#i don't want a return to normalcy. but i want to scream and cry and break down if I want to

[asiananeurysm]

I am an adult and that means I can cook an impromptu dinner at 1am on a Tuesday night if I want to

[stitch1830]

ok but what if kanto had to fake his death (even to toph) because of some dangerous and threatening stuff and then when things were safe again he suddenly comes back and appears at toph's door??

i feel like toph would break down and wouldn't be able to stop crying and shaking after seeing the love of her life standing right in front of her, alive.

oh, and what if toph was the one who had to fake death and then suddenly appears at kanto's door?? what would be his reaction??

Hi Anon, thank you for the ask! :D

And interesting question... 0-0 Happy to answer!

For Kanto disappearing (faking death) and then suddenly returning:

Obviously, he'd have a good reason for it, because if he shows up at Toph's front door Not Dead, there's a 50/50 chance the woman of his dreams will kill him LOL.

I feel like in this situation, it would where Kanto leaves because it's dangerous, but also so that he can get the person that's threatening him, maybe even Toph. There would be a reasoning behind why he left, like a mission of sorts. Because I think that if it was just life threatening stuff and Kanto was worried about his safety, with Toph is probably one of the safest places haha!

But "losing" Kanto is really difficult for Toph. She feels like she lost a piece of her, and she's never going to get it back again. He's gone, and there's nothing she can do to bring him back. (Although I might argue that Toph would be one of those people that just refuses to believe he's dead and either tries to find him, find out why he had to leave, or demands that she examine his body to know for sure that it's him. @krastbannert wrote a prisoner of war fic that kind of encapsulates that vibe!)

When Kanto finally returns home, she doesn't believe that, either. She feels like she's being duped, that there's no way that Kanto is standing at her doorstep right now. But she feels his heartbeat, traces the lines on his face, feels his calloused hands, and it's him. He's back.

She'd probably pound his chest, scream in his face about him being a dunderhead and scaring her and breaking her heart and leaving her, but she doesn't mean it. She's just so happy that he's alive, that he's holding her in his strong and sturdy arms, that he's home.

Kanto never stop apologizing for leaving her, for hurting her. But he had to do it, and Toph understands. She gets the dangers of the job, although part of her wishes she was in on the mission, because she knows she could've helped.

Things take a while to go back to a normal routine, because Kanto has to explain to people that he's not dead, and Toph has to trust Kanto again. She doesn't not trust him, but she let him in and fell in love with him and thought she lost him. That's... it's a lot to deal with, and she sometimes struggles letting people in. Kanto works tirelessly to earn her trust back, and he's very patient with the process. He gets her on a level that others don't, and so he's not trying to rush into things. Plus, Kanto's a bit of an optimist. He tells her that they have their whole lives ahead of them, so he can be patient when it comes to finding their sense of normalcy.

If we were to add some more drama to this, imagine if Kanto "died" and Toph found out she was pregnant shortly after? 0-0 Capital D Drama!

For Toph disappearing (faking death) and then suddenly returning:

Very similar to Toph being the "survivor", but Kanto struggles to move on, to get over Toph's death. A lot of loved ones from his past have died, and Kanto never thought Toph would be one of those loved ones. She was so strong and powerful and smart... he never even imagined a person or a thing that could take her down. It's a shock to him, and I think he'd struggle to move on and try to live life without her. He knows what life is like with her, and that's all he wants.

So when she returns, at his doorstep, at the apartment they shared... He's in disbelief. He can't believe that she's there, that she's alive and okay and—

Toph probably rambles and starts assuming that he moved on and everything, but then he pulls her into his arms and just cries because she's alive—

It's a very teary reunion that's for sure.

I think Kanto would also struggle to trust right away, but he'd be able to let her in quicker than if it was the other way around. Kanto's very happy that she's back and he wants to know all about the mission that kept her away from him, and after hearing the story a couple of times, he's able to rationalize and understand the why behind the mission and why he was left in the dark.

Okay! I think that's all I have for this! Thanks again for the ask, Anon. If I missed anything or you have other questions, feel free to stop by :D Hope you have a great day!

......

Send me asks about ATLA, LOK, or anything! :D

[dareactions]

I just have a few requests x3

How about the companions react to a Young!Inquisitor reacting to solas's betrayal by saying this: "I dont know why I was surpprised, everyone I have ever loved has either left me,died,betrayed me somehow,or given me copious amounts of trauma. I'm kinda numb to it all at this point" and they stop hiding their emotions and they just look....so old? Like almost broken old?

I return just to hit y'all w the angst hammer im so sorry. (I'm not <3)

Solas goes first bcs he is a big meanie and should feel bad for hurting poor young!inquisitor smh

Solas: It's not the answer he expects or the response he wants. There's no doubt that he knew from the beginning that he'd hurt them, that no matter what happened they would look at him as if he'd lit their entire life on fire and watched it burn down but not once had he even considered that they'd look so- aged. There's a horrifyingly burning feeling in his chest and he wants to grab their shoulders and beg for them to be angry, kick, scream- do anything a normal person would. But instead, they're just staring at him so exhausted and for once Solas feels dread.

Cassandra: Her first initial feeling, is anger. Cassandra always responds to things with that first burst of fiery rage and need for justice, but once that passes it's just the need to protect. She finally understands her own brother, a bit. Cassandra helps in the only ways she knows, holding the Inquisitor until they finally let themself cry, and after that, she makes it her own personal life goal to cave in the skull of anyone who ever makes them make that expression again. She considers for just a moment if maybe she is part of the problem (she knows she is, she remembers the first time they met in that cell), but she can't bring herself to think about it.

