#i genuinely think that this would happen after a long time of Nightmares conditioning.

[meloveanimeforreal7604]

What if Killer addressed himself as "it"?

Like. "It is ready to obey orders, boss."

Oorrr...

"It likes that jacket of yours, Criss-Cross, could use some more red though."

Because of the fact that Nightmare used Killer as a machine/tool, so Killer wouldn't even think of himself as his own person, so he'd just constantly refer to himself as it, until say, Color, spends so much time reassuring that he is his own person, not an object. If he chooses to still call himself it, than Color will accept that and be happy for Killer, if Killer wants to use other pronouns that again, Color will support him as Killer recovers from the abuse he went through. And figures out his own identity. These things can start out slow as any recovery would.

Every now and then Killer stumbling and being like

Killer: "I-..It wants (whatever)"

Color: "Wait, no what were you gonna say?"

Killer: "I?"

Color: "That's good, Killer."

Color will help tremendously, giving Killer all the encouragement :)

[tyrantisterror]

Who are your top ten favorite sympathetic villains in fiction?

See, that's the kind of question you just can't answer on this site in normal conditions. This is tumblr, the place where if you think a villain from any media that people have heard of is sympathetic, there will be an incredibly vocal contingent of moral puritans who will flock to your proverbial door to scream at you for being a fascist and threaten you with torches, pitchfork, and a good ol' stake to burn you on. Doesn't matter what media the villain is from or how fantastical or mundane their crimes are - if you try to argue someone deemed bad by the mob is actually morally complex, they will force you to walk the scaffold of the gallows so they can plunder your real estate when you're buried in the unmarked grave reserved for heathens and heretics.

Hell, it's not just strangers on here you have to worry about this with, either. When I first read this question a few characters who affected me deeply came to mind immediately, and for each one I could pinpoint at least one person who follows my blog that would not hesitate for a moment to post a several paragraph screed in a reblog of this ask telling me why that character is actually Objectively Worse Than Hitler, and that I'm a fascist if I continue to like them. This is not a safe space to sympathize with villains. Lust after them, sure, but not to sympathize with them.

But! I have thought of a work around. Obviously, any media with a fandom isn't safe - unless that media is so obscure, so barely known, that its fandom can probably be counted on two hands. Something where the fan count can't reach above the double digits, and in all likelyhood is less than fifty at the most generous estimation. And it just so happens I can think of AT LEAST ten sympathetic villains from works of media I dearly, genuinely love - love them so much it's as if they were my own children, even - that are at this level of obscurity, and likely to remain so for as long as I live. So here are my

TEN FAVORITE SYMPATHETIC VILLAINS FROM WORKS OF MEDIA SO OBSCURE THAT I CAN GUARANTEE NOBODY ON EARTH WILL EVER SEARCH FOR THEM ON TUMBLR AND PROCEED TO SCREAM AT ME FOR LIKING THEM!

10. MechaTyrantis from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

Appearing in William Cope's stunning kaiju period piece novel series The Atomic Time of Monsters, MechaTyrantis takes the genre trope of a mechanical doppelganger kaiju and gives it a few new twists. We actually meet MechaTyrantis as a purely flesh and blood creature first, where he is presented as a natural rival for the main kaiju character, Tyrantis, because they are both males of the same species vying for the attention of the sole female of their kind that they've found. MT loses the courtship fight to Tyrantis, and nurses a grudge about it, eventually luring Tyrantis into a trap to try and kill him. In the grand tradition of villains, his evil plot backfires and hurts him more than his intended victim, leaving him crippled and comatose in a rock slide.

This is where the pathos comes in, for as nasty as MT is, the human villains who excavate his unconscious form from the rocks are a lot worse, harvesting him for parts to make a cyborg war machine. Intended to be nothing more than a wetware PC, MechaTyrantis's animal brain lies dormant for much of the time he's being piloted, but sporadically awakens when given proper stimuli - at which point we get treated to the horror of what was done to him, and how his animal mind struggles to understand the surge of inputs from both his machine body parts and the human trying to pilot them. His existence is, bluntly, a nightmare, and one that makes MechaTyrantis continue to lash out at the world with horrifying results.

Yet as nasty as he was before and after his alteration, it's clear he doesn't deserve a fate this wretched, and author William Cope obviously agrees with me, as MechaTyrantis does stumble his way into a redemption of sorts, albeit by suffering a great deal of pain and humiliation before he can reach the epiphany he needs.

9. Promythigor from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

One of the last villains introduced in The Atomic Time of Monsters Series (at least so far - while there are only two volumes at the time of this writing, esteemed author William Cope has noted several times on social media that he intends to write more someday down the line), Promythigor has less screentime than most of his fellow bad guys, but he makes it count. Essentially King Kong if he both had firebending powers and a dangerous case of pyromania, Promythigor isn't outright malicious so much as lethally foolhardy and careless with his fire powers, which brings him into conflict with pretty much ever living being he encounters.

Yet, like MechaTyrantis, there's pathos to him, as he too is a horrible science experiment created by humans who neither thought of nor cared about the psychological state of the supernatural animals they were exploiting. There's almost an innocence to Promythigor as he lashes out, and for all the trouble he causes with his mischief it's clear he doesn't really understand how much harm he's doing. One thinks he could sort himself out if given a few good influences and a lot of firm boundaries, which volume two seems to set him up for. At the very least, he got one of the best action scenes in the books.

8. Ahuul from The Atomic Time of Monsters by William Cope

Ok, last kaiju on this list, I promise! Or at least the last one from ATOM. Ahuul is the first villainous kaiju we meet in William Cope's groundbreaking series, and he does a good job of setting up the stakes - before we properly meet him, the story is relatively light-hearted, especially with the big, lovable friendly kaiju Tyrantis forming an unlikely friendship with human paleontologist Dr. Lerna. But then Ahuul flies out and begins eating people to reminds us that these monsters can be quite deadly indeed. Things get particularly dire when he leaves the countryside and lands in the nearby town, at which point we see how helpless the local law enforcement of this rural community are in the face of a kaiju threat - and that makes it all the more cathartic a release when Tyrantis arrives to kick his ass.

Ahuul doesn't have a redemption arc so much as what tumblr has called a "Vegeta arc" - which is to say, he never really stops being a nasty, vicious bastard, he just ends up surrounded by enough morally inclined badasses that he stops being able to get away with doing much evil anymore. By the end of volume one, he becomes something of a joke, easily trounced by all the other monsters around him, as by that point the world of ATOM has expanded enough to show that a monster as deadly to humans as Ahuul is still ultimately kind of a small fish in a big pond.

Which does lead to some character development, in a roundabout way. Ahuul may be awful, but he doesn't like to be beaten up all the time, and so he starts making efforts to tone down his worse impulses and gain the tolerance of his neighbors. Seeking redemption out of pragmatism instead of remorse may not be super moral, but it does shed an interesting light on the nasty bastard, and allows us to enjoy him as a character without worrying that his comedically awful personality will cause real problems.

7. The Jester's Jape from No Small Feat and Wake of the Red Death, a pair of Fabula Ultima TTRPG Liveplay Shows GM'ed by William Cope

(inking for these sprites done by the illustrious @dragonzzilla)

I suppose I'm cheating by putting four characters in one spot, but you kind of have to take these ladies together. A quartet of goofy villainous henchmen in the vein of the Turks from Final Fantasy 7 and Ozzy, Flea, and Slash from Chrono Trigger, the Jester's Jape are a quartet of trouble-makers who routinely find themselves working for arch-villains and megalomaniacs because hey, it pays the bills. Though the bosses they work for tend to be bastards (or at least majorly conceited), they themselves are firmly in the "punch clock villain" mold, only doing what they need to to get paid, and more than happy to betray the evil bastards they were working for if things go South. I also like the fact that they establish clowns are explicitly a variety of half-demon in the setting of these stories, because it's fun to think of clowns as a variety of monster rather than just an occupation.

6. The Ravening Beast from No Small Feat, a Fabula Ultima TTRPG Liveplay GM'ed by William Cope

(Inking for these pieces done by the magnanimous @scatha5 and the splendiferous @dinosaurana, respectively)

Ok one more kaiju I suppose, technically, if we really stretch the definition of the word a bit. In a campaign full of fairy tale pastiches, The Ravening Beast fulfills the archetype of The Big Predator That Wants to Eat You - not just your Big Bad Wolves, but your bridge trolls, your manticores, and all other large hairy things dwelling in wild places and waiting for innocent passersby to cobble up. And for most of the campaign that seems to be all there is to the monster - just a big, nasty, hungry thing that wants to eat and eat and eat, a primal fear that torments the player characters at every turn.

Until, of course, the heroes track it to its den, and we discover the Beast's history - how its father particularly aimed to sire a monster, creating a creatures whose hormones were so imbalanced that it had to eat its siblings at birth just to quell the churning emptiness in its guts. How it was specifically groomed to be a maneater, and how it was fed a corpse with one of the magic jewels that serve as the campaign's primary mcguffins, which turned it into an even worse monster.

At the end of the story, the Ravening Beast wasn't a figure to be afraid of, but one to be pitied - a poor, mistreated creature who was never given a chance to be happy, and like the real life man-eaters that inspired it, sadly had to be put down for its own sake.

5. Prince Lucifer of Cocytus from No Sympathies by William Cope

Yep, that's right, it's the goddamn devil. William Cope's magnificent first novel, No Sympathies, gives us a taste of its take on Lucifer at the start by showing us his rousing speech during the War in Heaven before The Fall, but after that it waits a long time to show us the demon of demons when he's fully crowned in his sinful glory as Hell's prince of princes, content to build his reputation in whispers before we see him in action. Once Lucifer is fully unveiled, though, he is every bit the cunning and cruel bastard you'd expect, castrating his daughter's would-be suitor and generally coming off as in control of every situation we see him in.

At least, until the halfway point of the book, where shit truly hits the fan and Lucifer's dominion of Hell is threatened in way he's never had to face before. Lucifer, the ultimate bad boy, is forced into having to fight to save his people, and as expected, he's pretty fucking bad at it because, well, he's a self-centered douche - but one with enough charm and enough love in his heart to still be likable, making us root for him to get his shit together despite it all and finally be the hero he's always claimed to be.

4. Prince Beelzebub of Scathatch from No Sympathies by William Cope

While Lucifer is arguably more important to the plot of No Sympathies, I think anyone who's read William Cope's brilliant debut effort would agree that Beelzebub is his favorite of the princes. Hell, the lord of flies even gets to do the novel's title drop as part of his starring role in the chapter that really underlies the book's major point - namely, how can we judge the damned so harshly when we too are capable of sin, and isn't viewing some as sinners and some as saved a sin of hubris in itself?

Beelzebub gets some slick one-liners and produces one of the most horrifying images in the book, but more than that, he shows the pathos inherent to being a devil, as he's smart enough to realize that landing himself in Hell was a dumb move that's only brought him misery, but is too proud to fully accept his culpability in it, which makes his struggle to rationalize why he's suffering so much kind of tragic. Like Lucifer, you find yourself rooting for him to get his shit together despite his MANY rough edges, especially when the plot hits its big turn and he's forced into an unlikely hero role.

3. Marquise Alichino from No Sympathies by William Cope

It's a novel entirely focused on demons that almost no one's read, of course I'm going to mine it for characters! Alichino is, on the surface, a simpler villain than Lucifer or Beelzebub, in that her flaws are exaggerated to comedic extremes and mostly played for laughs. Hell, she's literally a demonic harlequin, isn't that appropriate? But her silliness contributes to her sympathetic nature, as you quickly get the sense that Alichino isn't fully aware of how nasty she's being, in part because the nature of Hell has divorced her from understanding the scope of suffering her actions inflict on those she's sent to punish. Alichino is further softened by the affection and loyalty she shows for those she's deemed worthy of her protection, proving to be a reliable ally despite her violent nature.

2. Matilda from No Sympathies by William Cope

This is the last No Sympathies character, I promise - and yes, that means I won't be including the book's protagonist, Pug, since you can't really argue he's a villain. He's a henchmen at best. Matilda, though, was a full on temptress in her heyday, in that it was literally her job to tempt people to sin. We even get to see her on the job, where she acts with all the sleaze of a used car salesmen while trying to convince a mortal man to sin. Of course, it backfires on her when she proves to have too big of a heart to stick to landing, and ends up demoted to a lowly position in Hell for it. The Matilda we first meet in the novel is broken by that experience, and much of the book is built on her discovering and embracing the goodness within herself despite the misery it brought her in the past - while Pug may be the main character of No Sympathies, Matilda is arguably the novel's heart.

1. Lord Dhenregirr from the Wizard School Mysteries series by William Cope

We're ending with a character from William Cope's exceptional and utterly unique novel series that is certainly not similar to any popular fantasy fiction franchise that was published within the last three decades, Wizard School Mysteries. While only two of the promised eight novels in the series have been published so far, I think it's safe to say that Lord Dhenregirr is a scene-stealing standout among the supporting cast. In the first book, The Meddlesome Youths, he plays a primarily comedic role, a bumbling minor villain with delusions of competence and a tendency to make grandiose speeches about his wicked plans that are undercut by how quickly he's defeated, like an even more pathetic one-man version of Team Rocket.

However, in the second book, Tournament of Death, we get to see more dimensions of him, ad this is where Lord Dhenregirr shows signs of being more than just a gag character. Facing the protagonist of the series, James Chaucer, in a one-on-one battle in the titular tournament, Dhenregirr proves to be a far more competent fighter than previously shown, as for once he's neither outnumbered nor caught by surprise. No-selling most of James's spells and summoning a legion of skeleton soldiers to fight alongside himself, the goofy ineffectual villain ends up becoming a serious threat.

That is, until James threatens those skeleton minions with harm, which is when Dhenregirr exposes a truly sympathetic side of himself, as it turns out he's the rare villain who actually cares about the well-being of his cronies. Add to this the fact that some of his dialogue in the fight seems more like that of a mentor than an adversary to James, and you start to see how there could be more to Dhenregirr's motives than the simple cartoon villainy they first appeared to be. With six books left in the series, there's plenty of room for Dhenregirr to grow into a truly complex characters, and I for one cannot wait to see what William Cope does with him.

