitten and put down by carol ep.2-infected

Karen and David: Carol stabbed them in the head and then burned them 😳 ep.2-infected

Dr. S: Was sick and turned (I think Herschel put him down but I can’t remember) ep.5-interment

Mr Chambler: died from lung cancer then put down by ‘Brian’ ep.6-live bait

Shumpert: got drunk and walked into walker pits. He was killed in between seasons but is only mentioned at this point

Martinez (another fave dead): Hit by ‘Brian’ with golf club then fed to walkers ep.7-dead weight

Pete: killed by ‘Brian’ and left to turn under water ep.7-dead weight

Herschel (NOOOO): Head cut off by the governor (brutally) then put down by Michonne ep.8-too far gone

Meghan: Bitten then put down by The Governor ep.8-too far gone

The governor (thank the heavens): Shot by Rick (non-leathaly), stabbed through the chest by michonne, shot in the head by lily ep.8-too far gone

Mitch the Bitch: Shot with bolt by Daryl ep.8- too far gone (lots of people going this ep)

Lily: eaten alive, willingly. Between episodes but witnessed by Tara

Mika: Stabbed in the neck (I think) by lizzie ep.13-the grove

Lizzie: shot in the head by carol ep.13-the grove

Joe: Bitten in the neck by Rick (walker style) ep.16-A

Alex: Shot by Rick ep.16-A

Saddest death: Herschel. WHY DID HE DIE! HE NEVER HURT ANYONE! LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Happiest death: The Governor. Hmm let me see: he tortured Glenn, assaulted Maggie, tried to get Daryl and Merle to kill each other, killed axel, KILLED MERLE, killed his entire army, was the cause of Andreas death (but who really cares), killed Martinez and Pete (he just wanted to be a good person), beat the shit out of rick, tried to torture michonne, and I think I’m missing something... Oh yeah-HE KILLED HERSCHEL. That basterd deserved worse.

Best death: Lizzie. Lizzie was kind of a psycho and she deserved it a bit, but the main reason her death was the best is because it started carols whole ‘mental downfall’ thing, which is very important to the story.

Worst death: Martinez, I guess. I can’t choose Herschel since I’ve given him the saddest death so it has to be Martinez. Personally I think Daryl should have killed him because of their betting game thing in season 3

Top 15 killers:

1. Rick. 150 walkers. 10 humans. 160 total. Currently alive

2. Daryl. 140 walkers. 10 humans. 150 total. Currently alive

3. Glenn. 69 (noice) walkers. 0 humans. 69 total. Currently alive

4. Michonne. 61 walkers. 7 humans. 68 total. Currently alive

5. Governor. 27 walkers. 40 humans. 67 total. Dead S4 ep8

6. Herschel. 66 walkers. 0 humans. 66 total. Dead S4 ep8

7. Merle: 32 walkers. 24 humans. 56 total. Dead S3 ep15

7. Andrea: 54 walkers. 2 humans. 56 total. Dead S3 ep16

8. Carl. 50 walkers. 1 human. 51 total. Currently alive

9. Maggie. 39 walkers. 3 humans. 42 total. Currently alive

10. Shane (go away): 32 walkers. 4 humans. 36 total. Dead S2 ep12

11. Tyreese: 35 walkers. 0 humans. 35 total. Currently alive

12. T-dog (hang in there, man): 32 walkers. 0 humans. 32 total. Dead S3 ep4

13. Sasha: 25 walkers. 0 humans. 25 total. Currently alive

14. Shumpert: 21 walkers. 3 humans. 24 total. Dead between S3-S4

15. Bob: 23 walkers. 0 humans. 23 total. Currently alive.

First (and last) words:

Patrick: 1st (yes ma’am) last (I don’t wanna yack on someone)

David: 1st (take that) last (take that) he only has one line

Zack: 1st (I was just about to come find you) last (Don’t leave me!)

Bob: 1st (Hey!) last (?)

Mouldy lady: 1st (wait please) last (you don’t come back)

Lizzie: 1st (Nick! Look over here!) last (I’m sorry)

Mika: 1st (one of them has a name tag) last (I love them!)

Ryan: 1st (it’s happening isn’t it?) last (take care of your sister)

Dr. S: 1st (got no bites) last (you’ve gotta go)

Karen: 1st (Noah’s asthmatic) last (I’ll see you later)

Tara: 1st (you look like you barley got out alive) last (?)

Lily: 1st (Tara!) last (Meghan!)

Meghan: 1st (Mama) last (it’s ok, I can do it myself!)

Mr Chambler: 1st (have a cigarette?) last (please)

Mitch: 1st (you know this guy?) last (You, get up now!)

Pete: 1st (they’ve got a kid for Christ’s sake) last (it’s a sha-)

Alisha: 1st (just messing with my knife) last (I’ll find you)

Martinez: 1st (say the word) last (yeah and then-)

Hershel: 1st (was he bit?) last (it could work, you know it could) 🥺

The Governor: 1st (save your ammo for when you need it) last (liar)

Abraham: 1st (well look at this) last (?)

Eugene: 1st (it’s classified) last (?)

Rosita: 1st (don’t do this Abraham) last (?)

Joe: 1st (get your asses down here!) last (that’ll be fun, won’t it-)

Gareth: 1st (I’ll guess Alberts on perimeter watch) last (?)

Alex: 1st (did they deserve it?) last (Gareth?)

Finaly we’re done with season 4. Sadly a certain person *cough, cough* Shane *cough, cough* won’t leave us alone on the leader board, but I doubt he’ll be here for much longer. Until next time!

[itsbebachan]

Unfortunate Soul Chapter 5

Hello my lovelies, I'm back again. I'm sorry for the wait but it is what it is. Works got me busy and to make things worse they have me working on Thanksgiving, but even with everything that is going on I still find some time to write. Again, thanks to everyone that has commented and given me kudos. I do read all my comments and respond to them. It might take me a while but I will write back. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and I will see you all soon.  

Gif From hahae-ichihara

Arriving at our home Tenga came running out. As soon as I stepped foot outside, he bombarded me with a million questions. "Are you ok? Is the baby alright? Do you need anything?" He looked out of sorts. His well-groomed hair was disheveled, his clothes all wrinkled, and he had heavy bags under his eyes.

"I'm ok; Ten, so is the baby. It was just a slight scare. But the better question is if your feeling well. I'm sorry to say this, bro, but you look like shit." I caressed his face trying to put him at ease. I worry that the stress of my situation was too much for my kind-hearted brother.

"I'm fine, I promise. I'm more concerned with what the doctors had to say." He looked at my parents expectantly, then turn his gaze back at me, expecting an answer. I just stared at him, realizing that I had no idea what had happened.

"I'm not sure." I was at a loss.

My dad got out of the car, approaching us both.  "It was due to high blood pressure caused by stress. He needs to get plenty of rest and follow the doctor's instructions. Damn, Katsuki almost killed them both! I swear that kid will not get away with the trouble he has caused to our family." Blue lighting was coursing through his arm, the anger in his eyes evident.

"Toshi, come down. This anger is not suitable for your heart. Please, baby, let's take a deep breath and calm down." Mom embraced him and kept speaking in soft tones. My mom's scent clearly washed away the stress and anger that my dad was feeling. "Tenya, please bring Izuku's thing in the house where we continue this conversation." With that, he led my dad inside our home, caressing his back and saying comforting words.

"Are you sure your ok?" Tenya asked one more time to make sure that I wasn't hiding anything from him.

"Yes, TenTen. I promise to let you know if anything has changed."

We followed my parents into our home, where I continued to my room. I wanted to get settled before having this conversation. My nerves were still a bit shaken up after my ordeal. Laying down on my bed, I closed my eyes, letting the silents of the room calm me. I still couldn't wrap my head around the thought that I needed to decide soon which of my three potential mates I should meet first. I wanted to make a well-informed decision by getting to know each of them, but my heart was still torn. I felt like I was cheating on Kacchan just by having their profiles, let alone going out on dates with them. I was so scared of what Katsuki would do if he found out I was even considering meeting them, but a part of me knew that he wouldn't care.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the folders wanting to give them one more read before deciding. A knock on my door let me know that I had a visitor, but with the destressing scent coming through the door, I know it was Tenya. "Come in, Tenya."

"Hey, I just wanted to see if you needed anything."  He replays as he walks into my room, closing the door behind him. "Nope, just about to go through these files one more time before telling mom which guy I want to meet first." My voice was low and tired. I just wanted everything to go back to normal. I didn't want to have to go through this pregnancy alone, and the fact that Katsuki didn't give a crap about me made the whole situation worse.

The scent of fear and sadness was unmistakable in the air. Tenya put his arm around me, pulling me to his side, scenting me in the process. "Hey, honey, don't worry about it. I'm sure everything will turn out ok. I know that this is all overwhelming, but it will all turn out fine in the end. "How do you even know that, Tenya. I'm an 18 yr old Uke, unwed and pregnant. My child's father wants nothing to do with us, and now I have to go out and meet this Seme that God only knows why they would even waste their time with a used Uke, like me.  I hate all of this. I just want my life back. I just wish that this had never happened to me in the first place."

I could feel new tears at the corner of my eyes, but I would not let them fall. I was tired of all this crying. I had to try and get through this.

"I know, Zuku. But the truth of the matter is that this is the right thing to do. I don't want you to go through hardship, and we both know that being a single mom in this new society is the worst-case scenario. Back before the pandemic, being a single mom was empowering, but now it just means that you were not good enough as a Uke. Society would treat you like a stain in our newfound utopia. They would see you and your kid as the scum of the Earth. We don't want that for you, honey." He says as he rubs my shoulders and released his calming scent.

"Can I look over the profile?" Tenya asked, pointing at the files that were on my lap. "Sure, they all seem like nice guys. I just wish I know why they would even want to settle with someone like me." I frown as I pass him the files.

"Don't say that, Izuku. There is nothing wrong with you. You are a wonderful person. Any of these guys would be lucky to have you as his mate." His smile was genuine and sweet.

"Well, he looks like a great guy and handsome too." He points at Todoroki's photo, and I smile. I have to admit that Todoroki was extremely handsome. His exotic features were captivating, and the fact that he was so close to his mother was a plus in my books.

"Yeah, I think he might be a nice guy too. Do you think I should tell mom to set up a meeting with him? I'm really nervous about meeting any of them." My hands were shaking, and  I'm sure that Tenya notices.

Placing my hands in his own, Tenya gave them a small squeeze to reassure me that this was the right thing to do. "I promise everything is going to be okay. If it doesn't work out with him, you still have two more guys to check out." He smiled, lifting all my doubts. "Now that that is settled, let's go and talk to mom and find out what the doctors had to say." Patting my knee, we left my room in search of our parents.