Blackwall: He knows he is part of the problem, of that long list of people who have lied and turned tail when it came down to it. And fuck if he doesn't feel bad. Blackwall hates to admit that he is an expert in self-pity but he really can't help the wave of self-hatred that seeing the Inquisitor like that brings. He has never seen someone young seem so old but then he remembers young soldiers, young mages, and templars all with that same dead look in their eyes. Blackwall turns away, he might make them small trinkets and keep an eye on them but he is nowhere near brave enough to look them in the face for nearly a week after that.

Dorian: So, he is adopting them- everyone shut up, you don't get to pick. It's his younger sibling now and as their new legal guardian, he would want everyone to back the fuck off. Dorian is the most likely I think to fall into the attempts of regaining normalcy for the Inquisitor. He treats them the same, doesn't matter what horrifying piece of information they may have dropped he keeps the same level of jest and care between them. But he is more keen-eyed on making sure nobody gets too close, that nobody says something that no teenager or child should year. Nothing is more horrifying than a Pavus with protective habits, let me tell you that much.

Sera: I love Sera, but she is fucking horrid with the emotional support and she knows it. Sera will step around like she is walking on glass shards, get annoyed and say something bordering on insensitive and then realize what she has done- and try her best to mend things. Sera forgot their age, she said and had them help with things that maybe a child shouldn't deal with but no child in Ferelden isn't broken a little bit, so she isn't entirely sure how to navigate someone so numb to it all. Sera of course suggests crime, that always makes her feel better and it'll make them feel better for sure.

Iron Bull: See, the Inquisitor is a member of the Bull's Chargers. That means they're family and they're looking so fucking miserable and sad right now that it just means that he kicks into that need to protect. Bull knows better than to lean onto his past mistakes and regrets, think about everything he could've done better at this point to protect them. He just is more weary, more aware of their age- he does his best to keep some semblance of childhood in their life even if its far too late. And if things get too hard he pats their shoulder, leans down and reminds them 'horns pointed up, chin high' because nobody can take them down and if they are too numb to go on then he'll just have to re-ignite their flame.

Varric: Oh, he has seen that look before. Hawke carried it like a horrifying shadow of dread after their mom, after everything. He remembers the glazed over look, the empty tone of voice and the exhaustion. The way nothing is hidden on their face and he hates it. A part of Varric had promised himself to not let it get to this point, and he failed miserably. Varric never saw himself as much of a parental figure but somehow he falls into one pretty easily after that reveal, he is far less willing to let things slide. Varric is the first to admit he will put a bolt through Solas throat if he sees him again though.

Vivienne: She sees that expression, hears those words and she sees red. If you've ever seen this woman mad you've never seen her mad like this and it's like watching a mother lion with its cub. It's almost laughable when people try to get too close to do something after this, it's as if the Inquisitor has their own personal mom to freeze people at will now. She can't undo that hurt, she knows she can't, but she sure as hell can help them in the future.

Cole: Oh this poor lad, he feels that pain into his very core and it makes him feel like he will shatter and break himself. Cole is hovering, but not in the way that Cass of Vivienne is- he hovers in a surprisingly...helpful way. Cole whispers words of comfort, reminds them of the good and is well aware of when to be quiet. Sometimes he can help, not with everything, but this he can help with and he does so the only way he knows- words of truth and letting the Inquisitor wear his hat and hug him, obviously.

[fleshinsomniac]

there's light miles beneath the surface of the earth's crust, forgotten layers of deep earth magma churn around the core, and writhing masses of molten rock eat away at the floating crust. the earthbound inhabitants above are mostly unaware of the ongoing destruction and rebirth a few miles below their patent leather shoes and worn-thin flip-flops.

there is a world within my intestines; thriving cities of microbes interact with my chemistry. Over 100 trillion beings of over 1000 kinds live and die within me, all without a single acknowledgment from their apathetic god. and yet, without them, the body is sick. without them, i am no longer myself but certainly less.

between the spaces of you and 300,000 years of life swim, two sets of history intertwine, their contrasting angles grating against each other. Within our bones sleep stories, the names of friends forgotten yet not altogether lost. our stories branch out like fingers off the palm; we laugh about different things and cry for the same.

a cup is not a cup, but our hands are placed together, scooping the sun into our eyes and pouring the shade away into silverine pools. Your eyes are not eyes but mahogany jetties, pulling starlight from the punched-out ink. a tree is an echo of its first grandfather, and a fern is an ancient ghost. the word we know as "love" bears a thousand different definitions, each one unique to the lips that speak its name.

my nerves go past my body, embedding itself in the asphalt and distant hills. my body is a giant ear, with every crying voice and buzzing insect dwelling inside it. these aren't so much metaphors as they are the closest outline i can make of the world i see, my most earnest attempt to be understood.

within my vein, spaces writhe thousands of microscopic electric eels, pooling and coagulating in the space between the armpit and shoulder blade. they threaten to burst through the skin and spill onto the dining table, ruining a perfectly fine meal. i rub my tongue across the molars' sharp, marble edges, hoping the eels will stop writhing if I pretend they don't exist. the sound of chewing grows louder, and with each bite, the eels trash labor, begging to leave my body and return to rivers elsewhere. hairs snake their way across my face, scraping the skin on my cheek, and the fabric of my waistband constricts me from escape. the fork scrapes against the plate, and i’ve now got thirty seconds till i bash my own head in or rip apart my clothes. i don't want to be rude; i want to be good. cold cuts skin and heat immobilizes, and i’m ever forever aware that i am wearing clothes. the muscles in my jaw itch, my stomach lining tenses. i have to leave before i end up running away or screaming on the ground uncontrollably. if i could stop it, i would, but all i can do is keep my face still as waters run hot salt down my cheeks.