[saintsenara]

How does your adhd help or make more difficult your job as a doctor?

thank you very much for the ask, pal!

obviously, this answer needs to start with a little acknowledgement of my relative privilege when it comes to my adhd.

like many women, i was diagnosed as an adult, but i was lucky enough that this happened when i was still a student [six year degree coming in clutch - the fact that i had to pay for the diagnosis, not so much], which meant that when i qualified and started actually working, i'd had several years of taking medication and coming up with techniques to manage my life. i can very well imagine [particularly because i know so many people it's happened to] how much more difficult i would find doing my job if i had only recently acquired - or was still waiting for - a diagnosis.

as i've said, the reasons for my late diagnosis were primarily gender-related - i'm a cisgender woman, and so even though i have the more "classic", "male" version of adhd [by which i mean that i'm hyperactive, rather than the inattentive-type manifestation of the condition which is presumed - although not, in my view, entirely accurately - to be more common in women] i wasn't screened as a child because adhd was seen as a thing which boys had.

but they're also because the circumstances of my early life - above all, that my family wasn't housing- or food-insecure, and that my parents were able to have a work-life balance because of this - allowed me to cope well enough with the bad parts of being a child with an undiagnosed neurological disability to be extremely high-achieving while at school. i was in trouble all the time - as most of us were - but this was usually because i spent my time in the classroom messing around, safe in the knowledge that i could race through any work last minute and be completely fine. i was my teachers' nightmare, but it was for the extremely chic reason that all the consequences they threatened me with never came to pass. i was told for fourteen years of schooling that the rug was about to pulled out from under me if i didn't buck up my ideas. instead, i got top marks in every exam, i got into an excellent university to study a competitive subject, i got a first in that subject, i have also - as well as my medical training - got a phd, i'm in an interesting and unusual speciality. i have a lot of letters after my name.

this is because i'm astonishingly clever - and i won't apologise for stating that as fact - but it's also due to good fortune. adhd [especially adhd which is undiagnosed until adulthood] is enormously overrepresented in the prison population, among addicts, among those who have no qualifications, among the long-term unemployed. i think it's important to simultaneously recognise that - while i do think of myself as disabled, and i'm right to - i am very, very lucky in the treatment plan and support system i have. i could be in a very different position had even minor things about my childhood changed.

but with this context taken into account... my view is genuinely that medicine is the number one job for the dopamine-challenged.

i'm not going to go into details about my specialism on the public timeline, but it has several aspects which work really well for my brain.

it's usually very fast-paced and unpredictable. like many people with adhd, i am excellent at working under pressure [and i'm great in a crisis] and very much not excellent without it.

but even when we have slower days it still always feels like i'm progressing towards a tangible goal. like many people with adhd, i'm not great at visualising long-term things - i think in the now and the not-now - but my work relates to cases where the long-term goals and outcome are easy to visualise, and i like that.

it's an area of medicine which is, essentially, puzzle-solving, often in creative and novel ways. like many people with adhd, i struggle to maintain focus on tasks which are too repetitive - but i'm also, as we often are, very good at spotting patterns and details, i have excellent intuition, and i'm a very good lateral thinker.

it lets me be on my feet a lot, to be moving around, and to be doing things physically. my fidgeting has really been cut down by the ol' lisdexamfetamine, but the twitchy impulses which remain are channelled very nicely into being able to do things with my hands and have it count towards my workload.

it's very sociable. i get to spend a lot of time just having a natter with the nurses - and i always have someone around to body double with - but i also get to work with lots of other departments and other non-medical professionals, i teach medical students, i present at conferences, and so on. it's very busy, there's always something new going on, and something which interests me is guaranteed to pop up just when i'm starting to get a bit fed up with a sitting-at-my-desk task...

and the "this interests me" point is the key one, i think.

like many people with adhd, my issue isn't a deficit of attention, it's an inability to easily control the focus of that attention. i have a typically low tolerance for boredom, and i find it extremely difficult both to start and to concentrate on enough to complete tasks which don't interest me.

but i like what i do - i find it fascinating - and that means that i have a lot of attention to devote to it. i can't remember what day my bins go out or what my mam asked me to pick up for her from the supermarket, but i can remember endless information pertaining to the human body, no matter how grim the situation that body finds itself in.

it's taken a bit of trial-and-error to get to where i am - i found the surgical rotations of my training really tough, for example, because surgery is a discipline which is very repetitive, and which lacks that mystery-solving element which so appeals to me - but i'm in a place now where i genuinely think that having adhd makes me a better doctor.

and even the night shifts are worth it to not have to work in an office.

[no disrespect to the spreadsheet girlies...]

[ponzu]

Haywood – desire, future, hide, secret

Feffin – desire, hate, pain

Berkut – alone, failure, guilty, nightmare

Ceix – bound, hide, skin

ill put these under the cut so i dont explode the dash

haywood:

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?: if asked outright hed say revenge. the right persons blood on his hands. more than that he just wants to feel connections again, but since theyll never feel exactly like what he once had, he wont let anyone try

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?: he gets killed by a beast hunter for lashing out again. hes confident he wont run into one that Will, so no hes not really trying to avoid that outcome.. or really thinking about it to begin with

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?: basically everything lol. he only lets others see him as malicious and threatening anymore.

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?: how much of a wuss he really can be. hes really just a reactionary coward

feffin:

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?: she does not know. she genuinely has no idea. shes hoping that will just make itself clear the more she trudges through life

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?: somewhat silly answer would be rodents. less silly answer is fire. theyre both linked to the conditions she was raised in as a child. her "home" was infested w rats and she was often threatened with burns for misbehaving

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?: assuming were talking about physical pain then as above itd be the burns inflicted on her. shes had the scars from the worst of them treated by a nen healer so she wouldnt have to remember them. her pain tolerance is still relatively high

berkut:

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?: he really doesnt let himself be alone for too long. after a period of grief where he remained by himself while mourning, he keeps someone close by or Finds someone to keep him company. if he has to be alone u better believe hes getting lost in his more unfortunate thought webs

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?: his irrational belief that he could have saved his friend. he has confided in a few friends about it, but even their reassurances will not change his mind

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?: kinda the same as above. its irrational but he will not let it go. he doesnt avoid or accept it, he just lets it weigh on him

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?: his failed hunter exam attempt and his lost friend. he doesnt tell anyone about them despite being rather open about most anything. he finds it to be a silly topic to discuss even if they do tend to affect him pretty greatly

ceix:

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?: not that he remembers. he has no sense of time and cant tell how old his memories are but for all he knows he has protected seig for his whole life

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?: nothing! at least not purposefully. or not that he knows of lol. again his memory sucks so if he "hides" anything its really because he just forgot

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?: ceix is proud of his abilities to protect seig and doesnt desire anything else. as far as hes concerned thats all he really needs. when he fails, even if its slightly, he will be hard on himself and acknowledge his shortcomings... even if he doesnt Really have any

thank uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu meefy

[youremyheaven]

I agree, and yes both of my parents are hoarders lol and that was a bit of a nightmare since we already had a teeny tiny house, I shared a room with both of my sisters and we had no room to even walk on the floor lmaoo, but hey I like that we were close. Whenever I feel bad I always remember that in a tribal setting we would've been doing golden lol- close knit, very safe since if something happened to any of us we're literally right next to each other.

I'll say my Naks but it might expose me lmao because I talk about stuff on here too, but that's okay. I'm not trying to be too secretive. I'm Jyeshta Sun, Rohini Moon. I do have Mars in Uttarabhadrapada which is interesting.

My upbringing was kinda weird, kinda beautiful in some ways but by modern standards it was rough- I have a hard time saying it was bad because I know I was loved in a lot of ways too and that's more than some people can ask for. Just abusive shenanigans, but abuse can be weird because abuse isn't always as simple as someone just being terrible- like it's never okay but I mean, the same person who abuses you can also be the person who throws you birthday parties and makes them super magical and genuinely loves you. My mum in particular had a rough life herself, at 6 years old she immigrated to Australia and not long after was put into a children's home run by nuns because her mum was deemed unfit or something. She's Bharani Moon of course.

I went a bit wild when I was around 14 because I wanted to do anything I could to escape from home, so I would hang around a lot of strange men and drug people since they're aaalways out- after school, 2am, 12pm; there's always a group of a few of them around the area just messing around. So I could simply sneak out and go hang out with them lol. I guess I craved the adventure too, but most of all I just didn't want to go home. Even though we were not well off, we lived in a very wealthy area so I didn't relate to most of the kids around, I think that's part of why I gravitated towards the 'junkies'. They understood rougher conditions a bit better.

I ended up getting taken advantage of a few times which made me veer away from that scene for good, stop smoking weed, etc. but I was still looking for some way to get away from home.

I ended up in a relationship with a 30 year old man when I was 15, I stopped going to school much and started living with him. It was ghetto lol...

My mum passed away, so my sisters and I had to move states to be taken in by a relative. I was about to be 18 by that point so I had a choice on whether or not to come, but I was like bruh I'm not having my little sisters in a different state to me, that's madness- so I came along. Our relative was really strict and religious. She's lowkey rich but not the kindest person. She told me that I had to either get a job or study, or I'm not allowed to live there. I tried working and stuff but everything was just too fresh, I couldn't do much without crying :') so I was a dumb dumb and I decided maybe if I became a *dancer*, I could make money fast so that I could move out. I didn't end up doing it, I realised I'm too shy and sensitive for that kinda thing- I got on the stage for like a minute and had to get off because it was so spooky. The eyes of all the men, yikes.

Anyway, I got kicked out for the dancing thing and just in general being scandalous (by a religious rich lady's standards lol- bless her), and that's how I became homeless since I was in a new state and had nowhere to go that I knew- but it was for the best!!! I got taken in by a refuge, and they were so kind to me. I got so attached to the workers, they cared for us and treated us with such kindness.

Eventually I got a place on my own within the system. Then I met my partner & moved in with him to be freed from my ghetto life (jk I kinda love my life).

Sorry if this is very erratic, I'm never sure how to tell the story in a clear cut concise manner. I feel like it's going to take me a lifetime to sort out how I feel about a lot of things, but at the end of the day I'm not sure it even matters.

Just gotta keep making art, keep learning and loving, life is good- and people are strange, lol 💓💓

sorry for the delayyyyyed response but thank you so much for taking the time to tell me about your life's journey 🥺💛 you've lived a very tumultuous life and I'm glad you're in a more stable place now, it makes me hopeful about my own journey<3, so tysm <3

May your mom's soul rest in eternal peace 💛

"Just abusive shenanigans, but abuse can be weird because abuse isn't always as simple as someone just being terrible- like it's never okay but I mean, the same person who abuses you can also be the person who throws you birthday parties and makes them super magical and genuinely loves you."

this is the most Lunar thing ever

but also I will say as someone who has been in multiple abusive situations with very "loving" people, it can be very confusing to wrap your head around why someone can be so sweet, loving and kind one minute and tear you apart over nothing and yk...be aBusiVe the next minute. the truth is nobody irl acts like a textbook villain, the people who are capable of immense cruelty are the regular seeming people all around us. it took me so long to cut off toxic people because i always tried to justify it with "oh but they're also sooo kind and generous...." yada yada yada but its unhealthy to be around someone who is unpredictable.

My toxic ex bestie would imply I'm a whore today and then bring me muffins she baked at home tomorrow, if someone praised me in front of her, she'd stop talking to me for the rest of the day, sometimes she'd skip classes the next day and switch off her phone and i'd feel sick to my stomach with anxiety over her unpredictable behaviour and then she'd bring me earrings she bought for me??? and take me out to lunch?? crazy times but i think a lot of abusive people kind of overcompensate for their meanness with loving actions. they feel guilty so they overdo it and then the cycle continues. i've always felt bad about labelling certain experiences as "toxic" bc like you said i feel like it could be worse or that it wasn't so bad but at the end of the day "loving abuse" is still abuse.

[omegapheromone]

I think the worst part of the heat is over finally considering I was able to actually go to the store to get some food... still felt super anxious around other people and felt like I was sweating and overheating the whole time still, but at least my condition wasn't that bad. It's still definitely there, the heat itself isn't over- but it's calmed down a lot from the initial onslaught so I can actually function fairly normally now.

I also took a shower right before I went to wash off any potential scent still clinging to me after hiding in my nest for so long so I imagine I probably wasn't too much of a nuisance in terms of an overwhelming scent either. I felt very irrationally worried about it though- logically I know that people can't actually perceive any pheromones from me (because, 'real world' vs misce identity brain) but I was constantly thinking "what if" regardless.

(More rambles/complaining under the cut, all sfw, just putting the read more here for the sake of post length)

...I felt like people were staring at me, so that made it worse- even though that is almost certainly just because I have a fairly distinctive "look". Still, I imagine that if those people actually COULD sense my pheromones/omega scent for real, I'd have caused some kind of a scene bc I felt like my anxiety must've been like. So obvious. I couldn't even look up from the floor at all aside from when looking at which products to buy. Note to self to NEVER grocery shop while still in heat ever again, because it will be a nightmare. Too bad I actually genuinely needed to get some food because, you know, I'm trying to keep my flesh vessel fueled with enough nutrition.