Entering the living room, we heard my dad talking very animatedly on the phone. I sat next to mom and asked who he was talking to. He informed me that my dad was on the phone with Katsuki's parents.

"Why would he do that?" I couldn't believe that he would call them. I was done with all of this bullshit. There is no point in getting them involved anymore. Katsuki has made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with me. Why can't dad just let it be?

"Honey, he is only looking out for you." He pats my knee with a look of concern. "I understand, ma, but can't we just let it go. I just want to go on with my life. One of the reasons why I came downstairs was to ask you to get the matchmaker to set up a meeting with Shoto Todorokoi." I was so tired of all of this. My anxiety was through the roof.

"Sweetheart, I'm glad to hear that you have chosen to meet with him. But you have to understand that Katsuki's irresponsibility has affected this family. He needs to be made aware. We almost lost you." He hugged me, trying to calm his nerves. "I was so scared, Zuku. I truly believed that you weren't going to make it. If he would just accept the situation and stop acting like a child, we could have avoided all of this." I stayed in his warm embrace for a couple more minutes until my dad came to sit in front of us.

"Mitsuki is heartbroken. She feels so helpless in this situation. Of course, she demanded that Katsuki takes responsibility, but that boy is as stubborn as she is. He is adamant that he is not the father, and no matter what she says, he will not budge." He placed his head between his hands and sighed.

"Toshi, honey. Izuku has decided to meet with Shoto Todororoki. Why don't we just leave this situation alone with Katsuki and just move forward? Who knows, maybe one of these suitors can make our son happy. This whole situation has been such a tiring ordeal that I'm sure we all just want to leave it behind us." He says with a small smile.

"If that is the case, call Madama Midnight to set up the meeting. I hope you are considering giving each one of these gentlemen a chance to get to know you. I know that we are running out of time, and I would hate for people to start speaking unfavorably about you. But you can not take this decision lightly; the choice is essentially yours to make willingly and wisely."

"I understand, dad; I promise I will give this my all." I know that no matter what decision I make or who I choose in the end, it will be someone who will genuinely want me, and I can't ask for anything more.

A week had gone by, and things were pretty much the same. Katsuki once again had a new guy by his side, and poor Yuga was a shell of his formal self. The poor guy no longer wears his fabulous fashion nor his radiant smile. Now he just walked around like a zombie. I feel for the poor kid. He's such a nice guy to have around, and everyone in our school honestly seems to like him. It infuriates me to see him this way. Sure, we don't hang around the same friend group, but that doesn't mean that he deserved what Katsuki put him through.

My friends and Tenya have genuinely been my rock. Eijiro and Denki have been nothing but supportive and understanding. I've even have caught Eijiro giving me some extra helping of food during lunch unconsciously. I'm sure that his actions were driven by his "Seme's"  need to care for a Uke in distress, and Denki seemed to understand that it's just in his nature to help and not that Eijiro was trying to court me. As all four of us were making our way to the front gate, I happened to see a tall guy in uniform waiting by the entrance. At first, I didn't think anything of it until we came closer, and I realize that I had seen his face before.

"Oh my God, Tenya. Is that Mirio Togata? What in the world is he doing here?" I was shocked to see him here; I was not mentally prepared to meet him yet. I had every intention of meeting him, but I wasn't expecting this. After I got home from the hospital, my mom had called Madama Midnight the following morning to set up a meeting with Shoto. We were to meet in a couple of days.

"Izuku; you don't have to go, say hello. It seems as he hasn't seen you yet. We can just go back to school and wait for him to leave." I could see that Tenya was anxious, and he would prefer for us to leave.

"Listen, Zuku. Why don't Denki and I go and ask why he is here. Neither one of us knows each other, so it won't seem out of place to ask. That way, you don't have to interact with him until you are ready.”

I appreciate the concern Eijiro was showing for my situation, but I know that I couldn't keep relying on my friends to solve my problems. Besides, it's not like I wasn't curious to see what he wanted.

"I'm ok, guys. I'm just going to go and see what he wants. Besides, I would have to meet the guy eventually, and why not by saying hello." I smiled at my friends and started making my way to Mirio.

"Zuku, wait." I turned around to see Tenya running towards me. "Hey, I'm gonna stay close by just in case you need me, ok. I don't like the idea of leaving you alone with his guy." He seems determined to make sure that nothing happens to me. My brother is so caring and loving any Uke will be so lucky to have him.

"Ok, but really Ten. Don't worry so much. I'm gonna be ok."

As I made my way to the entrance, I could see that Mirio look nervous. He kept looking around as if he had lost something. I made my way to him; my anxiety was making me feel out of breath. "Um, excuse me. Is there anything I can help you with?" My voice was so small; it's a miracle that he even heard me."

He turned around, and his eyes became wild. "I can't believe that it's really you. Hi, my name is Togata Mirio. I'm sorry if I scared you by coming to your school unannounced. But I was on my way home from school, and I realized that your school was very close to mine. I know that you might not be interested in meeting me, but I just had to get to know you. Is there any way that I can walk you home?" His smile as he said his last word was so unbelievably genuine that I found my head bobbing up and down.

"Um, hi. I guess you already know my name. I'm Midoriya Izuku. I'm sorry if I gave off the impression that I was not interested in meeting you. I've just have had a couple of things pop up recently." I lowered my head and started fidgeting with the bottom of my shirt. I was so nervous. Here in front of me was one of my potential mates. Just standing next to him, smelling his intoxicating scent of morning dew and sunshine, was really doing a number on me.

"It's okay. I understand. I'm sorry I just showed up unannounced." He smiled again, and it just made me weak at the knee. Somehow this guy was doing things to me that I just couldn't understand.

"It's alright. Um, let me let my brother know that I will be walking home with you before leaving." I gave him a genuine smile and made my way to Tenya.

"Hey, he just wanted to know if he could walk me home to get to know me. I told him that I would. He seems like a nice guy. If anything happens, I will make sure to call you, ok."

Tenya looked upset, but he agreed with my decision.

"Listen, Zuku. You call me right away if you feel unsafe. You got it!" He was not taking no for an answer.

"I understand, please don't worry. I'll be ok." And with that, I started to make my way to Mirio.

Unbeknownst to me, Katsuki was watching our interaction. His white knocks were visible as he held his car door open, smoke coming out of his hands in small clouds. His eyes inflamed. He gets into his car, slamming the door, and drive away like the devil was chasing after him.

@alovelie @girl2257 @strawberry-panic @0-ddball @monkeyzz-r-ur-bff @dragon-lover-idk @iyemicomic1920 @leynly @otaku-chan-world @jawazia @im-the-villin-in-this-story @itsatomichyena @rainytears2 @nevergrowingup101 @littlelovebug98 @koyukiy @justthememes1 @koyukiy @spookygirl1994 @missbossy333 @rose-moon2002​ @lana-del-jey​ @like50breadsticks​ @creativegremlin​ @waytomanyhusbands​ @hui11282003-blog​

[thanks--for--listening]

in the absence of light

sup party people I couldn’t leave FMAB alone so here we are with a new fic. this one is mustang’s pov but i’ve got another FMAB fic from a different pov that’s almost done so look out for that relatively soon. also on ao3. 

~~

The dark made everything feel unfinished. He knew the battle had ended, knew the real work would start as soon as everyone was able to stand, but for now, sitting in a hospital bed the day after the end of the world, all Mustang felt was a restlessness he couldn’t quite place. 

It didn’t make sense. Hawkeye had come in and out of surgery already, was resting beside him in the room he’d demanded they share. There were soldiers still in recovery, but everyone he knew, everyone he’d worried about, would be fine. The rest of his group would require only time and patience to heal, so he wasn’t sure why he still felt like he needed to keep his guard up. 

Maybe it had something to do with what he saw. With nothing new to replace it, the images he was greeted with when he opened his eyes mirrored the ones he saw when he’d tried to sleep: Hawkeye lying on the ground, sinking in a pool of her own blood. Edward screaming in agony as something indescribable opened him up and swallowed him whole. The never ending light he’d found at the other end of the transmutation circle, the shadowed being staring at him like he meant absolutely nothing. 

He remembered it’s voice. It didn’t give him much attention, ignored his questions and desperation. “You’ve seen horror from the perspective of the perpetrator,” it told him. “You seek a balance that can never be reached. Your mind is teeming with visions you pray can replace the ones you long to forget.”

“I don’t understand,” was all he’d managed to say. 

It didn’t have a face, but he swore the thing smirked at him. “You’ve made it too easy for me. You always do.” 

The darkness came soon after. It wasn’t until he felt the ground underneath him and the hands on his shoulder that he knew he’d returned, and that he’d left something irreplaceable behind. 

“You’re supposed to be resting, Sir.” He could hear the sleep in her words, shifted his head in the direction of her voice. 

“I haven’t so much as moved in the last hour, Lieutenant.”

The springs under her bed groaned, and he imagined she was easing herself up. Part of him wanted to tell her not to move, that her wounds were still fragile and her lost blood only recently replenished, but he had already grown tired of the incessant hovering of his nurses and other staff. He imagined she wouldn’t take too kindly to getting the same treatment from him. 

“I can hear you thinking from here, Sir. Your mind needs rest, too.”

The smile crept up without his permission. She’d found her way through his defenses, snuck in when he wasn’t looking. He’d spent so much time hiding, but she saw everything, heard each unspoken word and thought that ran through his head. He hadn’t meant to get used to it, but the damage was done, and despite what he told himself and the rest of the world, he knew that the selfish part of him never wanted to let her go. 

“There’s a lot of work to be done, is all.”

“You’ve never been able to lie to me, Colonel. I don’t imagine now would be a good time to try and start.” She waited a moment, before asking, “Does it have to do with your sight? The doctor said you may feel disoriented while you adjust.”

He shook his head. As she spoke, he tried to picture the look she was giving him. When would all traces of sleep disappear? Would she stare at him with pity now that she knew he couldn’t see it? He cycled through faces like pages of a book, searching desperately for one to replace what he kept coming back to. 

“Is it—“ she hesitated, before asking, “is it something you saw during the…”

“When they forced me through the portal?” Her silence confirmed the words she hadn’t said. “No. Not exactly.”

He could hear the uncertainty in her silence, the mental debate over whether to voice the question he knew she had. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him wanted her to. Talking about the things that mattered wasn’t usually a behavior he engaged in willingly, but this...something about it was different. 

Maybe it was him. Maybe he was different. 

“You can ask me about it,” he told her after the silence began to linger. “If you’d like.”

She didn’t wait very long after getting his permission. “What did you see?”

Mustang searched for the words. “I remember that it felt like falling. Or, it would have, if there’d been any sort of direction. The universe seemed to unravel all around me, which was unnerving, for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“There was a moment, right before I landed onto something like a surface, where I felt like everything made sense. Like something inside of me clicked. I knew if I managed to stay there, to spend more time in that feeling, that I’d know the answers to all my problems. I’d know everything.”