shooting out from the chair, i start tearing the clothes off my body as i make a mad dash for the bedroom. now naked, i throw myself on the bed, cocooning myself in the comforter, begging to feel normal again as i kiss the evening goodbye. there is no easy break towards normalcy after this, only waiting impatiently.

this particular sensation is terrifying, like looking at a canyon and knowing your body is nothing. sometimes, during particularly intense episodes, I'll sob so hard it becomes laughter. it hurts so bad it feels like joy. both sides of the coin are burning in my mouth. i all, all at once, lifted up to heaven a split in two.

this sensitivity is entirely un-unique . i have a rule for myself; if i experience it, it has been experienced by someone else before me. Never am i the lonely exception; i am always one of many. as usual, people pass by looking out the front window, talking on their phones, or walking their dogs. i imagine their nerves, branching out through the top of their head like a mimosa tree, perfuming the summer streets. i imagine myself as their ears, feeling the highway din reverberate along the cartilage folds. perhaps they are, as i am, incredibly sensitive and unable to properly strike the sleeping thing, unable to cast its anomalous form into a well-formed sentence. i imagine the muscles being ripped off my frame and the words finally pouring out, forming neat, tidy little paragraphs.

as a child, when i complained about this sensitivity and the sense of alienation that paired with it, I was only called names: "sensitive" (well, duh. its a completely neutral term and somehow it became derogatory), "dramatic," and "attention-seeking," just to name a few. And now, as an adult, i get to stand and look at the facts. i can see this as a gift or as a curse. the same sensitivity that causes the inside of my skull to itch when hearing the sound of someone's breathing allows me to notice subtle colors ignored by others. violet hiding in the shadows, magenta caressing the arch of someone's brow, and red in the branches of a dying oak. i can smell what brand of laundry detergent a passing stranger uses; i can smell the coffee brewing in a neighbor's apartment. i can pick out harmonies, finish the last notes of a bird call, and recreate a recipe from taste. i can spend hours indulging in the patterns of raindrops in a puddle or finding faces in the tar lines across the blacktop. all this is only because I am so sensitive; i don't think noticing would be so pleasurable without it.

so here we go, us sensitive little bitches, mapping the colors of the stars and crying to the same songs we did as a child. there is a world between us meant only for those who dare to feel.

[fenristheulv]

Soo, clearly I'm incapable to keeping to the main story of this thing, but who cares! Jenny feels and palasaki for all!

In a lot of ways, Niko reminded Jenny of herself. More pastel, obviously, and cheerier, but still. There was something in the way her clothes were so unapologetically her. In the way she, without hesitation, called out Jenny’s bullshit. In her struggles, in the look in Niko’s eyes when her dad was brought up, the one that screamed “Careful! I'm still healing.”

When Niko moved in she’d been just another tenant. Just another shitty person from a shitty situation getting back on her feet. Then Jenny’d gotten to know her. Had watched her avoid conversations so no uncomfortable shit got brought up. Seen her smile that smile, the fake one that Jenny used at least once per conversation but that still looked painful. Except where Jenny’s meant “I don't actually give a shit but if it gets you to leave faster then sure” Niko’s was sadder, attempting to hide the fog that was slowly creeping through her mind, coating every thought, every memory in sorrow. Jenny so clearly remembered how hard she had taken the loss of her own father, only 18 and so fucking unprepared to face the world alone. Taking over his shop for some sense of normalcy, discarding all her earlier plans, the admission letters from universities she’d applied to sitting unread on the kitchen counter, until they were eventually thrown out with the junk mail. It was the first resemblance she’d seen, between her and Niko. The resignation. The “this is all I can manage”. 

Jenny had early on decided not to ask too many questions. She figured Niko wasn’t all that up for answering them and that trying was just asking for Niko to leave. Better she stayed unhappy and locked in an apartment at Jenny's than upset and out looking for the cheapest room in town. Frankly, the fact that she’d not gotten stuck with a creep the first time was miracle enough. So when Niko arrived, asking to rent the rooms upstairs, her ID declaring her a minor but with no guardian in sight, Jenny didn’t ask. Just gave her a hand with her bags and explained how to get the shower to shut off properly. When Niko didn’t come down in the mornings on school days, despite clearly still being of an age where attendance was mandatory, Jenny didn’t say anything. Just made sure to leave a sandwich or two in the kitchen for when Niko finally decided to make her way downstairs. When Niko’s hair lost the baby pink tips, the bathroom sink full of hair, Jenny cleaned it up, not complaining or even commenting on the change. But when Jenny went to collect the dirty mugs that somehow all always seemed to disappear into Niko's apartment and found the letters, left unopened, Japanese characters on the envelopes, already half buried beneath manga and candy wrappers, she decided something had to be done. Had to change. 