Idk. It's such a weird thing to get so anxious about. I felt a bit crazy, like... logically, nobody is going to be able to tell that I'm in heat because, you know, non-misce people don't generally even consider that a possibility for humans. And even if people could sense my anxiety- which is entirely possible if not likely from just my body language alone- it's not like they'd know why being at the store would be so stressful for me. I wasn't ACTUALLY in danger. Even so, I constantly felt like "everyone can tell, I must be such a nuisance to everyone, I wish I had a scent blocker or heat suppressant at hand, I feel so bad and guilty for being in public like this because it must be really annoying for everyone else". That type of thing. I guess it didn't really help that I definitely noticed some people glancing at me a bunch, even though it's almost certainly just because I have a pretty distinctive and noticeable look (unnatural hair colour, etc). A kid was pointing me out to their parent in a foreign language I happen to understand a bit, and another very young kid was very openly staring at me for a good while. Kids tend to do that to me all the time, because I look interesting to kids especially, but today it just felt. Bad. And of course, when kids point me out, the parents look too. There was also this (potentially fellow queer) person who definitely did glance at me a good few times, most likely because they just wanted to do that "shared glance of acknowledgement" people tend to do when they notice another obviously Not Very CisHet Person in the wild, but god did it make me feel more anxious to know that they were continuously glancing at me in hopes of our eyes meeting in order to do that "nodding in acknowledgement except with your eyes only" thing gays do. I kept noticing it from my peripheral vision and the sentiment was very nice and everything but I was genuinely on the verge of a panic attack in the store so like, it just. Made me feel worse. Which in turn makes me feel guilty bc I must've seemed like I was avoiding them or something.

I guess I'm just like... frustrated? Because there's no "actual logic" behind any of it, aside from trauma and heat causing my emotions, esp anxiety, go kind of haywire. Also it feels silly to be genuinely paranoid of "oh god everyone can smell my heat can't they, I feel so awful for causing an inconvenience, I'm scared someone will try to hurt me" when. Absolutely nobody can tell.

Hnnng anyway... I still have to decide if I go out tomorrow since I have a therapy appointment. I really should, I haven't seen her in person in a while, but gosh, if my heat is still ongoing I'm going to feel so terrified all day again. But I do need to run other errands too... idk I'm just very. Don't know what to do.

[desperate4dopamines]

More work rambles under cut

I also like the customers. Its fun to help them find exactly what they need, and get to know them. A lot of times they’re so appreciative and one time someone tried to tip me! I am not allowed to accept tips so I didn’t take it, but the gesture was appreciated.

I’m incentivised to sell big and sell a lot but I don’t need to. My belief is that it goes a long way to have customers trust ur not leading them certain directions bc of your own gain. Nothings more off putting than a salesman obviously trying to sell to you. so I operate more like “I’m here to help you to the best of my abilities and whatever happens, happens”

Only thing I go out of my way to push is one of the plans we offer. Its genuinely a good offer for what it includes. Especially for some items which I KNOW are more inclined to break.

So far this method has had me reach goal last period, and I’m on track to reach it this period as well! Many customers have really appreciated my help and that’s what makes the job extra enjoyable. I just like helping out where I can. I guess I’m an acts of service type person because I really like doing everything I need to make sure my customers (and coworkers) are happy.

Sometimes customers aren’t happy tho. So far I’ve been able to handle them well. Most of the time, I’m right there with them and make sure they know that. Even if they’re not that upset its usually something that should’ve never happened and so I want them to know that this minor mistake is absolutely not acceptable. Our big thing as a company is top notch service, and by golly I will give it to them.

This approach works very well when it’s something fixable, but sometimes it’s not.

Lately our issues have been bc a contractor we work with. Sometimes he’ll do work without telling us the cost. And we operate by taking the item, getting the cost estimate, and then telling the customer. From there they can accept the price (we do the work) or not (they pick up the item in the same condition it’s dropped off) so…. Fixing the item without telling us the cost is a BIG deal. Sometimes the work can be reversed, and thank god for that. but sometimes it really can’t be. And in that rare worst-case-scenario, the customer has to pay or we keep the item. Aka my nightmare.

To prevent this, I started organising the repairs by which need price quotes and which don’t. Somehow he still did work without informing us of the price. And believe me, I double and triple check that my piles are correct and very obvious. Even if I mess up tho, it’s still on him to make sure he does what he’s supposed to. I just wanna help prevent further issue- to err is to be human after all. Yet somehow, he still went ahead and did a very expensive repair. Thank god it was reversible. He tried to get us to offer the customer a lower price so he didn’t have to undo it… but he wasn’t gonna lower the cost of his work in tandem. So it would be us taking the loss on his mistake. My manager was not pleased with that arrangement (plus it would kinda incentivise him to do this more ngl. Hes a nice guy and I doubt he has bad intentions tho.)

On my first month here I had to call customers about picking up finished items. A customer asked me how much the repair cost (strange, they should’ve been told before work was done) so I told them cheerily that it’ll be $750. He was so taken back he had me say it again. Apparently he was quoted 150. Which, idk how considering how we do prices. There was no way someone could mess it up like that. You would think he would realise the price is wrong bc the work we did is obviously a lot more than that- but hey, mot everyone knows that kinda stuff.

We chalked it up to either mishearing over the phone, the guy wrote it down and his 7s look like 1s, or maybe he thought being upset could get him a lower price. Which it did, we lowered it to 500 for him but he was still upset of course. I personally choose to believe he wrote down the price and his 7s look like 1s. An honest mistake and a reason why we should have a written contract for the prices at least if they’re over a certain amount. I’m surprised we don’t already. All prices are done over our shitty phone that is older than I am.

Another (more recent) time we had an item come in. A wedding band. They wanted it engraved and the size changed. No problemo, very standard easy work that won’t take any time at all. When the item came in tho, it was polished. The style was a matte ring with polished sides. But it was ENTIRELY shiny. The customer was convinced we wanted to give them the wrong ring!!!! Like oh my god no. And of course my coworker handled it, the one coworker that I know probably didn’t exactly make the customers feel heard lol… she’s a great saleswoman, but could work on how she handles upset customers (or hand them to me so I can be mad with them)

So we send this ring back to be fixed… it comes back ALL MATTE. and ONLY THEN did we realise they messed up the engraving. Usually, if the metal stamp is in the way of the engraving, it’s flattened down and placed stamped somewhere else on the ring. On this ring, there’s THREE metal stamps, two of them are inside the engraving. What the hell. Usually this contractor does great work so what the HELL. One coworker says the ring is cursed and has bad energy. I can’t even disagree lol.

I hate the repairs part of the job because it’s so stressful. So much can go wrong and there’s not much that can be done to prevent it bc it’s out of my hands. I often hope we don’t get any repairs in at all. But Id never turn someone away or make them feel like an annoyance for having a repair tho. We 9/10 do great work and ppl appreciate it. Sometimes we can even go above and beyond and that’s the best feeling. like the time we fixed a guys heirloom for free! He didn’t emote much but he kept iterating how grateful he was and how much it meant to him :’) it was such a meaningful heirloom to him and I got to know the whole history of it so being able to get that fixed for free??? Priceless.

We offer quite a few free services and quite a few are tedious and annoying. Like I’ve mentioned cleaning silver, that’s something we can do for free, and it’ll likely be done by me bc it’s fun! We also get (usually older) ppl coming in for us to detangle chains for them. We don’t offer or advertise this service, but we do it because why not. I find it very relaxing, so, like silver, it’s become a thing my coworkers go to me for. And I’m all for it!!! Bring it on. The more tangled, the better.

But I only like it when the customer leaves it with us to pick up in some hours/days. I’ve had customers who just sit and watch and that’s nerve wracking lol. Everyone who’s done that was lovely, but it’s hard to find any task relaxing when you’re being watched.

Anyways this concludes work rambles.

Tldr: I like my job. I like helping people. Sometimes stressful shit happens. I like doing tasks others find annoying.

working on (partial) commission is kinda fun. I have a sales goal so everyday I check where I’m at within it and the number goes UP!!! Then I’m like wrow I’m winning points at my job and if I get enough points I get highlight on the chart (and an extra percentage of commission)

[bi-demon-ium]

also thinking about, albeit under different circumstances and at different stages, both linus and arthur being touch-starved as hell. me projecting? what? no, haha what are y--[i pull a lever and a trapdoor opens underneath you, ending the conversation]

like. for arthur, when he was young, he was locked up for so long, and even before those six horrible dark months in the cellar, alone, the only warmth he gets from his own desperate flames, choking on the fucking smoke as it’s smothered on stone and metal walls, sleeping on a tarp... dreaming of someone, anyone, caring, pulling him in close and holding him, so he doesn’t have to fight anymore...

even before that, he was mostly alone. it’s not like the other children didn’t like him, but they weren’t exactly in an environment where they could have friendships. it would only make targets of them, and forming attachments only meant getting hurt. so it’s not like he was really bullied or hated--especially since he had a habit of taking all the hits, both literally and metaphorically--but it’s also not like he was getting hugs or casual touch.

and after the cellar, after his escape, he was alone for a while. a long while, even, because there’s a long stretch of time where we don’t really know anything about what happened, but considering he’s been living in near isolation on an island for years and there’s no indications of any contact or friends with anyone outside the island, i don’t think he exactly had any lasting relationships. so for a while, he’s very, very touch-starved.

like can you imagine little arthur--a teenager, a young adult--curled up alone in bed, letting flames like soft candlelight lick on his skin (harmless, he would never easily burn, and never by his own flame at all) to feel the warmth, and it’s not the same but it’s not like he really knows the difference so he can imagine it, can’t he? and then, you know, he goes back to the island.

and like. with zoe, before they’re really close, they barely touch at all (neither of them fully trust the other, not yet, not for some time, and he doesn’t blame her for not interfering but there’s still complicated emotions around that for both of them that they’ll work out eventually, but not yet) and then he takes in the kids and like. he would never neglect them the way he was neglected.

and while obviously he respects boundaries when they’re set, he’s also casually affectionate with them--ruffling hair, gentle hands on shoulders, etc.--and in return they’re easily affectionate with him, too, and he gets used to little bodies colliding with his legs and wrapping short little arms around his waist in a clumsy little hug, and it’s. it’s nice. (obviously it’s not quite the same as being held, but like, it helps.)

(oh, and there’s charles. charles, who sees how much he melts into touch, leans into it happy and earnest and eager to please, and uses it against him. touches him and pulls away, always leaving him wanting more, making it conditional or just pretending pretending and then he’s gone, and he feels more bereft and adrift than ever...)

and eventually as he and zoe get much closer, become true close friends, they both trust each other more and there’s casual touch there, too, light but affectionate and like. honestly, the effects will probably always be there, but it’s much better than it used to be. he doesn’t wake up on fire anymore, gentle candle flames making him glow, and more than once one of the kids will have a nightmare and decide to sleep in his arms and it genuinely helps him heal as much as it helps the kids and it’s just... it’s nice.

and linus. oh, linus. linus has been alone for so long. he’s been alone so long that ache, that need to be touched or held, is just numb, now. he’s resigned to the idea that some people are just made to be lonely, to invisible and greyed out and forgotten, and he’s one of them. and he’s made his peace with that. calliope helps--although she’s not much of a cuddler, she will sit in his lap, and it’s not the same, but it’s nice.

when his mother was around she was really, really not the touchy-feely type, and while he was sure she’d hugged him as a child (he didn’t think he’d had a particularly sad childhood, nothing that bad, really, nothing he couldn’t handle, and certainly nothing compared to the children he tried to help every day at his job) he couldn’t really remember it, or recall what it felt like.

as he’d never really made friends, and only had brief, fumbling relationships that always seemed to more fizzle out or drift away than end (he figured that it was just people got bored of him fairly quickly, and soon learned being clingy about it would only make it more painful, dragging the inevitable out, and so simply resigned himself to having an expiration date with any relationship), he just. wasn’t really touched. honestly, the closest he got was bumping into people at the office when attempting to squeeze past them in the narrow aisles between the desks, and that only left him feeling vaguely ashamed, not even lingering on the warmth of human contact, however brief. he tried not to think about it, and normally succeeded--like most things, he simply neatly filed it away.

some of it was on the surface, where he could still feel it, even if he ignored it: yes, he was lonely, but that was alright. he was content, happy enough at his job. yes, sometimes he had vague dreams of lying in bed with someone, just lying with them, in their arms, or holding them close, tangled with him in the sheets--no one specific, mind you, he couldn’t imagine anyone real who’d put up with him, but the idea... but he only thought about it late at night, alone, and during the day, compartmentalized it nicely.

and then there were, of course, the things he never thought about at all--doubt, shame, sadness. the fact that he was unhappy. the fact that he didn’t want to be at a beach, he just didn’t want to be here. the fact that he wasn’t just lonely, he was desperately lonely, and it was killing him a little inside. the fact that he wanted to be held so badly, even if it felt impossible. but he doesn’t let himself think about that--he pretends he’s content, because he’s doing his job, and doing it well, and that’s all that matters. he’s--he’s having a positive impact on the world, and if that’s all that is meaningful about him, so be it.

he’ll just try not to think about the dreams of gentle hands in his hair, and strong arms around him, or a warm body in his arms, slumped against his chest, and soft caresses, just casual and caring, touching him and not shying away from his body, spare tire and thinning hair and all. pretend like he doesn’t notice when he wakes up hugging a pillow or hugging himself tightly. and he’ll succeed, for the most part. he’ll be so numb to it he’ll forget it hurts.

and then. you know. then they meet. obviously it’s not right away, but arthur--more confident, now, than he used to be, and seeing the good in linus, seeing how he’s kind and how his first priority is genuinely the children and even though he’s wary (that he could be like charles, or he could be the cold professional he’s trying to be and try to get the children taken away) he can’t help but see the kindness in him and see how much he wants to belong, how much he’s like. internally just reaching out and screaming for acceptance, you know, so maybe he initiates.

he’s been casually affectionate for a long time now, it’s in his nature and on the island, now, it was allowed to bloom, and he sees how linus seems to melt and lean into it without even noticing, and he doesn’t seem to realize how expressive he is--god, he looks pleased when arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his eyes flicker to his hand and he looks pleased and does he realize he’s doing that? it’s adorable--and like. he starts doing it back. and linus, he notices, alright, notices the light, casual touches and how the warmth lingers long after arthur’s moved on, he just doesn’t notice his own reaction (tiny, almost shyly pleased and surprised little smiles, the way he leans into it, the way that after a while his heart will do a little flip when arthur touches him, smiles at him) for uh. a while. he’s so used to ignoring himself, you see, his own needs, his own heart, that it’s not hard to tune out. he’s used to not being seen, so he’s lived in the idea he’s invisible and impenetrable and unreadable like it’s a second skin, so long he doesn’t realize that when he is actually being looked at, being seen, he’s terrible at hiding literally anything he’s feeling. unless it’s from himself.