“But you didn’t stay there,” Hawkey guessed. 

Mustang nodded. “As soon as I felt it, it came crashing down, and I crashed along with it. There was...there was a door. It towered over me, and there were carvings all along it that I couldn’t quite make out. Everything felt important, but the door…there was something different about that. Something powerful.”

“Do you remember what it looked like?”

He shook his head. “I tried to memorize what I saw, but It found me first.”

“It?” She sounded so young when she asked. An old but new face flashed in front of him, the girl he’d met when he was just a boy himself. He didn’t see her as often as he liked. In his quiet moments, he often wondered if he was to blame for that.

“There was this being. Everything but the door was white, including it, but it somehow cast a shadow. Or perhaps it was nothing more than a shadow. It introduced itself with many names, but the one that stuck out was Truth. It was the person they wanted me to see. The reason they sent me in there.”

“Is it the thing that took away your sight?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you weren’t the one who chose to do the transmutation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” For a moment, he was glad she’d never tried her hand at alchemy; if she had, he knew she’d commit the taboo just to lecture the being about fairness and justice. The thought almost brought a smile to his lips. 

“I’m not sure. It didn’t give me much of a chance to speak my case.”

“How could something called Truth not see the lies of the transmutation? Why would it take something from you when you didn’t do the unforgivable act?”

The conversation played through his mind, reminded him that he was already guilty enough for punishment before he ever got pushed through that portal. Maybe it was shame, or cowardice, or maybe he wanted to protect her from the fact that their efforts, however valiant, would never make up for their actions. Whatever the reason, he decided to keep that bit to himself. 

“I suppose,” he said instead, “that intention has nothing to do with it. I went through. I saw what I saw. And for that, I had to pay a price.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment; when she did, her voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped them.”

He shook his head. “There was nothing you could do.”

“It doesn’t matter. I was supposed to protect you, and I failed.”

“You did nothing of the sort.” God, he longed to look into her eyes, to find the moment when she began to believe him. He didn’t care about seeing the world, would have given his sight up willingly if he could have kept her. Her voice could remain steady but her eyes would betray her, would have shown him exactly what she felt, and now...now all he could do was hope his words would be enough.

“I shouldn’t have let them capture me in the first place. If I hadn’t been injured, maybe—maybe I—“

“Lieutenant.” He tried to drown his sentences in emotion, to go against his own nature because she had to know, she had to hear the sincerity he wasn’t sure he could show her. “You have saved my life more times than I could ever repay you for. If anyone here should spend their time lamenting about failing, it should be me.”

“Colonel—“

“They nearly killed you, Hawkeye. Only because they knew that you—that I—“ he took a breath. “That your death would be the only thing that could have made me do something as unforgivable as that.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. He found that confessions fell off his lips with ease when he didn’t have to look them in the eye. He didn’t want to know what that said about him. 

She spoke first, her voice soft but stable. “I never got a chance to thank you for listening to me. When I told you not to do human transmutation.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“I know. But I’m glad you did. Even though they—even though it happened anyway, I’m glad you didn’t choose it.”

He thought about the moment. The stain on her neck had spread so quickly, the blood dying her white blouse faster than he thought should be possible. It was then, when they’d thrown her in front of him and asked him to choose, that he finally understood why the Elric Brothers had done it. The entire world was at stake, and yet for a moment he’d wondered what good any world was without her. 

Had she not begged him, her voice faint but her purpose clear, he wasn’t sure they would have needed to force him into it. In that moment, when he watched the life drain out of her, he might have done anything to bring her back. The lines she’d stopped him from crossing had faded as quickly as the color in her skin, and he knew any strength he’d had was nothing more than an appearance for her sake. 

If he was braver, he would have reached for her; instead, he whispered, “I’m glad you followed orders. If you hadn’t walked out of there…”

“I had to, Sir.” He could hear the smile now, and when she spoke, he swore he could see it. “You wouldn’t make it a day without me.”

He wasn’t sure when they were allowed to laugh again, when the devastation and the trauma of their fight would fade enough for something like humor to make another appearance. He did it anyway, let the sound fill the room around them, let it hide their wounds for a moment, take them back to a time when laughter was all it took to make everything okay. 

“Starting tomorrow, we’ve got a lot of work to get done.”

“Yes, Sir. I haven’t forgotten our purpose.”

“Until then,” he told her, “do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

He put his head back down on the pillow beneath him, closed his eyes out of habit. “Will you tell me what Alphonse looked like again?”

As he laid there, she described the way Al’s thin frame drowned in the coat Mustang threw their way. How his blonde hair reached long past his shoulders. How his eyes held both exhaustion and wonderment in them. She told him that he never stopped smiling, not once since the moment his body materialized in front of them. He looked a little like Ed, she mentioned, but every sharp edge of the eldest brother was rounded out, and Al towered over him by at least a few inches. 

Even though she’d told him before, had commented on his appearance the moment he’d come back, Mustang still laughed at the last detail. With every word, he began to build a picture, not just of Alphonse but of all of them: Ed standing next to his brother, his crew bursting through the hospital doors, and Hawkeye, sitting beside him, smiling as she told him every detail. He knew then, that no matter what happened to him, whatever the cost he paid for creating the world he’d once envisioned, it would be worth it, so long as they could see it.

[bts-imagine28]

Heyy i love your 8th member workss😍 may i request for 8 to be nearsighted and refuse to wear contacts so she just either wear glasses or none? Thank youu stay safe!! 💜

BTS 8th member doesn’t like contacts or glasses, but has bad vision

Word count:1731

A/N: I didn’t put much about contacts in because I really know nothing about them. BUT I do have glasses that I hate, and literally have no idea how to put contacts in.. so it kinda worked 😂😂😂

Excuse any spelling errors please🙈

Thank you for your request and they are open💜

Jin

* Jin knew that you didn’t like contacts or glasses

* He wanted to make you feel more confident about it, because no matter what you were wearing, you were beautiful

* He knew you were insecure about your eyesight though

* You didn’t like when you had to ask for help to see, and you felt like whatever you were wearing, glasses or contacts, didn’t really help anyway

* But he would never mind when he read something to you if it was too far away

* And because he knew of your insecurity he would whisper in your ear what it said

* As you both got closer and spent more time together, he started to realize what was probably too far away or too small for you, and read it to you

* But he wouldn’t make you seem any weaker about needing help to read

* He was really good about hyping you up and complimenting you all the time

* You just wake up? “Y/N gorgeous as always”

* Eating food? “Ahhh how can you be so cute?!?!”

* Wearing glasses? “I’VE NEVER SEEM SOMEONE LOOK AS GOOD AS YOU DO!!!!”

* He really was your own personal cheer leader

* He didn’t want to force you to wear your glasses, though

* He knew you were stubborn and that wouldn’t exactly work

* So he would reward you for wearing them without being fussy when asked to wear them

* And if you were wearing them without being asked be prepared for him literally squashing you in a bear hug

* He honestly did think you were so cute in them, and your insecurity about wearing them only gave him more reason to compliment you

Yoongi

* One late night in his studio you told him why you didn’t like contacts

* He already knew the whole glasses situation at this point

* But you were just afraid to put the contacts in

* What if you poked your eye out?!?

* Like have you seen how scary that looks?!!

* And since he wear contacts he showed you how to put them in, but you were still afraid

* But that didn’t deter him from trying to ease your fear

* He offered to put them in for you like Jin did for him

* That helped a little but then you realized you had to get them out too, so you declined his offer

* He realized why you still were afraid and tried to help

* He said he would take them out for you, but you were still too afraid

* He wasn’t mad at you about that, though

* If you were so afraid and upset about the contacts, he would snuggle you until you calmed down more

* If it wasn’t too late to go out he would get you your favorite food and ice cream

* He knew contacts could be really scary when you first were using them

* So every so often he would try again to introduce them to you and get you to wear them, without being too pushy

Hoseok

* He knew you weren’t happy about your vision, and that killed him

* You were his BABY

* He didn’t want anything other than a smile on your face

* So he would try to distract you if you HAD to wear the glasses

* And later if you did get comfortable enough with the contacts he would try and calm you down while someone put them in for you

* Usually that meant he held you in his lap and would tell you funny stories

* But he wouldn’t like restrain you while you were getting the contacts in

* He held you so you wouldn’t fall off of him, but if at any point you wanted it to stop or to leave you easily could have

* He usually wasn’t one to try and get you to wear the glasses or contacts, because he just couldn’t be strict on you

* And if one of the stylists were pushing you to wear them, he would step in and make sure you didn’t have to

* Especially if you were really upset about it

* He knew you couldn’t escape the glasses or contacts forever, but he could save you from them for at least today

Namjoon

* He would be a little more strict about you wearing glasses at least

* He wouldn’t force you to wear the contacts ever

* He didn’t see them as necessary if you didn’t want them

* And he would only be strict about the glasses when you were reading or doing homework

* He only did that because he didn’t want you to strain your eyes

* And afterwards he would cuddle you as an apology

* But you weren’t really mad at him anyway because he was only worried about you

* He also made you wear them to school

* Again he knew you hated him every morning for it, but he wanted to make sure you could see

* And when you insisted that the glasses still didn’t help you see the board any better, he would still insist you wear them

* Whenever you got home from school and literally threw them off, he would feel bad about it, but he knew you were more angry at yourself than at him

* He would cuddle you and make sure you felt better though

* But then still make you wear them when you did your homework

Jimin

* He was another one that couldn’t really force you to wear them

* He would support namjoon in making you wear them to school or for homework though

* But then feel really bad about it when you would pout

* He still knew you HAD to wear them

* And when you were feeling really insecure about them he would be about her cheerleader for you

* He never wanted you to feel insecure about it

* He knew it wasn’t exactly something you could control

* But he also reminded you of you strong you were for having this slight obstacle but getting over it every day

* If you were having a really bad day, he would make you sleep with him and cuddle him

* He didn’t want you to be alone and say bad things about yourself

* And if he heard that you were being bullied about your glasses or fear of contacts online or at school he would first off be SO upset for you

* But then so angry that ANYONE felt that it was ok to be mean to someone at all let alone something they were insecure about

* He wished he could take all the bad thoughts and fears away, but he knew he couldn’t

* So he would always do whatever to cheer you up or take your mind off of them even if it was just for a moment

* And since he had a lot of experience with colored contacts he would put on a bunch of weird colors like yellow or orange to make you laugh

* And so you didn’t associate contacts with only fear

Taehyung

* He would never force you to wear glasses or contacts

* Even to school or when you were doing your homework

* But since he knew it was better if you did he would usually mention to namjoon or Jin if you weren’t wearing them

