#i have a horrible thick accent when speaking in english anyway

[menacewithawolfcut]

if this post reaches 500 notes, i will start a podcast where i will talk about my fictional crushes in a totally unhinged manner, like britanny broski talks about masked men, traumadump without anyone asking for it, and about various topics that make my serotonin levels go brrr (mostly about art, history/culture and queer stuff), video essay-ish-style, but executed in a worst way possible

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Translator- Viktor Krum x OC

Viktor Krum x Holly Diggory

Description: With Durmstrang and Beauxbatons coming to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, someone needed to help the non fluent English students. Dumbledore has the perfect solution: Holly Diggory

Word Count: 2.6k

Holly prided herself on knowing four languages. While her brother Cedric focused on sports, she went to books and excelled. She learned three other languages on her own, impressing the people around her. In total, she knew English, French, Russian/Bulgarian (since they’re so close in dialect), and Romanian. As it turned out, that would be of use to more than just her. 

When Dumbledore announced the Triwizard Tournament, she couldn’t say she was completely impressed. In fact, the tournament was terrifying to think about for her. Professor Dumbledore pulled her aside after dinner and introduced her to both Igor Karkaroff and Olympe Maxime, the headmasters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. 

“I’m well aware that some of your student’s english may not be fluent,” he started politely. “Miss Diggory is here to aid them in any way she can when you two have other duties to attend to. If that is okay with her.” The three of them looked her way, awaiting her answer patiently. She hated Dumbledore in that moment for putting her in such a position where she couldn’t exactly say no, but smiled anyway.

“Of course. If you require any assistance I’ll be there,” she responded, clasping her hands in front of her. The three of them smiled before walking away to discuss the tournament, leaving her in the hallway. She sighed with slumped shoulders. What did she just get herself into? 

Holly nearly jumped out of her skin when someone walked up behind her. She whipped around to see the one and only Viktor Krum. She met him briefly just a month or so earlier during the Quidditch World Cup. Her mind flashed back to when he protected her from an aggressive Death Eater that horrible night. He shot her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I did not mean to scare you,” he said, accent thick and voice quite deep. Holly shook her head.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention, that was on me,” she answered, trying to keep her cool in his presence. Even if he was a student, he was Viktor bloody Krum, the Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. 

“I remember you, you were at the World Cup. Were you not?” He asked, resting his hands in his pockets relaxed. 

“I was, with my father and brother. You played wonderfully,” she complimented. He smiled a little at the gesture and shook his head.

“Thank you, but it wasn’t good enough to win against Ireland,” he responded. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, it’s not like that’s the worst thing that happened that night.” The two of them became silent, and Holly remembered back to witnessing those Death Eaters torture that poor muggle family. What was their name? Roberts? A chill shot up her spine at the memory.

“So, I hear that you are going to be the translator for the nonfluent students?” Holly was grateful he changed the subject. 

“I am. I speak fluent Bulgarian, French and Romanian,” she responded. Viktor pursed his lips then gave her a teasing smile.

“I taka, ako tryabvashe da govorya taka, bikhte li me razbrali (So, if I were to speak like this, you could understand me)?” Holly laughed. 

“Da, kristalno yasno (Yep, crystal clear).” Viktor’s smile widened.

“Wonderful.” Holly smiled in reply, then perked up.

“Oh yes, I’m Holly. Holly Diggory. It’s nice to meet you,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. 

“Viktor Krum, though I believe you know that already. And the pleasure is all mine,” he responded, taking her hand. Instead of shaking it though, he brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Holly felt her face heat up at that and she smiled shyly. As he let go of her hand, she heard someone calling her name from down the hall. They turned just in time for Cedric to approach them.

“There you are. I was wondering where you went off to after dinner,” he teased, pulling her into a side hug. She rolled her eyes playfully but accepted it, then looked at the Bulgarian boy once more.

“Viktor, this is my brother Cedric. Cedric, this is-” she began but Cedric held out his hand for the boy.

“Viktor Krum. It’s an honor to meet you,” he greeted. Viktor grinned and shook his hand. 

“You as well,” he spoke before glancing at Holly. “Dosta zdravo se khvashta (quite a firm grip he has).” Holly smiled upon realizing that Kiktor spoke in his native tongue to mess with Cedric.

“Ne go uvedomyavaĭte, tova shte otide napravo v egoto mu (don’t let him know that, it’ll go straight to his ego).” Cedric looked between them confused. 

“Am I missing something here?” He asked, visibly perplexed. Holly only gave him an innocent smile and linked her arm in his. 

“Oh, nothing. We should probably get down to the dungeon, it’s getting closer to curfew,” she informed him before looking at the Durmstrang boy. “Have a good evening, Viktor. Goodnight,” she bid him farewell before beginning to lead Cedric off. She heard him return her words as they got further away.

“What was that about?” Cedric asked, looking at his sister. 

“He was just introducing himself to the official student translator,” she brushed it off simply, continuing on. Cedric shook his head with a small smile and followed her.

The Goblet of Fire made its decision on who the champions of the Triwizard Tournament this year. Fleur Delacour was representing Beauxbatons, Viktor Krum represented Durmstrang, and Harry Potter as well as Cedric Diggory were representing Hogwarts. That obviously caused a massive stir for all the students, and it was all anyone could talk about. Holly actually felt a bit bad for Harry, she believed him when he said he hadn’t put his name in the goblet. It was impossible anyways, anyone under seventeen couldn’t get past the circle around the goblet as shown by Fred and George Weasley. So, she refused to participate in slander against Harry and even joined in on cheering him on.

The first task had gone as smoothly as possible given the circumstances. Holly felt bad when Viktor was deducted points due to accidentally smashing a few eggs during his turn. He had obviously been aggravated by that, so she left to go talk to him about it. Viktor was crouched down against the wall of an empty corridor running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. Holly felt sympathetic at the sight.

“Hey,” she called gently. The boy’s head snapped to her, clearly not having heard her walk up to him. She gave him a compassionate smile and sat beside him, smoothing out her skirt so nothing showed afterwards.

“Are you okay?” She continued softly. Viktor dully sat down as his gaze went to his hands that now sat in his lap, shaking his head.

“Az sŭm idiot. Tova, koeto napravikh beshe- (I am an idiot. What I did was-)”

“Your best, that’s what you did. You did what you thought was best, and that’s all that mattered. You can make up those point in the next tasks,” she finished before he could depricate himself further. Viktor shot her an unimpressed look, but she only smiled.

“I mean it Viktor, you did what you could. People make mistakes constantly and they learn from them. That’s what you need to do with today,” she continued, resting her hand over his. Viktor looked at their hands as his lips quirked up just a little at the corners. 

“You are something else, Holly Diggory,” he finally responded. 

“Shte go priema kato kompliment (I’ll take that as a compliment),” she responded cheekily before standing up. “Now come on, let’s get to dinner.” She held out her hand to help him up, which he grabbed gratefully. They took a moment to dust themselves off before walking to the Great Hall arm in arm. 

The Yule Ball was coming up, and that was now all the students talked about. At that point, the only free time Holly had was right before bed. Since Hogwarts was hosting the tournament this year, that meant some students (the english fluent ones) sat in on classes to continue their studies between the tasks. Holly had to run around helping the nonfluent Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students either with their english or translate their homework. That meant she couldn’t hang out with her friends or worry too much about the tournament. It was exhausting, but worth it because she ended up making many friends from the other schools, including that of Fleur and Viktor.

Unfortunately, now the Yule Ball was distracting everyone to the point that they could barely focus on their studies. It was beginning to take its toll on Holly attempting to get them to focus, she was only one girl after all. It was now a week before the ball, and Holly had just dismissed a group of Durmstrang boys that spent the entire time discussing who they were going to ask. 

She plopped down at a desk exhaustedly, resting her forehead on the table in front of her. Thankfully, she had no more tutoring sessions today as it grew close to dinnertime. To be honest, she could’ve fallen asleep. She would have as well, if someone hadn’t walked into the classroom. She jumped up when the door closed behind the unexpected guest.

“Izglezhda, che edinstveniyat pŭt, kogato razgovaryame pomezhdu si, ediniyat ot nas vinagi plashi drugiya (It seems like every time we talk to each other, one of us is always scaring the other),” Viktor spoke amusedly as he walked over to her. Holly smiled tiredly and shrugged as he took a seat beside her. 

“Predpolagam, che sme tolkova dobri v elementa na iznenadata (I guess we’re just that good at the element of surprise).” Viktor chuckled deeply and nodded, not exactly finding a flaw in that logic. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Viktor?” She inquired, sitting up again.

“As a matter of fact, yes. There’s something I’d like you to read if you don’t mind,” he requested, reaching into his pocket. 

“Of course, let me see it,” Holly instructed, prompting him to pull a nice piece of folded parchment out and setting it on the desk in front of her. She leaned over the desk and began reading, immediately recognizing it as Viktor’s handwriting. 

Shte otidesh li na bala na Yul s men?

(Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?) Her eyes widened at the note and she looked at him in shock.

“Really?” She asked, surprised. Viktor laughed at the action and nodded his head.

“Yes, really. I believe we have grown closer through all of this, and It would be an honor to attend the Yule Ball with you by my side.” It felt like her heart exploded by the time he finished. No one had ever been so affectionate unless they gained something out of it in Cedric. It truly felt like someone had seen her as more than “Cedric’s sister,” which had increased tenfold when her brother’s name was chosen from the Goblet of Fire. 

“Viktor Krum, I would be honored to go to the Yule Ball with you,” she responded with a coy smile. Viktor’s smile was almost impossibly wide as he nodded gaily. 

“Great! I mean- uh, great,” he tried to play off his excitement, but failed miserably. Especially when Holly giggled at him

“I can’t wait to see you there,” he said sweetly before standing. “Can I walk you back to your common room?” Holly smiled and stood with a nod, linking her arm in his once more.

No one knew who the famed Viktor Krum would be taking to the Yule Ball since no one had seen him ask Holly. Many people assumed it would be Hermione Granger because they were seen talking alone not that long ago. Viktor explained to Holly that he had asked Hermione for help with Potions so he wouldn’t have to put another thing on her plate. Holly had to admit that the thought was sweet. She and Viktor thought that the gossip was amusing to hear so they didn’t say anything about it, especially since Rita Skeeter was around more often. 

The night of the Yule Ball, Holly got ready with Hermione and Ginny, the only two she ended up telling about her date. She met Viktor off to the side of the staircase and they were the last champions to walk in. No one, especially Cedric, expected his sister to walk into the ballroom beside Viktor. As she walked, she heard a few gasps and some whispering as she passed the crowd. 

“I don’t know how you can stand to have so many eyes on you,” Holly mumbled low enough for Viktor to hear during the champion’s waltz. “I’m still trying to focus on not accidentally stepping on your foot in front of everyone.” Viktor laughed as he twirled her.

“Do not worry krasiv (beautiful), you will get used to it as the night goes on,” he responded with a fond smile. She blushed at the name and giggled nervously. 

Soon enough, others were allowed to join in the waltz. Viktor and Holly continued to dance happily. Neither of them wanted to leave each other when the dance called for them to switch partners. Cedric was the last one that she would dance with before she could return to her date. He twirled his little sister upon beginning to dance with her.

“So, canoodling with my competition I see?” He slightly teased once they faced each other once more. Holly flushed red and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Since when do you know such big words like canoodle?” She quipped in response. Cedric gave her a sarcastic smile before lifting her up as the dance called for. 

“Seriously though, since when do you hang out with Viktor Krum?” 

“Since he got here. He’s been very nice to me and he’s really sweet,” she responded simply. Cedric hummed thoughtfully.

“You like him,” he said more as a statement than a question. Holly nodded almost immediately in response.

“I do,” she muttered. Her brother grinned at her, finding the situation a bit endearing.

“You should probably tell him that then,” he spoke, kissing her cheek before twirling her back into Viktor’s arms. 

“Are you having fun?” She asked as the waltz dance turned to a slower song. Viktor nodded as his hands settled on her waist when her arms went around his neck. 

“Da, this is wonderful. How about you?” Holly nodded. 

“This has possibly been one of the best nights of my life,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. Viktor hummed in response, his eyes glancing down at her lips. He glanced up just in time to meet her piercing gaze.

“Iskash li da me tselunesh tolkova, kolkoto az iskam da te tseluna (Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you)?” He whispered. She hadn’t expected him to be so forward, but she wasn’t about to protest it.

“Da,” she whispered back before leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him. They could hear people around them react to the kiss, and Holly smiled against her date’s lips. When they pulled away, they shared a chuckle. 

“Would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” She asked, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

“I would love to,” he responded, lifting his hand to twirl her. There would be a lot more they’d have to face, but they were willing to take it one day at a time.

[marmota-b]

Usually I try to be understanding but there was one (1) time when I was purposefully rude to someone online in such a situation and it was that one time someone butted into a conversation I was having in a craft-related FB group with someone else, and accused me of being "snarky" and then demanded an apology for it in private messages. I repeat, they were not part of the original conversation, nor were they the group's moderator.

So, anyway, this reaction grew a lot, because it grew into an exploration of cultural norms in areas you may not realise play a role in that sort of thing.

They blocked me I believe so I can't find the conversation anymore or remember which group it was but as far as I can remember it was all because I failed to compliment a creation and instead asked confused questions about something that I strongly suspect were also rather ESL/I-am-not-American-tinged. Awkward situation that nonetheless the other side didn't seem insulted by, only maybe also confused. My comments were possibly also rather neurodiverse but if that made them "snarky", the person who butted in with the accusation would not have survived a day in any single Czech Fb group without feeling horribly insulted by everyone. We're a blunt bunch, and by Czech standards I had been quite polite. And here's where the cultural norms come in: maybe our default position is snarky by Californian standards; but that also means that background level of "snark" is usually about as intentional as a born-and-raised Scott speaking in a thick Scottish accent. It's our normal. Getting rid of it isn't just an effort to be polite, it's like putting on a foreign accent.

I think it was the first (and so far last) time I ever told someone to eff off. Because their reaction to "English isn't my first language and maybe you're reading into it a tone that wasn't intended and maybe that sometimes happens when people use a non-native language because they don't quite know their linguistic registers and carry over cultural norms and quirks from their own language" (paraphrase) was "no, you're being rude and you have to accept it and have to accept that you have to apologise". To which my reaction was, I have a whole lot of difficult stuff happening in my life right now and I believe I am a grown up who does not have to take such ridiculous amounts of tone policing from a complete stranger.

As this whole rant goes to show, I'm still salty about it. Part of it is probably the possible neurodiversity component; but a much bigger part is definitely the fact that tone-policing people using a foreign language to that extent is actually a greater insult than any hurt they might have inadvertently caused. You have no idea what sort of cultural norms or language quirks might be tripping the other person up. By all means tell them they're not coming across the way they should in your culture, that's part and parcel of language learning and cultural exchange. But if you ignore that they just told you that and act like they're just making excuses, well... maybe you're just making excuses to be selfish and rude.

My Problem is that whenever someone approaches me saying “you need to heed this or that basically inconsequential formality because some people care about that” my reaction is not understanding and eagerness to please but “Maybe they shouldn’t “

[vergess]

More Exocolonist discussion (still no twins talk yet alas).

Let's talk about Utopia: the "only child" of the stratospheric.

As is mentioned in early history classes, the colonists do not speak English or any of the text languages used for the player, but instead speak the created language Esperanto. The approximate timeline of the colony ship was to take the first generation of children born within the groups Earth colonies to staff the ship, helping prevent the carriage of old earth cultural ideals to the new colony.

So, your character is part of the second generation of Vertumnans, with your parents being the first.

Here's the catch:

Utopia is also the second generation.

She has a super thick accent that none of the other colonists share, possibly in part due to her being the first human being raised off planet, the first one to learn human language in a total cultural isolation like that. She was the only child on the ship for years and there is literally not a single other human being her age for her entire life... until Lum, anyway. (Aside: imagine spending your whole life surrounded only by adults and toddlers and dreaming of a friend your own age, and then you get FUCKING. LUM. No wonder she's so uniquely nauseated about him.)

But anyway, we all know this, it's obvious from like one or two plays. Utopia is even named that because she's representative of the hope of a new world in a way that even you and the other kids are not.

The point I want to get to is:

I think this is why Sym is so fucking weird about her.

As an alien observer, I don't think he can actually tell if Utopia is a part of the "kid" group that he's supposed to be targetting (you, dys) or part of the "adult" group he's supposed to be avoiding (Rhett, adults on the watch tower).

He doesn't trust Utopia, no, but I think that's very much more an extension of Dys and Sol not trusting her, more than a conclusion of his own making. Symbiosis talks extensively sometimes about how grateful he is that Utopia seemingly shares his hobby of "keep Sol alive" and all that. He mentions frequently that she's very different from the rest of the adults, after all. IIRC Utopia is one of the only people other than you and Dys that Sym even refers to by name rather than by their relationship to either you or Dys.