So she took a picture of the address written as ‘return to sender’. And if Nikos friends suddenly found out where she'd been hiding since summer break ended, if her mom happened to come for a visit, if Niko found a flyer for grief counselling in her mail, all within the span of a couple weeks, well wasn’t that a funny coincidence. If, when Niko finally broke down and started crying, instead of just sitting, shiny eyed and staring out in the distance, as she had for weeks now, Jenny was there, close enough to hear her sobbing, then that was just luck. Because Jenny could remember how resistant she’d been to anything even resembling pity, those first few months. Because she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do anything that might drive Niko away. So these interventions had nothing at all to do with anything Jenny had done. 

When Niko’s mother Riza, getting ready to travel back to Japan, already having taken as much of a break from work as she could, asked Jenny to take over guardianship, not wanting to uproot Niko and move her back to Japan when she was already struggling, but also not willing to leave her alone again, Jenny accepted without hesitation.

Since then Niko had gotten better. Going back to school. Adopting two arsehole gerbils that always bit Jenny when she tried to feed them. Reconnecting with friends. Directing her movies. (When Niko had mentioned her idea Jenny had thought it was stupid. The words “indie films” only made her think of hippies and true crime podcasters who thought something creepy must have happened at the goth woman’s butcher shop. She had been wrong.) Growing her business from a shitty old camera and hastily set-up website to something that could be considered a real company. Jenny, meanwhile, just got more and more certain she’d made the right decision. So maybe Jenny had gotten a little protective over her ward. Sue her, Niko was healthier then since before her dad’s passing and Jenny didn’t want to have to start rolling that ball up the hill again. So when Crystal showed up, brash, rude and sweeping Niko along for the ride, forgive her for not being too happy about it. 

***

When Tongue & Tail Productions had started growing, so had their revenue. Soon they were turning a profit, money still left over after the new projects were funded. Jenny had found out when Niko came bouncing upstairs, grinning from ear to ear. She’d looked so pleased when she presented Jenny with the envelope, the first of many, “Salary” written on it with Niko’s loopy handwriting. Between that and the income from the shop, Jenny would have been fine without the additional stream of income she got from renting out the apartment opposite Niko’s. She had considered letting the current lease run out, remaking the spare rooms into storage, or a bigger studio for Niko. 

But Jenny’d never actually rented it out for the money. It was a slightly shitty apartment for dirt cheap with only female roommates. It wasn't unusual for it to be somewhat of a safe haven for people getting out of shitty situations. And when she’d thought of Niko, what could have happened to her if Jenny’s rooms weren’t the cheapest in town. Thought of the people that had rented the place over the years, becoming livelier by the day. (Remembered her own relationship with Maxine. How desperate she had been to get away. How lucky she had been to have the shop to run to, that she had never shared her ownership of it with Maxine, no matter how much she pushed. How done for she would have been, had it not been for the top floor apartment she was staying in now. The apartment she didn’t need to pay rent for, rent she couldn’t have paid, because Maxine had insisted they shared a bank account. An account she had drained the second Jenny threatened to leave the first time. After she had found Maxine going through her phone. She’d remembered how desperate she’d been to leave, how close she had been to failing, just as she had 2 times before.) In the end she’d just lowered the rent until the room was barely self-sustaining. Put out the listing again when the apartment became empty. After a few more tenants, no-one staying more than a couple months before moving on to greener pastures, Crystal’d rented the room.

At first Crystal seemed more or less like any earlier tenant. Keeping mostly to herself, unless she was using the communal kitchen or chatting with Niko. They did that a lot, each standing in the doorway of their apartments, Niko looking almost hypnotised. (The last time Jenny had seen her like that was when she’d accompanied Niko to an actors meet to see a boy on some the posters on Niko’s walls. It was the same look she’d had when he smiled at her and scribbled his autograph on her shirt.) Crystal had few visitors, mostly just Edwin. Jenny was genuinely glad Crystal had a friend like him. She’d first met him when he’d helped Crystal move in, carrying boxes, whispering to her whenever she seemed to get upset and taking Crystal’s phone when it rang halfway through them unpacking. Answering and walking out the door, coming back inside after a couple minutes, eyes flinty and promising that he wouldn’t call again, at least for a while. Crystal was just like any other tenant Jenny’d had, broken sure, but healing. Easy enough to get along with.

Over time Jenny’s opinion had changed. Crystal was many things, an easy tenant was not amongst them. She and Edwin could get in rather heated arguments, always at the worst possible times. It was like they scheduled their screaming matches for when it’d inconvenience Jenny the most. Always the loudest when Jenny was either trying to sleep or handling a shop full of customers who’d look mad at her for the noise. Jenny generally tried to be considerate of her tenants’ situations, she knew they didn’t have a lot of other options, so if they acted rude, took some of her food or missed a month's rent she tried to give them the benefit of doubt. Usually that was enough. They’d straighten up their act and apologise. But if someone didn’t, if someone took her kindness and mistook it for weakness, if someone took advantage of her generosity, they were given until the end of the month to find a new place and get the fuck out of hers. And frankly, Crystal was toeing the line. 

Jenny got it. It was tempting to make the most of life when you finally got to decide how to live it again, but this was the third time Crystal had stumbled into the shop, clearly hungover, after opening hours had started for the day. The fifth time Jenny’d seen Niko scrambling out of the door, jacket still only half on, late to something or other, because Crystal had distracted her. And Jenny knew that she had a stream of income, so the insistence on paying in coins was starting to seem like it was just to fuck with her. 