* And he felt so guilty for telling on you, but he just wanted you to be ok

* Later at night he would watch tv with you or do whatever you wanted to do

* But honestly you didn’t know he had told on you so it just seemed like a nice gesture

* And he wasn’t going to tell you that he has snitched

* He wanted to be the favorite so he let the others do the scolding

* He would join in with Jimin in making you laugh with weird colored contacts

* He enjoyed white contacts or red to make you laugh

* Usually he would then insist on a run way show

* To make clothes match whatever his eyes were

* And he let you join in even if you didn’t put contacts in

* He pushed all the furniture in the living room to the side to make a run way for you two

* And then forced the other members to watch and compliment you two

* Which they willingly did

* Because they all loved you

Jungkook

* He could never force you to wear them nor could he really snitch in you

* So he would kinda go to one of the older members and just have a guilty look

* And they knew that meant you weren’t wearing them

* He was a little guilty but made the argument that he didn’t officially tell on you so it was okay

* Whenever you were in more of a mood because you had to wear glasses he would try and cheer you up

* And later he would probably make you color or paint with him

* Without the glasses

* It would calm you down and he enjoyed spending time with you so it was really a win win

* Usually if you were being scolded about wearing your glasses he would comfort you afterwards

* He knew you weren’t doing it to be mean or to purposefully not listen to them

* So that made him feel really bad for you

* And then he would help you prank whatever member was scolding you

* Nothing too bad, but enough to help you loosen up and be happy again

Ot7

* Whenever you had doctor appointments they would all go with you

* They hoped that there would be good news

* Like maybe you could get a corrective surgery, but unfortunately no luck so far

* So afterwards they let you choose where you went out to eat to cheer you up

* As time went on they all started picking up cues of you not being able to see something so they would whisper to you, but Jin was still the one who would notice the most

* But sometimes it depended on who was closest to you

* They really just wanted you to be happy and not let it being you down, because they knew you were stronger than that

[7team7]

Choosing Fate: Chapter 4

Helping or hurting? // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

A/N: Happy birthday to the best girl ever, Uchiha Sakura!! I also posted a super short one shot yesterday, so consider that an homage to her as well :D

.

.

After the strangeness of living with a new family wore off a bit, Sakura started growing dreadfully bored. She couldn’t think about her parents and siblings for too long without growing teary eyed. The house was quiet most of the time, even when the entire family was home. Even when she tiptoed, she felt like the floors always creaked beneath her feet and she could never achieve the silent grace of the Uchihas. 

She tried making small talk with Sasuke but it usually ended quickly and in an awkward silence. It seemed that to him, a good life was a productive life, so he often met her efforts with a cutting, “What are you doing?” If she wasn’t keeping busy, it didn’t seem worth his time or understanding.

The jokes and smiles that flowed so freely in her childhood home were nowhere to be found here. She tried to think of different ways to spend time with him that didn’t include eating with his parents. He was a tough nut to crack. If they had to court each other before marriage, they both would’ve done a terrible job, she thought.

When she found him in their room packing up for another trip with his father one morning — this time, hunting — she offered to go with him, as silly as it sounded. She was just desperate. 

But Sasuke didn’t see the point at all and quickly wrote her off, “There’s no need. You would just get in the way. We’re almost ready anyways.”

She bit her lip, “Ah, you’re right. Sorry, I wasn’t sure. Just trying to help. This whole marriage thing is new to me too.” She forced out a laugh. 

“Sakura,” he started awkwardly, “I don’t want this just as much as you don’t.” He had paused in his packing and found her wringing her hands with a hopeful expression, but the light quickly dimmed in her eyes after he finished speaking. 

What were meant to be words of comfort were interpreted as words of cruelty, words that distanced. “I know you don’t want me, Sasuke,” she said, already exasperated. “But you don’t have to always make it seem that way. You can pretend for a second and be nice to me.” 

In a moment of frustration, he spit, “We don’t have to love each other to be married, you know.”

Sakura laughed without humor, “Trust me, I know. You think I want to love someone like you, let alone be married? Like you said, this is as bad as it is for me as it is for you. At least I’m trying to make the best of things.” Everyday, she discovered ways they were different. She didn’t understand him, but she wanted to. He was making it near impossible; they wouldn’t make any progress when she was always being kept at arm’s length. 

She marched out of their room quickly and left him to continue his preparations. She didn’t want to cry, and she knew seeing his face would’ve set her off. An apology rested on the tip of his tongue, but his pride held it back. 

He felt a strange sense of guilt settle in the bottom of his stomach when she still sent him off with a perfectly made bento.

.

It had been two weeks since Sasuke returned from the hunting trip and things were icy between him and Sakura. She was always polite, but she wasn’t extending herself the way she used to. Even if he knew he could find the answer through introspection, he wondered what was wrong with her. The house felt dimmer than ever.

Their little argument faded into the background when new and more important issues needed to be addressed. What Mikoto originally waved off as spring allergies eventually revealed itself to be a nasty flu. “It’s all the pollen in the air, you know,” she insisted even after her first attempt at speaking was cut off by a bout of coughing. Where Sasuke was panicked and uncertain, Sakura was calm and composed — the water to his fire.

Sasuke admired how Sakura never left her bedside and cared for her when he couldn’t. He was surprised, even, that she would dedicate so much time to someone who, while friendly with her, was still a bit of a stranger. It would’ve been more convenient to call a doctor, but Sakura claimed she had it under control. His father, stoic as ever, still proceeded with all their plans. Even Itachi and Izumi were forbidden to visit lest they catch the same flu and spread it around. “She has Sakura,” Fugaku said matter of factly when Sasuke expressed concern over leaving Mikoto alone. They set out on a scheduled trip, taking care to wash up, but trusting Mikoto in Sakura’s hands.

When Sasuke was at home, he still left it to Sakura as she proved to be far more capable than him. Her hearty soups and cups of tea were always heated to the perfect temperature. She washed the bedding often, making sure her mother-in-law was always as comfortable as possible. She carried a heavy bucket of water into the room to keep a damp cloth on Mikoto’s forehead without spilling a drop. She even ordered Sasuke to go to the market and buy a specific herb that was nowhere to be found in their kitchen. 

Upon returning, he found her asleep against the foot of the bed. He felt bad that he had to wake her up, but he had no idea what to do with said herb. He felt, in a word, useless. But Sakura roused easily and thanked him as she blinked the sleep away. He watched as she expertly ground it into a fine powder, adding it to another cup of tea. Sasuke made a note of the process; next time he would let her sleep.

Anyone who displayed so much care for his mother was worthy of praise, he decided. 

He caught her in the backyard enjoying the brilliant sunset and a bit of fresh air after she deemed Mikoto healthy again, a week later. “I wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of her,” he started. “She always wanted a daughter, and I know she was sad when Itachi and Izumi moved out. Both my parents felt that way, really. She was very happy when it was decided that you would move in so soon after.” He didn’t really know why he was telling her all of this — in fact, it was probably the largest amount of words he’d ever said to her — but it felt like he owed her now more than ever. 

Sakura laughed lightly, “Well, I’m glad at least one person was happy I came here.” It really was reassuring, she had felt like an intruder for so long. Honestly, Mikoto was lovely and Sakura would willingly help her anytime. The circumstances of them living together were just a little unfortunate. Sasuke responded very seriously, “It’s not just her who appreciates it.” She, in spite of all her annoying tendencies, was growing on him. When he noticed the pretty blush dusting her cheeks, he quickly changed the subject. He really didn’t want to explore the implications of his words or her reaction.

“How did you even know what to do?” Sasuke asked bluntly. 

Sakura laughed again, and Sasuke still couldn’t help notice the way the fullness of her pink cheeks made her eyes crease at the corners. Such a useless piece of information, yet he couldn’t look away. “I have so many siblings, someone is always sick. We usually couldn’t afford an actual doctor, so it was always up to me to figure things out.” Sasuke nodded and looked out into the yard. None of the grasses or plants were quite the color of her eyes. 

He found himself thinking she’d make an amazing mother. He had been praised for his looks his whole life, and he took after his mother. He knew if their child took after Sakura, they would be beautiful.

He headed back inside when he noticed his heart rate speeding up. He tried convincing himself that maybe he was just getting sick too.

.

After Mikoto made a complete recovery, she set out to visit her friends and family that had been kept away by Sakura’s orders. And once again, without someone or something to attend to, Sakura only felt trapped inside the house. The chores she used to despise growing up were ones she now wished she could pass the time doing. Was her father minding his back in the fields? Were her mother’s joints hurting with the change in the weather? 

Sasuke noticed Sakura staring out the window, looking terribly bored and melancholy on more than one occasion. He finally found the time to stop and talk to her, something he knew he should do more often.

“What are you doing?” He had something to give her, but was she..busy?

“I want my life back,” she stated dully while continuing to look out the window.

He sighed. She didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. Their marriage wasn’t his choice, but he was beginning to feel like some of her misery was directly a result of his neglect. And he didn’t like the way that weighed on him. “I’m not a thief,” he answered simply before placing a thick book on the table next to her, titled A Beginners Guide to Medicine.

He had never seen her eyes so bright.

.

Sasuke took it upon himself to tutor Sakura from that point on. Even if they weren’t yet suited to being husband and wife, they didn’t have to ignore each other’s existence. Tutoring her gave him a goal, it helped orient their relationship. And she was an excellent student: diligent and hungry for knowledge. 

He discovers that there are gaps in her education, from times when she had to devote herself to helping in the fields or raising her siblings. He had always thought of being educated as a binary: either you are or you aren’t. She hardly seemed embarrassed, rather she was more determined to catch up to Sasuke’s level. He admired her impetus and found himself regretting taking his school days for granted. He couldn’t help but think the village would have been a lot more prosperous if someone like Sakura had been allowed to put her mind to solving its problems. 

Sakura grew to admire Sasuke, just a little bit. He was a strict teacher, but a knowledgeable and clear one. She had his full attention for once, and his intensity was impressive.

She privately decides to accept the book and his teachings as a birthday gift.

.

.

A/N: I wanted to draw parallels to Sakura taking care of Sarada, and provide some sneak peeks into how Sakura gets into medicine in this AU. Also anyone catch the New Order reference?? Haha superheated is one of my favorite songs ever, so I just wanted to throw something in when I got the chance. There’s a lot packed into this chapter, hopefully it was ok! Sakura please tell everyone to stay home and flatten the curve :(

[queerchoicesblog]

Letter To Fellow Invisible Fighters & Human Beings

Dear You,

It's night here and night is the time when thoughts crowd my head. All is silent in a town on lockdown and words fill the void. Tonight I will throw them to the wind to talk about a topic that's troubling me after hearing of another acquaintance tested positive with covid-19 and the number of deaths all over the world. Something I feel is worth sharing, hoping it will reach others who need to hear it or just lie awake at night and feel like reading some ramblings. Apologies for the long text.