I think she even probably speaks an over-exagerrated version of the "adult dialect" of vertumnan Esperanto, hence her extremely pronounced accent that is not shared by other characters, even other adults.

I didn't realize the colonists were speaking Esperanto until my most recent playthrough and I was too busy picking all of the worst, most horrible, cruel dialogue options to get them over with o pay attention to the way Utopia speaks compared to, say, Seeq or Rhett. But at the very least a lot of the colony naming structure makes more sense when one realizes they are constructing these names in Esperanto, where name construction is done like that naturally. (Similar to German in that way).

But my next run is going to be "so help me god I WILL fuck both Dys and SYm and if I have to remain a virgin until I'm 20 to do it then by GOD I WILL" so I'll be seeing a lot of Utopia in it.

Hopefully I'll have more to say from there.

But yeah they really captured a lot of the fun aspects of Esperanto in their English writing so again, the writing here is off the fucking hook you should play this game.

[antiherocorner]

Huh... Alright, I'm doing... I think I'm doing it...

This is my very first fanfic ever... I'm still learning... This is a part 1 thing... I'm currently in the middle of a university exam period, so I couldn't finish the whole story yet, but I will as soon as I can, but I don't want to wait anymore... My English is okay-ish... It's not my native language, so there maybe some grammatical mistakes, I hope it's still readable... I tried my best... Just bear with me, I'll try to learn and improve... I'm very nervous...

Facts about the story: there is no age mentioning, Reader is around 25-26, I made Daniel younger in my head, 34-36 (single, no wife, no kids, let's respect the real Brühl family), Reader is female, I am Hungarian as well (possible Hungarian language in the future), I'm studying Russian (possible Russian language in the future), and I just started learning German, I used translater (sorry if I messed it up but, I really tried, please tell me if it's horrible), and one more thing... I have never met Daniel, nor I went to Berlin (yet, I really want to, and planning)... All of this are imagination, dreaming, and a little searching...

Warnings: none?... i think?... Apart from the horrible language uses and horrible jokes... Maybe swearing.

(Bad) Summary: a Hungarian girl goes to Berlin with a Russian friend of hers, as tourists. They always wanted to visit the city (not because Reader has a crush on the one and only Daniel Brühl, and wants to go to his tapas bar...of course). When the Reader goes back alone to the bar, Daniel is there too... The big meeting, adventures, fun, love, shitty romcom vibes ahead... (i hope the story is better than the summary...)

And now, after this awkward rambling, I present to you:

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

With Love from Berlin

Part 1

You couldn’t believe it. Finally, after months of preparation, you and your best friend were finally here, in the heart of Germany, Berlin. It was very different from what you were used to. Coming from a small city from Hungary, this was way bigger than your imagination. All kinds of people from different cultures merged into one. Museums, cafes, bars, restaurants, you didn’t even know where to begin. You took a deep breath in your hotel room. Your friend insisted on getting different rooms, in case she or you find someone to have a good time, if you know what I mean. Well, rather your friend, than you. You wanted to come here after many years, and you were finally here, so you want to experience as much of this city as you possibly could, you’re not gonna waste your time on a random (or more, glancing at your friend) man. 

You arrived at the hotel around 1.00pm, so you decided to go get some lunch somewhere close. You were a little bit tired of the long hours on the train. Just around a corner from where you were staying there was a tapas bar. Bar Raval. Your friend wasn’t really into movies that much, or actors in particular, but you knew that place, although you have never been there. You didn’t think about yourself as a “fangirl”, but you really admired the work of Daniel Brühl. You knew there was little to no chance that you could get even a tiny glance of him, but in over all: you would be happy just to say that you were in his bar. Your friend liked Spanish cuisine, so it didn’t take much to convince her to eat there. 

A Hungarian and a Russian woman walked into a Spanish restaurant in Germany, Berlin. Sounded comical. The place looked very friendly and funky. There were some people, not really a crowd. You decided to sit in the corner, with your back to the wall, so you can observe your surroundings. Your friend sits down opposite you. A waiter comes up to you:

- Willkommen! Was möchten Sie gerne? - he asked, looking between the two of you.

- Oh, sorry, we don’t really speak German. - you said with quite a thick Hungarian accent, because you got nervous due the potential language barrier.

- I see, It’s okay. We usually have all kinds of tourist here, so you’re good. What can I get for you two? - he asked with a welcoming smile.

You weren’t sure what you wanted to eat, you weren’t familiar with Spanish food at all, so you just trusted your friend to order something. She ordered something with pasta, and another thing with pasta. You had no idea what she just said. And some juice. She smiled at the waiter who scribbled down your order, and of he went. You looked around while you were waiting.

- It’s nice isn’t it?

- Yeah, it is. Quite bohemian. I would have guessed you would want to go to a traditional German restaurant. Why are we here? - smiled your friend knowingly.

- Well… You know…

- Is this the place of your man?

- What?! Shut up… - blushing - I just like his movies, that’s all… Anyway, I just liked the pictures of this place…

- ...and him…

- ...AND I wanted to check it out myself, ok?

- Ok-Ok...

You smiled at each other. You were best friends for years now, you could communicate without much of words. The waiter arrived with your plates. The food was good. In fact, more than good. In general, you prefer other cuisines, but you really liked this Spanish place. In Berlin. Odd, in the best way. After the lunch you went back to the hotel. Your friend wanted to go to a small club in the evening, so you decided to just chill throughout the afternoon. 

The traveling took the better of you, as you didn’t just not feel fresh after your nap, but you actually felt like shit. Your friend on the other hand really wanted to get going. So you assured her and yourself that it’s fine if you didn’t go to a club. She was a strong woman, and the club which she picked was just a couple of blocks away, so she decided, after she made sure that it is truly okay, to leave you behind in your room. You have never been a party-animal anyway, and you really just wanted to plan for tomorrow. There were so many things you wanted to watch in the city. After a few hours of planning and searching, you eventually fall asleep on the couch.

In the morning, luckily, you felt much better, more of yourself than in the previous afternoon. You took a shower, get dressed (purple converse, dark skinny jeans, blue tank-top and a blue/black checked shirt...nothing can go wrong dressing like this, you thought), grabbed your camo, ex-military little gym bag, locked your room’s door, and went to knock on your friend’s door. It took a few minutes, some groans, and other small noises, when she finally flung the door open. The sight was hideous.

- The hell happened to you? - you really tried not to laugh.

- Laugh, as you like… I had a good time. Drank more vodka that I could handle though…

- Are you alone or…?

- I am… Calm down, I didn’t get lied… Although I tried… But I didn’t!!! - she said quickly after she saw the frown on your face. - But I feel very shitty… My hangover is killing me, I didn’t give out anything yet… But I might throw up at any minute now…

- How can I help you? Stay with you? Bring you something from that little shop we saw yesterday?

- Some water would be nice… But I don’t want you to see me like this… And I will be fine, i’m just gonna rest today… You can go on on your sightseeing trip.

- Are you sure? I’m gladly staying with you…

- No, no! You wanted to come so badly, I don’t want to take a day away from you. I will be alright.

- You promise?

- I do. Please, just go. - she smiled at you.

- Alright. I’ll go grab you some water, and… I don’t know, go for a walk or something. Get breakfast.

- For the mentioning of food, your friend’s face went green and particularly jumped into her bathroom.

- I’m coming back in a minute or two! - you shouted after her, than closed her hotel room’s door.

You went down to get some water, some bread and some crackers which would be easy on her stomach, yet she still would be able to eat something throughout the day. You knocked on her door, which opened just slightly, an arm came out to take the bag from your hand, a small, weak “Спасибо” and just like that the door was closed again. You giggled to her door before you headed down to the street.

You honestly didn’t really want to explore many things without her, so you tried to keep your excitement low. You decided to go back to that bar where you ate your lunch yesterday. You liked it a lot, and it wasn’t a new place to discover, which meant that your friend wasn’t missing out on anything. You went to the bar. It was still early morning, not many people were there. A few old people, some of them are couples. The younger generation (yours) was probably still sleeping. Besides, the place was more like a lunch/dinner kind of place anyway. The waiter looked up and recognised you.

- Good morning! Alone this time?

- Good morning to you too! Yes, my friend had a wild party last night, and she is standing at the gates of Hell right now.

- That sounds bad. - he laughed.

- It is, she looked scary… - that made him chuckle.

- So what can i do for you today?

- I would like just a cappuccino, please.

- Alright, just sit down, I’m on it.

- Thank you!

You sat down at the exact place where you did yesterday, next to the window, with your back to the wall. You put down your bag, and looked around. With less people, the place looked cozier. You really did like it a lot. Eventually, your cappucino arrived. You thanked it, and tasted it. It was delicious. You were one of those people who liked to read next to a fresh coffee, and you always had a book around you. You took it out from your handy-dandy bag and started reading it, holding it a little up in your hands, leaned back on your chair. You were reading one of your favourite books (Pushkin - Anyegin), while sipping a good morning cappuccino, in a nice place. You just relaxed to the small sounds of the bar and sounds of the city, which infiltrated through the door and windows.

- Eine interessante Wahl von Buch am Morgen. Interessanter als eine Zeitung, das ist sicher...

No. Just...no. You were hallucinating. You felt like everything was frozen around you. From out of 2.8 millions of people (roughly), you would recognize this voice. His voice. You physically could not look up.

- Omm.. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what you just said… - you said with the weakest voice and in the thickest accent ever, in your whole damn life. You hoped that if you make this man say another thing you fall back to reality.

- Oh, my bad - he giggled - I just said that it is an interesting choice of read in the morning, it sure is more interesting than a newspaper.

Shit, this was the reality. 

You dared to look up, and your eyes met the most chocolaty eyes ever on this whole planet, but at least in the whole of Berlin. The owner of those eyes was leaning on the chair opposite you.

- Hello. I’m the owner of this Bar, I’m Daniel. - he offered his hand to you.

- Hi, I kno...i mean I’m (Y/N), I’m the costumer…? - you finished with a questioning voice and all you wanted was for the ground to open, swallow you, and with that wipe you out of this universe. You shook his hand, without looking at him directly. His hands were warm and secure. After he released you, you closed your eyes, already feeling the burning sensation in your face. You heard a deep chuckle.

- Yeah, I guessed that. You’re not from Germany and you aren't British either, aren’t you?

You opened your (Y/E/C) eyes only to meet his curious ones.

- No, I’m not. I’m just a tourist here, I’m from Hungary.

- Oh, I’ve been there. It’s a lovely country. Would you mind if I sit down? - gesturing to the empty chair opposite from you.

- Yes… I mean no… - you took a deep breath - If you would like to you can sit with me. - This is just going great...

You earned another deep chuckle from the man in front of you, while he sat down.

- So… What are you doing here alone, in Berlin?

- I’m not alone.

- Oh… Anniversary? - for a moment you thought you saw something in his eyes. Sadness?

- Not that either. I don’t have anyone to celebrate such things. I came here with my friend, but she got wasted last night, and probably at the moment she is agonizing in her bathroom above the toilet.

- Hm… that’s not nice. - curiosity was coming back to his face.

The two of you stayed in silence. It wasn’t really uncomfortable, you were just terribly shy, and couldn’t stop blushing. You even tried to hide some of your face by leaning on one of your palms, and sipping your coffee.

This is aweful. Daniel f*ing Brühl is sitting opposite me, and I can’t even look at him. He must be thinking I’m one of those fangirls who just can’t keep it together before their idols. Which is true, but he shouldn’t have to know that…

But he wasn’t thinking that. Quite the opposite actually. You were so out of place in his bar, he had to approach you. There was something in you which made him intrigued. While you were trying to hide, which he found a little bit cute and entertaining, he tried to study you as well. There was something in you. He felt like he wanted to know your story.

- So what’s the plan for today?

...........

[eugenesmorphine]

Hey ,could you do some Ronald Speirs with a girl in the town the company had liberated or something like that please💕💕💕

Eternal Gratitude // Ronald Speirs Imagine

AN: I am back with this imagine for the first one! I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @punkgeekcryptid @ricksmorty @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

Word Count:  2,114

Ronald marched through the small town. His boots crunching over shattered glass from broken windows and pottery that came from the ruins of houses. German artillery fire was not kind to places within France. And this little city was not apart from it. He looked around as he lifted his helmet slightly to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was quiet. But the city was liberated. People of the French city were outside hugging each other, handing beers to one another, even hanging the French flag and pulling down the Nazi flags. Kids dancing all over them. Some of the women tear them up with scissors and kitchen knives. Tossing the scraps into piles while many others through them into even bigger piles and lit them aflame. Ronald chuckled as he made his rounds. Snagging a few silver spoons he found around the ground. Even snagging a Nazi flag for a souvenier from one the little kids. Patting them roughly on the head as he walked on.

Captain Speirs watched around as the paratroopers seemed to be praised and worshipped the ground that seemed to walk on, as they saved them from the horrible Nazis. Older women kissing their cheeks and handing them  food and drinks. Even some warm blankets. While many of the younger women threw themselves at them. Ronald scoffed as he saw some of them, one of which being Floyd Talbert, full on making out with one French girl. A few had even walked up and kissed Ronald on his lips like they did to every other man they had kissed. He would never admit it but it would make him blush no doubt. 

The officer couldn’t say he was complaining. He was making a killing with all the silber he was snatching and even many just handed to him. His stomach was full with all this nice food. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a nice warm, proper meal. And half the food he never even heard of. Yet again, Ronald Speirs wasn’t complaining. 

He walked through the crowded streets to the aid station they had temporarily set up. Humming as he did so. Pacing his steps as he peered above the heads of the crowd. He saw Eugene, yet he saw a female there with him he never saw before. Not even when they first set it up. Raising his eyebrow he quickened his steps. And soon Ronald reached the aid station. Seeing the female now closer. She was young, and definitely pretty. Even with dust from the ruined buildings around her. A small scarf pulled her hair back out of her face, wholsts a blue dress she wore with an apron around. The familiar crimson  color stained it. Seeming to be a nurse. Or just some woman helping the soldiers. A rifle stayed hung to her shoulder. Which made Ronald a bit uneasy, but he thought back. She was probably just worried. 

“Doc, who is this?” he asked the medic. Who looked up at him, and so did the nurse. Ronald eyed the woman. Eugene stood and looked at the officer in front of him.

“Sir this is, miss Y/N L/N. She speaks English pretty well and she gave me some medical supplies and has been helping me with the casualties and wounded, sir,” he said to him. Standing up straight. Speirs nodded and slowly approached the woman. Taking his helmet off in respect. Looking down at her slightly.

“How are you?” he asked. Starting off nice. Ronald was a difficult man to understand. Anyone knew that. And this girl would be no different. She tilted her head to the side slightly as she gave a small nod. 

She smiled softly. “I am more than happy, sir. You’ve liberated us, we are finally free!” she exclaimed. Grabbing his hands. Her hands were cold and calloused. Clear that she hadn’t been sitting and staying this entire time. Her eyes had bags that were dark purple. Clear of sleepless nights that many of his own men suffered from. Though her smile was wide and her eyes filled with happiness and hope. “I see you are one of the leading officers, please let me make you some dinner and give you a bed to lay in. Many of my people are opening the Ins and our homes to you soldiers. I have given many medical supplies and patched up some of your men. But there is so much more I can do!” she began to shake his hands. Her accent was thick, but her words were still understandable. Though, before he could protest, she was already pulling him along. Leaving a few other officers laughing.

“Lady, you really don’t have to do this. Truly, I can go bunk with the others,” he tried to resist. He was kind of excited for a nice meal. And even his own warm bed. But it also seemed wrong to be in the same situation. Yet he was already being pushed into her home. He sighed and looked around. He was thankful, and he wasn’t a total terrifying man when it came to the citizens he protected. Plus, they worshiped the paratroopers, and they would be moving out in a few days anyways.

“Nonsense! You saved us from the Germans! Your men will have a nice place to stay until you must leave!” she told him. Pushing the stalky soldier through a door of a small building. “Mr. Army man, welcome to my home. These are my mother and father!” she said softly. Holding her arms out to an older couple that sat at a small chair. “Mère père. C'est l'un des soldats qui nous a sauvés,” (Mother, father. This is one of the soldiers that saved us.) The older woman clapped her hands together and stood. Waddling over and grabbing Ronald’s hands. Kissing his dirt and blood covered hands. Mumbling “thank you” over and over again, looking nearly in tears. The older man had a small paddy cap on and walked over to shake his hand and pat him on the back. And before he even knew it, Ronald was sitting down with a plate of steaming food in front of him. The young girl he thought remembered to be named ‘Y/N’ was taking her rifle off her shoulder and setting it to the side on a small table. Ronald kept glancing over at her as she communicated with her mother from time to time.