The worst part was that Niko didn’t seem to notice or mind it at all. Whenever Jenny tried to bring Crystal up Niko’s eyes would just sort of glaze over and any complaints were met with Niko’s patented “don’t worry about it”. LIke not worrying was an option. Jenny had, multiple times now, been woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of Niko’s giggling and Crystal’s desperate attempts not to crack up too while shushing her, far later than Niko would ever have been awake before. She’d seen Niko in the mornings, wearing one of Crystal's sweaters. Apparently she’d been cold the evening before and forgotten to give it back. Sadly that excuse became empty when Jenny saw Crystal come in and no attempts to get the sweater back to its original owner were made. And sure, Niko insisted there was nothing going on between them, but she also did so with a blush that would have been visible to a blind man. Jenny didn’t want to rain on her parade. It was good to see Niko happy. But look, Crystal was a lot, ok? And Jenny didn’t necessarily think she was a bad person or anything, but fuck, if she didn’t make life hard for herself. And Jenny didn’t really want Niko dragged into that.

Then a group of teenage boys came into the shop, clearly drunk and looking to start something. Making obscene gestures, being loud, getting into the female customers personal space and trying to get behind the counter to pick up the entrails on display. Jenny’d gotten them to leave easily (the advantages of holding a large knife). Honestly she was pretty much used to it. It was surprising, the kind of people who thought breaking into a butcher shop was a good idea. This was practically tame in comparison. But when she turned she saw Crystal standing in the entranceway, eyes shiny, staring at nothing, breath coming a bit too fast, looking a worrying amount like Niko used to, those first few months. Jenny hadn’t realised how young Crystal was until that moment. An adult sure, but barely. So much younger than she herself was. Jenny couldn’t just stand there. So she laid the knife down and flipped the sign at the door to “Closed”, glad for once that those guys had driven away her customers. She slowly approached, taking Crystal by the shoulders and steering her into the kitchen. Only noticing that she’d forgotten to wipe the meat juices off her hands when she lifted them and left red impressions on Crystal's shirt. 

When Niko found them an hour later she was greeted with the sight of Crystal, laying half in her own chair, half in Jenny's lap, sleeping, with teartracks drying on her cheeks. The smile that grew on her face seemed almost involuntary. Jenny had to admit that maybe she was wrong about this too. Maybe this would be good for Niko.

Jenny was thrilled when she heard Niko was thinking of making a proper cooking show. This big a show would be a real step up for the company. Tongue and tail productions had grown remarkably since its creation. Seeing Niko now it was hard to imagine the 16 year old she’d been when Jenny had met her. She seemed so in her element giving instructions to the camera crew and trying to explain to Edwin and the Rowland kid, (Charles, he’d introduced himself) that the project was going to be tough. A fucking 360 from the sad, hesitant girl she had been when she first haunted Jenny’s doorstep with just two suitcases and a credit card, asking to rent the upstairs apartment. 

Jenny still wasn’t sure she believed Niko when she said that there was nothing going on between her and Crystal. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. She heard Charles complaining to his mum about her teasing, saw the glances the two men shared, so alike Crystal and Niko’s. When Niko started going over some of the details for the shots in Edwin’s kitchen, Aadhya left them to their work and came to stand next to Jenny. Edwin had his back to Charles and as such couldn’t see the smile growing on Charles’ face, mirroring the one on Niko’s, alerting Jenny to the fact that Crystal must have entered the room. Jenny shared a commiserating look with Aadhya. Niko had informed Jenny of some of the Rowlands’ situation. She recognised the lines around Aadhya’s eyes, the hint of worry that wouldn’t go away despite knowing it was unfounded. But looking back at them, seeing the smiles and hidden glances. Maybe, Jenny thought, maybe this could be a good thing. Letting them heal together.

3/? - Restaurant owner / chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU - continued!

Hello, lovely folks - the restaurant AU continues and has outgrown its last thread, which is amazing! Here's a new reblog chain to reblog from and continue the journey <3 I'll also be updating the masterpost to add this one!

You can read the AU from the beginning here!

The masterpost for the AU is here!

[platoniclokiimagines]

Hello! I don't know if something like this has been asked before. The reader is having a rough time mentally as of late, just feeling super down and upset. It's been keeping them up at night for a few days and a thunderstorm keeps them from sleeping again. They normally love storms and they're happy this one is here to break the horrible summer heat, but the constant thunder and lightning keeps them awake half the night. It's putting them in a grumpy mood and Loki tries to help in whatever way that is. Maybe he makes them tea too? Bonus if Thor pokes his head in to try to help, maybe Rocket too (they're up late playing games together), but Loki shoos them away after the reader snaps at them from being sleep deprived. Thank you!

A/N: This is extremely relatable to me currently, and I hope it brings anyone else in the same boat some comfort.

WC: 1500

Rating: G

TW: Mental breakdown, kinda? I suppose.

Lately, you had been feeling very… not you.

That was to say, you’d been feeling completely and utterly drained of any sort of feeling or emotion or anything that made you feel like you were a person and not merely a thing that had been brought into existence only to feel completely and utterly devoid of anything that wasn’t depressing or sad or frustrating to the point of tears.

That was to say your mental health was taking yet another turn for the worse.

You weren’t entirely sure what exactly had brought it on. You supposed it was likely due to the overwhelming reality of your life currently, which, admittedly, was quite the stressor in your life. But you’d never had issues like this before. Not this horribly.

You’d had spells where you felt down, and didn’t want to do much more than lay around in bed or maybe cry for a good few hours straight. But this was… different. More intense. You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t stay focused, and heaven forbid you try to sleep.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten more than an hour or two of sleep throughout the entire length of a single night.