So...

Living with an autoimmune chronic condition sucks. No point pretending otherwise. It basically means that one day your body breaks up with you and starts acting crazy: instead of protecting you from infections and enemies, it turns against you and attacks you. Without a warning.

It makes you angry, sad, exhausted and the fearing of losing control, again and again. You may feel fatigued: sleeping 10 hours won't make you feel well rested and you may turn down appointments or dates last minute because that feeling is suddenly back. You'll feel guilty and cry at times because sometimes people will think you're just bailing out and get mad at you. You may gain or lose weight but you won't be the one actually choosing it. Your joints might get swollen and hurt, your heart beat faster even if you're not in the arms of your loved one. One day a thought will hit you: maybe I will never know love at all or ever again because how can you love someone so broken as I am? You'll recount in your mind how your disorder make you feel gross, utterly unattractive in a world so obsessed with perfect bodies and Vogue like profile pictures, and you're just struggling to keep it together, trying hard not to let anyone see the dark circles around your eyes or your brand new medical device hidden under baggy clothes. You'll wonder why you, was it something you did? Is it some price to pay for what? You'll pray no one will tease you for turning down a drink because maybe you're young but you can't mix your meds with alcohol.

You will also pray to never hear the word "surgery" from a doctor but only good news.

You will compromise with news that "all in all are not too bad".

You will hope to live long enough to see the doctor smile at you one day and say "we found a cure: I can cure you now".

Not something you would sign up for willingly, huh?

Just to add salt to injury, very little is known by the general public about most of the autoimmune chronic diseases, making people suffering from them invisible. Yes, invisible: little is known about our illnesses and most of us don't look the part, that is "sick". We fake it, we exaggerate, we're just being hypochondriacs. We all have been called out like that or reminded to think that "it could be worse, like cancer". (A huge and loving hug to all those who are fighting or fought against cancer: this is not a fight or hierarchy, I, we have nothing but respect and love for you ❤).

Yet those invisible illnesses exist too and change lives every single day.

They're changing it right now when for the first time since you can recall, you not only have to deal with the concerns of a pandemic that torn asunder the whole world and the sudden uncomfortable uncertainty over of the future, the same future that, without a clue, you were still planning or fantasising about not so long ago...but also with an additional sneaky realisation: if things go wrong now, it might not end well for me. I might die.

It's not a comforting thought. It's scary, f*cking scary. You can feel it chilling your bones even if you keep yourself busy and set a schedule of your long days of self quarantine to keep the morale high because you know how much it counts. Even when you laugh at a friend's joke on a video chat or catch up.

You live with it as you've learned to live with the awareness that a pill won't cure you. Not now, not anymore. It fixes you temporarily, though. Paradoxically it's not so weird to you that there is no vaccine or easy way out of the coronavirus emergency even if you understand why everyone is freaking out and terrified by this harsh truth. You're just used to the idea of doctors not being able to cure you but just doing their best to help you so, as you did when you first heard that grim speech, you take a deep breath and wait. You wait and hope.

Even if every now and then this darkness spooks you and nightmares visit you at night.

I'm not sharing this long speech to get pity or out of protagonism, but to offer you my experience. I really hope that you're unfamiliar with it: I would be genuinely heartbroken for you if you had to go through a global pandemic as someone in a high risk category "with pre existing medical conditions". To put it bluntly, one of those who, if they don't make it, many healthy people promptly notice that "well, they were already ill".

Let me tell you, dear "experts" never losing a chance to reassure the crowd that "you don't die of coronavirus but due to its interaction so no need to worry folks", we see you and we hear you loud and clear when you take a relief sigh proclaiming that it's not your problem because we, the weak and the already sick, are the only ones who might die. We will remember your ugly faces and souls when this long night is finally over...

Anyway, what I mean to say:

Fellow invisible fighter, you are NOT alone. Your fears are my fears, your pain is my pain. We can't make promises now but we can hope and we will hope harder than ever to be still standing like victorious soldiers when this is over.

Fellow healthy human being, take a moment to think. The next time you feel the urge to complain about being stuck inside or even not follow that rule that sound so strict, so unreasonable: you're not infected, what might go wrong...please take a moment and think.

Think of us, if you can.

It seems impossible or so unrealistic but with a little patience you're giving a chance or even saving the life of someone near you like a superhero.

Without you even knowing.

Pretty cool, right?

[i-never-look-away]

I Keep Myself Busy With The Things I Do, But Everytime I Pause I Still Think Of You

Alex is missing. Michael finally breaks.

I attempted to write a short angsty prompt and it grew a bit, according to my abilities that is.

Thank you again to my lovely and encouraging friends. This is for all of you.

Also on AO3

“I think you need stitches”

Michael barely realizes Liz is talking, even when she pokes around the gash near his temple. It should hurt, and he can register in his mind somewhere that it does, but he doesn’t have the time or care to focus on that feeling right now. He knows that head wounds always bleed a lot, he’s sure it’s not as big a deal as she’s making it out to be. He didn’t even realize till he was halfway to Max’s that he had even hurt himself enough to be bleeding. He still can’t believe that he fell down those last steps on his bunker. He was in a hurry and wasn’t paying attention. He doesn’t have time to be worrying about things like that. Alex doesn’t have time for him to be worrying about things like that.

He doesn’t know how long Liz has been trying to get his attention, didn’t even realize she was still talking until the papers he was looking at are ripped out of his grasp.

“What the hell Ortecha????”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last couple minutes. You can look up from the research for one minute and focus on what I’m saying.”

“Those papers are our best lead to finding Alex. Are you seriously trying to slow down the process of rescuing Alex because you want to chat?”

It’s a dick comment. He knows it is as he’s saying it, but he can’t seem to stop himself and he’s honestly not sure if he cares at this point. He’s got a lot to apologize for, he knows, but until they get Alex back and he’s in his arms, he can’t even begin to worry about anything else. He knows his family and friends are concerned about him. They’ve all seen him fall apart before, but never quite like this. He knows this is a whole different level and they are helpless to do anything.

But it’s Alex, and he can't, he can’t…

“MICHAEL”

It startles him and pulls him out of his momentary spiral that he doesn't have time for. He realizes belatedly that the table and everything on it were beginning to rattle before she got his attention.

“I’m choosing to ignore what you just accused me of because I know how much you’re hurting right now. But don’t you dare ever say anything like that to me again. He’s my family too.” She replies calmly and lethally.

He swallows and nods. He briefly sees Liz’s gaze soften a little and give him a slight smile that lets him know for now he’s forgiven and reminds him once again she’s probably the most forgiving person he’s ever met. He knows he’s been so selfish. That he is far from the only one affected by Alex missing. Everyone has mostly let it slide though because they seem to all finally be on the same page in understanding what Alex means to Michael. What he’s always meant to Michael.

They understand that through the good and bad, Alex is as important and essential to Michael as breathing is.

They’ve been witness to the past few months as they tried to convince themselves they needed to move on and failed spectacularly. They saw them argue and fight over jealousy, betrayal, and past hurts. They watched as they slowly became the friends they never got the chance to be before, watched as it was clearly starting to blossom into something beautiful like it was always meant to. And then they saw when it all fractured with Alex returning the ship piece he’d been holding on to the last few months.

He feels his jaw clench so hard he’s afraid his teeth will crack when he thinks about the ship piece and the last words they said to each other before Alex disappeared and he was thrown in this current nightmare.

Michael had known that Alex was sincerely apologetic and remorseful about keeping the piece from him, and to be fair he understood why he did. He often had thought of hiding anything that he could that would prevent Alex from going back to the Air Force each time he came to visit.

So all Michael could focus on was that when they were finally making progress and on the same page, Alex was willingly giving him the piece he needed, both of them fully aware it would mean he could leave the planet if he wanted.

But all Michael wanted was for Alex to tell him not to use it, to ask him to stay. And all Michael knew was that Alex didn’t feel he deserved to say those words. So they reverted to old habits and lashed out at each other, and then retreated to lick their wounds. And a few days later before anything was fixed, Michael got the call that turned his world upside down.

And now Alex is gone and Michael didn’t get to tell him that he doesn’t even care about the stupid ship. He stopped caring the second he kissed Alex at the reunion and felt at peace for the first time in 10 years. He’d throw it against the nearest wall and watch it shatter if it meant he got to see Alex face for even a second.

He didn’t even realize that Kyle had arrived or was in front of him until he was once again yanked out of his thoughts. Kyle gives him the option of a bandage or stitches, he says he would prefer that Michael get stitches. Michael chooses the bandage. There's no time for the stitches and Michael finds he’ll take any opportunity to contradict the doctor. He feels a voice in his head tell him he isn’t being fair. It sounds like Alex and that somehow just pisses him off even more. He doesn’t care right now that Kyle has been nothing but helpful and determined since the moment Alex was missing. The only thing Michael sees are either clues or obstacles and everything that doesn’t get them closer is just a hindrance to him.

He looks around the room to see everyone there talking to each other, there’s just too much noise and he needs to focus so he grabs some of the papers, intent to go to one of the many bunkers and get some actual work done. He vaguely hears something about a meeting about to take place and how he needs to stay put.

Screw that, he thinks. He doesn't have time for all of them getting together and admitting they still have no idea where Alex is. They don’t need a meeting for that and he’s tired of wasting time all so that everyone can check on him under false pretenses. He isn’t ok, he's willing to tell anyone that asks and he knows they already know. He doesn’t need an intervention. They can confront him all they like when Alex is back safe and sound, but for now if they aren’t going to be solely focused on bringing back his person, then he doesn’t have the time or patience to be in the same room as them.

He’s halfway to the door when his legs suddenly forget how to move. Isobel just walked through, and while she looks concerned and wrecked, his eyes are frozen on several feet below her face. On Alex’s beagle, Buffy.

Buffy, who everyone fell for hard the second Alex brought her home. They often argued and drew straws to see who got to take care of her when Alex needed a dog sitter. They insisted he brings her to every meeting and gathering they had and she loved every second of it, basked in the attention and belly scratches. Right now she’s in the company of loved ones, but Buffy is standing next to Isobel looking unsure and lost. And sad.

“She was only alone for a few hours at the most before Kyle came by and realized Alex was missing. She was locked in the bedroom but was completely unharmed. A couple of us have been trading off taking care of her. She’s ok Michael.” She pauses a beat, clearly unsure if she should continue. “She just misses him.”

Isobel’s words temporarily break through the ringing in his ears as he stares at Alex’s precious dog. He can hear Isobel’s tone, hear how she’s trying to make him feel better, to calm him down.

He’d been so consumed with his anger and determination over the past couple days he’d forgotten about Buffy. He looks down at her and sees her staring up at him. The look on her face isn’t what it usually is when she sees him and it’s just wrong. It’s all wrong.