Food kept being placed in front of him. Fresh food that was hot and not just some slop or some half frozen and rotten food within the meal packs the government. Y/N stood and was speaking to her parents and being a translator for her two parents as they asked him question after question. Praise after praise. That went on until long after dark. The two parents soon went to bed, leaving Ronald and Y/N alone as she cleaned up dishes. Her weapon lay flat on the table. But the ammunition stayed in her trouser pockets. Something Ronald noticed. It made her seem smart. Which she definitely was. 

“So.. After hearing your parents talk my ear off all night long. How about you tell me about yourself?” Ronald asked. Setting his helmet down on the old wooden table. Y/N turned around and leaned against the marble counter she had. A small smile on her face. 

“There isn’t much to know about me. Just a simple French girl that was so happily liberated by the Americans. I’ve lived her all my life with my parents, and when you came and saved our city. All I wanted to do was repay my thankfulness back to you Americans,” she responded. Her accent was thick. Yet her words are clear. You could just see the pureness radiating off of her. Ronald chuckled slightly and nodded his head. Standing up to stretch his legs. 

“Can you show me where I am sleeping? It is past midnight by now,” he sighed. Scratching the back of his neck lightly. Y/N smiled softly as nodded. Beginning to make her way up the stairs in her home, Ronald trailed behind her. She hummed a soft lullaby as she walked. Her and Ronald’s footstep against the old hardwood flooring echoing throughout the quiet house. The two stayed silent. Until they reached the room.

“Here, it has a bed, a dresser. And the bathroom is just across the hall,” she whispered with a soft smile. Ronald smiled and went to place her stuff onto the floor besides the bed. Dropping his bag, his weapon sitting on the bed where he could see and reach. His helmet going on the small nightstand besides the bed. Looking over to the women who stood in the doorway. 

“Is there.. Uh- anything I can help you with?” Ronald asked, a little confused at why she was staring at him. The same soft expression on her face. Y/N took a few steps into the room and approached him. Ronald stiffened, a little confused on what was actually going on. Y/N took a few steps forward, now standing in front of him. 

“Hold your hand out,” she said. Ronald stared at her questioningly. Definitely hesitating. Kyra laughed softly as she rolled her eyes. “Just do it, I’m not some Nazi,” she huffed. Eonald then chuckled himself and nodded. Extending his palm out towards the young women and watching her closely. 

Kyra’s hand went into his. Dropping in a hand an old pocket watch. Still shining and ticking. She had gotten it passed down from her grandfather. “This is for you. You saved my family and friends. My parents and I are very grateful for you leading your men here to save us from the Germans,” she told him. She stumbled every so often to search for correct words/ But her voice was a whisper. And the Captain in front of her was almost in shock. A family heirloom just given to him. Usually he stole these kinds of things from the German soldiers, or abandoned places. But this, the watch was just given to him. Y/N just smiled and let out a quiet laugh.

“You can sell it, or keep it to remember our eternal gratitude. Whatever you would like to do with it. It isn’t much, we wish we could feed more of your men and give more supplies. But maybe you could get some money for that watch,” she shrugged. Ronald gave a slight nod as he stared at the silver and gold pocket watch within his dirty and calloused hands. He was just in awe. Like he felt unworthy to take it. Even with his own morals, it was just.. So nice. 

“Oh and also,” Ronald snapped his head up at the sound of her voice. The H/C haired women took a few steps forward. A small smile curling on her lips as she walked over to him. Bending down slightly and Ronald froze slightly. She leaned and pressed her lips to the corner of his lips. “And that is a personal thank you from me. I find you quite handsome,” Y/N laughed, standing up straight and turning around. Ronald slowly raised a hand to the corner of his lips that hers touched gently. Watching her, almost awestruck or in shock. He never really got this way. He, himself, was usually the womanizer it seemed.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, Captain Speirs. Breakfast will be made in the morning,” she told him while walking out of the bedroom. Turning with a smile as she began to close the door. A small wave she shot him before shutting the door completely. Her footsteps being heard within the quiet home as they pressed against the old, creaky floorboards.The room falling dark besides the moonlight shining through the sheer curtains within the room. 

Ronald just went to lay on the bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept on an actually comfortable mattress. Not some old, shitty cots, a foxhole, or god knows what else he used to sleep on. But settling himself down on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. The corner of his mouth slightly tingled at the sensation of where her lips had been. His cheeks reddening as he thought about the brief moment they had just shared. Was it even a moment? Could it be called that? He had know idea, he shouldn’t have even been thinking of her like that. Running his fingers over the cool material of the pocket watch. Shutting his eyes after taking a long deep breath. Making the quick decision. He would never be getting rid of that watch.

[og-danny-dorito]

Hi ! Can I ask you an headcanon where Tommy falls in love with a French woman? She lived in northern France and had to leave her country at the end of WWI (she is kind hearted and loves to help the Peaky Blinders). I don't know if I'm asking too much of you, you can take out a few details if you want. I love your writtings !

thanks so much!!! i’m highkey sorry this took so long omg,,, im in the middle of finals and like finals for my ap classes are a pain in my ass. BUT regardless thank you for this request!!! i like the idea of tommy falling in love with a french lady and being like “shit what do i do now” immediately afterwards. i also grew up in an area where they speak french and have french heritage there so thats a plus. anyway I’m sorry again for this taking so long, I hope you enjoy them!

Tommy Shelby x French!Female!Reader :

- to start off, id say that hed originally be very hostile of you, for a NUMBER of reasons

- not only did he fight in wwi, but he also had that very traumatic period of time happen in his life in france specifically therefore strengthening his resolve to stay away from anything that vaguely reminds him of france in the first place

- besides you, of course

- that French accent was something he caught the moment he spoke to you, immediately putting him on edge. for some reason he first though you to be a spy of some sort, but you didn’t look nearly ready to kill a man on sight. not at all. even though britain and france were allies, he worked as a tunneled and honestly that can fuck someone up on its own

- he’s fairly certain that you might carry some sort of awkwardness towards him because he fought in the war and generally people always thank him or make comments, but assuring him that you felt no prejudice, that war is war and in this world no one would listen to a voice of reason to end it peacefully and you understand that men had to fight to defend who they loved, makes him feel a bit better

- but after you tell him about how you had to leave because of the horrible things that were happening, forcing you to leave your friends and family behind, he suddenly understands things a lot more clearly

- he can’t exactly place why, but he feels so much more at ease with you knowing that you come from a slightly similar background as he does. not only that, but you moved to England after the war to flee, where you’d be hated by the people around you just for your origins. he doesn’t place the blame on you for his trauma, but that doesn’t mean other people won’t who were against the french alliance

- hence why he’s so protective of you

- in fact, anything that seems vaguely threatening towards you pisses him off to no extent. he makes sure whoever was throwing nasty remarks and insults at you will dissapear within the next few days - no - the next few hours, because no one talks to his girl like that. not even him

- being in a place where war was prevalent yourself, you probably understand shell shock and how he can feel a bit distant or uncomfortable with some things

- respecting his distance is a key part of your relationship considering he needs it so much, although he’d love for you to hold him when the nights get rough (which is more often than not the case)

- he’d never admit it, but he loves your accent. yes, it can bring up some bad memories, but your voice makes him feel comfortable and safe. 

- he likes it when you sing to him in your native tongue as well

- if you start to get angry and your accent is especially thick in those instances, you can catch him flinching and crossing his arms tightly out of need to be closed off from the situation

- like any lover he’ll be soft behind closed doors, but since you get what happened during the war since you were overtly part of it, he’d probably be that much more exposed with you around considering he feels like someone else gets it. he wasn’t in the victim’s shoes, but he knows what it feels like to be alone and homesick

- loves it when you call him “chérie” or “mon chou” cause he doesn’t know what the fuck they mean but they sound nice on your tongue when you say it

- when either of you get episodes of ptsd (or if you don’t have ptsd, homesickness or something of the sort) holding each other is always good. tommy understands trauma just not how to deal with his own, and honestly he’s a sucker for any sort of physical contact

- he feels like he’s lucky, too lucky to have an angel lying in his arms with her eyes distant, thinking about something and telling him about it directly afterwards

- he’s a sucker for you in general, regardless of your origin, although the main trait he’d exhibit would be more exposure of his own thoughts and his trauma even though he avoids it himself

- OH and he also likes it when you mess up English words sometimes and you wave your hands a little cause your confused face is cute as fuck

[silver-kitsuneneko]

Alrighty! I'm going all out on this one soo be prepared for a long haul since my curiosity MUST be quenched: 1, 3, 4-6, 11, aaand 13-16 for the writing ask thing, please

OOOH! Awesome!!! Okay! [rolls up sleeves!] Here we go!

1.     What's something you've written that you know is OOC and you just don't care? Omg…I thought my dark secret would never be heard. Me and Incubirb wrote a fanfic together in high school called Dealing with Chibis. It’s a YGO fanfic. We had fun and it’s still posted on FF.net but the yamis are OOC. VERY OOC. Do we care? Nah, it was something we wrote when we were younger and it’s a reminder of the good ol’ days and annnnnnnnd how we improved n,n Yes it’s cringe but it’s OUR  cringe damn it!

 2.    Something you hate to see in smut. No build up! Okay, I’m all for PWP because sometimes you just want to read smut without having to read a story behind it but please at least give the audience some foreplay. Also and I used to do this, don’t say womanhood an manhood, just say cock, clit, vagina, and things like that. Because well…sex is an experience, or I’ve been told, but it’s also dirty and passionate so using the terms can make it a little better or I can just be a huge perv. I’m probably the latter. Finally, weird ass things that would be near impossible during sex. Shampoo is NOT lube, ripping out a woman’s tampon and flinging it behind you is not sexy, sex in the shower/ on the beach/ is not romantic and I’m assuming harder than it looks.  Or something that is outright gross that is supposed to be romantic >< I’ve read of questionable shit and I just had to pretend I never read it. Just…but logical about it, please!

 3.    Something you love to see in smut. I personally like non con…hear me out. It’s a fantasy, it’s a good plot device, and it’s just so dark. I also like a weird powerplay and pet play because…well no one needs to know that ^^: (stay tuned One Piece fans). I also like good chemistry with the characters, like the more experience boy or girl with another girl and descriptions. Like don’t just say “and they totally did it!” yeah no, describe the act and the senses.

 4.    Something you hate to see in dialogue. Using net speak in writing. Not making a conversation believable and writing an “accent” in someone’s speech. Once again, I was guilty of this years ago, minus the net speak. The writing accent thing can be good in some cases but horrible overall. Like in HP, JK Rowling writing the way Hagrid talked. I’ll admit, it did kind of get you into the mood that Hagrid had an accent but when she did it with the French accent and Bulgarian one, it just became really…distracting. Have your readers imagine it instead of having to read/listen to an accent. Just say that they had a strong accent or if they do speak in broken English in order to emphasize a plot, by all means! Once again one of my fave authors did this well. In one of her stories, the characters were aliens who spoke Russian, this woman had RUSSIAN in the book so the reader was just as clueless as the characters in the story. Same story and one of the characters had a thick Polish accent made it difficult for him to make friends, so she emphasized it when him and is stepbrother switched bodies and he realized that one of the things his new brother had to face.

 5.    What "don't ever do this" writing rule are you guilty of constantly breaking? I know I break a lot! Hell, there’s run on sentences and things like that everywhere XD But apparently the ,” that a dear sweet nitpicker brought to my attention. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not like “OMG HOW DARE SHE!” it’s more of, she was just doing it to be an ass? Like really trying to find something wrong with a story? Anyway, that. I don’t know why I do it. I think it’s a habit that I have to break but I didn’t know it was a habit? Like some writing rules says its okay. Some say it’s bad, some people don’t even notice it. But that’s just how I’ve always write. No one else seems to care so I just kept doing it.

 6.    What do you need to work on most? Rereading my work! I don’t get offended when my readers point things out! Like I welcome it because sometimes I’m concentrating on writing that I don’t see the mistakes or rapid typing that I forget to go back. Like I write in layers. I write the beginning, scenes in the middle, the end, refill things, connect things, and polish things before posting but even I overlook things. I don’t have a proofreader so I’m grateful for the extra pairs of eyes XD Seriously I don’t get offended in the least!  

 7.    What aspect of writing have you had the most growth in? Character development! Seriously! It takes time and a lot of work to write a good character! My first real fanfic characters were OCs and one dimensional at most. Then again it was middle school and high school and emotions were high, things weren’t the best but still, they were my characters. They stuck with me in college and it gave me more than enough time to revamp them into proper characters. Also during that time I was working on a coping mechanism writing/story and learned how to really flesh out a character and giving them a back story on how they came to be instead of “this character was just born AWESOME!”

 8.    We all project onto our characters. Where has your personality or life choices leaked onto the page the most? Well, with me and not so much in my One Piece fanfics but Hetalia, my issues with my family, especially my mother/ grandmother. Because of my family situation, I never really had a safe place to express myself freely and when I did it was always taken away. I was around a lot of adults who were affected by my grandmother’s own issues which resulted in immature adults with issues of their own where I had to always be the “adult” or the “bigger person” one to someone who was twice as old as I was when I was a preteen/teenager and they were full grown ass adults. Which sucked since being a mature kid really gives more problems and doing things just to please a family who wouldn’t care less but I did have a Dad who really took the time to really understand me which was nice. So a lot of my Reader-chans have either unavailable parents, awesome parents, or raised by people who aren’t parents but the best parents they could ever have because in my opinion, sometimes the best people who actually care isn’t your family and if these people accept you, treat you with respect and genuinely care about your well being then they are your family.  

9.    What's the most ridiculous thing you've done to put off actually writing? Hmmmm Well I’ve always found time to write but usually now with the pandemic, it’s mainly “I have to clean!” which is partly true but malaise DX Well For one fandom at least. Not to mention I’m adding in a lot of filler so I can send a ton of sad fanfics without feel guilty XD

[floatingpetals]

One Last Call || Maybe Not

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst, language, eventual fluff

Word Count: 2400+

Summary: A mission had gone horribly wrong. She knew things were grim, and she had something she desperately needed to get off her chest. All she needed was one last call.

A/N: HA YA’LL THOUGHT I WAS GONNA LEAVE IT LIKE THAT?! HAAAAAA!! APRIL FOOLLSS!!! But seriously, I couldn’t leave that story off the way it did. It just hurt too much. I’m not gonna give much more away, so I hope you enjoyy!! 

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

Natasha was there the second the phone slipped from Steve’s fingers. She knew how important Y/N was in his life, how quickly he had grown to care for the woman. It was heartbreaking to watch; he was just forced to listen to her dying breath and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tony let out a heavy sigh, biting back his own set of tears. His gaze swept around the rest of the team, seeing similar reactions on the rest of the team. They fought back their own tears, the air was thick and somber. With heavy steps, he walked over to the discarded phone on the floor and picked it up. He paused when he heard shouting from the other end. The line must not have dropped. Raising the phone to his ear, he winced after a loud shout and snapped back.

“Hey-What’s going on?”

The officer on the other end let out a string of words in Ukrainian before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Добре. Ти все ще там.”

“Yup. Gotta speak English.” Tony said flatly. He figured they’d need to discuss where to pick up Y/N’s body, no doubt they’d have to take her to a corner before they could get her back to them. To bring her home one last time. The words the officer spoke next made Tony’s heart burst with hope.

“She’s still breathing.”

Sinking back into his seat, Tony let out the breath he was holding. Voice shaking he asked the man to repeat himself.

“The woman. We were able to get her breathing.” The officer said. He could hear the sirens pulling away in the distance, the officer closing his car door. “She’s in critical condition, but she is alive. For now.”

“Oh-That’s-“ Tony was at a loss for words, fresh tears now streaming down his face. Only this time they weren’t for sorrow. “What hospital are you taking her to?”

“A local hospital. They need to do surgery. There’s still a bullet in her side-.”

“Yes. Get her in and get it out. Do not let her code on us again.” Tony said firmly, spinning around in his seat to go at the controls. He kicked the jet into overdrive, pushing it to its limits.

Behind him, the rest of the team listened in shock. Steve’s sobs had stopped, his eyes wide as Tony explained that they were a few hours away. He glanced at Bucky, whose eyes were just as bloodshot as his. Was this a joke, or was Y/N still alive?

“I’ll send you the coordinates to our landing site. We’ll need transportation to the hospital. You can? Great.” Tony flipped off his tears and switched into the leading role. Y/N meant a lot to him as well, but someone needed to step in until Steve could recollect his emotions. Tony understood, he was the same and is the same when it comes to Pepper. “What’s your number? I’ll text you from my phone when we’re close and you can keep us updated.”

Natasha passed Steve a tissue, a happy smile spreading on her face. This was good. Y/N was still alive. Barely, but she was alive.