Which, naturally, only led to you feeling more depressed and drained and emotionally unavailable.

You wish you knew how to fix it.

Correction.

You wish you had the energy to fix it.

Instead, you let yourself sort of… get lost in the emptiness of your mental state.

A horrible idea, really, because it meant that you were standoffish, impatient, and a little mean, and of course there was the fact that you still weren’t sleeping any easier.

You wanted to scream. Maybe forever.

As you laid in bed one night, you thought you actually might do just that.

You’d been getting ready to turn in for the night, had dredged yourself through the bare basics of a nighttime routine so that you had some sort of normalcy, and had put on your coziest pajamas before downing as much melatonin as you considered non-lethal and tucking yourself under the covers with some ocean waves to help lull you to sleep.

Except that the ocean waves were almost immediately drowned out by a rolling cascade of thunder paired with a bright flash of lightning that almost made you want to face palm in sheer amusement at your dumb luck.

Of course, the one night you wanted peace and quiet while trying to sleep, a storm had to roll in.

Normally, you were quite fond of storms. You’d always loved them as a child, had loved listening to them wax and wane around you while you counted seconds between thunder and lightning to figure out how close or far the storm was.

But currently, this storm was dancing on the one nerve you had left, and it was already stretched thinner than a string of thread.

“Of course. Of course. I try to get a real night of rest, and Mother Nature has other plans. Typical.” You grumbled and cursed some more under your breath while you tossed and turned under your covers, trying to decide if it would be a good idea to hide under the covers and press a pillow over your head, which would drown out the thunder (hopefully), but in return likely amplify your thoughts, and you simply did not want to be alone with those right now.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, you threw the covers back so hard that they fell completely off the bed, which only frustrated you even more as you sat up, expression pinched with annoyance.

“…maybe some tea. That’s what Loki always does to calm down. Tea would be nice.” You tried to talk to yourself in a soothing voice, like people always did in movies to calm themselves down, but you felt ridiculous, so instead you fell silent as you tucked your feet into your slippers and padded out into the main living area of the Compound, grateful that no one else was burning the midnight oil to question you.

You set about boiling the water, and got down a few different boxes of tea, trying to decide which one would knock you out like you wanted, and which would keep you up for more hours, which you weren’t keen on but hadn’t made final decisions about just yet.

Ultimately, you decide to try some chamomile and lavender tea, and took a packet out of the box, ripping it open so you could get out the tea bag, which promptly fell on the floor. You groaned unhappily.

Just my luck, you thought grumpily to yourself, snatching it up and tossing it into the rubbish bin before getting another bag out, only for this one to rip open along with the packet opening, spilling the contents of the tea bag out onto the counter.

“Oh, come on!” you griped, not realizing just how loudly you’d said it as you started sweeping the spilled bits into your cupped palm.

“…Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Loki’s calm voice didn’t startled you, but rather made you feel a little guilty for waking them, as well as being a little annoyed that you now had an audience.

“Trying to make tea, and it’s… not working.” You gestured to the mess on the floor and counter, and your expression must have conveyed your frazzled nerves, because as Loki approached, they nodded slowly, studying you from the corner of their eyes.

“…I can tell you’re a little frustrated right now. Why don’t you go back to your room, and I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready. Yes?” Despite their speaking placatingly, you were surprised at the lack of patronizing quality that you’d expected when they spoke.

All you could do was nod, and shuffle back to your room, hoping that Loki wouldn’t be too long.

You were peeking out of the bedroom at the pouring rain when you heard Loki come in and nudge the door behind them so that there was still a sliver of light coming in from the hallway. You finally tore your gaze away, letting the blinds fall back into place as you looked at them a little sheepishly.

“…sorry,” you started, but Loki shook their head, pressing a mug into your hands.

“No need. I can tell you’re… tired, lately.” Loki made it very obvious that they were carefully choosing their words, but you couldn’t find it in you to blame them.

“…I’m just… not having a good mental health day. Week. Month. Life, if I’m being honest,” you admitted with a harsh exhale of a laugh, and Loki only nodded along with you.

“I get it. It’s no fun, especially when it comes out of nowhere.” Loki took a sip of their tea, and opened their mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the sound of talking outside of the door, and you looked over in time to see a shadow move past it, then hesitate and come back to peek in the door.

“Y/N, Loki! What on earth are you two doing up?” Thor’s smile looked like a ray of sunshine, even in the half-lit bedroom, and you sort of hated him for it.

“I could ask you the same, brother,” Loki bit back, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Muscles and I were playing a couple rounds on Fortnite. But we’re turning in for the night now.” You hadn’t even noticed Rocket until he spoke, and you regretted the fact that you could feel your exhaustion-induced anger coming back.

“Actually, can we hang out in here for a little bit? Or can I, anyway, I’m not quite tired yet, and you guys look like you’re having fun, and-”

“NO, YOU CAN’T!” You didn’t realize that it was you that had screamed that until you realized everyone else was staring at you, and all you could do was blink back at them, chest heaving for a reason you didn’t quite know.

“…Thor, now’s not really a good time. Why don’t you go on with the rodent? We’ll talk later.”

Thor seemed to get the message immediately, and ducked away, dragging a complaining Rocket with him as he closed the door completely.

By the time Loki had turned back to you, you had burst into tears, unable to cope with all of the emotions that had dogpiled on you so heavily that you had no choice but to deal with them all now.

Loki only nodded, and rubbed your back soothingly with a single hand.