The end of that leash should be in Alex's hand right now. Scratch that, she shouldn’t even be here. She’s supposed to be at the cabin, running around the front yard, picking up every other stick than the one Alex actually threw. She’s supposed to be laying in front of the fire, asleep and snoring while he and Alex spend more and more time together. She’s supposed to be rushing through the door the moment Alex opens it when he comes home, so excited to see him and greeting him with so much love and trust.

But she’s not doing any of those things. She’s not with Alex like she’s supposed to be. Alex is gone and she’s here and she looks like he feels and, and  

He hears a bone-chilling wail and before he can completely understand what happened, he finds that the sound came from him and that he’s suddenly on his knees on the floor.

He can’t breathe and he leans down on his hands to try to center himself. He immediately can tell it’s not working because he feels things around him starting to move and hears everyone trying to get his attention. He registers Isobel and Max kneeling in front of him but he can’t hear anything they’re saying. He feels like he’s underwater, he can’t breathe and everything is muffled. He feels the panic seizing at his chest, it’s like he’s being told all over again that Alex was missing. Only this time he can’t seem to hold on to the rage that kept him focused. All he can feel and think is despair. He loses time while he’s fighting to contain the chaos that is spilling out of him.

He hears a commotion but can’t pay it much mind while he’s busy trying to get his powers back in check. He needs his hands on a guitar, except he knows that isn’t enough. He needs Alex. He’s the only thing that has ever truly calmed him down and quieted his soul.

He knows everyone is wanting to help but afraid to make things worse, they know he hasn’t been reacting well to comforting or any kind of touches lately. So he’s completely caught off guard when he feels a slight nudge to his arm, followed by a lick to his face. He looks to the side to see Buffy sitting there, watching him with the most kind and knowing eyes. They remind him of her owner’s and he’s briefly transported to 10 years ago when he was offered a place to stay and he found a home. He gets lost in those caring eyes for a second and next thing he knows he’s hearing that same voice in his head from before, this time telling him to take a deep breath.

It takes him a second, but he finds he can finally do it. He starts counting to 5 with each inhale and exhale and when the fog starts to lift he sees that the room has stopped spinning and shaking. Literally and figuratively.

With his head clearing up, he finds he can’t help but be amused. Of course the only other thing that can calm him down would still be linked to Alex.

He sits back on his legs and tentatively reaches out and when Buffy welcomes the touch he strokes over her head and back with his left hand. He hasn’t allowed anyone to touch that hand since Max healed it. He’s kept it covered with a bandana because it didn’t feel or look right. But now he runs that hand along smooth fur and lets the feel of it ground him. He imagines Alex sitting in his cabin at nights doing the exact same thing, seeking comfort in this innocent and loving animal. He doesn’t care if it's crazy, it’s the first time since Alex has been taken that he feels that connection to him that always brings him a sense of peace. He opens his eyes and looks down at her and damn him if she doesn’t seem to know exactly what he’s thinking. He can’t help but smile.

“Thank you sweet girl. How about we work on getting him back ok? I think we can both agree this whole mess is starting to get old.”

She gives him a little yip and licks his hand and he chuckles at her through the tears.

It’s perfect timing really because next thing he knows, both of Alex’s brothers are walking through the door. He swears they both have a swift punch to the face, or in Flint’s case, throat coming for what they’ve put Alex and honestly Michael through. But right now they are actually useful and seem to genuinely want to help Alex. And he’ll take anything he can get at this point.

He can see by the looks on their faces as they talk to Kyle that they have good news for once and so Michael takes one last deep breath and realizes he’s still on the floor so he moves to stand up only to be greeted by two hands offering help. He looks up to see Max and Isobel, each offering a hand. He grips both and they pull him up. He feels such gratitude in that moment for them. They’ve been there for him every moment and step of the way these last couple days. Even when he lashed out and even though Alex is technically Isobel’s new best friend so she’s been sick with worry herself, they have focused entirely on him. Even now all he sees is concern and understanding in their eyes. He sees the compassion that he always wanted to see, and maybe was always there but buried beneath years of lies and secrets and bitterness between them. He doesn’t offer an apology now, he knows the look on his face is the best he can currently give. And they both seem to accept judging by the way they both give him a smile.

They lead him over to the couch and sit on either side, continuing to offer silent support.

With everyone else settled, Buffy climbs in his lap and settles in. She’s a comforting presence no matter how heated the conversation gets as they all realize that a confrontation is hours away. But he continues to hold on to her and stay focused. She’s counting on him and he won’t fail her. Or Alex.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: Counterpane Blues

This is a Sad Robert story with no smut. It's about the period in late 1976 when Robert was still not quite healed from his car accident injuries.

Thanks to @ledbythreads , @firethatgrewsolow , @tangerine-page , and @rogerdaltreysautomatacollection for the advice and answers. ❤️❤️❤️

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

He’s awake, and he’s surrounded by so many pillows that it feels more like a crib than a California king. He can’t help but laugh out loud at the thought. A 6’1” blue-eyed baby boy. He’s convinced that’s how they see him these days. As a big baby, a helpless, invalid rock star, left to while away the hours in seclusion like Greta bloody Garbo.

There’s no bouncing for this baby boy anytime soon, thanks to that damned ankle, he tells himself forlornly. He’s grateful that Bonzo still visits with grand tales from the outside. They’ve kept him from going mad a long time ago.

There’s still the odd bit of helium balloon sensation in his body from the painkillers. Anyone who willingly chooses to party with these things instead of ‘ludes is surely daft. He groans and stretches.

He recalls Bonzo saying they'd go to the Rainbow tonight. Bonzo tried to get him to come out, to test his mettle on the crutches, but Robert refused to take the bait. "I'll carry your chubby arse out the house my damn self next time," Bonzo had threatened. His friend was teasing him, but Robert could see a hint of concern in his eyes with his mockery. Bonzo hates how moody and withdrawn Robert has become.

There are so many reasons why The fucking Rainbow is the last place I want to be right now. Robert rubs the sleep out of his eyes. For once he’s glad to be left out of the revelry. There'd be no pictures of him for the public to pity. There’d also be no pictures of him in Sable’s clutches again. But then he remembers that punks and younger rock stars are getting all her time these days. That’s good news for us lot, innit? But he's certain her spot has already been filled by another baby groupie. It never ends.

He would like a night with his friends, despite his hesitance to leave the house. It'll be much better if they come to mine. He'll ask if Benji can help him round up a get-together soon. Tomorrow, if possible. He daydreams a bit about seeing everyone and relishes the sure prospect of arranging a sleepover with a few beautiful, sympathetic women. A sponge bath from California's finest… Just what the doctor ordered… He smirks as the scene plays out in his mind like choice blue cinema. It’s not a bad deal, letting the birds do most of the work these days.

He looks out beyond the glass sliding door. The great expanse of the ocean greets him with its majesty. If he had to be exiled somewhere, he’s glad it’s in this sprawling one-floor place by the Pacific. The guardians of the Zeppelin fishbowl got it right, that’s for sure. The flow and ebb of the ocean occupies more of his time these days than he cares to share with anyone else.

He hasn't felt like writing much lately, but maybe the location and the view will inspire some songs later. Same as I wrote my way to sandy lands and other days whilst alone on Old Hallow's Eve. Wanderlust is the only thing that keeps him going some days in this forced solitude.

He talks to Maureen regularly by phone, but her road to recovery is worse than his. He still can't shake the sight of her tiny body on the gurney, or the sounds of the kids crying after the terrifying tumble of the car. The saddest sound I'll ever hear… He shudders. He's set to reunite with his family for Christmas, but how and where is still anyone's guess. We've got to sort this soon. It's almost time to break out the advent calendar...

Hours slip into days way too easily in the beachfront compound. The therapist comes to him, so there’s no need to leave. Too much bloody time with my thoughts…

His latest obsession has been the loud, white-label punk records that Benji brings by. Robert has been impressed by the hunger and urgency of the musicians. The bands are like Molotov cocktail throwers--appearing suddenly and wreaking a surprising amount of chaos in a remarkably short time. The songs may or may not have been well executed, but they are memorable. And that seems to be all that matters for their audience.

It’s not lost on Robert that the latest sound is just about as far on the other side of the spectrum as it could be from his band’s music. Led Zeppelin won’t release an album until the following year, and touring is also a distant dream, on hold until after he’s gotten a squeaky clean bill of health. Will it be too late? Will anyone still care about our 20-minute solos? Will I still care, even?

He eyes the wheelchair and then the crutches. The crutches win for his short jaunt to the bathroom. He's pleased with himself, because each careful step is a step toward normalcy, toward freedom.

But then he glances from the toilet to his shaving kit and sighs. It still takes some effort for him to do basic things. I'll never take the simple actions for granted again. He sits on the toilet to relieve himself and hopes for the day he'll be back on his own two feet to urinate.

He closes the lid after flushing, then washes his hands and face while using the crutches with a mix of agility and fear. His therapist would be dismayed to know he had done something so risky while alone. What has my life become if washing up is my point of rebellion?

He arranges his shaving items to be in arm's reach while he sits on the closed toilet. The double-sided mirror is still angled down for him. He shaves slowly, in no rush to return to bed. He envies Bonzo in that moment for having settled into the ease of his beard and moustache look. But Robert wouldn't dare try it again himself anytime soon, after Bonzo teased him mercilessly a few years ago about looking like a Musketeer.

Robert stands and takes a long look at himself. His eyes are not as vibrant as usual. The hard contours of his muscles have softened a bit with disuse.

His hair is in need of a good wash and detangling. That effort will require a seat at the sink and someone with a lot of patience. He thinks of Vanessa and misses her latent beautician skills and their banter. He laughs at her pronouncement that Robert was her annoying brother. No one ever believed they had just stuck to friendship. But she had since moved on, into the bowels of the entertainment industry machine. Here's hoping one of the party girls is a hairdresser who wants to play house for a bit.

His stomach growls. He surprises himself by ignoring it in favor of going back to bed. He propels himself back to the bedroom on the crutches. He wanted to read, but he finds he has no desire to do so now. He takes a few more painkillers and broods about his interrupted life until the obliterating opioid twilight returns.

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

The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {14}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 13. An Odd Request

A/N: 

  Confrontation Time.

14. Useless

"Hans of the Southern Isles, I've got a bone to pick with you!"

Kristoff had advised Anna to reconsider making a dramatic entrance (he didn't stop her, of course), Anna stubbornly declined his wise suggestion. She told Kristoff it was a necessary power play to show Hans she was the one in control and that this was her home . In all honesty, Anna was slightly acting like a drunkard, (even if Kristoff was correct that the beer from the picnic could not get her drunk), the mere mention of alcohol made her think she was drunk. It gave Anna an extra confidence boost. Confidence that had turned to slight embarrassment when she realized Hans was not alone in his chamber.