“Talk to you later.” Tony hung up the phone and spun around to address everyone. “We have great news and bad news. Good news, Y/N might have coded before they arrived but by some miracle, they were able to bring her back. Bad news; she’s hanging by a thread, needs surgery and we’re still five hours out.  Petro, the cop who answered her phone, says she’s got a bullet they need to get out and is suffering from significant blood loss and definitely has internal damage. She’s probably going to just get out of surgery by the time we get there if the damage is as extensive as they thought.”

“But she’s alive?” Natasha asked, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Tony smiled, although grimly, and nodded.

“She’s a fighter apparently.”

Steve stared down at his hands on his lap and gave a watery chuckle.

“That’s my girl.”

~~~~

True to Tony’s word, six hours later the jet landed in a field just outside of the village Y/N was sent to. Right where he said he would be, was Office Petro and four squad cars. He shook hands with Tony and directed them to pile in the cars. Steve joined Tony with Petro, eager to learn about Y/N’s status.

“She just got of surgery,” The bigger man said in his heavy accent. His voice was rough but gentle. He understood their concern for the woman he thought too was dead. She would have been another unfortunate statistic to the death of drug crimes around the area. “If you don’t mind me asking, why was she in the area we found her. You say she is an agent?”

“Yes,” Steve replied. “She was supposed to be tailing some of the drug dealers around this area. They’re small, but the demands for the drugs they supply is quickly growing. It’s a mix of molly and Adderall that a lot of younger teens seem to prefer.”  

“Ah, yes. They have quickly become a problem around here. But how would they know they were being watched by anyone, let alone a single woman?”

That caused Steve and Tony to pause. Petro was right. How else would they have known about Y/N? The gang wasn’t known for its use of guns and violence as of yet. They both shared a look, fury starting to build in their chests. Someone tipped them off.

“Anyways. The last thing they told me was she’s in ICU. She coded once on the table, but they were able to bring back once more.” Petro sounded impressed. “I don’t know what you give her to eat, but she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.”

Tony grimaced a part of him proud of Y/N but worried she wasn’t going to make it through the night.

“She’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.” He clapped a hand on Petro’s shoulder. Petro pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital, throwing the car in park. Steve was out of the car before it stopped, desperate to see Y/N, to make sure she was still breathing.  

The nurse at the front desk had seen a lot of things in her days. Bullet wounds, people with limbs handing on by a thread, even people with screwdrivers embedded in their thighs. Looking up to see The Captain America, Ironman and party rush up to the desk looking like they were ready to tear the walls down was a different level of terror she experienced that day.

“There’s a woman, Y/N Y/L/N. She was brought in a few hours ago for a bullet wound and just came out of surgery.” Steve demanded, leaning over the desk. The nurses’ mouth fell open, her wide eyes darting frantically between the Avengers that loomed over her desk. She shook her head, unable to understand English. Petro tutted and pushed the overbearing Captain aside.

“She doesn’t speak English.” He explained and then turned to the woman. He explained quickly, asking for the room number Y/N was in. Relief washed over the woman, nodding quickly and leaned over the desk to point down the hall as she spoke. Petro turned to the Avengers. “She’s on the third floor, room 308. I’ll come so you don’t scare the other nurses.”

Steve bit back a snarl but nodded. He needed to get to Y/N, not get thrown out for terrorizing the natives. He followed a step behind Petro anxiously. The ride up was excruciating, and the walk to her room was terrifying. Petro stopped him at the door, waving to a sink.

“They want you to wash before you go in and only one at a time.”

“You go ahead.” Tony patted Steve on the shoulder. Steve stay rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the door in front of him. “Go on Cap. The team and I have things we have to take care of. Go see your girl.”

As he walked over to the sink, the reality of what happened and what he was about to step in to hit him. His stomach felt like someone filled it with lead, and his legs struggled to hold up his weight. He was terrified. He already thought he lost her once, just seconds after admitting how much she meant to him. She was nowhere near out of the clear. The second he’d open that door, it meant this was all real. It wasn’t some twisted nightmare he was forced to live through.

Nothing in his line of work could have ever compared to slowly opening the door and seeing Y/N hooked up to all machines. The door shut softly behind him, the click releasing the silent tears he held back. She looked so frail, her skin a sickly shade lighter than her usual tone. His heat shattered in his chest. He moved to stand beside her, afraid if he took her hand in his he’d hurt her further.

Letting out a heavy breath, Steve pulled the chair closer to her beside and delicately reached out to take her hand in his. Her skin was clammy and cold, but he could feel her faint heartbeat. It was enough to soothe his fears for now, even though he knew she still had a long recovery ahead of her. Pressing a kiss against the balk of her hand, he settled in beside her for the long wait for her to wake.

~~~~

The door popped open, startling Steve awake. He blinked, blearily looking for the newcomer. Bucky walked in with a fast food bag in one hand, and a giant drink in the other.

“Hey.” He greeted, passing the food over to his friend and sat in one of the large armchairs. Steve mumbled thanks and turned his eyes back to Y/N. They had taken her out of ICU three days ago, her body healed enough that she didn’t need to be on constant care. She, however, had yet to wake up. The doctors assured the team it wasn’t a bad thing, she went through extensive trauma and her body would wake on its own. Now in a new room, Tony made sure she got the best treatment he could get her. After two weeks sitting on the painful plastic chairs, Steve was grateful for the soft chairs in the nicer room.

“How’s she doin’?” Bucky asked, his eyes growing sad looking over her prone body.

“Same as yesterday,” Steve replied solemnly. Bucky grunted and reached in his pocket, pulling out a phone. He passed it over to Steve.

“Tony fixed it for you. Also wanted to let you know we found the assholes who did this. Natasha made sure the rest that went into hiding wouldn’t ever come back.” Bucky said with a hint of pride. Steve felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. “Doesn’t mean they’ll stay there long. Natasha and Wanda both took this to a whole other level.”

“Good,” Steve stated, digging the food out from the bag. Bucky smirked.

“Tony threw a fit when he couldn’t get us the suite in the only hotel here in town. So, they set us up in the honeymoon suite.” Bucky muffled a groan and rolled his head to look at Steve. “It’s been an interesting few weeks. You ever gonna come up to the room?”

Steve shook his head, chewing on a bite from the burger. The room had a shower, and he had Natasha bring him a change of clothes and deodorant. The only time he left was when he went to get coffee or food from the cafeteria. The nurses and doctors stopped trying to push him out after visiting hours, instead opting to just ask him to stay in the room with Y/N. Not that he ever had plans on leaving her side for too long.

“Come on man.” Bucky started up. “You can’t stay here the whole time. You need to sleep. In a bed. And not curled up on a half stuff ottoman in a hospital.”

“I hear what you're saying, but no Buck. I can’t leave her.” Steve said firmly. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, but I’m going to be here for her when she wakes up.”

Bucky fell quiet, observing Steve for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright. But when she wakes up and bitches you out for not taking care of yourself, give me a heads up. I want to get a seat and popcorn for that show.”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve stated dryly. Bucky flashed him a toothy grin and swung a leg over the arm of his chair.

“That’s why you keep me around.”

“Punk.”

“Dick.”

“Hey now. That's rude.”

The two froze, their eyes going wide at the scratchy feminine voice that entered the fray. Their heads snapped towards the bed, both their eyes growing wide in shock. Steve moved first, vaulting off the chair to rush to Y/N’s side. He grabbed her hand while Bucky shot off outside to grab a nurse, giving the two a moment before the doctors would come rushing in.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Steve croaked, the tears starting all over again. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake! How are you feeling? What hurts?”

“Slow down, Stevie.” Y/N giggled, wincing at the flash of pain that shot up her side. “Clearly, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Jesus, you gave me a heart attack. I thought I lost you.” Steve stated his voice cracking. “I heard you die. I just-.”

“Hey.” Y/N interrupted. She reached her free hand up, and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his lips. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I didn’t though. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

Steve couldn’t say a word, his voice caught up in his throat. Instead, he did what he’d wanted to since the day he realized he started to fall for her. He closed the distance between them and pressed a searing kiss against her lips. Y/N melted under his touch, tugging him closer. They didn’t pull back until the door swung open, the doctors filtering in.

Stepping back, Steve’s eyes never left Y/N as the doctors went through the motions. A smile spread on his face, his eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. He wasn’t going to mess this up. He was tired of being careful. He had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

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Steve Tag: (Open)

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[thedivinedemom]

This has literally been in my wallet for a few days waiting for me to transcribe it. It's not great but hopefully it'll kick off my writing habit again.

Working title: Blue Eyes

As strange as it may have seemed Steve had never been upstate. Not really. Albany, sure. There and every other State capital and major city of his day.

Shipped cross country, from city to city, to be paraded about like some circus chimp to sell warnings. Never allowed to explore the cities outside the theaters.  Not without an appointment and full escort at least. He was the "property of the United States government" after all. They could not risk losing such a valuable asset because he wanted to go sightseeing. Much less taking a look outside them.

Sealed away in a train car, rushing to show after show, he rarely had the chance to take in the countryside. To enjoy the greenery or the scenery. He could honestly say that he had seen more of France and Germany then he had his own country.

Easing his bike down the turnpike he found that the early afternoon made the roads deceptively quiet. There were only a handful of vehicles out at the hour, mostly big rigs, and it gave an almost serene feeling to the drive. The silence of it gobbled up and ate away at the muffled roar of his engine. Though not enough to avoid startling some poor deer as he rode past. A chuckle bubbled out of Steve at that. How long had it been since he had last seen a deer? Decades? It all  depended on how one counted the years.

Making his way down an exit he caught the first glimpse of his destination. The greenhouses of the Gardens were gleaming in the sunlight. A series of crystal heels arranged across a thick pasture. A small field surrounded the buildings, filled with apple orchards and raspberry bushes.

Beautiful, likely to be more so on the inside. The Gardens were home to a number of rare, exotic, and even mutated plants from across the globe. Tony claimed that the Fantastic Four had donated a few of their more benign experiments to the facility. Sparking the interests of more than just Steve.

Locking his helmet away in his bike's compartment he walked in, his either art bag strapped tight to his back. The lobby was as fancy and sophisticated as one would imagine; filled sleek plastic, flat screens, and linoleum tiles. Even the ticket booth was digital.

Everything seemed to be electric nowadays. It was helpful, amazingly so. There should be ballads written about the wonders of the internet. Yet it was all so different. He was in the same country but it had a different feel to it. Like a teen who was growing into a man. Still going through the growing pains but becoming all the finer from it.

But Steve could barely recognize the land he was born in. Everyone spoke differently, they dressed differently, and there was even a change in the way they walked. It was all so radically different and Steve couldn't be prouder, for the most part.

Easing himself passed the ticket booth he found himself in the middle of a controlled jungle. Thick bushes of deep and vivid color lined the paths. Leading people deeper into the greenhouse filled with tropical flowers and temperate trees. How both could be in the same room he hadn't a clue, another wonder of the future surely, but it was all wonderfully arranged.

Casting his eyes about he looked.forma place to set up. A task easier said than done as what few benches he could see were occupied, taken before he had even arrived. He had hoped by coming in the middle of the week he would have avoided the crowds. A vein wish as it turned out to be.

After a moment, once his eyes finished their second lap of the area, he decided to change his plans. With how crowded things were he would not be able to sketch out the Gardens section by section as he planned. Instead he would have to treat it as a puzzle, taking it one area at a time as.he worked for the full image.

Up along the path he finally found a place to sit, deeper than he would have liked but he had to start somewhere. He did not fancy drawing standing up, he could do it but it would be annoying. The first bench he found put him firmly in the 'Mutated' section. It was an area filled with genetic anomalies ranging from crossbreeds to lab experiments to ability generated. The plant in front of him, according to its placard, was of the last category. The ever shifting colors of the petal was a fairly large hint for that.

Steve would have preferred to have started with something a little more mundane. Something familiar and simple that he could have warmed up on. Something that did not sway on its own or tangle its vines along anything within reach. It would be a challenge, especially so early into his day, but as with most challenges he jumped in feet first.

Eyeing the plant he began. Carefully he started with an outline of the stem. He made it sway on the page, letting it curve in three separate places before moving onto the creeping vines. These he only gave the vaguest of outlines, a matter to fill in later. Once the focus of his drawing was done.

Being as engaged as he was with his work he barely noticed someone approaching his bench. She took a seat without so much as a word, sipping at her coffee as Steve gave her a quick glance.

Lacking for better words Steve could only describe the woman beautiful. To do more would have left his tongue tied and his face red. It was a sensation he was intimately familiar with from his youth, not something he wanted to experience again. Still, he took a second look.

Amused, she caught him staring. Her blue eyes dancing as they met his own. She gave him a small indulgent smile and an inclination of her chin worthy of a queen. And Steve would know, he had met more than a few members of royalty in his time. She even gestured like one, giving a grand arch of her arm as she waved towards the plant he was sketching.

"Cassandra, one of my students, made this." She said, her voice accented and her smile more genuine. "She is very proud."

Keeping his head on his shoulders Steve managed to smile back. "She's not the only one who sounds proud."

Letting out a laugh she nodded. "I suppose. She worked very hard to get the colors just so. All semester in fact. She would be happy to know someone drove all the way to the Gardens to sketch them." She said, her accent twisted through her words and niggled at his brain. It was familiar to him. The curve of her words struck a chord in his memory. The way her vowels weaved away from her words in incriminates and popped away was throwing him off. He knew he had heard it before, and he did have an ear for these things, but he just could not place it.

"If you want she can have this when it's done." He offered, tilting the half finished sketch towards her. "It would just be gathering dust in my portfolio anyway."

"Very well." She said after a moment and a long searching look. "I think she would enjoy that." She paused for a moment longer. "Would you mind if I waited here until it is done? If it wouldn't be a bother."

Eyeballing his drawing Steve gave it another ten to fifteen minutes until he was finished, more or less. It wouldn't be his best work, not when it was his first sketch of the day, but it would still be up to his usual quality. Which he would modestly admit was exceptional.

So, Steve nodded his head. "It shouldn't take too long, Miss -"

"Monroe." She introduced, offering him another smile. This one was bright and full of genuine warmth, unlike her first smile. "But please, call me Ororo. Hearing Miss Munroe makes me think I'm back at the Institute."

"Ah, " he said, finally realizing how.rude.he was being. Once he wiped it free of pencil smudges he offered her his hand to shake. "Steve, please. It's a pleasure to meet you. Though if you don't mind me asking, where are you from? I can't seem to place your accent."

Taking his hand she gave him a firm shake, little callouses scraping against his palm as she pulled away. "I'm not surprised. I had a… diverse childhood. Though I am fairly certain my accent is some combination of Manhattan, Cario, and rural Kenya." Her tone lost some of its warmth, her voice worn as she answered. Likely because she answered that question in some form a thousand times before.

Though Steve barely noticed this. Instead, he felt a pang of excitement as things clicked into place. "<Ah! I knew your accent sounded familiar! The Manhattan in your consonants must have been what threw me off but I can hear it now.>"

Eyes wide Ororo leaned in, her voice excited as she asked, "<You can speak Arabic?>"

"<Roughly>," he said, shifting in his seat. "<I spent a few months in Egypt on my tour and some of the locals taught me. I'm sure my grammar is horrible. My French and German is much better but my Cantonese is barely passable.>"

Though Steve was fairly sure his grammatical and structural errors were more due to the lingual shift of the better part of a century passing by. He had a few missteps in his first months after the thaw with English. Steve could not imagine his secondary languages faired any better.

Ororo, unaware of his thoughts, simply nodded his head. Completely agreeing with his assessment. "<A few words do seem off. Perhaps they taught you a different dialect? You are speaking very well." She paused here, considering him for a long moment. Longer than before, as if she was only then getting the full picture of him. "<If you would like we could practice your language skills while we are here. Walk around the Gardens, perhaps a bite to eat. It has been so long since I've spoken Arabic with someone."

"Ororo, " He said, enjoying the feel of her name, "<It would be my genuine pleasure.>"

An:

Again, not happy with it. I've been reading a lot of high/sword & sorcery fantasy lately and I think it has an effect on my prose. I'm likely to just redo the entire snip.

I honestly like the pairing of Ororo and Steve, largely because they have each have been called the 'perfect person' as well as being strong leaders in their own rights even if they have different styles. Plus I can see them bonding over nature and trying things neither are familiar with, as well as her constantly making him blush (see swimsuits of the 1940s and compare to Storm's preferred swimwear).

And yes, I like the idea of neither putting two and two together for a while. Adds spice/grounds the relationship. Part of my handmade is that while Steve has worked with the XMen before the was the Original 5 and he hasn't met the new team yet. For Ororo Steve wasn't part of her history books besides a brief mention before the earthquake happened, and Steve is a common white boy name.