“There we are. I know it’s hard. I know you’re feeling a lot right now. And that’s alright. I’ll be right here when you’re ready to talk about it. And if you don’t, that’s alright, too. I’m staying with you.” They continued to talk soothingly to you, even as you deflated, head falling to rest on their shoulder, and entire body shaking with gut-wrenching sobs. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe here. You’re safe. I’m here.”

[bongaboi]

new face

i don't often walk these streets of my town alone, but when the cat's tail closed for the night, i chose to go to the statue of Barbatos to make a final prayer, so that i could go to sleep under his protection and his divine grace, or so i thought. i saw a man on the hands, looking at me, but, where was his face!?

then i realized who he was. ayato. that was his name. but where was his sister? and why was he here?

he descended down gracefully before slowly walking past me with those deep purple eyes on a complexion of pitch black. i found you, he said. come here. i need you. i…i…you…

i said, no, don't touch me! please, don't! and i ran. with as much energy as i could but he was too quick, so agile, so effortless. i tripped, and fell, backed in a corner, crying, i fell to my knees, in tears, and i said, please, don't do this to me, i…i…i'll never get to say goodbye to klee or anyone, or even you, so please…don't…

but he rushed at me so quick and i let out a very loud scream with all the energy i had left before I felt a wave of light shatter into a million pieces and everything became silent for nothing.

diona. Diona. DIONA!

time passed. someone called my name as I felt a barrier of black shatter into a billion pieces as I heard my name called out by a gentleman who felt the whole world was cutting him down and i could not stand to see that so my eyes opened…

Diona. are you okay? my eyes opened. it was him. a..ya…to…i whispered. but, i thought you… i gasped as I felt a warm embrace and a grown man crying like he lost his child in a calamitous accident, a young daughter worth saving. thank the shogun you are still with us, with me, he said, sobbing, gasping for air as the tears came out. Diona. oh Diona. our Diona…

Ayato, it's okay, you don't have to be so dramatic, i am fine. i am here. i am here. he said, Diona, please forgive me for everything i did to you, scaring you like that, but, i need to explain why i did this, and why i regret it. i have to own up to all this. will you let me?

i nodded and whispered, yes. and i have all of teyvat as my witness, he said. and the door opened,

and one by one, all of the Travelers companions from mondstadt, liyue, inazuma and sumeru came in. diona! cried Klee, hugging me, crying. what happened? I was worried about you, when I heard you screaming! i thought something happened. klee, i'm sorry i scared you like that, i am here and i am fine. klee said, okay, but don't do that again, you hear me? i nodded.

then ayato rose up and said, everyone, please, i must explain what happened. he took a deep breath, collected his thoughts, and he said, i had been battling an inner demon that was burning me up inside. it caused me to tear at my face and my sanity. and i roared, looking high and low to find someone to give me a cure to save me.

he turned to me and said, diona. you heal people, correct? i said, yes. then i needed your healing touch but you thought i was going to do unspeakable things to you that would be an unwashable slight on my honor, my dignity, my existence as a man of principles.

but when you cried to the heavens, the darkness in my face shattered and i could feel all feeling and emotion and normalcy return before i could even come close to laying a sliver of my blade upon you. diona, you saved me, but i wanted to make sure that you were not sacrificed in helping me win this fight with myself. i want to thank you, and also tell you i am sorry for everything.

i said, ayato, thank you for bringing me back, thank you, everyone, for being with me. ayato said, i love you, my sister loves you, all my brothers and sisters fighting the good fight love you, all of teyvat loves you, klee loves you, and most importantly, the traveler who is with me loves you.

so don't ever leave us. your face is too cute to ever be lost.

my ears perked and my tail wagged. and he said, how will i make it up to you to forgive me for doing all this?

i said, bubble tea. i want to drink it.

he gave me a big cup with a straw i gave it a good sip hey, this is delicious! you must give me the recipe!

he gave me a book. this book has every bubble tea recipe made by the Kamisato clan for 69 generations, said Ayato.

how nice! I exclaimed.

he said, so this is yours. you must use it to make business booming at the Cat's Tail, make it taste as good as we all remember. he then turned to all and proclaimed, for tonight and this point forward, we will share in the memory under a new face!

everyone cheered, i got out of bed jumped into Ayato's arms and said, what are we waiting for? let's make some boba! and the drinks flowed, and Venti sang his songs and there was plenty of dancing and stories told.

and Ayato and I went outside. the heavens parted and the moonlight shined on both of us. he said, Diona Katzlein, do you feel better now?

and I said to Ayato, when you have a new face like that, i feel invincible…

and i love it. yes. i want some new face.

[romanoffsbish]

Chapter 40: This House is NOT a Home

Chapter 39 | Masterlist | Chapter 41 |Words: 1.317

—

Nat's POV

A month after the snap, Tony had been alerted to a surge of energy that had been mapped to a tiny planet, that mirrored the likes of the surge on Wakanda when he'd first snapped all those weeks ago.

Wanda, Thor and I along with the remaining "Guardians" and Carol flew out with us to confront Thanos.

"This is going to work, Natasha." Thor asserts

"I know it will.Because I don't know what I'm going to do if it doesn't."

"No satellites, no ships, no armies.

No ground defenses of any kind. It's just him."

Carol suddenly says over the comms.

"That's enough." Nebula ominously states.

"Where are they?" I seethe, as I bring myself face to face with the titan, while Carol brings him to his knees, while holding him steady in a chokehold.