"Your Highness, Lord Kristoff," addressed the Captain as he stood up from his chair.

"Oh! Captain, I didn't realize you were here. I hope I'm not interrupting," she said apologetically.

"Not at all Princess, in fact I was just about to leave," he answered. The Captain shot Hans a glance as if wishing him luck. "He's all your Highness, now if you'll excuse me." Anna nodded and moved aside to allow the Captain leave. Now that he Captain was no longer in the room, she brought her attention back to Hans and glared at him intensely.

Hans nodded his respect to the Captain, and remained silent as he left. "If her Highness intends to hit me, I would advise to aim for the right profile. We can say it's residual swelling from the pommel I took to the face." He suggested, without judgement. More, with apology. "And it would be kinder than ripping the doctor's stitches. How may I help you both? A prisoner's time is never interrupted. Nor a fool's, nor a soldier's. Take your pick which one I'll be for the moment, I won't disappoint. I could apologize or beg your forgiveness, but I wouldn't want to waste her Highness' time." Always professional, always polite, and never quite meeting her eye. He waited for the impact or the yelling or whatever it would be.

Anna had her fist clenched, but his response had caught her off guard. Hans offering himself to be struck, made her not want to strike him. She was confused and at a loss of words. Anna glanced over her shoulder to Kristoff. Hans had disarmed her before she had even begun. This was not the response she was expecting at all. In her mind she still visualized the venomous villain that heartlessly left her locked up to die. The vulnerable Hans in front of her made no sense, it must be some sort of trick, another mask to fool her into sympathy, it just had to be (to her there wasn't any other explanation), and she was determined not to fall for it. She turned back to face him, the flame returning to her eyes. "You might have managed pulled the wool over everyone else's eyes, but it won't work on me , not again ." Anna hissed, her fists were trembling. "I don't know what ideas you've been putting in my sister's head to make her trust you, but I, on the other hand won't be fooled so easily by your charms and empty words," she continued to fume. "I know you're plotting something, playing some sort of game, pretending to be the hero of Arendelle once again to get what you want." Anna assumed the worst in Hans, because she'd experienced it first hand, and it had left a deep wound on her heart that she could not easily overlook. She was venting all her frustration throwing him all her hurt. "Come on, stop hiding behind a mask and show me your true colors. The ones you weren't afraid to hide from me when you locked me away in that room," she cried.

Hans considered it a moment. "True colors... a neutral canvas sail. I don't have 'true' colors, every color is a dye, added. None of my decisions were good, I grant you. I started that errand as a fool and ended it doubly so." He kneaded his fingertips in thought, looking off at nothing in particular. "Do you have a question for me to answer? I'm better at questions. Given leave to talk freely, I ramble horribly and never seem to know when to stop." He looked at her when she spoke, but when he did, he looked away from both of them, instead.

"I think what she wants to know is, why did you leave her and lock the door?" Kristoff suggested, even tone and calm, as usual.

"Because Anna was dying and only true love could save her, or so I was told. I'm not a fool, neither of us truly had that for each-other. I don't think I'm capable of it, damned if I don't try. As far as I knew, Anna was going to die, regardless. Being a villain was just an easier way to fail. There was, as far as I could tell, no man who could fix that situation. So I locked the door to prevent anyone else stumbling on how horrible it was and pretended my plan was villainy all along. The line of ascension doesn't include prince consorts, I'm still baffled that no-one caught on that I was making up some 'shot at the crown' theory. Anna said 'Elsa struck me with her powers', and I knew if I didn't become the villain of this story, she would. At least if I was villainized, even if Elsa died, I would be properly hanged and Arendelle would celebrate the lives of its tragic leaders-- not curse Elsa and god knows what they would say of Anna. If I hadn't raised my sword at the Fjord and you had died, don't tell me we would still have a queen. I know pain too deeply to believe that. A sword is just much quicker and less painful." He grimaced and put his face in his hand. "How could I have predicted there was a way we could all survive? The best of all possible outcomes, and I was blind to it. I would have accepted hanging, but your country is too kind for it, and mine knew it too well. I nearly died for more painful reasons, twice."

Anna stood and listened, the anger in her eyes had dissipated, replaced by tears that were slowly rolling down Anna's cheeks. So many thoughts swirled around in her mind. Had Elsa really wished to die on the fjord? Is that why she didn't seem to hold his attempted murder against him? Elsa only seemed to mention the hurt he had caused her , as the reasons she could never forgive him. Elsa only thought of her little sister and not of herself and that pained Anna, to think she'd willingly die instead of bearing the thought of losing her. Anna had easily forgiven her sister for accidentally inflicting her with a frozen heart, but she didn't occur to her that Elsa might still be dealing with such guilt and resentment, just like she was still having her own nightmares. So Hans was supposedly only trying to 'protect her', he was the same as Elsa in that aspect, hiding and choosing 'what was best for her' (because apparently they knew so much better) without letting her choose for herself. He could have told her the truth it would have hurt, but she would have understood and they could have found another way, Hans shutting another door on her, hurt more than the heartbreak. He said he did it 'for her', but of course he chose the route that was really easier for himself . Anna walked up to the bedside, and without a second thought slapped Hans across the face, her hand stung from the impact. "If you want me to believe you are telling me the truth, at least look at me...you don't know how hard it is for me to even be facing you right now... and if you can't even bare to look me... it's like like what I think and feel doesn't matter to you... like your shutting that door on me again." Anna seemed to be more disappointed than angry, like she'd been earlier that day with Elsa.

Hans took the impact and didn't flinch from it. "Where I'm from, that would be a disrespect. My apologies." He forced his tone into neutrality, as he had the first time he had arrived again. He forced himself to look her in the eye, but it wasn't easy to do that. To watch her sadness inflicted him with the same, though he would hide that beneath his neutral mask. "Anything else, your Highness?" It was polite, neutral. He wouldn't show her the pain of her sadness or ask her if she would strike him again. He wouldn't have minded, anyway. Pain was easier by far. "Whatever you ask, I'll comply as best I can." Whether she asked him to speak his truths or to labor for the castle, whatever she pleased, it was his to comply.

Anna's bright blue eyes looked straight into his emerald ones. " Why?" She murmured with a tremble to her tone. "If you did not want the crown and you truly did not love me, why...why ask me to marry you?"

Hans forced himself not to take a long blink, not to find some reason by habit to look away. "Because I am a mirror, reflecting what other people wanted-- and I wanted to learn to love. I am defective in that regard, I don't know what true romantic love feels like. I ran into you, full of excitement and energy and love for the world. I thought I could learn it from you the way I learn all manner of behaviors and acts. It's always someone like you, in the stories. The Belle who tames an unworthy beast. Your sweetness was infectious, and I felt happy near you. But, when someone said 'True Love's Kiss' I knew it wasn't me. I'm not a true anything, except maybe a sailor. Or an insult of your choosing, if you prefer. I'm truly that , too. I selfishly wanted to be less broken. Broken mirrors are useless things, and unlucky to boot. When we got engaged, it seemed like a good potential life for both of us. Then the situation changed in ways none of us could have predicted." He sighed a little, visibly uncomfortable. "I'm glad for your improved company, you always deserved better." Hans leaned back against the wall, then cringed and faltered, shifting to better nurse his stab wound. He didn't complain or speak of it, just righted himself and ignored the pain.

"Easy, don't pop your threads, or we'll need a seamstress to stuff you again." Kristoff suggested dryly. He stepped over to touch Anna's back. Just a little supportive gesture, to try and calm her.

"Good, and have her put a new patch on my back too, would you?" Hans joked in response. He didn't try to keep neutrality for Kristoff, Hans knew him as a healer.

"How was marrying a loveless man a 'good potential life for both of us' ? It sounds downright cruel more than selfish. I might have been naïve in thinking that you were some sort of prince charming and believing you were my true love, but you were still just planning to use me...as if I was some sort of...play thing. Love was like a game to you and you going through the motions trying to figure out the rules as you went along. A marriage like that wouldn't have been fair at all, with you continuing to play pretend, while I blindly believed it was all real.

"Being stuck by a frozen heart might have been a blessing in disguise, because it at least saved me from marrying a heartless man like you." There was some bitterness and bite to her words. "And yes, I found 'improved company', I found a man who truly loves me." She glanced over at Kristoff again. Anna had been a bit sidetracked by releasing her pent-up venom, that hadn't picked up on what Kristoff and Hans had been talking about right away.

'Wait, what? His back?' The gears started turning in her mind and Anna started connecting some dots. Elsa had told her Hans had been injured prior to returning to Arendelle, she hadn't told her where or how exactly. Whatever happened to his back she was certain happened before the attack on Arendelle. Anna thought for a moment, until she came to the conclusion that made too much sense not to be true, he must have gotten lashed as punishment. With that figured out more things were adding up like how he could have been on the verge of death without Elsa taking notice right away, it'd been well hidden. How had she not noticed some of these things sooner? Like when Elsa said Hans was on the verge of death during their chat earlier today, she should have realized right away that he was the someone she had talked about during their sister session. He was the one that had affected Elsa so much to the point it made weep (something she rarely saw herself). That had been shortly after his arrival, meaning he'd been staying in the castle right under her nose for that long and she hadn't known.That angered her greatly, but what had really blinded her with rage was that fact that he'd made Elsa cry. Elsa had told her she'd seen something very bad happen to someone, and Anna assumed it meant more than him dying that had such a strong impact on her dear sister causing her to break down. "You! You're the reason Elsa was so upset that night," she viciously said as she got out of her head. She glared at him again with her piercing blue eyes more intensity than ever. "You showed her your wounds didn't you?! That's how you got her sympathy!!"

Hans looked away again as she berated him, eyes slipping down to the floor and teeth gritting. "I didn't have an option. I wasn't conscious enough. Captain Kristofferson fetched the doctor when I was fevered, I don't recall the exchange well." He said quietly, defending the only thing he could.

He was quieter now, watching the ground, looking far-away. Nothing he could say would improve things, he could see, so he locked those parts away and just listened for when it was over. There was no place or person he could retreat to. He would just have to wait. She wouldn't listen to or care about what he had gone through, she wouldn't care about his reasons or the fact that no person could be perfect. "What would you like me to do to be useful, your Highness?" He asked, the politely positive service tone of his voice not matching the hopeless look on his face even remotely. There was a certain emphasis on 'useful', as if use was the highest aspiration he could hope for. He spoke like a servant, but he held himself again like a prisoner. Perhaps it was a good reminder. Of all the things he could be, he was still a worthless broken mirror.