Oh, and before I forget, the first letter of every paragraph. Donate to your preferred cause.

[lifblogs]

Prompt by @whumpster-dumpster: Whumper wants to torture the youngest in the group. Whumpee A is the youngest, but Whumpee B has always looked younger than they are. B passes themself off as the youngest so A will be spared. 

The rogue grounder paced around the hut that Raven and her friends were very thoroughly tied up in. He wasn’t involved in any of the wars, lived on the outskirts of Ice Nation territory. They’d just been passing through to bring a message to one of King Roan’s commanders under him. Even with Polis in his control, and Praimfaya coming, Roan hadn’t yet found a good enough excuse to pull all of his people out of what had been his mother’s territory. They were the ones that were going to deliver the message to do so.

The man eyed them with an ugly glare, pacing, boots softening his steps on the old wood, furs keeping him warm against the cold. They’d been stripped down to just one layer each, left to freeze, the torches doing nothing to warm them. They barely lit the hut. And Raven’s brace had been taken, the grounder having decided she needed it for something, and it was in his best interest to take away anything she needed.

He was speaking in trigedasleng, Clarke and Octavia focusing intently on him. Raven eyed Monty, Harpy, Bellamy, and Murphy, wondering if while the man was distracted talking to the others, if any of them had started forming a plan on getting out. The radios were dead this far out with the two rovers they’d taken being their only possible charging stations. And Raven had disabled them in order to keep anyone from taking their tech. None of her friends seemed to have a plan, though Bellamy, and Murphy were pulling against their rough bindings, blood seeping onto the ropes.

The man stopped talking, as Raven now started pulling on her bindings. She was looking around the hut surreptitiously, seeing if there was anything to undo the ropes that was within range.

Octavia glared at the grounder, and Raven spotted a knife on a table behind Clarke. Raven tried nodding her head in a quick signal to her. Her left leg shifted across the floor with her doing so, and it was something she couldn’t help. Her hip twinged in pain.

Her motion was noticed.

Octavia spat out something in trigedasleng, turning his attention away from Raven. It earned her a punch in the face.

Bellamy started shouting.

The man yelled at them.

Clarke, lips shaking before she steeled herself said to them, “He wants to know which one of us is the youngest.”

Bellamy pointedly kept his eyes away from Octavia. Murphy’s eyes slid there, but before it could’ve possibly been noticed, Raven started crying out: “Hey! Hey!”

There was a grunt as their captor turned to her.

“It’s me,” Raven told him. “I’m the youngest.”

In English with a thick accent he challenged, “You don’t look the youngest.”

Trying to antagonize him in order to save Octavia, Raven snapped, “Yeah? Well you don’t look that stupid, but here we are.”

The man lunged at her, his hand roughly grabbing at her throat, strangling her. Raven struggled for breath, everyone crying out.

He murmured to her, “How dare you insult me in my own home.”

Raven coughed and gagged, had even started wheezing. Her throat ached, her lungs and head pounded. Black spots swam in her vision.

A voice broke through all the cries of no!, and let her go! — Clarke: “It’s me! It’s me! I’m the youngest.”

Without the grounder loosening his grip he glanced over his shoulder, and spoke, something about Clarke being the leader, so she was obviously lying in order to save her people.

Raven’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she could no longer see.

Only sound registered.

Murphy screamed, “Hey! Hey, it’s me! Okay? It’s me!”

The hand released her, and Raven was dizzy from the air that now flooded through her. Her throat hurt, and hurt, and hurt.

“Murphy…” Raven murmured, still out of it, but knowing, knowing something bad was going to happen to him. And he was doing it for her. Oh god.

“Is this one telling the truth?”

Deafening silence.

Raven’s vision came back just as she saw Murphy nodding ever so slightly, telling them it was okay.

Bellamy lied, backing him up, voice breaking as he did so, “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“We’re friends of King Roan,” Clarke gambled. “We can give you whatever you want. You don’t have to do this.”

“Roan’s bitch of a mother took my land, and butchered my family. One of her generals made me watch as they ripped my daughters apart while they were still breathing.”

Clarke’s compassionate voice broke through Raven’s oxygen-depleted-haze: “I’m sorry. We didn’t know. But that was Queen Naia, not her son. He is a different ruler than she was.”

“And a different ruler from Lexa,” he spat. “Azgeda scum killed my family, and Azgeda scum must die.”

“We’re not Ice Nation!” Bellamy argued.

“Bell, shut up,” Octavia said.

The man gave a cruel laugh, and then he explained, “Friends of Azgeda... ai laik Azgeda.” Raven didn’t have to know the language to understand what he meant. Clarke had miscalculated. Mentioning Roan had given them a death sentence.

“So why don’t you just kill us and get it over with?” Murphy countered.

“No. Slowly. Like the general did to my daughters.”

Murphy just stated, “Oh, ‘cause you just had to go and make this fun.”

Taking out a knife, the man went over to Murphy, and began to cut. Raven’s ears practically bled from the screams, and she found herself holding back a sob. Tears ran down her dirtied cheeks. Bellamy and Monty were screaming, Harper begging him to stop. Raven desperately glanced over at Clarke, raising her head again and again, trying to get her to look, to see the knife.

Murphy bled.

Clarke realized what Raven was trying to tell her, but all she could do to attempt to get it down was whack her head against the table, which was a horrible idea. As Murphy let out a cry through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his chilled skin, Clarke called out to Harper, who was sitting beside her.

Clarke mouthed something that Raven couldn’t hear from across the way, with Murphy’s shouting so loud, but Harper started kicking the table.

To distract from the noise, Bellamy was yelling, slamming his feet against the floor: “Stop it! Stop!”

The grounder pulled the knife away, Murphy bleeding from multiple wounds, face and torso and arms slashed up. There were some cuts to his legs as well. Raven made eye contact with him as he blood seeped into his clothes, staining them a dark red. She tried to hold back her tears, but one fell anyway. Murphy just rested his head back, and tried to catch his breath, chest heaving. A shiver ran through Raven, the toes of her right foot numb with cold.

The grounder now turned to Bellamy, knife pointed at him. Octavia started shouting something in trig, but she went ignored.

“You want to be next?” he asked him.

Monty: “We just want to live peacefully. No more fighting.”

“Then why did Roan send his people here?”

“To give a message to the rest of the Ice Nation,” Harper said, foot resting against the leg of the table. The knife had wobbled closer to the edge — thankfully, not anywhere where it would land on Clarke and hurt her.

“And what message could Skaikru give that the king can’t deliver himself?”

“We’re going to die,” Clarke informed him.

Raven’s breath caught in her throat, that anxious tingling of being close to death and running out of time running along her skin before plunging into her stomach.

“Yes, because I’m going to kill you.”

Did Bellamy just roll his eyes?

“Even if you kill us, you’re still going to die.”

The grounder growled.

“You idiots!” Octavia cried. “Stop making it seem like you’re threatening him. Hey, Inash.” The grounder — Inash — still had a snarl when he faced Octavia. “They’re telling the truth. Everyone on Earth, we’re all going to die, if we don’t get what people we can back to Polis.”

Something was said in trig, and Clarke’s voice stuttered as she responded, “Because Praimfaya is coming.”

“You’re mistaken. Praimfaya came.”

“And it’s coming again,” Raven argued.

She flinched as he wheeled on her, and her eyes instantly went to his hands that had been around her throat and had surely left bruises.

“If you let us go,” Clarke tried to delegate, “we can get you somewhere safe.”

Inash spat. “You wouldn’t. Not after I hurt your people.”

“My people, Roan’s people, Ice Nation — there won’t be any of that anymore,” Clarke pressed. “Praimfaya is coming for all of us, and we have to work together to survive it.”

Some sort of displeased grunt left Inash, and then he was making his way back to Murphy. Everyone but Murphy begged.

Raven couldn’t help the morbid curiosity that had her watching as the knife slashed into his stomach.

With all the noise, Harper went back to kicking the table.

The knife fell.

Raven held her breath, even as her lungs pounded, demanding air, telling her they’d had enough. She was light-headed, and when she breathed in, a wheeze sounded.

Inash sliced into Murphy’s shin.

“Hey, watch it!” Murphy cried. “This body belongs to someone else.”

“Yeah, me.”

“Ew, I meant my girlfriend,” Murphy told him.

“Then I’ll send her your head.”

He glanced at Raven and shrugged, somehow still coherent through all this. His face seemed to say, So much for that.

Harper kicked the knife over to Clarke, who grabbed it with her hands. She nodded at Murphy, distressed, mouthing, “Just a little longer.”

Inash put the blade to Murphy’s throat.

“I’ve about had enough of you.”

Murphy spat blood, and though his voice was raw, and his breaths were struggling gasps, he said, “I could say the same about you.”

A noise left Raven that might’ve been a distressed whine.

Murphy had hurt her, he’d betrayed them, he was the reason she needed to wear a brace. But she realized that she didn’t want him to die. She couldn’t watch him die. She just couldn’t. They’d all already lost so much, been hurt too much.

Clarke was desperately working with the knife she’d gotten.

Inash started cutting a shallow line across Murphy’s throat that had him wincing and baring his teeth in a snarl.

Raven’s vision blurred with tears, her screaming louder than Murphy’s; everyone’s begging and pleading impossibly loud.

There was a meaty thunk, and Inash stilled, breaths gurgling. He toppled sideways, landing hard next to Murphy, his eyes dead and unseeing. The hilt of a knife stuck out of the back of his head. Raven hadn’t even seen Clarke, who was now released from her bindings, throw it.

The world was a blur as Clarke got Bellamy’s bindings undone, and then they worked on freeing all of them. Monty and Bellamy supported Murphy, who was barely conscious. Clarke and Harper helped Raven.

“We gotta find where he put your brace,” Harper said.

Raven just nodded, not taking her eyes off Murphy. Harper left to go find the brace, Clarke seeming to have no problem supporting Raven on her own.

Murphy didn’t tear his gaze away, though he was pale and shaky, exhausted. He just nodded.

Brace found, they started making their way out of the hut, to the rovers.

Raven and Murphy ended up sitting next to each other in the back, leaning against each other. Harper was putting Raven’s brace on, her hip twinging at the movements. Octavia was going in a different Rover, but she climbed up into theirs.

Her body was directed at Murphy, but her eyes were downcast.

Voice hoarse, quiet, she said, “Thank you.”

Murphy just responded, “I didn’t do it for you.”

Raven did her best to hide her shock.

Octavia jumped down from the rover, and she heard Bellamy cry, “Move out! Back to Arkadia. We get the message to them another day.”

“We don’t have time,” Monty argued.

“Yeah? Neither does Murphy.”

They finished getting in the rovers, Clarke driving theirs, Bellamy the other, and Raven could barely find her voice. But finally, she whispered to Murphy, “Thank you.”

He wearily nodded his head before passing out, his blood seeping into her clothes.

[my-keyboard-did-it-not-me]

The Storm That's Brewing

Summary: They meet Roman's friend and have a chat about powers

Warnings: none? Tell me if I should add any

----------

Chapter 10- Plants Vs Princes

The weather was splendid, if Roman did say so himself despite the winter rapidly closing in, not like Alicante, nor California, would really suffer from the cold. Still, with the fall sun shining hot, and a warm breeze drifting through the air, it was nice.

The start of their walk began quietly. Roman wasn't sure whether or not Virgil was mad at him. Obviously, he had reason to- Roman had teleported them across the globe, and couldn't get them back. Surprisingly, he hadn't spent too long in any part of America, and had very few places he could thing of teleporting. In his new city, there really were few spots he knew that didn't have cameras, or were bustling with people. In the city he grew up in wasn't too far from his current address, with his roommates, but he'd never really ventured far off of their property; his father feared he'd do something dumb. Imagine was everything, after all. Roman considered trying to go to his childhood home, but thought better of it. They'd surely be caught by some camera, or neighbour. It was barely worth the risk, especially when he had other manors of returning home.

A minute of silence passed until Roman had had enough of his thoughts. Though, he had nothing to say to Virgil that he was sure wouldn't upset him further. Was he upset? Or was it anger? Was it worse to say nothing, or add salt to the injury? He had to do something, he decided. The last thing he wanted Virgil to find him was boring. Rude, annoying? Sure, he'd heard that all before. But boring was something Roman King refused to be.

Untrusting of his words, Roman began to hum. He was vaguely aware of what the song was that he hummed, as he'd never not recognise anything from Heathers. 'Fight For Me', though, held a special place in his heart. He found the song in his dreams, or paintings of people he admired, and he found it stuck in his brain for several weeks on end. The tune was one he knew well, and thought not of, until Virgil joined in.

Virgil's humming was nearly silent. It was timid. It was unsure. It was sweet, and Roman was hooked. He lowered the volume of his own humming a little, to hear Virgil better, without discouraging him. To Roman's amusement, Virgil took the chorus' parts, and ended the song.

"You like Heathers?" Roman asked after they'd finished the song, excitement clear in his voice.

"The film's better, but yeah I love both." Virgil said sheepishly.

"The film's better?"

Virgil looked Roman dead in the eye, almost as a challenge- about to drop metaphorical gauntlet for a duel. "Christian Slater's eyebrows."

Roman had to concede. He looked ahead, seeing their destination looming near. "Fair point. Christian Slater is a snack. But the musical soundtrack is so powerful!"

"Let me guess: you're a sucker for 'Our Love Is God'."

Roman feigned offence. It was, of course, true, but he didn't like how Virgil had pegged him so easily. "It's romantic!"

"If you ignore the two murders in the middle."

Roman spun dramatically in a circle. "Exactly!"

"Dude, that's kind of an important fact to just glaze over."

"Possibly." Roman agreed, he supposed murder was a pretty big thing to just gloss over. "Anyway, I bet your favourite song is 'Freeze Your Brain'. You give off some real JD vibes."

Virgil paused, staring right at him. "I look like a psychopathic serial killer?"

Roman didn't catch the sarcasm. He backtracked, "No, no, no! Well-" He looked Virgil up and down, "Yeah, no, not really. You just have a dark edginess about you-"

"Calm down Princey, I'm messing with you. I do like 'Freeze Your Brain', and you're not the first one to think I give off psycho vibes. I played JD in my highschool's production."

"You're a theatre kid?" Roman practically yelled. He <i>knew it.<i/> Well, he hadn't actually thought about it before, but now that he knew it made so much sense. "I knew you could sing!"

Virgil smiled shyly in response.

"Sing something with me- Disney, you must know Disney."

"Yes, I know Disney. No, I'm not singing." He started walking again, getting several feet in front of Roman before he thought to catch up. For someone so short, he surely walked quickly.

"Please," Roman begged, "From your favourite Disney film. What is it?"

"Black cauldron. No songs, it's perfect."

Roman pouted.

"Not happening Princey."

"Alright, alright." He pointed forward. "Anyway, our destination is right up that hill. The easiest pathway starts from the edge of town, unless you want to hike."

"Can't you just teleport us? Hiking sucks."

"But then we'd miss all the scenery. Besides, I want to see if my friend Bea is around." Plus, I need to save my energy, he thought.

"Fine." Virgil agreed.

-

Bea was, just as Roman had hoped, around. She sat at her flower stall, looking bored, with a pink flower crown she'd probably spent too much time making on top of her head. She hadn't changed too much since Roman last saw her, despite her hair having grown from a pixie cut to well past her shoulders. Nowadays, his visits to Spain were scarce.

She didn't spot Roman straight away, as she was absorbed in her phone, her face obscured by her hair. Roman took this opportunity to sneak up on her from behind. He snatched her phone out of her hand.

"Hey!" She protested, spinning round to face Roman. The moment she saw him, her angry expression dropped to one of surprise, and then joy. She pounced on Roman, engulfing him in a hug with such power that it almost knocked him to the ground. Despite being thin, she was almost Roman's height, and could really get some force into her hugs.

She pulled out of the hug, wearing an expression of anger again. "Where have you been? You haven't visited in months. No calls, no texts, and you haven't posted in Instagram in like two weeks which I guessed meant you were dead."

Roman passed her her phone. "My sincerest apologies, although you could've texted me," Bea did not like this answer. "I've been busy with work, and you know, moving house."

"You moved? Since when?"

"Since a month ago. I'm living in an apartment with two lovely roommates, and J-Delightful over there." He gestured towards where Virgil was standing a foot or two away. Virgil gave a small, awkward wave in response.

Bea rushed over to Virgil. "Ohmygosh you're so pretty! Sorry I didn't see you, and sorry Roman's so terrible at introductions. I'm Bea."

"Virgil." He smiled politely.

"Wait a sec, I have something perfect for you-" Bea swiftly moved behind her stall and retrieved two more flower crowns: one red and yellow, braided with flowers that Roma recognised to be red carnations, as well as some other smaller blooms, and a crown which consisted mainly of deep purple flowers with kite shaped petals, and some more, pinker flowers in between. As she passed him, she placed the red flower crown hastily on Roman's head, completely messing his hair up in the process. In a less aggressive manner, she kindly offered Virgil the other crown.