(also worth noting: like arthur before him he also starts getting Affection from the kids as they start trusting him and it’s like. oh. oh this is. oh :) and llike. oof <3)

and when he does start actively realizing about arthur he’s just like oh. oh no. oh no. oh no oh no oh no these are feelings. like he’s realizing oh... i like it when he touches me, it’s nice... and then it’s oh. wait. wait my. my heart just did a thing. OH. OH NO. like. actually noticing how his breath catches when arthur brushes past him, close enough to feel, and like. beginning to feel comfortable? and let himself feel that? and then the ice water betrayal of was he using me, that letter from DICOMY, then the quick turn back, trusting him, choosing to trust him, but there’s still a distance between them, now, because linus is convinced he has to leave.

but then like--when everything’s done and he comes back... arthur kisses him, and it’s so warm and perfect and it feels so nice and it’s not just a kiss it’s a promise, a promise of more to come, of belonging, because he does belong here and he is here to stay. and like, sometime after that, arthur hugs him, after a stunned moment of just trying to process that he hugs back--and that’s huge for both of them, like. it’s so warm and good and just. safe. comfortable. and it’s like whatever they were both holding back, for all the reasons they had not to trust each other, to hold back even just a little, it’s all gone and now like. they touch all the time, practically like a couple on their honeymoon but it’s not even really sexual (i mean. usually. wink) it’s just like. appreciative, admiring, affectionate. and like, cuddling on the couch, or sitting close enough their thighs are pressed together, or falling asleep together, linus curled into his side or arthur in his arms or whatever, and waking up tangled together, and trade soft kisses and gentle hands in hair and cupping faces and it’s just exactly what linus had longed for and tried to push down, what arthur had dreamed of when he was alone, and now--now neither of them are alone, and they’re both safe and in the arms of someone they love, someone who loves them. they hold each other, maybe they even talk about it someday, tell each other about that yawning loneliness, the isolation, and like. resolve to actively go out of their way to help (and if the kids find out god knows they’ll be like okay so random hugs? random hugs is what im hearing. [linus gets tackled])

and like. maybe they’ll both always have the emotional scars of being alone for so long, but they have each other, and their friends, and the kids, and they won’t ever be alone in the cold again.

[keiichikuzuryuwu]

Place Your Bets

Implied (Future) Keiichi Kuzuryuu x Reader

Summary: This is a reimagining of the manga’s version of the Four of Clubs game, featuring a very stubborn, very smart mother hen Y/N instead of a gentle girl.

A/N: I have literally never seen anyone write for Kuzuryuu and that made me sad, because I love him. Also I know very little about how to actually take care of a baby so please be forgiving.

TW: Blood, leg injury, a crying baby

Walking along a deserted street, a man in a hat was making his way toward tonight’s game. Based on his body language, you would think he didn’t want to go, but in honesty, he was tentatively looking forward to it.

“Oh my god, another person!!” The voice of a woman caught his attention, pulling his gaze away from the lights in the distance. As he looked over, he took note of how clean she was, all glow and innocence compared to the world around her- a new arrival, clearly. But what truly surprised him was the fact that she was carrying a sleeping baby in her arms. It was rare to come across a child here, much less a baby. Perhaps it was her’s, which was why she hadn’t abandoned it yet, “You wouldn’t happen to be this baby’s father, would you? Or at the very least have seen anyone who could possibly be their parents?”

So it wasn’t her’s. The man wondered how long it would be until she gave up on it.

“No, sorry. I’m on my way to a game, so if you’ll excuse me,” He tipped his hat and took a step, only to feel his arm grabbed.

“Wait, what game? Should I be heading there too?”

“You… don’t know about the games? Are you new here?” He already knew the answer, but no point in signaling that to her. She may end up a Heart Specialist and get into his head, after all.

“Yes, actually! One moment, I was going to meet up with my friends, and the next, the entirety of Shibuya was powered down and empty except me and this little one here,” So she’d walked all this way from Shibuya in just a few hours? Maybe a Spades Specialist, then.

“Well then you should come with me. We need to get you registered for a game so you don’t end up a day one victim.”

“Woah, what?? Day one victim??” The color drained from her face, before she grabbed his hand and began walking, “What and where is this game? Is it Trivial Pursuit? Because I’m really good at Trivial Pursuit! Wait, but that’s a one winner game and this is looking more and more like the set up for a death game manga but in real life,” She looked back at him, “Did I get stuck in a death game manga but in real life?”

“Um…” He didn’t really know how to respond to this woman. Regaining his wits, he caught up to her brisk pace and pointed in the direction of the lights, “See those lights? That’s where the closest game is. And, yes, you unfortunately did…”

“Brilliant, let’s go,” She still held onto his hand as they walked, confusing the man. They were complete strangers and he’d just told her that she was walking towards her probable death, yet she continued to hold his hand as though they were allies.

Walking up to the glowing tunnel, the man spotted the registration phones on a table, three of them already missing. The already registered participants were scattered nearby, looking at them strangely. Did they perhaps think he, this woman, and the baby were a family? The thought almost flustered him.

“So what do I do?” The woman asked him when they got over to the table, “Just take one of these phones?”

“Yes, here,” Handing her one, he watched as she tapped to turn it on.

“I don’t like the fact that this facial recognition already had me registered with an ID number,” She scoffed, putting the phone in her skirt’s pocket before hesitating, “Wait, do I need to register this baby too? I mean, obviously I’m not gonna abandon it, but… they’re a baby, they can’t really play a game.”

“No, unfortunately they need to be registered… Here,” Picking up another phone, he held it up to the face of the babe, the ping of the completed registration sounding a moment later, “You keep hold of this one too, since you’re holding the baby.”

“Alright, sounds good to me,” Placing the other phone in her pocket, she cooed at the baby, “You better hope this isn’t Trivial Pursuit or I’m gonna have to kick your butt, baby~ That’s right, that’s right~”

“Please don’t taunt the baby like that. It’s… unnerving…” Nervously pulling on his collar, the man was surprised when she just laughed.

“Sorry, I cope with stress by joking around…” She placed a hand on the back of her neck as they walked over to the others, “The only way this baby isn’t surviving is if it’d be better to do a mercy killing. Other than that, I’m fighting tooth and nail to make sure they get through this with me.”

“You for real??” One of the men closest to them, with spiked, pitch dark hair, scoffed, “You really think you can keep a baby alive here? Put yourself first if you wanna live, lady!”

“Come on, don’t say that!” The woman snapped back, before taking a breath and calming down, “Here, how about we start over and introduce ourselves?”

“This could be a Hearts game, or the rules could state we need to kill each other,” The only other woman there, a stark, gothic contrast to the Mori girl aesthetic of the woman with the baby, stated coldly, “I’ll pass.”

“One minute until registration closes,” A calm, female voice suddenly came from all of their phones, startling the woman with the baby.

“Huh?” Taking out her phone, she looked it over, “Guess it speaks too… These are my least favorite part of this nightmare so far,” Then, she took note of the camera app, “Ooh! Hey, wanna take a selfie?”

“You want to… take a selfie with me?” The man she’d arrived with questioned her, utterly befuddled by this woman.

“Yeah, come on! This might be the last chance we ever get to take a good picture!” Moving in close, she held up the phone, making sure to get both them and the still sleeping baby in the shot, “Awesome! Thanks for indulging my possibly last request!”

“You are way too chipper, lady,” A new man spoke as he walked up. Short cropped hair with designs buzzed into it and a mean face, this man screamed gangster. In reaction, the woman held the baby tighter.

“Entry has now closed,” The phones spoke again, “There are a total of seven participants. Please proceed into the tunnel.”

“I just hope it’s not Spades… I’m not very good at physical games…” The man in the hat grumbled, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow as they walked into the tunnel. About 100 feet in, the woman suddenly stopped, “What’s the matter?”

“I hear something…” Straining her ears for a moment, she suddenly looked up at the top of the tunnel’s entrance.

“Wha?! What the hell?!” Just as the words left spiky haired man’s lips, a barrier fell from the ceiling, creating debris and, more importantly, blocking them in.

“UWAAAHHH!!!!” The baby had woken up due to the world shaking from the force of the barrier’s impact with the ground, only for the woman to pull out a pacifier from her purse and stick it in the infant’s mouth.

“Thank goodness I thought to grab that…”

“W-We’re trapped in??” Goth woman shouted, panic taking over, “But that isn’t the standard!!”

“Guess they really don’t want us to be able to choose the coward’s way out this game…” Gangster guy placed his hand on the wall.

“ARGHH!!” Everyone’s attention was directed to the man in the hat, who was sitting on the ground, blood gushing from his leg, “Some rubble… it went into my leg!!”

“On no!!” The woman with the baby was the first to react, rushing over to him, “Hold the baby, we need to wrap this up and restrict the blood flow!”

“O-Okay…!” Carefully, he took the baby, doing his best not to shake as she took an extra baby blanket out of her bag and used it to create a makeshift cotton bandage.

As she worked, their phones chimed again- “The game will now commence. Difficulty: Four of Clubs. Game: Runaway. Rule: Endure the four trials and reach the goal within the time limit. Clear condition: Reach the goal safely.”

“Trials? Goal? What’s it talking about?” The goth woman mumbled.

“It looks like these are the trials it’s referring to…” At a man in glasses words, everyone turned around and saw what he meant.

In the floor, walls, and ceiling were various doors and hatches. The first door was in a wall, marked ‘Trial One,’ with a timer stating the lock released in fifteen minutes. Next to that, several round hatches labeled ‘Trial Two’ were going to release in thirty minutes. Trial Three’s vents in the ceiling were releasing in forty five, and Four’s hatch on the floor was set to release in an hour.

Spiky haired man noticed a placard on the wall by Door One, and walked over to inspect it.

“The distance to the goal is written here… But I can’t read the most important part. Damnit…” Sure enough, where the number should be, instead was worn down metal.

Looking down at the ground somberly, Glasses stated, “A conjecture… ‘Runaway’ means to flee… Something will come out of each of these four doors after a delay. Perhaps it means we should run towards the goal while running away? If the fourth lock opens after an hour, and we were to run for that amount of time, then the distance to the goal is around ten kilometers…”

“Ten??”

“Game… start.”

At that moment, the timers started counting down, and their phones switched to an hour long timer as well.

“Ten kilometers in an hour is cutting it too close! We can’t afford to waste a second!” With that, everyone save the woman with the baby and the man in the hat started running.

“Can you stand?” The woman asked him as she took the baby back, genuinely concerned about this stranger.

“With help, I think I should be able to…”

“Hey, you lot! Care to help a lady out??”

“I make no promises that I’ll hold on to you till the end…” The gangster helped lift the man to allow the woman to continue carrying the baby safely.

“Thank you in the meantime…” The man got out through labored breaths as they walked.

Within the first five minutes, everyone reached a bus covered in graffiti, the first car they had seen since the game began. By the time the man, woman, and gangster got there, it seemed their fellow players had exhausted it.

“There’s nothing here except junk, and it’s not going no matter how hard I hit the gas!!!” Spiky hair complained as glasses looked underneath the bus.

“The belt is cut, that’s why. Looks like this isn’t meant to be our method of transportation…” Getting up, he began running, “Looks like we have to run! We lost time here, so let’s hurry!”

“Gaaah!! I’m at my limit… There’s no way I could run…” The man in the hat groaned, “Don’t worry about me anymore, you all should hurry on ahead…”

“But-!”

“It’s like he says,” Goth woman cut off the other, “The first trial is about to start… In order to survive in these Borderlands, sometimes we have to do callous things. If you don’t learn that quick, you won’t be long for this world,” With that, she began running as well.

For a moment, the man, woman, and gangster didn’t move, until the gangster helped the man over to the first step of the bus and set him down before walking away.

“You too??” The woman angrily called out after him, “You’re going to desert us??”

“I tried helping… But now, things have changed…” He picked up speed, quickly catching up to the others.

“Selfish cowards!!” She yelled, shaking her fist at them. Sighing, she turned to the man, “Guess it’s just you and me, huh?”

“Are you sure? You should go run-”

“Nuh uh. I’ve decided I’m staying here, so I’m staying here,” Scooting around him, the woman gently placed the baby into the dip of the driver’s seat before helping the man up and to a seat so he could prop up his leg, “Let’s see…”

“What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched her go up and down the bus.

“In order to slow the flow of blood more until we can get you help, we need to raise your leg. By doing that, the blood will- Here-” She took the baby and handed them to him again before looking around more, “The blood won’t be able to pump up there as fast, and it should give us some wiggle room.”

“You seem awfully knowledgeable about this. Are you perhaps a doctor?”

“Hah, no, I just remember a lot. Picked this up from a medical book I read when I was sixteen for fun. I’m actually a Masters student working towards simultaneous degrees in Psychology and Religion with a focus in cults,” Before the man could comment on how impressive that was, the woman sighed, “I’ve found a Japanese to English dictionary, a space heater, a set of keys that turn on this motionless bus, and a gum wrapper, but nothing to prop up your leg,” Sitting in the chair across the row from him, the woman took the baby back and gently bounced it, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens…”

“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you down with me…”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand dismissively, “I’m not much of a runner, and I’ve got this little angel to look after. There’s no way I could run to some mysterious goal even if I wanted to. Besides…” Her eyes shifted back and forth before leaning in and dropping her voice as though they were being watched, “Something about this game is striking me as odd.”

“What do you mean?” The man leaned in as best as he could, voice dropping as well.