"Answer the question!" Carol shouts, not taking this any better than the rest of us, after finding out Fury and Hill were dusted too.

"The universe required correction.

After that, the stones served no purpose beyond temptation."

"You murdered trillions." Carol shouts, while tightening her hold.

"You should be grateful." Thanos arrogantly replies.

"Where are the stones?" I shout, desperation ever present in my demeanor

"Gone. Reduced to atoms."

"You used them two days ago!" Rocket, the raccoon, shouts.

"I used the stones to destroy the

stones. It nearly killed me. But the work is done. It always will be."

" No...they can't be gone..." Wanda shakily whimpers, speaking for the first time in days.

"He's lying." Thor states, almost in question, as he wills it to be the truth.

"My father is many things. A liar is not one of them." The human robot hybrid, Nebula, pipes up.

"Thank you, daughter. Perhaps I've treated you-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Thor swung his axe in his direction, and Thanos's head went rolling.

"What did you do?" Rocket gasps.

"I went for the head." Thor says, no emotion in his voice, as he walks out and settles into the back of the ship.

Turns out Thanos has destroyed the stones, and subsequently my chances at happiness...

Everyone followed suit, returning to the ship with varying emotions on display. Wanda, Thor and I all shared the same sullen expressions, not a word was said between the three of us. Nebula and Rocket were flying the ship back as the raccoon appeared to be crying. Carol said her goodbye's outside of Thanos's hut, as every other planet was in equal disarray.

"I'll be in touch." She mutters, as she flies off towards space, and I simply just nod.

Wanda and I returned to the apartment in silence, she went to her room, and I went to the kitchen. I heard her heart wrenching screams as soon as her door had slammed, and I saw hues of scarlet from beneath her door. I just couldn't bring myself to deal with her current breakdown, all I could do was move to drown my sorrows.

I opened the fridge for the first time in weeks, my face dropping instantly when I saw the takeout container of those stupid egg rolls.

"Y/N's! Do not touch! YELENA, I KNOW YOU CAN READ ENGLISH SO DON'T TRY ME! ... Natty, you can have one if you want. <3"

"I'd love to have one, however I am not trying to die from food poisoning, I have to work to get you back detka..." I chuckle out, as unconsented to tears fall down my cheeks, and I reach up to grab the vodka from the top shelf before retreating to our room.

Sleeping alone had always been something I'd loved, having the space to myself, to do as I pleased. Whether I wanted to sleep in the starfish position, or the nude, I thoroughly enjoyed my freedom. I never had that growing up in the red room, I was forced into tight living quarters with other girls, given a tiny cot to lay upon, while being handcuffed in place. When I finally had my freedom, and first started sleeping in my own bed, I was uncomfortable, I literally had to handcuff myself in place for a sense of normalcy. Once I'd grown comfortable, I'd stopped using the handcuffs, and found my life to be peaceful for the first time ever.

However, it's just not the same anymore, I don't crave freedom or space, I actually fear it. It leaves me wondering if I'll ever feel her close again. I want nothing more than to be held down by her body, to feel as her breaths would fan out across my skin. The sounds she'd always make as she's waking up, whether it be a grunt or a squeal. Her warmth she always provided me, and GOD, her morning voice always did do a number on me. I desperately miss being woken up to her gently kissing my face, and requiring bonus cuddles, because 'I need to be awake to enjoy them' was her mantra. As if she needed an excuse, I'd lay in bed with her all day if life had permitted it.

Without her now, I seem to require vodka just to escape the nightmare that has become my daily life. Most mornings I'd wake up to find Wanda curled up beside me, clearly craving closeness, but mostly I just think she was looking to be close to Y/N as that was her side. When I actually do laundry—when I’m out of her hoodies—I use Y/N's detergent, then I spray a hoodie with her perfume and leave it for the little witch to steal. As much as this hurts me, I know with her powers she's feeling everything twice as badly.

—

Months fly by in a blur, and somehow we’re two years into this hell. I spend most of my days at the compound, keeping in touch with everyone that I can, while trying desperately to bring order to the chaos around us.

"You get a reading on those tremors?" I turn my attention to Okoye

"Minor subduction in the African plate."

"Do we have a visual? How are you handling it?"

"Nat. It was a mild earthquake. In the ocean. We handle it by not handling it." Okoye deadpans.

I just sigh, rubbing my hands down my face, then turn towards Rhodey's hologram as he began to speak.

"I can have NASA redirect a satellite, do a sweep just to make sure."

"Thanks. Carol, you're still comingour way next month?" I question the blonde

"Not likely."

"Getting another haircut?" The raccoon pipes up.

"Listen, fur-face, I'm covering a lot of territory out here. The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time"

"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open. This channel's always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldn't, it comes through me."

Everyone closes out their hologram, except for Rhodey.

"What's up? Where are you?"

"Mexico. Got some news."

"Okay..."I reluctantly sigh, not entirely wanting to hear the words he has to say.

"Federalés found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys. Guns still in their pants."

"Could be a rival hit-"

"But it wasn't. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev." ... "It's definitely Barton."

I nod, reluctantly accepting the truth that my best friends on a vigilante rampage.

"What he's done here...what he's been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesn't want to find him."

"Find out where's he going next." I plead, before Rhodey concedes then closes out the call.

I sit there for a moment, before throwing my plate of food at the wall as I collapse in on myself. I move my broken down body to the couch in the conference room, and fall into a restless sleep…

——————————————————

Taglist:

@ali-lie @simpforflorencepugh1

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰

1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law