"Oh, no, it's alright-"

"Don't worry. I make loads. My friend has been cloning some of my plants for me so I have way more than I need."

"Okay, well, thank you." Virgil said, placing the flower grown lightly on his head. Roman never expected to see Virgil wearing something to colourful. Roman tried his best not to stare, failing horribly. He opened his phone camera to hide his face, and to fix his hair which Bea had rudely ruffled.

"Aw, you look so cute! Purple suits you." Bea said, impressively energetically. Roman knew from several late night adventures in their youth, that Bea had overwhelming stores of energy that never seemed to run dry. Coming from Roman this statement truly held some weight.

"You have a boyfriend." Roman reminded her, a little more defensively than usual.

Bea laughed, "Yeah, and you don't, what's your point?" She looked between Roman and Virgil excitedly. "Unless you two are...?"

"No!" Both boys said, a little too quickly. They stared at one another quickly, surprised. Virgil broke eye contact first, looking down at his feet. Roman noticed a blush creeping onto his cheeks, matching his flower crown.

Roman switched his camera round and discreetly took a picture of the blushing emo, for teasing purposes of course.

"Wow okay, didn't mean to offend anyone." Bea reassured, gently waving a white flower in peace.

"You could never." Roman denied just as Virgil whispered, "You didn't."

"Well, anyway," Bea changed the subject, "I'm running out of space to store all these plants so you're both taking two each home."

Roman had forgotten how bossy Bea could be, even when doing something nice.

Roman slid his sunglasses down onto his nose and peered at Bea over the top."You want us to carry four plants back?"

"I'm sure you'll manage, Maharajah"

Virgil wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Maharajah?"

"Oh, it's a really funny story. So I was hosting this Indian exchange student ages ago because my dad knows like three words in Hindi and thought he could speak to them, which was a disaster. Anyway, literally the second he saw Roman he just says 'Maharaja' so me and Roman are just really confused, obviously, but we don't think much of it. Maybe he has a friend that looks like Roman-"

"He'd be lucky." Roman remarked.

Bea ignored him. "-called Maharajah but then him and his friend keep snickering about if and saying it whenever Roman was being, well, Roman,"

Virgil piped in this time, "So, extra?"

Bea pointed at him. "Exactly! We asked him what it meant and he, in a thick Indian accent, was just like 'In English, I think you'd describe him as an extra bitch' which of course I would but it was hilarious and Roman was moping for the rest of the day."

"I was not moping! I don't mope." Roman protested.

"Hush, Roman. The grown ups are speaking. Go get some plants."

Virgil snickered.

"I'm older than both of you?"

Bea stared at Roman, unyielding, until he huffed and went behind the stall to look at all the plants.

"But yeah so we googled Maharajah and they used that name for their kings-"

"Which I am." Roman said, holding two small plants up to his eye level, as if they were evidence in a murder investigation.

"-or emperors or whatever but now they just use it for extra bitches like Roman."

"That's... Kind of perfect." Virgil said. "At the apartment, we just call him pool noodle, not to be confused with our snake who we call cute noodle."

Roman emerged from the stall with a pot of red flowers, which were just beginning to bloom. "I thought I was the cute noodle."

Virgil smiled apologetically, "Sorry, that's Raman."

"Raman?" Bea asked.

Virgil confirmed, "The cute noodle."

"Ahhhh, makes sense. But why do you guys have a snake? Like, they're cool but a kind of random pet."

"Virgil and his much kinder-" He shot a smug look at Virgil, "brother, Patton, saved it from some birds. It's only staying with us until the end of the week."

"You're just jealous it gets more attention than you, Princey."

Roman poked one of the flower's buds. "I most certainly am not."

"Hey, be gentle with that. It's just starting to bloom, loser. It's a poinsettia, and I knew you'd choose that one." She nudged Roman playfully. "What about you Virgil, which two do you want?"

Virgil looked over the options. The stall was full of different varieties of plants. What first caught Virgil's eye were a load of hanging plants, dropping down from the top of the stall. They looked cool, but Virgil had nowhere to keep them. The table had a huge variety of plants, none of which Virgil could name, though he liked their pretty colours and shapes.

"What's the easiest to keep alive? I suck at gardening."

"I usually have some succulents or cacti which are pretty much impossible to kill but they need repotting so... Okay, this one." She handed Virgil a plastic pot with a few small, vibrant purple flowers. "They're African violets, very easy to care for, but they don't like direct sunlight. What about the other plant?"

"Uh, I don't know, maybe something for my brother? I don't know."

"Aw, that's so sweet, what does he like?"

What would Patton like? A flower? A succulent? One of the leafy ones? "Uh... He likes colourful stuff?"

"Oh, me too. What about a polka dot plant?" She picked up a small bush plant with pink leaves spilling out of the side. "It's pretty easy to keep alive- indirect sunlight, water every few days and it should thrive."

Virgil moved his violets under one arm and took the polka dot plant from Bea, making sure to get a good grip on both. He'd be mortified if he dropped either fragile plant. "Thank you, he'll love it." He said, pouring as much gratitude as he could into the sentence. Roman's friend, who he'd known for a solid five minutes was giving him two free plants which seemed to be what she earned a living from, and seemed to genuinely care about his brother. Plus, she annoyed Roman- that was a bonus. If Virgil had any money he would've given it to Bea, but it was... Right, in another continent. That still hadn't sunk in.

Bea smiled and looked back to Roman. "What about you?"

"Me? What about me? Are we talking about me?" Roman asked. He'd tuned out of the conversation a few minutes ago to continue a daydream. He noticed Virgil trying to cover his mouth to stop laughing with a plant still in his hand, subsequently getting leaves in his mouth. Karma.

Bea merely shook her head, "No, dude, pick another plant."

He glanced at Virgil, who was struggling to spit out a leaf from the plant he'd selected for Patton. Roman considered for a moment, "I should probably get one for Logan."

"Your other roommate?" Bea asked. Roman nodded. "What does he like?"

"Uh..." Roman realised how little he knew about Logan. He could only recall one instance in which he'd spoken to Logan alone, and that was only a short conversation about coffee. He looked to Virgil for guidance, who dismissed him with a shrug. "He likes science and... Robots?"

Bea shook her head very slightly. "I don't happen to have any robot flowers today but this is pretty cool." She showed Virgil and Roman a pot full of stones. Roman waited a moment, wondering whether a bright pink plant would shoot through the rocks and sing the alphabet (or something more scientifically possible) but nothing happened.

"Where's the plant?" He asked.

Bea held the plant closer to them. "Here." She insisted.

Roman and Virgil shared a confused look.

"They're not rocks," Bea explained. "They're succulents. Kinda dull to look at but like, they're cool."

"No way." Virgil whispered, feeling the rock-plant. Roman followed suit, expecting a rough texture. It surprised him to feel that strange rubbery, plastic-like texture succulents all had.

"I don't remember it's actual name but me and Bella call it Rocky, obviously."

"I'm sure Logan will know its name, species, origin and at least two random facts about it." Roman said, no intentions of malice behind his words. He accepted the pot from Bea, tucking it under his spare arm.

Virgil let slip a laugh before he could compose himself back to that neutral, nearly annoyed looking expression he wore most of the time. Why he suppressed his smiles and laughter was a mystery to Roman- he looked so carefree when he laughed. It would have to be Roman's new quest: to cheer up the emo.

Bea squinted up at the sky. "The sun's about to set and I should probably get these plant children inside but it was really nice to meet you, Virgil."

"You too."

Roman was very conscious of the size of Bea's stall, and the little amount of daylight they had left. He offered, "Any help getting the flowers back to yours?"

"Nah, I'm good." Bea lifted the cloth that covered the stall, revealing wheels on the table legs. Roman laughed, what a Bea thing to do.

She kicked at one of the wheels, spinning it to face he same direction of the others. Bea grabbed one end of the stall and pulled it slightly. "Roman, you better text me later, and if either of you or your roommates have any questions about your plants or just want a chat, message me. Visit soon!" She pulled the cart away slowly.

Virgil and Roman yelled their goodbyes after her, then set off down the path up the hill.

-

As per Virgil's request, they sat under a tree, not too close to the water. Of course Virgil wanted to be in the shade, here was probably melting in that black jacket.

The scene in front of them was beautiful. The number of selfies Roman had taken in this spot was infinitesimal (meaning extremely large, not tiny, as Logan had mistaken a few days ago). They had a perfect view of the sea, and setting sun. And Virgil? He was a view of his own. Of course, he lacked any sense of style at all, clad in black from head to toe, although Roman quite admired that. The juxtaposition of the colourful sunset behind Virgil, with Virgil's black, silhouette like stature looked like an artwork Roman would have painted. Perhaps he would a little later.

"What?" Virgil asked. He placed his plant pots in the space between where they were sitting.

"Huh?"

"Why are you staring, Prince Edward?" Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

"Prince Edward?"

"Yeah." Virgil said slowly, "From Enchanted."

Roman gasped, offended. "Why of course I knew he was from Enchanted. I was just surprised that you of all people would compliment me."

"Compliment? He's stupid and sings too much." Virgil paused a second. "What do you mean 'me of all people?'"

"He's brave and does anything in the name of love! And he sings a perfectly reasonable amount. Plus, he's handsome. I find him rather relatable." Virgil waited for him to answer his question. "I said 'you of all people' because I don't think I've ever heard you compliment anyone."

Virgil hugged his arms to his chest. "Or maybe you've never done anything that I should compliment."

"What do you mean? I look like this-" he gestured around wildly. "-every day."

[this chapter is so long I'll post the rest in a sec]

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

War of Attrition: Chapter 17

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. The past comes back to haunt you. Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of death, blood, violence, wounds, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, survivor’s guilt Word Count: ~4,112 A/N: Please read the warnings!!

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Got it, pal. Let me know when we’re getting close?” he murmured.

“I will, sir. Shall I wake you if either of you exhibits the symptoms of night terrors?” Alfred asked kindly.

Bucky nodded his head. “Please, Alfred. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Master Barnes. Enjoy your nap.”

Bucky was asleep within five minutes, lulled to sleep by the dull roar of the engines and your even breathing.

You moved the thick gardening glove down your wrist and glanced at your watch, trying your best to look inconspicuous as the guards passed.

10:19 am.

One minute until you had to make your way over to the small van with a wide arrangement of gardening tools... along with reinforced armor-plated sides, a silent, electric engine, and enough room for three people.

You clipped carefully at what you’d learned was a blueberry bush, humming a German tune that you actually did enjoy, and placed the clippings into the basket beside you. The guards paid you no mind, of course. You were a woman; a gardener. They had automatic weapons and you had slightly dull shears.

At 10:20 you stood and slowly moseyed over to your van, giving the guards a polite incline of your head and tentative smile as you passed. They eyed you and you had to fight back the urge to gag. There was no way to tell exactly what expression they held behind those soulless black masks, but if their body language was anything to go by it was in the vein of interest.

The basket got thrown somewhat carelessly into the back, the doors to which you left wide open. You walked over to the driver’s side door and hopped into the driver’s seat, trying your best to not fidget nervously as you turned the silent van on and waited.

You didn’t have to wait long.

There was a commotion on the other side of the sprawling property and the guards that had been stationed nearby were gone in a flash, running towards the source of the noise.

You bit your lip and gripped tightly at the steering wheel, nearly yelping in surprise when Peggy and Erskine jumped into the back of van and slammed the doors.

“Go go go!” Peggy yelled, but you were already rocketing forward, towards the front gates of Johann Schmidt’s private estate. The bastard wasn’t home, of course. You and Peggy had made sure of that.

The man you were rescuing- Abraham Erskine- looked gaunt and pale, which was no surprise. He’d been held by Schmidt for the better part of five years, being slowly starved to death and occasionally tortured. For her part, Peggy looked unfairly good in frumpy maid’s clothing that (despite your best efforts) hadn’t been able to hide her beauty.

“Look out!” Erskine yelled in thickly accented English, but you were already barreling ever faster towards the thick metal gate at the front of the property.

The van crashed through the wrought iron as though it was made of paper and the bullets of the guards’ guns might have been missing completely for all the damage they did.

“We did it!” you whooped from the front seat as you careened dangerously down the country road.

You could hear Peggy’s sly smile when she spoke, but you were too busy trying to make sure the three of you didn’t end up in a ditch to turn and look at her. “Not yet, we haven’t. We still need to make the rendezvous.” That made you grin and push your van just that slightest bit faster, adrenaline running through your veins. “Are you hurt, Doctor Erskine?”

The answering gasp made your blood run cold.

You knew that gasp; the shaky exhale that followed.

The van’s tires dug deep furrows into the ground as you slammed on the breaks, gravel flying in every direction. You spun in your seat, horror only growing at the sight behind you.

Erskine was bleeding out in Peggy’s arms, one gunshot straight to the gut, one to the chest.

He was bleeding. There was so much blood. Too much blood. It filled the bottom of the van until it came up to your ankles.

“You didn’t save me,” he gasped, bloody bubbles running down his chin.

“Abe! No! This isn’t- I wanted to save you- I tried- Please, Abraham! No!” you cried, crawling into the back of the van and kneeling down in the pool of blood. Its warm wetness seeped through your pants immediately, but you didn’t care. Abraham was dying. 

“You are evil,” he spat, and the blood splattered against your face. “Not even human. Steve Rogers should have killed you when he had the chance.” The hatred in his eyes had you scrambling back, scared. He was wrong! You were human! You grew up in New York! You liked machines and hated Nazis and-

“Почему ты расстроена, мама?” You froze as you backed up against someone, but you knew who it would be without looking. You turned anyway, seemingly unable to control your own body. A young Natalia stared down at you with eyes that were hers, but not. They were harder and colder than you’d ever seen, filled with condescension and hatred. It was the way she looked at an obstacle or an enemy. “Почему ты грустишь? Вы выполнили свою миссию. Доктор мертв.“ She asked with a feral smile that made your skin crawl.

“Нет! Нет, я не хотел этого! Он мой друг!” you gasped, bringing your legs up to your chest, curling into yourself.

But you froze when your hands touched cold, unyielding metal.

A scream crawled its way up your throat and you tried to scramble away from the pieces of metal, but they were attached to you; no, the metal was you. Your legs. Your fingers. A hand shot out and froze you in your tracks. Where Abraham and Peggy had been Howard Stark now laid, as young as he was the day you’d met him. His hand was broken, bones at odd angles and sticking out from his skin grotesquely. Pieces of glass were embedded into his purpling skin.

You didn’t know how you could recognize him. His face was smashed in until it was a pulpy mass with two dark brown, blood-eclipsed eyes staring piercingly at you.

“You killed me,” he whispered, though it sounded so loud to you that you had to throw your hands over your ears.

“No, please! Howard! I didn’t mean to. Please, please, please, stop. I couldn’t stop myself,” you pleaded, eyes shut tight against the horrible sight of Howard’s disfigured face and broken limbs.

“You looked right at me. I said your name. And then you bludgeoned me to death,” he spat accusingly, and you mashed your hands even tighter over your ears.

“God, this isn’t real. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real!” you grit out through gnashing teeth. “This is a nightmare and-”

“Wovon redest du, fräulein? Das ist dein Leben, (Y/N).” 

The sound of Zola’s nasally voice had you careening forward into the pool of blood, not caring that it covered half of your face. You didn’t dare open your eyes and see him.

“Ich habe dich zu einem Monster gemacht,” he said, sickly sweet. It was the same voice he used when talking about successful experiments. “Ja das ist richtig. Das ist alles was du bist. Eine Waffe. Meine Waffe.“

“Nein! Ich bin nicht das, was du mich gemacht hast!” you screamed, metal fingers digging painfully into your skin.

“Is that why you killed me?” Mary Douglas asked. Even after all this time you knew her voice. It was the voice that haunted you more often than any of the others, except, perhaps, Howard’s.

You finally lifted your gaze, eyes wide and horrified. The skin of Mary’s face was burned and bubbling, a visage that would haunt even the most stalwart souls. Did she look that horrible after you’d killed her? You couldn’t even remember sometimes. You’d only seen her for a split second before Bucky had turned you away. Perhaps your remembered version was worse than the real thing, but there’d be no real way to ever know.

“You say you’re not a monster, but that didn’t stop you from killin’ me when you weren’t under their control. You’re broken, child, an’ nothin’ can fix you. All you’re good for now is killin’,” Mary said, speaking through cracked, warped lips.

“No! No no no please god no make it stop!” you screeched, tearing at your own face. Maybe if you died the voices would stop and-

“(Y/N)!”