“Before I tell you my theory, could you explain what exactly the card level of this game means? You said you hoped this game wasn’t Spades because you weren’t good at physical games, while the woman stated we shouldn’t tell each other our names in case it was a Hearts game. That means the different suits represent different types of games, while the number represents how hard it is, right?”

“You picked that up quickly. Most people don’t realize that their first game, it generally takes someone explaining it to them their second or third game for them to get it,” Thinking for a moment, he nodded, “Very well, since we’re going to be here for at least an hour, I’ll tell you. Yes, the number on the card connotes how hard the game will be, with Ace being the easiest, while King is the hardest. As for the suits- Spades represent physical games, lots of moving around and exertion. Diamond games are intelligence and wit based games, and are the least physically demanding. If you were to find a game of Trivial Pursuit here, it would fall into that suit.”

“I see,” She sounded enraptured.

“Hearts,” He paused, considering his words, “They’re psychological games…  They mess with your mind and your morals, and are widely regarded as the most brutal of the four suits. If possible, you do not want to join a Hearts game.”

“And Clubs?”

“Clubs games like this one refer to team battles and a mix of the other’s elements. It’s an unofficial rule that there is always a total win scenario, that it’s possible for all participants to make it out alive.”

“Then that puts us at an advantage!” She nodded decisively, “If Clubs are a team battle, then by sticking together, we have a better chance at survival!”

“But we’re just sitting in a bus?”

“Look mister, I’m trying to remain positive here, so if you could work with me a little?”

“Alright, alright,” The man put his hands up, chuckling. From the sound of it, it was an unfamiliar noise to come from his mouth, “We’re at an advantage because we stuck together while the others are only thinking of themselves.”

“That’s the spirit!” She held out her hand for a fist bump, which the man would have returned, had it not been for the bus suddenly lurching forward, “The hell??”

“UWAAHHH!!!” The motion woke up the baby again, but neither the man or the woman had time to calm them down again, as water was quickly rising around their enclosure and leaking in through some gaps in the windows.

“Oh no, you take Yuuji, I’ll stop the water!” Handing the baby to the man, the woman began to shed layers of clothes, using her jacket, cardigan, tights to plug the gaps. In the end, she was left in just a camisole and her torn up skirt, having even used parts of that to slow the water, “There, that should keep us relatively dry as long as the water goes down soon.”

“You called the child ‘Yuuji,’” The man commented, a bit surprised.

“Huh? I did, didn’t I?” Laughing sheepishly, the woman sat back down, “Don’t know why, they’re not my kid. I don’t even know if they’re male or female.”

“Well, I suppose they do look like a Yuuji,” He looked down at where he was bouncing the slightly calmer baby on his shoulder, “Can I ask why you chose to take this baby with you? You even grabbed their diaper bag.”

“Guess I felt bad about them being abandoned by their parents,” She shrugged, “Something just told me I needed to hold onto them and protect them; which makes no sense, given that it’s not like I grew up with great parental role models.”

“Maybe you just possess a natural maternal instinct, bad parents or not.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’re right.”

For several minutes, neither of them said anything as the man calmed down the baby, lulling them back to sleep.

“It seems as though the water is going down,” The man finally commented, the woman looking out the window to see that they were no longer surrounded.

“Yeah, but now it seems like the temperature is dropping fast!” The woman was right, the air was indeed getting colder, “I’ll go turn on that space heater before Yuuji wakes up again!”

“Sounds good to me.”

With the space heater on, the bus quickly warmed back up, keeping the baby asleep in the man’s arms.

“This cold must be the… how much time has passed?” Looking at her phone’s timer, the woman's brow furrowed, “Forty five minutes?? When the heck did the first trial happen??”

“We must have missed it somehow while we were talking.”

“Weird. Maybe it just passed right by us,” The woman didn’t let it bother her too much, just grateful to have not had to deal with it. Silence passed for a few more minutes as the woman held the baby, before she spoke again, “Okay, something’s been on my mind for the last half an hour, and I gotta know before we die… You were totally faking your personality when we got here, right?”

“H-Huh??” The man’s eyes widened, and he could feel his pulse quicken.

“Acting timid and stuff. Fake, right?”

“I… I…” Sighing, he looked her in the eyes, “How’d you know?”

“I sorta guessed around the time you told me about the suits. Your speech pattern started getting more eloquent, your sentences became longer, and you didn’t bat an eye at the fact that I’m working towards two Masters degrees at the same time. That last thing doesn’t really have to do with the timid thing, but it did tell me that you’re smarter than you seemed. That accident with your leg was very real, something you didn’t account for that truly did leave you near helpless; but before that, it was all strategy so we’d underestimate you in case this turned out to be a single winner game.”

“That’s… phenomenally impressive,” He stared at her in awe, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I’ve been having fun talking with you and didn’t want to make it awkward,” Laughing, she shrugged, “But my natural curiosity got the better of me. I want to die with as few regrets as possible, and I’d regret not getting to see your actual personality,” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she kissed the top of the baby’s head, “I hope however this ends is clean and painless. I doubt it would happen, but if my family were to ever find my body, I wouldn’t want their last image of me to be tainted by something like decapitation, y’know?”

“Yes, I… I understand,” Moving closer, the man took the woman’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I promise you, if we survive this, I’ll do whatever I can to help you survive long enough to reunite with your family.”

“Aww, thanks,” She smiled sadly at him, “That means a lot. You’re a really nice guy, even if you are a crafty strategist.”

“I-”

KABOOM!!!!

An explosion violently shook the bus, causing the baby to once again wake up and cry.

“Quickly, on the ground!” The man pulled the woman and baby into his arms and got on the ground, shielding them with his body as the bus continued to shake. It seemed to go on forever, the shaking, as the bus grew warmer and warmer, far warmer than the heat the space heater would have been able to produce. But, finally, the shaking did stop, and the world became quiet outside of the baby’s cries, “Are you two alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” After she was helped up by the man, the woman grabbed the baby’s pacifier and returned it to their mouth, “That was the fourth trial, right?”

“I believe so,” He nodded, looking out the window, “All I can see are scorch marks, so I can’t tell, though.”

A little fanfare like tune emitting from their phones answered them, however.

“Game clear. Congratulations! To the survivors of the game, we will now supply you with a Visa.”

“G-Game clear?” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, “You mean… we won? But that would mean…” Handing the baby to the man, she threw open the door to the bus and hopped out, running around the bus, almost immediately spotting the confirmation she sought, “The goal… It was the bus…”

“It was the bus??” The man limped out of the bus, handing the woman the baby due to feeling shaky as he saw what she’d found, “The graffiti… G-O-A-L… Dear lord…”

“Your injury saved us,” Tears flowed down the woman’s cheeks as she suddenly hugged the man, laughing almost manically, “It saved us! I don’t normally believe in luck, but tonight I think I’ll make an exception!”

“I can’t believe it, though! You were right!” The man laughed as well, “We stuck together as a team instead of only thinking of ourselves, and we survived!”

“Wait- oh no!” Pulling away, the woman frowned, “Those poor people that ran on ahead!! They… If the trials didn’t kill them, then… what did?”

“Anyone who breaks a rule like leaving an arena before the game is over or doesn’t achieve game clear… They’re struck down by a laser from the sky…” His words cause the woman to gasp, a hand covering her mouth, “I hope for their sake, their deaths were as clean and painless as the one you had wished for…”

Taking his hand, she squeezed it gently, “I’ll carry their memories with me, and push forward. As ill as they treated us, I can only hope that wherever they are, they find peace.”

“You’re an incredibly kind woman, Miss…?”

“Oh wow, we never did introduce ourselves, huh? If we’re gonna be sticking together, we should probably at least know the other’s name,” Wiping away her tears, she laughed, “My name is Y/N L/N, Y/A years old, Masters student, and guardian of this little angel until further notice. It’s nice to meet you, Mister…?”

“Kuzuryuu. Keiichi Kuzuryuu, 37 years old, attorney at law, and Diamond Specialist here in the Borderlands. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss L/N.”

“Please, we just nearly died together! You can call me Y/N. Mind if I call you Kuzu?” She looked at him so hopefully that he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse her.

“Alright, you may call me ‘Kuzu’… Y/N.”

“Excellent! Now let’s get out of this place! I’m tired and we need to get you off that leg.”

“I believe I saw a furniture store near here that we could use as shelter before finding something better tomorrow,” He offered as she helped him limp out of the tunnel, the barrier to the outside having been blown off in the explosion.

“Perfect, let’s go there. There’s some supplies to take care of Yuuji in this diaper bag I grabbed, but we’ll need to find some more tomorrow as well.”

“Sounds good to me.”

An hour later, as Y/N and Yuuji slept soundly in one of the spacious beds on display in the furniture store, Kuzuryuu stood outside and pulled out a walkie talkie.

“HQ, please respond. This is Four of Club’s observer, Kuzuryuu,” Taking off his hat, he pushed back his hair and slipped on his glasses, “Surviving players- two of six. Dispatch the cleanup squad to deal with the disposal of tools and materials.”

“Copy that, sir. Anything else?”

“Yes… Tell the others I won’t be back for a while,” He looked back through the doors to where Y/N and Yuuji slept, a small smile on his lips, “I have a player I’d like to place my bets on.”

Y/N L/N

Clubs Specialist

End of Day One of Sojourn

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

---------------------------

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

---------------------------

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

[tenkasato]

It’s a Start

Scenario:  As a humble store owner in Marley, you get the surprise of your life when the nightmare from Paradis, the one acclaimed as their strongest soldier, drops by to buy tea leaves. Needless to say, you were equally surprised he was strangely mesmerizing. Post-rumbling.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x reader

There he was.

The strongest known menace from the formerly thought home of devils, Paradis Island. The indestructible soldier who cut through the wonder boy Zeke like he was cutting butter. The unforgiving soul who personally took down numbers of Marleyan men and women. Now an acclaimed hero of this war.

You expected differently. 

Of course, you've heard of his condition. He was not exactly crippled, but not exactly in his top shape either. The man looked quite docile in his wheelchair. Quietly, he examined each tea canister from your shop with a scrutinizing eye. 

From where you were standing by the counter, you could make out the barely perceptible downward curve of his lips. He returned the tea leaves before he moved to the next shelf. 

From the friends you had from the military, you've heard countless horror stories about this man. Versions after the other, a few more grisly than the other. You supposed you should be terrified that a former enemy had come into your store, even if he was unarmed and injured. 

Commonsense told you to keep your distance, but curiosity is one enticing lady who relentlessly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

When he seemed to be having a hard time reaching for the Ceylon tea, you decided to silence these voices and make your approach.

Levi Ackerman immediately bristled when he sensed you coming. You eyed him for a second before grabbing the said canister and handing it over. 

"This one's harvested from Ludwig Orchard," you told him. "If you like strong tea, then this is a good choice."

Levi considered you, one eye clouded over while the other layered with intensity unlike you've ever seen before. Scars decorated his face. One long one stretched from his forehead down to his chin. Even so, he was beautifully flawed. These were such odd words to describe him, but at the moment, you couldn’t think of any other fitting description.

You tried not to be rude by staring, so you shifted your gaze to the canister in his hand. 

"I do like strong tea."

You were mildly surprised he had a smooth voice. It was nowhere near gentle, but neither was it gruff like you imagined. In fact, it was nice to listen to. 

"But I've bought too many of those types already," he continued, weighing the can in his hand. "I’m trying to look for a milder one and appealing to the taste of most people.”

“I see.”

Giving you a small nod, he handed the Ceylon back to you. 

“Are you opening a tea shop around?” you asked.

Levi took another canister from the lower shelf and brought it in front of his face. “You can say that.”

You let him scan the descriptions written behind each choice, wondering whether you should just leave him be. But it wasn’t often that a man like him dropped by in a measly store like yours. 

“Why are you still here?” you dropped the bomb.

His hand froze midway in the air. He cast you one wary glance before proceeding on returning the tea. “Care to elaborate?”

“Levi Ackerman, the notorious Eldian captain. Once our sworn enemy. I don’t understand why someone like you would want to stay in Marley after all that’s happened.”

He was left in silent contemplation. You could tell he was weighing the words in his mind. Was it safe to speak to a seemingly harmless store owner like you? Or were you a spy? You knew the volatile situation his people were still in. The aftermath of Eren Jaeger’s rumbling was still fresh in the minds of many.

You sighed, “I’m sorry. That was very intrusive of me.”

“I can't go home,” he said, surprising you with an honest reply. “The unrest in Eldia remains unresolved. In my state, I’d probably be more of a liability than an asset.”

You nodded, crossing your arms and leaning towards the shelf. “I understand. Must be rough staying in enemies’ territories, huh?”

“You could say that,” he shrugged, “Although technically, we aren’t enemies anymore.”

“Do you really mean that?” you said before you could stop yourself.

He raised a brow at you. “What makes you think I don’t.”

“Well… it’s obvious, right? There’s no way we could be friends after just one night.”

“I never said we were.”

“You killed many of my people,” you spat, suddenly feeling the lividity that enraptured your heart just a few years ago. “Bombed Liberio. Slit the throat of my friends. Took many innocent lives of your own.”

A glare crossed his face. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t at all terrifying. Levi placed both hands on the handle of his wheelchair and supported himself up. Eyes widening, you backpedal a few steps when he started limping towards you.

Handicapped or not, you knew he could still effortlessly snap your spine into two.

He stopped a few inches from you, staring you down with a mixture of coldness and despair. You didn’t think anyone could ever stare with such strong emotions. Your blood froze and your heart roared at his proximity, but despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from this enigma.

“Mister Ackerman---”

“Levi,” he corrected you.

“Levi,” you swallowed. “I apologize. I did not intend to antagonize you.”

“What you’re telling me is valid,” he said. “I’m not about to beg for forgiveness because I believe I can never atone for all the things I’ve done, but I’m asking for understanding. Your people tried to annihilate us, and we had no other choice but to fight back for our own survival. Regardless, I apologize. For all the lives I’ve taken.”