Anna was panting from her outburst. "Why are you asking me ? I have no use for you ," she let out gratingly. Maybe she had been too harsh calling him useless. He probably shouldn't have asked while she was still fuming, because it might have been just the anger talking. Anna did tend to let emotions get the better of her. Hans seemed to shrink a little in his place, crossing his arms over his chest, not defensively, but as a self-comfort. He didn't look at her again, didn't move his eyes or say anything. There was nothing to say. He had no uses, she was right. He wished he could be removed from her life, but he wasn't allowed to die, either. No matter what happened, someone always seemed to save him. He didn't deserve sympathy, why bother telling her he had tried? She wouldn't care anyway, she might have even said he should have tried harder. And she would be right, again. His gaze remained fixed somewhere on the floor or opposite wall, seeming afraid to move it. Kristoff didn't like the way this was turning, but he felt it wasn't his place to say it wasn't deserved. It was, Hans had tried to kill the sisters, after all. Anna hadn't said anything that didn't make sense. He gently rubbed her back instead, to try and remind her that he was there, and that she didn't have to be angry for the rest of the day. She needed some peace, too. For everyone's sake.

The three of them remained there awkwardly in silence.

Anna slowly regained her breath and calmed down with Kristoff's gentle touch. Even if she was right, she realized she might have taken things a little too far in her fit of rage. As she caught her breath her eyes caught sight of the ice blade as they browsed the room. Elsa had let him keep the sword? 'Are you kidding me Elsa, you left Hans with a sword in an unlocked room?! And I thought I was the crazy one.' Anna let out a deep sigh. "You know, I..." she began softly. "I may not have a use for you... but apparently my sister does, for some unknown reason,"Anna continued. "I really don't trust you, at all , but Elsa does and I trust her... So maybe the least I can do... is give you the benefit of the doubt...as well as an opportunity to actually prove to me that you can be trusted.

"I can't forgive you for what you did...but if Elsa was willing to give you a second chance... maybe I can too..." Anna said pensively. "... just don't you dare hurt my sister, because if you do... let's just say you haven't seen the full extent of my wrath."

Hans hardly seemed to notice she was speaking, his posture didn't change, his gaze hadn't moved, he seemed to tremble slightly, though it could have been a trick of the light. Kristoff looked uncertain, and shifted to get between Hans and whatever he was looking at, crouching down to check his eyes. Hans seemed unfocused. "Hey, hey. You in there?" He snapped his fingers and waved in front of Hans' face just to try and draw his eyes. Hans refocused a bit, but didn't seem any more inclined to say anything.

"Nothing I say or do will help anything, what do you need me for? I suppose being flogged and stabbed protecting Arendelle wasn't enough. That's fine, I'll endure anything you can throw at me, or die trying. I've tried, but the dying never seems to take." It wasn't a joke, if anything it was a nuisance. He still didn't look at either of them, only shifting his gaze further away. "Yes it's the easy way, the coward's way. So I'm a coward, and everything else, you're right. Will there be anything else?" He finally shifted his gaze back to Anna, a flicker of pain running through him. There was no sarcasm, only acknowledgement and mental pain. The shaking was not a trick of the light, at that moment. There was a fear deeper than a blade could cut. Looking her in the eye was harder than any pain he had yet faced, but she had demanded he do that. If he couldn't be useful to her, he could at least look her in the eye, surely? Even if he had to use all of his willpower to hold back the pain it caused. He wasn't worthy of sympathy, what else were tears good for? He would bear her abuse with strength or be even more useless for his weakness.

Concern crossed Anna's face as Hans spoke and grew exponentially once their eyes met, seeing how broken he truly was too much to bear. She had definitely gone too far, that she'd shattered his neutral mask and broken him even more. "I'm sorry," she apologized, averting her eyes.

"You shouldn't be, you're right about everything." He assured, dropping his gaze as soon as she dropped hers, to save him from tears. "Do let me know if you find a use for me. I may never be able to earn your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean I can't try nonetheless." His tone returned again to the polite servant's tone, but his expression was still the upset, faraway look he'd had earlier. He wanted only for this conversation to end, and to not be seen again. For the day, perhaps forever. But he knew he wouldn't get the latter.

" You're not useless , but you shouldn't ask me to assign you a one either," Anna murmured, letting out a sigh. "Just...be kind to Elsa and don't break her heart."

Hans didn't seem to believe her. He continued to look away, still upset, still with a slight tremor. "I won't." He promised. "I'll do nothing to harm her happiness or health, nor yours if I can help it any further. I'm at Her Majesty's service, or will be once I can stand without further injuring myself. I'll make an effort to stay out of your way. Unless you need a punching bag, anyway. In that case, you know where to find me. I know how to stand still." It wasn't chastisement, just a fact. He would be there, and he would stand for her to hit, if that's what she wanted. A man should have a use, and at least a punching bag had a purpose.

Anna didn't know how to respond, and she thought anything she'd say would only make matters worse. She turned to Kristoff for guidance. Anna really didn't wish to continue using Hans as a punching bag, when she had already added enough insult to injury. The whole confrontation didn't go at all as she expected. She thought Hans would’ve at least fought back, but all he did was sit there and take her bombardment of anger filled words. Anna should have known that from the beginning when he was nothing but courteous to her, but still she pressed on. Anna thought letting out all her frustration on him would have made her feel better. It really didn't. And now she felt bad, because she saw something in his eyes she didn't expect to see. He was hurting. She's seen in his eyes and with his tremble. She'd been seeing Hans as nothing more than a monster, but she was wrong in doing so, Hans had made monstrous mistakes, but he was in fact a man. A broken man, but a man nonetheless; he wasn't emotionless, even though he tried his hardest to suppress them. She had treated him more like rubbish and less like a person and that wasn't right. She thought Hans was incapable of remorse and that was a cruel thing to assume.

Kristoff looked between the two of them, impassive and thoughtful. He could see Anna's remorse, and Hans'... entire self, really. Kristoff doubted he was as much a mirror as he thought he was. Maybe in extreme situations, but not entirely. "People make bad choices when they're mad, or scared, or stressed." Kristoff observed. "I tend to say things the wrong way when I'm stressed, and sometimes I seem angry when really I'm scared. I think maybe you two have made some similar bad choices like that. We're not defined by them." It was an invitation. Maybe if Anna opened up about her stress-choices, maybe at least it would calm them both down a little. He suspected it was a vain hope, however. Hans seemed too far out of it to want to talk anymore. He just hoped to end this conversation on a somewhat hopeful note before he could escort Anna out of the room. Men didn't like to cry, least of all in front of women-- but he suspected Hans really needed some time alone at that moment.

That was good troll wisdom. Anna gave a pensive hum. " Everybody is a bit a Fixer-Upper, including myself."

Hans didn't seem encouraged by that. Really, he hardly seemed to be listening. Kristoff moved to step near Anna again. "We should go." He said, but glanced back at the sword, wondering if they should take it-- for Hans' sake. It might only make things worse. He decided it was probably best to trust him not to stand up and stress his stitches. "He needs time, right now. I don't think we'll get any positive impact from here." He wondered if he should have held Anna back from this. That was his mistake, perhaps, but maybe they both needed that, to fully reflect on the damage.

Anna only nodded in agreement, looking back at Hans with concern as they made their way out. Maybe Elsa had been right in trying to prevent them from colliding, they indeed had hurt each other, but not in the way that was expected.

Kristoff escorted Anna out, and only when she was gone did Hans seem to release his hold on himself-- and maybe some of his emotions, too.

"Still think you'll need me to keep you safe?" Kristoff asked, with neither amusement nor judgement. He didn't feel like he needed to explain what happened or how Hans was feeling. "D'you need to talk about it?" Maybe they couldn't help Hans now, but he could help Anna process, he hoped.

"No, but can you stay anyway," Anna said with a glum look. "Yes, I need to talk." She nodded with her lips pressed firmly together, the threat of tears itching at her eyes. She really needed to process what just happened.

Kristoff wrapped an arm around her shoulder to escort Anna back to her room. He couldn't say he was surprised, per se, but that had gotten a lot more serious and real than he had expected. He wasn't sure if he expected Anna to balk or for Hans to snap or show her his scars or find some other way to gain the sympathy he may have even deserved. One or the other, but neither had happened. They had just mutually destroyed each-other with the truth, it seemed. He passed a little gesture to the Captain as they passed, a quiet shake of his head and 'cut' gesture, to suggest that he not visit Hans again that night, or ask too many questions.

"Tell me about it?" He suggested, as they returned to Anna's room.

"That was hard, I didn't think... that would happen," Anna started, there was a knot in her throat. "Do you think I took things too far? I was so just so angry I didn't even consider that he would... That I could...I think I broke him." Deep concern crossed her face.

"For now, you did." Kristoff nodded, understanding and pensive. "I think there were some things in there that may have hit below the belt without you necessarily realizing it at the time. And I think maybe he's got some mental trauma you don't know about." He didn't want to tell her that it felt like watching someone get physically beaten, but it kind of did. "What did you think would happen? He got stabbed trying to protect you and your sister, did you remember that? He couldn't stand up. He would have ripped his stitches if he did." He wouldn't judge Anna, it made perfect sense to him that she would be that angry. But, he wanted to know what drove her to be where she was. "Probably why they left the sword in his room, he can't hurt anybody with it if he can't get out of bed."

Anna grimaced with guilt. "I don't know...I was waiting for the vile villain to display itself. Yes, I knew he was physically hurt, but I was just expecting some ulterior motive. I, of course, got neither, it was rude of me to assume...but it's hard for me to put any trust back in the very hands of the person I blindly gave my heart to, only to have it torn to shreds, I guess I'm afraid he'd do it all over again."

"Honestly? Yeah, I can see why you would feel that way. And I don't blame you." Kristoff shrugged. "I can't fully trust him either after what he did. I'll be nice to him, but I don't have to trust him. It might be rude to assume, but it would be weird not to, after what he did." Kristoff believed in measure. All things in measure. “I don't think you were wrong to say what you did." He shrugged a little, considering the whole matter. "We didn't think he was a bad guy last time, either, and that changed. It's reasonable to still be suspicious now. But my question is, when will he have proven himself? We don't have to answer that question right now, but it might be good to think about. If he really is looking to redeem himself, can it be done?"

Anna let out a melancholy sigh. "I really don't know... but Elsa seems to have faith in him."

"Hmm, just think about it, okay?" He hummed. Gently, he scooped Anna up into his arms to hold her, and try to soothe her concerns, like he would rock a child to sleep. "Maybe she saw something in him that we didn't. Maybe it's her turn to learn some things. We'll see, I suppose." He hummed, calm and gentle. "Whatever comes, I'll keep you safe, and I'll be here for you." That much, he could promise.

Anna nodded, nuzzling herself in his embrace. "I love you, Kristoff," She reminded him, she didn't need to, but felt right in that moment.

"I love you too, feistypants." Kristoff teased sweetly, and kissed her temple.