“No, god no. Not you too, Buck,” you whimpered, tearing at your hair. Make it stop make it stop make it stop-

“You’re the reason why he’s alive and suffering,” a terrible, vengeful image of Pierce spat, staring at you like you were less than dirt. His guts were spilling into the pool of blood.

“(Y/N)! Please, wake up!”

“Wenn nicht für dich, hätte ich ihn nicht machen können,” Zola said malevolently, with your faceless, black-masked torturer behind him. “Es ist alles deine Schuld.“

“Baby, please. You gotta wake up.” He sounded frantic now. Why was he telling you to wake up? This was reality, after all. It was condensed suffering, dozens of people closing in on you in a landscape devoid of anything else except bodies and the blood that was slowly rising higher. Up to your knees, your waist, your chest-

“You’re the reason why SHIELD fell. I wish I had never met you.” Peggy stared down her nose at you, sneering beautifully.

“Baby, please. Wake up. Wake up!”

The world shook violently and your eyes opened to a too-bright room. You were already falling forward, out of bed, away from Bucky, and onto the hard ground of the room you were renting.

You vomited onto the worn wood, not caring that it got in your hair or on your hands. Your chest heaved as you breathed in startlingly cold breaths, the stench of vomit not overpowering the relief of no longer scenting the irony tang of blood in the air.

But you couldn’t relax, not when there were so many threats out there. Hydra. The KGB. SHIELD. The Avengers. The countless ghosts that were assuredly after your soul.

Bucky was by your side in an instant, running a big hand down your back, voice low and soothing as he spoke. “It’s alright, (Y/N). You’re here, with me. We’re in Bucharest, Romania. It’s 2015. They don’t know where we are. We’ve built a safe house for ourselves. Breathe, Baby. Just breathe,” he whispered, knowing not to move closer until you made some sort of sign that you’d understood what he’d said.

“It’s 2015,” you gasped, metal nails scratching grooves into the wooden floor as you clenched your hands into a fist. “Hydra doesn’t have us. The KGB doesn’t have us. We’re hiding.” You said the words like a mantra, letting them ground you.

“That’s right, Doll,” Bucky confirmed, letting himself get a little bit closer to tug your hair from your face. If he minded the vomit, he didn’t said anything. It wasn’t like this was the first time for either of you.

You sucked in a breath, and tried to release it slowly, evenly... but it came out as a shuttering sob. Bucky echoed the wounded noise softly and pulled you to him, his warm, soft human hand guiding your face gently to his neck.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder, staining his light grey shirt in little droplets. You gritted your teeth against the wracking sobs, but that didn’t stop the pathetic noises from slipping through, nor did it stop the way your entire body shook. You knew, distantly, that Bucky was picking you up and carrying you through the tiny apartment, but you were still surprised when the first jet of cool water poured over your back, soaking your hair and clothing in an instant.

It wasn’t icy, but was still cold enough to not be mistaken for the pool of blood that haunted your dreams. The bathroom came into focus around you, its off-white walls and dingy lights comforting in a way they had no right to be.

You perched your chin on his shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the water flow over you skin, the effect calming you in a way his touch alone couldn’t.

“D’ya wanna talk about it?”

A hummed, dismissive response was the only reply you had the wherewithal to give at the moment. You could feel more than see him nod in acknowledgment and a sound of protest left your lips when he moved too much, but a second later a toothbrush and toothpaste were in front of your face. It was a sign of how out of it you were that you had trouble focusing on them.

Wordlessly you took them, though you paused to nudge his shoulder gently with your forehead, a small sign of thanks and affection that you couldn’t form the words to right then.

“Do ya wanna watch Tangled after this?” he asked quietly, lips brushing against your now sopping wet hair.

You hummed a small affirmative as you began brushing your teeth dutifully (Bucky knew it was the first thing you liked to do after episodes; it was hard to get past them when there was such a horrid physical reminder of what had happened). Of all the newer Disney movies you liked that one the best so far. There were others, but between saving half the world and avoiding what felt like the other half of the world, you hadn’t yet found the time to watch them all. They were an escape, and a welcome one at that.

“Time?” you murmured after you spat out the toothpaste and rinsed your mouth out with the bottle of water Bucky handed you (you needed to fix the pipes in this damned hellhole... or maybe just set up a water filtration system).

“Just after 2 am,” he answered immediately, voice still slow and soothing. 

You frowned. Maybe you’d be able to fall back asleep during Tangled, but it was unlikely Bucky would be able to, not after your episode. You bit your tongue on the apology you wanted to give him, knowing it wasn’t fair to either of you to apologize for something you couldn’t control.

Instead, you turned the water up to a less offensive temperature (it was starting to get too cold for you at this point) and shuffled until your back was against Bucky’s. Taking the hint, he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned back against the tub, pulling you with him. Using your foot, you hit the knob that turned the shower head off, eyes opening a little wider now that you knew you wouldn’t be constantly bombarded by tiny droplets of water. With equal ease you popped the plug into the drain, eyeing it dubiously for a moment until you were sure it was actually stopping the water from escaping into the sewer.

“Alfred, could you bring the tablet?” you asked the air, knowing that the AI would hear you even though you could barely hear yourself above the sound of the water.

“Of course, Mistress Barnes,” one of the drones said dutifully, already floating into the bathroom with the largest of the tablets trapped between the claws of its little metal arms. You had a feeling the AI had been ready and waiting for you to ask.

“Thanks Al,” Bucky said as he took the tablet from Drone Anchorage.

“It was my pleasure, Master Barnes. Please enjoy the movie.”

You eyed the tablet and, sure enough, Tangled was already queued up and ready to go. Bucky huffed a single laugh and even you felt a tiny smile tilt a corner of your lips up. You tilted your knees up and Bucky set the tablet on your lap, knowing full well you made all of your tech waterproof (well, almost all of it, but Bucky knew very, very well which inventions were water-safe and which ones weren’t).

You tapped play and, almost instantly, your heart felt a little lighter at the sound of Eugene’s voice starting the introduction.

When the tub was full enough you turned the faucet off and practically melted into Bucky’s chest, tension finally leaving you in some measurable way.

“Hey Buck?” you whispered as the scene switched to Eugene stealing the crown.

“Yeah Doll?” he murmured, arms squeezing you ever so gently.

“Love you,” you answered, eyes not leaving the screen.

Bucky merely placed a gentle kiss to the back of your head and muttered a quiet but heartfelt “Love you, too,” and you finally let yourself get lost for a while.

By the time you woke up again you were back on the small mattress you shared with Bucky, dry and in new clothes. You reached out blindly for your husband, already suspecting he wasn’t there by the lack of dipping in the old, worn out springs. Sure enough, the sheets were cold, but you kept looking anyway, right until your hand reached the edge of the mattress. With a groan you shoved your face back into the pillow, unwilling to face the day. Days after an episode were especially tough and you considered it a blessing that you managed to wake up knowing what year it was and where you were.

“Bucky? Где ты?” you mumbled, trusting in his enhanced hearing to pick up your voice even through the walls. The apartment was tiny; only two small rooms. Nearly everything was in the first room- the one you were in now- with all of your important scientific research and the workshop in the other.

“Какие? Не могли бы даже потрогать ваши глаза?” came a quiet, gentle voice directly to your right.

Tension left your muscles after a second, your body relaxing when you realized he was watching your back both metaphorically and literally.

“Я не знаю, как вы можете быть комфортно на этой кушетке. Это ужасно,” you muttered as you shuffled around, finally opening your eyes to look up at him. He was reading the paper and you could just barely see his bright blue eyes over the top of it. If you weren’t mistaken, they were distinctly amused. You realized you were likely an unsightly heap, strewn out lackadaisically on the bed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Ты тот, кто спас его от корзины,” he countered.

You frowned, features coming uncomfortably close to a pout. Genius engineers and deadly assassins didn’t pout, though. Then, it hit you. “Shit,” you hissed as you grabbed the pillow and shoved it into your face. “I’ve been talking in Russian.”

“Да,” he said dryly. You chucked the pillow blindly at him, wincing as it veered violently to the right... and straight into the sink.

Bucky lowered the paper slowly and leveled a flat, unimpressed stair at you, but you were already rolling away from his accusing stare. You could practically feel his gaze boring into your back, but you valiantly ignored him until you heard the paper rustle again.

You let yourself lay there for a while, mind wandering as you attempted to sort your jumbled thoughts. The nightmare from hours before still lingered in grisly flashes, destroying any urge you had to leave the bed and be productive. You’d manage it eventually, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to get up just yet.

“What are we doin’, Buck?” you whispered, not thinking about your question until it was already hanging in the air between you.

A pause, then the sound of the paper being folded haphazardly. “We’re hiding. Doing what we can to stay away from other people. You’re sending tips to the new SHIELD to help them clean up unsavory folks and the remnants of Hydra. We-”

You rolled over to look at him, the sad smile on your face making him freeze mid sentence. “You know what I mean, Bucky...” you whispered softly.

He looked away, blue eyes trained on a random spot on the floor. “Dunno what you mean, Doll,” he said quietly, with just a hint of obstinance. He didn’t like this conversation, mostly because you ended up talking each other in circles for hours. You both felt horribly guilty over what you’d personally done, but neither of you would let the other turn themselves in.

You tried a new path of thought today. “Stevie’s friend. Anthony Stark.”

Even though Bucky still refused to look at you, you could see the way the name affected him in how his jaw tightened and his gaze turned stormy.

“Steve will figure it out soon if he hasn’t already. And you know-”

“He won’t tell him, yeah. I know,” Bucky said bitterly.

“Tony isn’t stupid either, from what I can tell. He’ll... probably figure it out eventually, too. Natalia and Steve will probably try to keep it from him, though.”

Bucky’s frown only deepened. “That’ll only be a problem if we insert ourselves in their lives again,” he said tersely.

You sighed, heart constricting painfully. “He was my friend, Buck. Our friend. And we killed ‘im.”

Bucky’s gaze turned up sharply, though you could tell he was hurting too by the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked at you. “And what? We say ‘sorry we killed your mom and dad’ and hope he doesn’t blow us to bits with his suit? Worse, we hope he does?”

You flinched at the implication.

... No, that he’d seen through your words and intentions so clearly as he always did. “We’d deserve it,” you muttered so quietly you almost thought he wouldn’t hear.

But his eyes flashed with anger and fear and he was off the couch and in front of you in a flash. You were in his arms before you could mutter even the smallest protest, your face jammed into his broad chest.

“We did a lot of messed up things, Doll. I know we did. I don’t think we’ll ever really escape that shadow... but if you think I’m ever letting you go again, you’re wrong,” he breathed, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

Your arms went around his waist, but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread swirling low in your gut. “Someone’s gotta answer for what we did, Buck...” you muttered, voice muffled by his chest.

He squeezed you gently. “They did. They are. Steve and Natalia killed most of the rats and we got rid of what they missed. Only pieces remaining are the roaches that barely have enough power to pry themselves out of their destroyed, moldering ruins of an empire.”

You frowned and bit your lip. This was how the conversation usually went, though the lines sometimes were swapped, with you talking Bucky out of anything rash. It still felt wrong, though- to not say anything.

Knowing you were at yet another impasse, you let the subject drop. “Gotta go to the club later, pawn off some of my designs. You feel like goin’ with me?” you asked, peeking hesitantly up at him.

He stared at you, gaze assessing, for what felt like a small eternity, but eventually he nodded. “What kinda guy would I be if I let my gal go to a fancy club all alone after just sayin’ I’d never let her go?” he asked. The lightness he was trying for fell just a bit flat to both of your dour moods.

You leaned up and pecked him on the cheek anyway. “Thanks, Buck. Radcliffe always pays well for my blueprints and prototypes.”

Bucky finally released you, watching you from the floor with wary eyes as you stood and headed to the bedroom. “Where’s all this money going to, anyways?” he asked with a frown.

You leaned back around the corner, surprise lining your features. “I didn’t tell you?” you asked, confused.

He shook his head, amusement returning some of the light to his eyes. “You get lost in your own head too much, y’know. Wouldn’t be surprised if you have whole one-sided conversations in there,” he teased gently. He... wasn’t wrong, and you fought the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him.

Your smile was a little sad. “Sokovian relief efforts.”

Bucky’s smile was melancholy, too, the destruction of the city a fresh horror in his mind, along with the fear of losing you. Again.

“That’s... that’s good,” he said finally, looking up at you with what could only be adoration.

Your smile turned a little lighter- a little more genuine- and you nodded. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

Next Chapter

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[redditnosleep]

On The Russian Ice Road, You Always Help Your Fellow Travelers

by TheCityOfS

When people hear my wife’s Russian, they imagine a tall blonde girl with a funny accent who wears heels for every grocery run. Reality couldn’t be farther from the stereotype: Lana is dark haired, speaks better English than I do, and is completely obsessed with sneakers. She does meet ONE stereotype, though: she never gets cold, seeing how she lived in Russia until she was eighteen.

Not in Moscow, of course. Did you know that Moscow’s actually pretty warm? There are entire states in America where winters are far colder than anything Moscovites ever have to deal with. No, my wife comes from a tiny town far up Russian north, on the tundra. A dark, gloomy, and a very cold place inside the Arctic Circle, with extremely harsh winters and even harsher people. A place that meets the stereotypes.

I’ve met my in-laws all of two times including our wedding, both times as they traveled to the States. Frankly, I never had any intention of visiting my Lana’s hometown, until she got that fateful call nine days ago. My mother in law had had a stroke. While her condition was stable for the time being, the local doctor expected the worst could happen at any minute. Transporting her to a better hospital was out of question as she was in no state for the kind of a journey that you’ll see described below.

My wife made travel arrangements immediately. I had a valid Russian visa from a business trip to Moscow a few weeks prior so I decided to go with her. Now, getting to my wife’s hometown isn’t easy. You’re in for a flight to Moscow, then a connecting flight to Norilsk, one of the biggest cities in the Russian tundra. From there, it’s an hour long trip down the Yenisei river, by barge in summer and on cars over ice in the winter.

Urgently getting to Moscow wasn’t that hard. There, however, we faced additional difficulties. First of all, apparently I couldn’t actually fly to Norilsk with Lana as the city was closed to foreigners. Before we could even process that, we were told that Norilsk airport was closed for all aircraft due to poor weather conditions and the weather wasn’t expected to improve that week. I tried to console Lana as best as I could, but news of her mom getting worse drove her crazy. Soon, Lana suggested an “alternative”: it was possible to fly to a city a fair bit south of Norilsk which was safe from the storms. For a modest fee, a family friend living there was willing to take a day’s journey up the ice road to Lana’s hometown. Well, more like a night’s journey since according to him, it was better to travel at night by car’s lights than by what passed as daylight.

I told my wife she was insane. She, however, was adamant on her plan, saying she’s done zimnik (how Russians call their ice roads) many times with her dad and it was perfectly safe. She wouldn’t budge no matter how I pleaded and told me I was welcome to stay in Moscow. Obviously, that was not an option, and in the end I gave up.

We flew to our next destination, and the cold hit me as soon as I stepped out of the plane. It was a different kind of cold, invasive and ruthless, and it didn’t care about layers of sweaters and socks I had on. I shivered imagining how much colder it was going to get.

We met with the trucker who was to take us up North. He called himself Kolya, and my wife “Sveta”, the Russian version of her name. Me, he didn’t call at all, instead referring to me derisively as “Mister Amerikashka” whenever he spoke to my wife. Lana told me with a chuckle she didn’t tell Kolya I could understand Russian, although I don’t think he would’ve cared.

Kolya was supposed to be a few years younger than my wife but looked much older, his skin and posture worn down by the harsh conditions of his homeland. He laughed at our American shoes and coats and said he would pack extra jackets, woolen socks and valenki for us “just in case.” His brother helped load his truck, which looked like it had seen the fall of the Soviet Union, and then Kolya sat down to enjoy a shot of vodka. One for the road.

My wife saw me blanch at that.

“This isn’t New York, or even Moscow,” she said quietly. “People here are a bit behind in terms of DUI. Don’t worry, he won’t drink enough to get impaired, he’s seen that kill people on the road.”

Well.

Indeed, the first shot was the last and Kolya hopped into the truck. He offered my wife the shotgun seat which, as far as I understood Russian macho culture, was basically equivalent of throwing a glove in my face. Whatever. As long as he got us there.

The road was a dark stretch of ice and packed snow powdered by the fresh snow that had fallen that morning. Snowdrifts bordered both sides of the roads and leaked onto its surface a fair bit. Otherwise, it was the same barren flat surface for miles. In the first couple of hours, we saw a few cars going the opposite way to us. Then a car going in the same direction as us overtook us and disappeared in the darkness ahead at surprising speeds. It was a freaking tiny, rusted-through Subaru. I gave up on understanding Russians then and there.