You took in his bowed head, closed fists and tightly shut eyes. The sincerity in his voice was hard to miss, but so was the still blazing rage he had for the spilled blood. You doubted the scars in his face and body were the only scars he had. 

Such a strong man. Such fragility he also held. 

You took in some air and exhaled, “Please raise your head.”

When he did, your eyes connected. With pursed lips, you took a canister of Oolong tea and shoved it in his palm. He looked at it and shot you a questioning glance. 

“A peace offering,” you blurted out bashfully, “It’s on the house. I bet people would love drinking this one. It’s a classic favorite around here after all.”

“Are you sure? For all I know, you could be sabotaging my business,” he muttered.

“Business is business!” you gasped, accidentally slapping his arm purely out of reflexes. “I don’t take things personally, besides…”

You flashed him an accepting, genuine smile, “I understand what you’re saying, Levi. I can’t forgive you or your people. The same for you towards us. But this is a start.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He didn’t open his mouth to reply. However, the mere softening of his eyes washed you with warmth. Levi tucked the canister under his arm and ambled back to his wheelchair. He was about to turn when you both heard footsteps approaching.

“Levi-san! I’ve been looking all over for you! Gabi said one moment you were beside her, the next moment you vanished.” The young man frowned deeply at Levi, one hand on his hip. “Please tell us next time if you wanted to go somewhere.”

Levi clicked his tongue, “I did, but she was so busy choosing rings at the stall.”

“Rings?” the kid gasped, blushing. He started wheeling Levi to the direction of the exit when he placed a hand on the kid’s arm and turned to you.

He held your gaze, delicately, surprisingly so, “What’s your name?”

Your heart skipped a beat. When you’ve recovered, you laughed, dazed with everything that’s just happened. 

“Go out of the store and check the sign. You’ll see my name.”

“Alright.”

“Levi,” you said, “Come again.”

[luimagines]

You React to Him Getting Sick/Injured Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

This one will included Wild, Legend and Warrior!

Content under the cut!

Wild

Wild came back to camp after hunting with questionable stains on his clothes. It was all over his wrists, all the way up to his elbows. It was all over his chest and it stained the entirety of his left leg. 

Out of curiosity, you poke him as he passes you and quickly retract your hand by how slimey it felt. He pauses at your touch and raises an eyebrow at your actions. “Yes?”

“What on this sweet Earth is that?” You wipe our finger off onto your shirt and try to get the last of the residue off.

Wild blinks and looks down to where you’ve poked. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that bad. I ran into some chu chu’s. They explode when you kill them. It’s fine.”

“Ok.” You hide your grimace at the information and nod. “Well, you might want to get that cleaned. ...Before it actually stains your clothes and all that.”

“Will do.” He grins and continues through the camp.

You bite your tongue at how the stains look from behind and continue on with your little hand held project.

The hours pass and Wild does eventually change out of his clothes and into some cleaner ones. You don’t know if he actually got around to washing them but you have faith in him to take care of himself.

Wild however, seems to be a little off as the day progresses. It wasn’t that bad in the beginning and was very subtle, but by the time it was time to go to bed, he checked out early and quietly got out of everyone’s way.

You had the second watch for the night and it all seemed normal. No monsters, not threats and all was quiet. Wild kept tossing and turning all night compared how silently he normally slept but it could have easily been a nightmare.

With your heart bleeding for him, you make your way over to him and shake him by his shoulder. “Wild. Wild. Wake up.”

Wild doesn’t open his eyes, his face contorted in discomfort but he does whine at your call. “Is it my watch yet? I was supposed to go after Twilight.”

“Are you ok?”

“I don’t feel good.” He groans and turns away from you, curling up into a fetal position.

You frown and place the back of your hand against his forehead.

It’s burning hot.

“You’re sick. You’re burning up.” You gulp and pull his blanket higher over him. “Don’t worry about your shift. I’ve got it covered.”

“You’re gonna go twice?” Wild is starting to fall asleep again even if he’s trying to  keep a conversation with you.

“I’ll take an extra long watch.” You shrug. You go to move away to go get something to cool him down but you place your hand on his leg by accident.

It’s also burning up.

Now you’re even more concerned.

With Wild no longer being responsive, you move the blanket out of the way and check his leg. You realize he’s only changed out of his shirt and kept the stained pants from earlier. When you roll it up you see a long, shallow cut, right where the chu chu jelly was.

It’s obviously infected.

You bite back the scream of frustration that wants to build up within you and instead go to your pack. You try to find something to help fight the infection and also to help with his fever.

It’s a quiet endeavor as you tend to him. You take care of the leg first and wrap it up with your personal bandage roll. You go to place a wet towel on Wild’s forehead.

You also try to scrounger up a kettle or something similar to make him some tea to help. But at this point you’re a little louder than you’d like and you wake up Hyrule in the process.

Which is fine. Really.

His watch was up next anyway.

“What are you doing?” He rubs his eyes and sits next to you.

“Wild got himself sick because he let a cut get infected.” You sigh. “I’m making him some tea.”

“He’s sick?” Hyrule sits a little taller. “He’s hurt?”

“Not much we can do about it now. Just watch and wait it out.”

“Do you need help?”

You pause what you’re doing and look at him. Wild is actually being very mellow despite his condition, but he could also just be very exhausted from the day and his disease. You need someone to check up on the cut soon and someone to change the towel so he can keep cool. But you also need to keep an eye on the tea so that it doesn’t scorch and you’re pretty sure breakfast is going to fall on you since in the morning since the resident chef is out.

“Yes, I’d like that a lot actually. Thank you.”

Legend

There was nothing out of ordinary with the day but you couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding. Your stomach was up in knots and you had no idea why.

Something bad was going to happen.

You kept looking all around you, trying to spot anything in the distance that would be the cause for your discomfort. But you see nothing.

“Everything ok?” Legend tilts his head. “You’re spinning around like a concerned goffer.”

“I...Don’t feel good.” You admit.

“You can go vomit in the bush. I’ll watch over ya.”

“No, not like that.” You correct him, waving the idea away like a dog fart. “I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

“Why?” He glares at you momentarily. “Why would you tell me this? I was having a good day. Now I’m going to be paranoid with you.”

You snort. “Sorry man. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Well next time, think about it and we’ll have to- AUGGHHH!!” An arrow imbeds itself into Legend’s shoulder, knocking him onto the ground.

More fly after it, two more imbedding themselves into your friend before you’re able to lift up your shield and jump in front of him, blocking any more from injuring him. The shots rain down above you both and you’re forced to hunker down so the that the shield covers you as well.

You look down at Legend as he tries to get up his feet. There’s an arrow in his main shoulder, in his torso and in his thigh. You very quickly notice that he’s collecting a lot of blood on his clothes.

He’s in no condition to fight this.

He’s out before he can get in. 

You groan and try to reach for your weapon. The others are quick to come over and help out. Wild retaliates with his own shots and Twilight and Time are quick to give the two of you cover. 

“Get him out of here!” Time commands over his shoulder.

You nod and put your shield arm down, getting onto your knees and wrapping your arms around the Hero of Legend. 

“I can stand on my own!” Legend snaps at you but he’s too locked with his own pain to do much to fight you off.

You growl at his rapidly growing blood stains and bite the bullet. In one swift move, you’re quick to pick him up bridal style and run away from the chaos.

“Forget about me! The others are going to need your help!”

You put him down behind a large enough tree and kneel next to him. “The others can handle themselves. You’ve lost your dominant arm and are bleeding profusely from three separate locations. I’d argue that you need the help right now.”

“I blame you.” He hisses, leaning back against the tree as you take out your spare health potion. 

“Why?” You keep him talking, making quick work off the arrow in his leg and in his shoulder. “How is this any way my fault?”

“It’s- aaugghh - you’re fault because you- aaugghh-  told me about your stupid accurate gut feeling of doom.” Legend pants and places his good hand by his shoulder. It’s not much but you can tell that he already feel marginally better about not having a piece of flint and a sharp stick stuck inside of him.

You uncork the potion and give it to him. He takes it although his grip is weak and there’s still one more arrow you have to go through before he can drink it.

“I’m not done. Just hold that, ok?” You move aside the folds of his tunic and can feel Legend tense up from underneath your hand. 

“This is going to suck so bad.”

“It’ll be quick, then you drink the potion and you’ll be good as new again.” You take a breath and brace yourself against the arrow and his body, anchoring your weight onto the mossy ground. “On the count of three, ok?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Ok.”

“One.”

Legend curses.

“Two.”

He takes a breath and you pull it you of him. Legend is quick to scream and fill the air with profanities even as you guide the potion to his lips. He drinks out of pure spite and rips himself away from you.

“What happened to three?!” He shouts, potion half gone and dribbling a little down his chin.

“I counted that in my head.” You shrug and begin to dig out a cloth and your water skin.

“I hate you. You suck. That was awful. I’m never speaking to you again.” Legend whines and keeps sipping the potion as you start to clean up the blood to the best of your ability.

“You don’t mean any of that. I know for a fact that you actually love me very much.” You try to grin and ignore how the sounds of battle are continuing on without you.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

“Let the potion do it’s job and then you can talk to me again.” You smirk and shift your weight to get onto your feet.

“Are you going to help the others finally?” He looks up at you, taking deep breath to calm his heart and blood pressure.

You bite your lip and think about it for a moment. “You’re not jumping into that fight.”

“Do you think I can?”

“After that potion, I don’t think I can trust to not do that. I’ll stay here. Someone has to make sure you don’t throw yourself head first into battle.” You take a step and move to sit by Legend’s side behind the tree. “I don’t know about you but Hyrule will have my head if we waste a potion on you, only for you to get hurt again.”

“He wouldn’t. He’s too nice.” 

“Time will though. And I don’t think I’ll survive their collective disappointment.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“All Links need a babysitter.” You counterargue. “It’s like herding cats. I’m staying.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

A moment passes.

“...Thank you” Legend says it like you’re still fake arguing but you know he’s trying to be genuine.

You hold back a snort and only succeed by a hair thin margin. You copy the tone and grin to yourself. “You’re welcome.”

The others are fine.

Warrior

Warrior was a little more jumpy than you would have given him credit for. You had always considered him calm and collected- if only a little full of himself. But your consolation was that he could put his money where his mouth was. Whatever he claimed he could do- he proved it soon after.

So you let it slide most of the time.

Except for this.

“What is happening right now/” You ask him, eyebrow raised and full of judgement.

“Don’t question it!” He screeches and runs by your side in the opposite direction.

“Charming.” You deadpan. “The Hero of Courage, ladies and gents.”

You sigh and knock your arrow, aiming at the skulltula in front of you. You kill it in a single shot and wait for Warrior to make his reappearance.

“You killed it right?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Ok. Good. Cool. Thank you.” He takes a breath and comes back to your side, dusting the none existent debris from his tunic and scarf. “That’s great. Where do we go from here?” 

“Are you actually afraid of spiders?” You frown and let him lead the way again. “Because this place is bound to be full of them. You shouldn’t be the one to take the lead this time.”

“Really?” He stops mid step to look at you. It’s the most panicked you think you’ve ever seen him.

“Yes.” You snort and move past him. “Just follow me Soldier Boy. It’s bound full of spooky scary scalies.”

“Don’t joke about that please...” Warrior grimaces and falls into step behind you. “Look I’m not afraid of spiders.”

“You’re terrified.”

“OK! No. I just... I just don’t like bugs... or things that can crawl on the wall.... Or just jump down on you with no reason or prior warning.”

“Spiders aren’t bugs actually.” You grin. “They’re arachnids. Only two body segments and eight legs negate anything they would have in the insect category.”

“Thank you for that unnecessary information.”

“It’s not that ba- LINK LOOK OUT!” You scream and are powerless to watch as a blue wizzrobe appears from the ground and fires directly at Warrior.

He’s quick to dodge out of the way but he’s misjudged the distance between him and the attack. While Warrior sends himself careening into the wall, head first, the magic shot goes straight to you and you’re quick to grab your weapon and parry it back in the direction it came from. 

The wizzrobe makes the unfortunate decision to reappear right as it’s sent backwards and is stunned in place with its own magic. You jump over Warrior, who’s now slumped against the wall with a hand on his head, and slice at the magic creature before it shakes off the magical effect.

Your attack unstuns it but it disappears instantly and you’re left alone for the time being.

You don’t have a lot of experience with wizzrobes but you doubt they go down that easily so you stash away your weapon and make a mad dash toward your friend, aiming to make a quick getaway towards the end of the dungeon corridor. “Are you ok?”

“No.” He answer immediately and pulls his hands away. His gauntlets and fingertips are coated in blood and it’s beginning to slowly trickle down his face.

“Why on earth did you do that?” You scold and gently take his hands away, placing your own on his cheek to turn his head ever so slightly to the side to get a better look at it.

“And what would you rather have me do? Get hit by the magic bullet?”

“You didn’t have to ram yourself face first into the wall.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

You snort and pull your sleeve up, holding it gently in your fist. You brush away his hair and dab at the wound. It’s mostly superficial and you doubt it would scar. But head wounds are always worrisome.

“Well at least you’ll get to keep your pretty looks. Legend would never let you hear the end of it. Your reputation is on the line.” You smile and poke his nose. “It’s nothing serious. Are you ok to keep going?”

“I think so.” He mutters and pushes himself off the wall and back onto his feet.

The wizzrobe comes back in tandem with Warrior’s movements and fires again. Warrior growls and blocks it with his shield. You attack again as it’s stunned and watch as it dissipates into the cloud of purple smoke they all do what they die.

“That was anti-climactic.” You mutter and kick the remaining cloths that it left behind.

“Please don’t temp anything else.” Your companion whines.

“Sorry.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

“Let’s go.”

“Ok.” You shrug and lead the way with Warrior quick on your heels and close by. But you don’t want him to go flying into another brick wall for any other reason so you grab his hand and together you walk further into the darkened dungeon.

He’s surprising a bit calmer after that.

Part 3

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 14

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: depictions of panic attack, suggestive content Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After a couple of days had passed, Bucky had approached you with the idea of going on another date. At first, you were greatly hesitant. The memories of the Hydra man telling you their first glimpse of you was during a date couldn’t escape your mind. You had brought it up to Bucky as gently as you could but he assured you, you had nothing to worry about. Those at the facilities were…”gone.” He had simply put it at that. You didn’t want to think about how deep the organization may actually run seeing as they had been able to be under the radar for a while. But you forced yourself to put the rest of your great concerns away and, eventually, agreed to a date. 

Bucky thought the movies could be a fun thing for you two to do. He admitted he hadn’t been to one in quite some time and was interested to see what was out there in terms of genres. That led you two to sitting at the kitchen counter in the compound, leaning over the newspaper, skimming the movie showtimes. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you could've just looked this up on your phone.

“What about an action movie?” Bucky asked. You scooted your stool closer to read the title he was pointing at. You had to admit, you were getting pretty comfortable at the compound, having declared this one particular stool yours in the kitchen. You were harboring a lot of concerns over your apartment. It still sat in your mind as the, well, the initial scene of the crime. The start of that incident. Thankfully, no one seemed bothered by your extended stay and you thought Bucky seemed to secretly enjoy playing house in this capacity. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “They’re so hit or miss. We might not like it.”

Bucky hummed. “If we don’t like it, it’ll just give us an excuse to make out.”

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. It was a rare occurrence lately and Bucky always looked relieved when you’d show any signs of getting closer to peace. “Is that why you want to go to the movies, Buck?”

Your soulmate scoffed, shaking his head with a little cheeky grin. “You mean to tell me you really watched every movie you went on a date to see?”

“Oh, hush,” you smirked back as Bucky playfully rolled his eyes. “I guess nothing really changes over the years.”

This banter was good - it felt good. You weren’t in pristine condition but this was maybe showing some progress. Crying in bed with Bucky seems like a lifetime away despite just being a day or so ago. Concerns of various formats weren't vanishing so fast, though. Especially in the realm of nightmares. You hadn’t brought it up to anyone but it was like something had reset in the bond. While they weren’t as obnoxious, you weren’t getting dreams of Bucky reading or any cute shit like that.

“How about a horror movie? That could be fun,” Bucky said. “I can hold you when you get scared.”

You bit your lip. “Who said I get scared during horror movies?”

Bucky shook his head, letting out a light laugh. “You’re making this impossible, doll.” 

Before you could tell him to quit it, someone entered the kitchen. The person came up behind you two and began looking over your shoulder at the movie times. “Going to the movies?” Steve asked. 

You and Bucky turned to him, nodding. “We can’t figure out what we want to see, though.”

Steve hummed as his eyes raked over the page. “How about a romance?” He suggested. “Bucky used to cry his eyes out over those.”

Immediately, Bucky began spewing protests left and right calling Steve the biggest liar while you couldn’t help but genuinely crack up at the situation. It was a nice thing, you thought, sitting here laughing over something silly between Bucky and Steve. Almost like you were getting on and everything was figuring itself out. Maybe today would be the day it all finally took a turn. 

“Alright, alright,” you said, trying to calm Bucky. Steve looked greatly amused while your soulmate was just annoyed. “I think that’s settled then. My curiosity has peaked. I wanna see a romance.”

Bucky groaned. “It happened one time.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe she can hold you just in case it happens again.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky scoffed. “Want to share anything else with her? Any other embarrassing stories from back in the day you think she just desperately needs to hear?”

You looked excitedly towards Steve. “Yeah, Steve, is there anymore?”

He smirked. “Trust me, there’s plenty. But I wouldn’t want to waste them all now. I’ll save them for your wedding day.” And with that, Steve nodded, possibly quite proud of himself for dropping that, and exited the kitchen, back on his path to wherever he was going. He left you two practically with a bomb. 

Wedding day - the idea of that was something that has never crossed your mind. And from the looks of it, neither had it crossed Bucky’s. It wasn’t uncommon for soulmates to get married. Most didn’t see the purpose outside of the legal side but you didn’t fall into that. You were hopelessly guilty of daydreaming about your wedding day...

Bucky cleared his throat. “So,” he looked back at the paper, “romance it is, then?”

You took a deep breath, snapping your thoughts back into place. “Sure.”

***

Steve’s claim hadn't been that too far off. As you two were exiting the theater, having just watched an hour and a half of two people being oblivious when it comes to love, Bucky wouldn’t meet your eyes. You were commenting on the movie but he was stuck looking at the hem of your dress. You had gone with a light sundress having not much effort to get that dressed up but still wanting to look good for your man. It was decorated with little polka dots. Apparently, the dots were the most fascinating thing in the world to Bucky.

“Bucky,” you nudged him as you were walking down the street, “are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” Bucky jumped, his eyes finally meeting yours. And sure enough, they were wet. You couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped you.

“Steve wasn’t kidding,” you smiled, “romances really get to you, huh?”

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and looked away. You took the opportunity to take your hand in his as you two continued your walk. 

After a moment, you spoke again, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Buck. I think it’s quite endearing.”

He scoffed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I am not,” you protested. “I think it’s very sweet you love love that much. I see it when we’re together.”

Bucky finally turned back to you. “Really?” He asked so gently. His eyes had a glimmer of hope in them. Your heart was melting. 

“Of course.”

Abruptly, he stopped you two right there on the sidewalk. He looked like an absolute dream in his nice shirt and slacks, illuminated just by the glow of the night and the flickering street lamps. He was looking at you like you had hung the moon and stars. You went to ask why you two were stopped but before you could, Bucky’s lips were on yours. They were so soft and gentle yet fierce and loving. You had forgotten how much he channeled in these kisses as you hadn’t been quite intimate since before the kidnapping. You had been scared, quite honestly. Despite the sequence of events not exactly being related, the last time you slept with your soulmate you were whisked away. It was a stupid, ridiculous fear you felt slowly dissipating the more your lips moved in sync. 

Suffice with the moment but leaving a bit to tease, Bucky eventually pulled away. “Let’s get back to the compound.”

You bit your lip a bit more hesitantly than you had intended but still nodded. You knew where this was going and you had to run with it. You had to let Bucky guide you to it. He was it for you, you had to remember. He was your soulmate for a reason and you were getting through this together. As cliche it seemed, you walked with him into what felt like the unknown. 

***

The second you were outside the shared bedroom, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was the perfect gentleman on the way back and even all through the compound but once the coast was clear, his hands were trailing up and down your sides, dipping scandalously low. You tried playfully shooing him away but then he’d reach under your dress and pinch the inside of your thigh and, well, after that, you were practically done for. 

You were absolutely amazed by how naturally you fell back into this rhythm with Bucky. You figured something had just been needed, some kind of push to get you back on track. Maybe this date had been that. You didn’t want to think too much anymore, though, so you followed Bucky as he walked you back into the bed. 

He was on top of you in a matter of minutes, lips locked fully with yours as his hands continued to roam. It was all happening fast. Very fast. Bucky was a skilled multitasker in more ways than one. As he was taking off his shirt, he was already working on getting your dress off. You paid little attention to any of it, trying to let yourself get lost in the movements and lovingness of your soulmate.  

Once your dress was discarded, long forgotten in the room with Bucky’s shirt, next came his pants and your bra. All while doing so, Bucky kept stealing kisses from all over your body. Your lips. Your neck. Your chest. Your stomach. He was like a starved man and maybe, in some way, he really was. Part of you had denied him from so much, including sex, after the…

Your eyes shot open. Your heart was suddenly pounding but not in the excited, horny kind of way. Not in anticipation for your soulmate’s touch. In fact, you wanted the exact opposite of that. You felt like you were suddenly suffocating. You became very aware of Bucky’s body on top of you, the weight of him holding you into the bed that was so soft you felt like you were sinking. 

Bucky was seemingly oblivious to all of this despite your breath becoming shallow and unsteady. You wiggled under his touch trying some way to get him off but he mistook it for pleasure and kept his teasing work around your panties. 

“Bucky-,”

“I know, doll,” he hummed, his lips back at your neck while his metal hand dipped a little into the waistband. You shook your head.

“No, Bucky, please-,” your voice was barely there as you tried to convey your nervousness. Your brain felt like it was cloudy. You didn’t know what to say, what to do, to get his attention. You gasped, overwhelmed.

Bucky pulled away from your neck immediately, brows furrowed in confusion at your sudden switch in emotion. He said your name, voice so full of concern, but he felt so far away.

You couldn’t find the words anymore so you just tried to push him off. While naturally impossible, he took the sign and quickly lifted himself off of you, going as far to leave the bed. He stood at the foot of it, watching you try to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

You were struggling to breathe still and trying so hard to get your brain focused on something other than the feeling of being held down. It didn’t make sense, though. It really didn’t. You hadn’t been held down like that but there was something about the logistics of it your brain couldn’t separate the actions. You couldn’t move, you were dominated once again. And then you suddenly remembered Bucky’s involvement and it all just… It was all just one giant fucking mess. Your hands were shaking. 

Bucky tried again, “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Your eyes shot to him, realizing how wild you must look. You were having a panic attack in the middle of sex. How much more could your life be affected by those goddamn-

“Doll, please, breathe with me,” Bucky pleaded as he leaned down to your eye line. You sat up further and he took the chance to take your hands in his. He held them as they shook uncontrollably. You stared into his eyes, regaining some order in your breathing.

“I-I’m sorry-,”

Bucky shook his head. “No, don’t you dare apologize. It’s alright, I understand. Just focus on your breathing. There’s nothing bad here, sweetheart. Just me.”

You nodded slowly and closed your eyes, focusing on your heart which was finally settling down. You pushed away the thoughts. The images of being strapped down. The way you were tossed around like a ragdoll. The look Bucky wore as he killed those men-

You shifted your attention to the weight of Bucky’s hands in yours. They had done so much bad but were also doing you so much good. 

It was over. Everything you had endured was over. Those men were gone. That Bucky wasn’t really that Bucky. He was still your Bucky. The Bucky that walked you to work and cried over movies. You had to drill this into your brain before something else overtook you.

After a moment or so, you felt you could finally reopen your eyes. Bucky was still watching you intensely.

“B-Better?” He seemed nervous to ask.

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice again. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He let out a small sniffle and that’s when you finally saw the tears forming in his eyes. You looked down at your connected hands, unable to bear seeing what you had caused. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

You gave a small, shy nod. “Can we just go to bed now?”

Wordlessly, Bucky stood up and grabbed one of his shirts for you. While you threw it on, Bucky began unmaking the bed. Once he had set up your space with the blankets you cherished, you crawled right in and tried to let sleep take you.

It wasn’t very pleasant in your dream world as the memories of the kidnapping filled you, despite all your best attempts to suppress it. 

But you stood no chance escaping these because they weren’t your memories. They were from Bucky’s perspective. 

Unknowingly to him, you were seeing all the steps he had taken when it came to murdering the Hydra men. You felt the anger, the determination. The absolute disregard for them. You could practically feel it as his fist collided with them. As he drained their life from their bodies. 

You didn't want to react, though - God forbid you give Bucky another reason to worry -  and instead, you gave in to them.

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu character breakdown as I understand him

Meaning that this might be inaccurate and your opinion and visage of him might differ from mine, which is just fine. We perceive the world and the people around us through our experiences and expectations. I'm curious to know how you guys see a complex character like Dazai, just please respect everyone's opinions.

Warning: Manga plot mentions, s2 spoilers, BEAST light novel spoilers, Dazai Osamu

Dazai Osamu was introduced into the scene of Bungou Stray Dogs at 14 when Mori found him.

Even at that young age, Dazai had suicidal tendencies and had been wrapped in bandages similarly as he is in the present. Already dealing with too much trauma for a child his age, the fire is fuelled as he was forced to bear witness to the death of the Port Mafia boss at the hands of Mori, the person that took him under his wing. To use him; which was becoming very apparent to Osamu if he hadn't been aware since the start. Now, I'm not saying that death of the previous boss left a particular scar on Samu, he even agrees with it and is something he himself would have done. But that that is the scene that bore fruit of the following quotes:

"Or could it be that you're afraid, Mori-san? That one day i will slit your throat and take over as the boss?"

followed by

"Everyone seems suspicious to those who have an axe to grind."

This tells us right away that he can tell what type of person you are just from the way you perceive your surroundings, which is logical, but not something many think too deep into.

Even less who have their evaluations of others on point like he does. And he has to, since Dazai's plan is always to understand his allies, his enemies, possible allies and possible enemies. He also takes into account important neutral parties that can still, in one way or another, affect the outcome of his plans or decide to align with one side out of common interest. After comes realising the main goals, along with side achievements (just in case some of those maim his allies or ruin the future plans he made) of every party. Taking in their morals and motivation, and being familiar with the ground the confrontation will happen on, he now has the view of the whole chess board and it's pieces in his head. He moves his allies in the right places, knowing how they'll react in the situation to come, and awaits the enemies with open fire arms. He was tought to think like that. At all times. Mori made sure of it. You know how specialists never really stop thinking in their areas of expertise, like doctors, for example, will naturally notice people's posture and look for scoliosis or whatever? How your foot hits the floor, if you're walking straight, your knees and shoulders, etc. Same for Dazai. His brain maps out person's expressions, reactions, choices, personality, etc. in great detail. I'm pretty sure he has eidetic memory, if his conversations in manga with Fyodor are anything to go by.

Another thing his brain does is think of worst possible outcomes.

Not in a fear of what if things go wrong, but as a possible route. He uses it to determine how big of a threat the opposing force is and what steps they'll have to take to achieve that. Knowing that, he'll know how to intercept them. Also, like everything else, it's not something he can control since we're talking about thought process here and that's just how his brain works. Can't magically turn that off. It's especially annoying to him when he's genuinely enjoying himself with, let's say, ADA members and then his brain goes brrr.

•"A lot happened recently and we're a torn in many people's eyes." *Tanizaki and Atsushi drinking punch* "There's a possibility, while a small one, about 8% at this very moment, but as time goes on will increase, that an organisation outside of Yokohama decided we're an unavoidable threat and poisoned the drinks. Don't drink that. Nothing will happen, they'll wake up tomorrow in pristine condition don't drink th-"

Yeah, i feel bad for him too.

He has PTSD and insomnia, besides the hectic brain,

so he's not getting proper amount of rest. Actually, he drinks almost every night by himself at home. Pretty sure it's canon as well, because if you search for a picture of him in his room, you'll see him surrounded by multiple bottles. Two of the PTSD symptoms are hallucinations and night terrors (no, that is not the same as a nightmare). What people usually do is use opium to cause hallucinations in a safe environment so that there's little chance of them happening uncontrolled. He's probably using alcohol to numb himself while he's reminiscing, since if he does still have hallucinations after years having passed by (which isn't impossible), they're probably few and far between. Not saying there's no chance he isn't using opium. He would know where to get what he needs, after all.

Osamu's haunted by his own actions as well, not just by trauma caused to him.

At an uncountable amount of occasions, he found himself looking into a mirror and not really comprehending his image. It was like dissociation. Looking through a fog at what's supposed to be your carbon copy, but not knowing all of your features perfectly, so whatever you're seeing could only be an impostor, yet you're not sure because that would take comprehending physical proof of your life to the fullest and how it works and he just... can't. He can but he doesn't want to. He already knows he's despicable and broken, doesn't really feel the need to see just how much. He can't, for all his perfect memory, remember the faces of the people he has killed. He hadn't even seen all of them, but he was responsible for their demise. Causing havoc and misfortune in general through other crimes besides murder as well. We've seen his expression when he listened in on Atsushi talking to Kyouka over the earpiece how the 35 deaths don't matter anymore. He knows they do and he knows that the change of heart won't justify what he's they've done. Ango thought him to value each life. But he also knows that even murderers can change and become good. Oda did that. It's also what's keeping him in the agency.

When Oda died, his last words mentioned that Dazai doesn't care about good or bad and that was correct for Dazai Osamu back then. I genuinely think that his present self does mind the difference.

He believes in necessary evil and will do dark shit to get the good outcome he's envisioned.

He doesn't separate outlaws and lawful people, however.

He knows that generally speaking, the line is thin and easy to cross and that many were born or forced into the situations they are. Those that fight the life thrown at them are an exception, not a rule. That's also why he likes Atsushi, probably the main reason. The boy has every right to hate the world and yet. Dazai is envious, he doesn't really have the same capacity.

I want now to talk about why does Dazai Osamu do what Dazai Osamu does.

The reason he attempts suicide, joined the mafia, made friends at all, is because for all his intelligence and observations, ability to understand others, he doesn't really understand himself.

He doesn't understand his worth. He doesn't understand his purpose. In all of that confusion, he finds no reason to live. He laughs but can't get the high, he bruises but can't fully heal. In all of the things people find happiness in he can't feel joy from. He is emotionally stunted. He thinks too logically. He doesn't understand actions out of emotions because to him, it doesn't make sense. Emotions cloud your mind and when you're not thinking straight, you make mistakes. Plain and simple. He just accepts it, that most people simply cannot control themselves and prefer lashing out instead of methodical approach. All the better for him, he has leverage. Even when he does act on impulse, which is incredibly rare and not as explosive and dramatic, his brain rationalises it as to why his actions were a good way to go. And if his reaction was one that bore fruit, than it was a tactical one.

"If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you're exposed to raw violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man's true nature. I though that way i could find a reason to live somehow."

From this, i can tell that he was hoping that, in a situation where he's pushed far enough, he'd realise what's important to him, what he wants to protect or destroy, what's one thing he wouldn't want to leave unsettled before dying. What is that one thing he'd regret dying before achieving? What should he fight death for. What is worth living on for? To him, it doesn't matter if that something is good or evil as long as he gets to keep it in his life.

It seems he hadn't found it exactly, but is satisfied with what he has for now, in the agency, to just keep going. But he still tries to commit suicide, hoping that one day, when the clear picture of the world around him is fading away, when he's becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he's loosing control over his body and thoughts don't seem to flow well, there will be one thing, anyone, screaming at him to fight it. New day new chances. It didn't happen today, better luck tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomo-.

Now, like Mori, Dazai feels the need to, at all times, be in control of the situation. Including people.

That means no one, but perhaps Ranpo due to his own abnormal intellect, is aware of their own role. They know their mission, but they're not expecting to be given that particular one because they'll come across an obstacle they would react to in a way that would satisfy Osamu's plans.

Dazai Osamu is more of a chemist, than a chess player, if you ask me.

Throwing different people into the mix, under different conditions at different times and is noting down their reactions in safe surrounding if possible, so that when the time calls for it, he'll be able to make a perfect concoction for the predicament. A chemist and his substances; A chess player and his pawns; A puppeteer and his puppets. Now, Dazai is meticulous and never rash, but like everyone else (except effin Lovecraft what is he even) he's only human and he bleeds when he falls down and humans aren't perfect. He isn't always right. That means he makes mistakes. The issue with big shot players that control the board is that, when they fall down, everyone on their side crashes and burns as well. So the day Dazai fucks up everyone else will follow because of lack of insight on their part that's completely out of their control. All it takes is for him to underestimate or overestimate one person and chaos ensues. There is no such thing as happy little accidents small mistakes for someone like him. I have crippling anxiety and a sole thought that one hiccup could blow up in everyone's face... damn. I would try committing suicide myself. But it's his fault, he brought upon himself an obligation and pressure like that. To be fair, it was Mori that drilled that type of thinking where no one should know what you plan because they can't ruin what they don't know If they turn against you, they can't stop you.

For his own sake, and everyone else's, Dazai needs to learn how to show his cards and share the burden.

Again, going back to the emotionally stunted guy that has commitment issues (where he either can't commit or can't let go) trope.

He never outright does something good for someone where people would acknowledge it, he uses his underhanded tactics here as well.

He casually makes himself look like a bad guy, an asshole, to conveniently move attention from the inner turmoil a person is struggling with to a present problem at hand that they can fix and let their frustrations out on. But he hopes that, one day, someone just might notice his intentions for what they are and do the unspeakable- see through him.

"I'm a very private person. You don't ask, i don't tell."

Yes, and your whole existence is just a huge cry for help. He wants to be asked. He's begging for attention. A specific type of attention. One that will see him without making him feel imposed on. One that will understand his sins without making a big deal out of it. Accept him as a person he is, makes him feel like one as well. Makes him feel alive. Makes him feel... period.

The day he finds that thing is the day he completely turns his life around and fully dedicates to it. It's where the part of not being able to let go commitment issue ensues.

Since Oda's death he's been secretly keeping an eye out on possible ways to bring him back. If you've read Beast AU you know that when Dazai gets his hands on the book, he'll create a universe where Oda doesn't die. Should he find an ability user that can bring back the dead, just tell him what it will take, he's ready to destroy his own soul for it and if that isn't enough, well, he'll have no hesitation ruining theirs. After all, BEAST!Dazai Osamu never actually met Odasaku, he just had the memories he'd gotten from his canon self and that was enough for him to do everything he did.

He's incredibly selfish and has a weird come in but the door is a wall dynamic he rolls with in his self imposed solitude.

It's like the walls of the space in my brain are ugly and terrifying, so i closed off the entrance to keep myself in. I'm doing you a favour but please break the wall down and tell me it's okay to come out i don't want to be here-

Happy little thoughts woah woah yeah~

That's what i got from what I've seen of him. I may have missed some things, some things might prove to be wrong as the series progress further, but yeah.

There is, however, one more thing i want to put out here. Since Dazai was already like this before Mori found him, that begs to question as to why? What happened to him?

Now, since the characters are based on real people, is it crazy to say that Dazai Osamu has had a horrible childhood because of his father? Real life Dazai was terrified of his dad and was very intimidated by him. He always tried to stay in his good graces out of fear of punishment. Neither of his parents felt like a parent to him, actually. His father didn't care and his mother was often ill, but did care for him when she could. Both of them died eventually.

This could be the plot Kafka based Dazai's background on, but we'll have to wait and see.

[seragamble]

Season 12 of SPN but Better

This is my rewrite of s12 in which the main changes are after Lucifer knocks up Kelly he fucks off back to the cage, the BMOL are actually scary, and the narrative finally interrogates how people who aren’t human are treated. Note: I use monster and non-human interchangeably here. (Thank you @autisticandroids for your help with this post.)

The season starts off the same. Sam is perhaps a little more suicidal during his kidnapping, having just lost Dean and fresh off of having to be around Lucifer.

Sam’s myriad of mental health issues pop up here and there throughout the season, after Lucifer and dealing with what Lady Bevell did to him. He does his best to make sure none of this is seen by his family, but Dean eventually figures it out.

At least two episodes where the A Plot is Cas and Crowley investigating a case.

“American Nightmare” is just the start of a theme we see throughout the season of Sam bonding with monsters/non-humans/the ‘other’. He becomes a resource for them and in turn connecting with them helps him feel better about himself.

Cutting the Hitler episode because that was seriously just… :l

Instead Aaron comes back and it’s just a fun episode

Samantha Smith is amazing as Mary but please just take a moment to imagine “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox” if Mary’s actor was actually ~28

At the end of “LOTUS” Lucifer goes back in the cage 

The events of First Blood take place over two episodes so we can gets stuff like: 

Cas and Mary hunting together

Cas and Mary (separately and together) threatening people they think can help them find Sam and Dean

Dean and Sam (Sam especially) losing their grip on reality whilst in confinement 

Instead of the American hunters largely rejecting the BMOL many of them embrace them. Mostly thanks to the weapons they freely provide. The BMOL also import their idea of “Hey shouldn’t ALL monsters be dead actually.” This becomes a serious issue as we get to see that there are plenty of monsters who aren’t hurting anyone, but are now being hunted.

At the end of “The Raid” we get our first foreshadowing of what else the BMOL are doing when that hunter, who betrayed them to the vampires, is taken to an onsite facility full of various monsters in cages.

The boys have a case that ends up being hunters who fucked around by going after innocent monsters, and found out. It’s a not at all subtle allegory about two monster siblings, where the older sister killed a pair of hunters to protect her little brother. This is the tipping point where Dean finally has a major mental shift in how he views and treats monsters.

There’s also a case where they look into weird supernatural phenomena and it turns out to be the result of hunters disrupting completely (super)natural stuff. It’s an episode about a supernatural creature that has zero interest in killing humans, they’re just strange and otherworldly, and hunters persecuting them has caused a major local disruption in the world.

Instead of the BMOL having their students fight one another to death, they have them kill monster children. We get a flashback of Mick killing a crying werewolf boy.

After Mick has his change of mind about what the BMOL are doing they don’t kill him. Instead he is taken to the facility (seen previously at the end of “The Raid”). This is where the BMOL experiment on monsters, as well as dispose of humans by using them as test subjects. There’s a scene where we see that hunter from before get injected with something, go through a weird mutation, and dies.

The timeline has to be shifted around a little, but instead of Cas being off in heaven trying to find something to find Kelly (which lead nothing to the narrative and went nowhere) the BMOL just make it seem like that’s what he did, while really they have him locked up.

Their reasoning being that if a nephilim is going to be born they want to know all they can about angels, but also they just genuinely don’t see anyone who isn’t human as a person so why not experiment on them. The whole experience is really dehumanizing.

Ketch is there, and I would like to remind everyone about the line, “I do enjoy an angel,” which is a) haunting, and b) implies Ketch has dealt with angels before.

Remember how in “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” Cas can immediately identify that angel blade as being Benjamin’s? Ketch has a few and taunts Cas about what he may or may not have done to their owners.

They torture Cas/do a lot of medical experimentation. The torture is “extremely horny for no reason, shave your chest father of two it’s fanservice time”-y (thank u autisticandroids).

On the brighter side, Mick and Cas bond during their captivity because Cas deserves to have a friend who isn’t a Winchester. Also go ask @autisticandroids about this.

We see Mick question his long held beliefs about monsters and grow more as a character. He also gets turned into something, perhaps a Shapeshifter.

During this time we get to know various other monsters being held and undergoing experimentation.

Instead of Mary finding out Mick is dead she finds out about the facility. Same thing happens as in canon where they brainwash her. This time she’s just killing hunters who won’t fall in line with the BMOL, instead of all American hunters (which I feel made no sense).

Garth comes back at some point because of course he does. Why have an entire season about people who want to eradicate all monsters and then not bring back their one friend who would be most affected by this? His whole family and community are at risk of death if the BMOL have their way.

“Twigs and Twines and Tasha Banes” happens next season because I want Max and Alicia to be part of the attack on the BMOL and it’s better for their narrative if they disappear for a while before coming back after that episode. Instead they show up in a standard motw episode to drive home the fact that it’s fucked up to automatically consider witches to be evil.

One of the narrative points would be how the BMOL tolerance of witches is extremely conditional on them only using their magic for them, and the presence of the BMOL in America has led to an increasingly hostile environment for the Banes family.

The people the Winchesters recruit to help them attack the BMOL facility are a mix of monsters they’ve helped out, and hunters who respect them/didn’t fall in line/have noticed their friends getting murdered. 

The end result is the beginning of a new relationship between hunters and non-humans.

It might be odd after a season long narrative about not demonizing people just because they’re not human, to have the Winchesters still be all “Let’s forcibly abort this fetus,” but, with the added element of Sam dealing with his Lucifer trauma all season, I think it would make sense to have Dean be in extra Protective Mode™. That combined with Cas, fresh off of having to be rescued and feeling even worse about himself, decides to take the Kline issue into his own hands. The narrative follows along with canon. Since Lucifer isn’t around it’s AU!Michael who kills Cas and Mary tackles back through the rip.

Alternatively if you hate that and want something more domestic you can picture the following: with their newfound POV TFW rescues Kelly and takes her back to the bunker, promising they’ll take care of her child.

[peachy-panic]

Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.