Shortly after the Subaru guy, it started snowing. Just a bit at first, then more and more. Kolya didn’t seem bothered and I tried to stay calm as well, which I managed mostly successfully until the wind joined in. Unlike the snow, it started hard from the get go.

Have you ever heard wind howling and become unsettled by the sound? Now imagine the same, but in the depths of a black night lit only by your car’s headlights. Except for your own vehicle, the world around is silent and devoid of life, frozen until the spring. Not that you can see much through the thick snow that is now the wind’s plaything, flurrying around the car, blanketing the windows.

Our pace slowed to a crawl as Kolya swore colorfully in Russian. “Maybe stop and wait it out?” I suggested nervously.

“We can’t.” Lana said without bothering to ask our driver. “If we stop there’s a good chance the car won’t start up again, and we are stuck here waiting for someone to pick us up. And it’s been… empty today.”

The realization we were at a very real risk of freezing to death hit me like a ton of bricks. I leaned back into my seat and closed my eyes, wordlessly praying for the best. The only response was the wind howling – and it sounded so strange. It would start low and quiet and then get louder and louder until a yowling crescendo, then cut off abruptly. Then start again. And the sound came from different directions, each starting at a different time, like a pack of wolves howling.

I opened my eyes to obvious tension in the car. Lana and Kolya were both hunched forward, peering intently through the glass for all the good it did them. Kolya glanced back at me.

“Don’t worry, be happy!” Kolya proclaimed with a horrible Russian accent. “It is all OK! Don’t worry, America!”

He was lying. I might have been useless on the ice road, but I was a criminal defense lawyer, and a good one at that. And Kolya was a bad liar. There was sweat beading on his face and neck, and his voice was forced. He was very much scared – and that made me scared, too.

Kolya murmured something to my wife, too quick and quiet for my distracted mind to decipher. She nodded.

“What was that?”

“There’s a village maybe half an hour up the road, if we keep this pace. We get there and settle down until the morning.”

“I see. Sorry about the delay.” In reality I was extremely happy to hear that. “Bad wind, huh?”

Lana grabbed my hand, quick and sudden as a snake. “Don’t. Mention. The Wind.”

Another sound came through the storm. A long, tinny wail that sent shivers down my spine. It took me a few moments to recognize the familiar sound of the wind whistling through walls and chimney. And then another moment to realize there were no fucking walls around for the wind to whistle.

I opened my mouth to comment, and my wife’s grip tightened on my arm. In that moment, I knew to keep it quiet.

We drove in tension-filled silence as a cacophony of sounds erupted through the storm. Wails and shrieks, howls and cries – no way no fucking wind was producing all of that.

The sounds grew closer, grew louder. I grabbed my wife’s hands as we both stared desperately ahead. Through the flurry, we barely made out something – a large, dark shape reflecting our lights, or maybe piercing the darkness with lights of its own…

Kolya swore and swerved to the side. We were passing another car stuck in the snow. Its blinkers flashed.

“Stop.” Lana said, sudden and harsh.

“What?” Kolya asked, in Russian. “You insane?”

“Stop.” My wife repeated. “On the ice road, you help. That’s the rule, remember?”

Kolya gave her a long, hard look that I didn’t like at all. “That’s the rule on the road.” He echoed, and hit the brakes, slowing the car without actually stopping. I opened the door and peered outside. The driver of the stuck vehicle was already running towards us. I recognized the car itself as the Subaru that passed us earlier.

“Thank God you people were…” the driver began. “Get in, idiot!” Kolya shouted, and the guy shut up and jumped in. He was just a kid, no older than twenty, with dark red hair and a patchy little beard. He looked cold and terrified.

“Thank god!” He repeated, in a hushed whisper. “I was sure they’d get me.”

“They?” I asked, confused. Kolya and Lana turned to look at the kid in unison, and their looks could kill.

“They, yeah, I mean the wind and snow,” the kid corrected quickly. I had a sudden abrupt feeling that it was too late for that… even as I still had no clue what was going on. We drove on, and the interplay of howls and shrieks outside the car became unbearable in the silence.

“What’s your name, dude?” I asked him in my best Russian. He blinked.

“Sergei. Sergei Molchanov. My parents are… anyway, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been driving, but I wanted to make it to my girlfriend’s birthday, and…”

“Both of you shut up.” My wife barked, and we did. Immediately I noticed the change in surrounding sounds – they were much louder now. The highest pitch shrieks rang in my ears. The low, insistent howling seemed to surround the car. And every now and then, something that sounded like an actual roar cut through the night.

The car picked up the pace. I looked at Kolya and realized he was absolutely flooring the gas pedal, poor visibility be damned. His truck was lurching along as fast as it could manage in the conditions, and yet the encroaching racket made it obvious we were nowhere near fast enough.

Then the car hit something. We were all jerked forward as the truck came to a staggering halt. I hit my temple hard on the back of my wife’s seat.

“What… was that?” I groaned.

“Must have hit a chunk of ice or something,” Lana's voice sounded strangely muffled. I remember focusing on her lips, and how pale and thin they looked. The dull resounding pain in my head exploded into something hot and overwhelming, and I collapsed into the backseat.

“He’s passed out!” Sergei called out. I wanted to correct him, but my voice wouldn’t obey me. My lids seemed to weigh a ton each – I could barely open my eyes enough to see the trio of Russians huddled together, the car’s flickering light illuminating their pale faces.

“What now?” Sergei asked nervously.

“Well, let’s see,” I don’t think I would’ve been able to understand complex Russian in that state, if it wasn’t my Lana speaking, her voice so familiar down to every inflection. “Why don’t you go out and check what we hit and if we can clear it out somehow?”

“What?!”

“We helped you, didn’t we?” In the car’s light, Lana’s green eyes seemed very blue. “So why don’t you help us back. After all, on the ice road you help each other. That’s the rule.”

Kolya grumbled in agreement. Then he reached over and pulled out a rifle, and aimed it at the boy.

Sergei whimpered. “You know they’re out there!”

“Well,” Lana’s voice was impeccably calm. Cold. “I guess you’d better not speak about them out loud, then. Better not even think about them, really. ”

My eyes closed against my will. I heard a door swing open, and a rush of cold air. Finally, I passed out for real, and in my unconsciousness I dreamed of horrified screaming and a single terrible roar that filled the night.

I came to during the day, on a couch of some local family that agreed to house us for a bit of cash. My wife fussed over me. Once she was sure I was conscious and lucid, she rushed me into the car saying we could do the rest of the drive by day, and an actual doctor could look at me in her hometown.

I settled in the backseat of the car. Vague memories haunted me.

“Where’s the kid? Sergei?”

“What kid, darling?” Lana asked, in sincere surprise.

“There was no kid, we traveled alone,” Kolya added, in Russian. And I wondered how he knew what I was asking about, or that I’d understand his answer. But aloud, I could only say: “This young redheaded guy…”

“Sweetie, I’m getting really worried. You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought. We gotta get you checked out as soon as we get back to the States. Maybe even a good checkup in Moscow…”

I didn’t really know what to say after that.

We made it the rest of the way uneventfully. Unfortunately, my mother in law had slipped into unconsciousness before we even set out for our drive, and she passed away several hours after our arrival. Lana didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. She is absolutely devastated right now, so I’m trying my best to focus on comforting her. We’re staying here until the funeral, and I can’t stay I’m looking forward to the ride back.

My father in law graciously gifted me a proper Russian winter coat, so I went ahead and packed my American camel coat that proved terribly insufficient for the weather. As I was folding it, I noticed a few curly red hairs stuck to the light beige fabric.

And I felt so cold.

[stan-and-the-newbie]

A kpop newbie’s reaction to LOONA

you know i had to do it to ‘em

Alexa: bold

Alex: italic

okay so today you're reacting to Loona!

o, noice

they just debuted like two days ago and everyone is crying

damn. ok but do any of them speak english <<

y es

n  u  t

i believe i already told you, they built this Loonaverse, and released a girl each month

yeh, you told me a few things

right. all of them have an animal and a color. the first five girls have an additional location, then the next three girls have a superpower, and the last four girls have a fruit

...alexa. t-twelve

yeah

<-<

>->

alright fam hit me up

okay, the first girl that was released, back in 2016, is heejin

damn she looks like a disney princess

she does;;

this is aN INSULT

isnT IT

someone arrest her, she's not allowed to be so cute. it is illegal.

how old is she and what does she do

uhh she's 21and she's a singer

she iS BORN IN 2000

... ALEXA WE'RE MOVING TO KOREA PACK YOUR SHIT

ill give you her music video now

alright

the location is hard to guess, so just try to guess her color and animal

hmm

*ViViD*

i'm not watching this u freak, you know about my arachnophobia

y tho. there are no spiders

THERE IS ONE IN THE THUMBNAIL, BIG AND RED

there are no spiders, so play the song, its good. no girl has the spider as her animal u coward

the song's aight. i'd listen to it in a cafe. her animal is obviously a bunny and her color is either red or white. asian girls with thick thighs are too powerful alexa. someone needs to do something about them. it's a health hazard.

omf. her color is actually hot pink;; but u got her animal right lol

o damn. well pink is the mix between red and white isn't it >>

ooOOO

pFFF

she's part of the first subunit, 1/3

ah, so she's a colonel

omG. i mean, y'know, subunits are some of the members that form like a band of their own and put out music

with 12 bloody members, i can imagine

loona has three. anyway, a few things about heejin

hit me

she’s a whole cutie

o gee i couldn't notice

sdfdsdf she likes dad jokes and randomly breaks into silly and awkward dances but she doesn't care. she's also afraid of pigeons 

the guards would have to restrain me from pinching her cheeks if i was ever in the same room with her. and to be fair those things are chaotic evil. one literally flew into my face once.

omf

they also carry diseases similarly to rats. except they fly. so yeah, i can see why one would be afraid.

she also named a rabbit from the set "heekki". hee from her name, and kki from the korean word for rabbit, tokki. and proceeded to ask if she could adopt it.

that's adorable go away i am stone cold

is there anything else u want to know about her. her location is paris, and the first ever video of her beside her mv was her repeating random french phrases she knew in the airport

pfffF.

the next member is hyunjin

they’re all so pretty i cry

they are :(

they are like porcelain dolls, but without the creepiness of a doll, just the beauty and cuteness

i KNOW. so, how old is she

hmm 20 and she's a rapper

she is ALSO born in 2000 ;D and she's a singer

i-

here's her music video

after mark's video on that cat game, the thumbnail horrifies me

o-oh

alight so her animal is a kitteh. so she's the neko of the group, noice... is this a thriller film, geez.

ghjkjhghjk its just a kitten smh

an e v i l kitten

cats cant be evil. her song is very kdrama-ish

her color is... i honestly have no idea

her color appears in the first third of the video

green? blue?

she wears it

lemon

yeh, yellow. and yes her animal is cat lol. what about the song? it’s a drastic change from the last one

ok that last part horrified me. idk it's a weird mix between depression and a drug trip

so, about this baby. her location is tokyo, and she is the savage one

o-oh

shes the one that kept a blank face on a rollercoaster while the others were screaming. also, she really likes bread and croissants

and she's not a rapper smh. well, she does have a pretty voice.

she does~ and shes really sporty, practiced a lot of sports before becoming an idol

alright, off to my wife. this is haseul.

and no photo makes her justice

i-

UGH queen

that jawline fam

i’m sorry i just. literally have never seen such a beautiful woman

alright by now i'm about 70% convinced that these people are created in underground governmental labs

m e. aight, how old is she

fucc it, she's uhh 18

she's actually born in 1997 dfgfdsdfgh

OF COURSE. sigh. that's just my luck

but i understand u

they all look between 15 and 20 anyway does it really matter- i- she's more pretty than she is cute. respecc.

this is her music video

her color is bleagh. i mean bleuugh. blue

omf

she's a parappa the rapper. but she's also a singer. idk her voice sounds like she can rap. was that plane just there and they used it or did they buy a gigantic plane prop for the video

(i really hoped alex would say this because this video exists)

i-

she’S TRYING. her color is green but her location is iceland so liek,,, i guess the writers clashed ideas

blasphemy. they should have went for turquoise

her animal is a dove. she’s also the leader of the group, and the mom friend #1. she can speak english but she has a cute accent which i Love

awh

aaaand she’s a seal enthusiast

o. that's something

they went to iceland so she was like "omg a seal!!! hi !! that was a seal!!"

pffa whole cutie

she is :( she’s also really funny

anyway, the next one makes me feel worthless. this is yeojin

another flawless creation of the secret korean labs

her age?

that tissue-printing chamber in that korean lab from avengers 2? not fiction - they use it to create idols. uhh 19

:D she is 15!!!1

...

and turns 16 in november !!

Goodbye. Tty later, i gotta pack my stuff

dfgfdGHJH here is her song. its very cute because, well, shes a child

L O L I C O N    A L E R T. those three dudes are terrifying. is that the joker wearing a frog head

mmmmaybeh

this is weird lmfao. aaand there's the foot fetish

you’RE HORRIBLE

why is the frog dude going all roaring reeo on her only to give her a fucking present

well, its a song about how she doesn’t want the relationship to move too fast, so she doesn’t want to kiss the dude just yet

that ending was just... idk man. this one broke me. her color is red, and her animal is a frog because that's the only animal in the foreground here idfk

her color is orange, close enough. the other members call her "bean" because shes the youngest and rlly smol and chubby.

awh ;;

and everyone treats her like a baby lmao

well, what did u expect. hmm i think i like the first one the best so far

o, alright

so, these past four girls and the fifth one form the subunit 1/3. the fifth one was introduced through the subunit's first song, but i'll give u their second song cuz its Better

*check out “Sonatine it’s superior*

basically, these girls have a very dreamy concept with a lot of piano and strings. the fifth girl is the pink haired one, and baby yeojin isn’t here cuz her grades were dropping lmao

i-

shhhh just listen to the song

this song gives me the sad

u gotta appreciate the animu songs

i do, i was literally gonna say that this one somewhat reminds me of miia's second song

same !!

her color is W H I T E like my teeth. p u r e  w h i t e

she haS HER OWN mv

o

the fifth member is vivi

shes chinese and the oldest

from communism to idolization. noice

i-

so she's wot, 21? 22?

yeh, shes turning 22 this year

noice

here’s her song

a break from the animu songs. ps: they dont come back

sad. kinda stalkerish fam

ikr. shes a hooman here. but in the subunit mvs she’s an android

what

idk fam they go all out and no one knows whats happening

i am gonna get bashed for this but when she smiles her cheeks look kinda weird she kinda looks like a chipmunk? but not in a bad way

ghjkHJ she does;; shes cute though

yeah

her color is her haircolor lawl. pastel rose

o, nice

and her animal is deer

so she's basically bambi gotcha

she speaks english, and shes the reaction memes queen. and shes also very smol

awh ;;

alright, we're done with 1/3. is heejin still your favourite?

yepp

cuz we're entering girl crush land

o h

the sixth member is kim lip

LISTEN YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THIS

she’s cute tho

of course she is. they're all cute perfect goddesses. i'm noticing a pATTERN HERE

hey, shes mostly a tsundere

well, ngl, she looks like one

sdfgfds

she chose charmander tho 10/10

here’s her amazing mv. her animal appears for 1 second here so lmao good luck. her color is very obvious

white, at long last

the other one

FUCK

SDFGFDSD

red?

yes

that building is aesthetic would hang out there with my weird friends 10/10. the song is odd, but it's nice

i think the song really suits her voice

it does! that's why it works

her animal is an owl

n o i c e

also in one of her vlogs all she does is talk about food. she also keeps the members company while theyre shooting their mvs!! and shes also a reaction meme queen. she sings, but her main strength is dancing

yeah, i can tell

oh right !! she is in the odd eye circle subunit, and these girls have super powers. imma tell you now, the odd eye circle members are in different planes. like, theyre in different dimensions, not the flying planes lol

umm alright..?

anyway, her super power is speed. aaaand i think thats it with kim lip

the next one is a fan favourite. jinsoul

oof. idk man the blond is weird

oh, is it. i dunno, i feel like it suits her.

hammers in that "created in an underground lab to be flawless" vibe. idk, maybe a darker shade? like a golden blonde?

most people choose her song as their favourite

singing in the rain? is tom holland gonna come in and dance to "umbrella"?

oh my god

if not i'll be disappointed. the song reminds me of minecraft intros lmao. especially that synth part

geT OUT LMAO

the dancing is lewd af tho. so 8/10

well, so was eclipse. girl crush land

is she a necromancer? because those hips kill me and bring me back to life

i knOW. she can sing, rap and dance. triple threat. okay you cant possibly be wrong about her color and animal

uhh blue and fish. idk wot fish but a fish

y e s. its a blue betta fish. she said, and i quote "the blue betta fish is one that needs to be kept alone, because it eats the other fish in her tank. so i'm going to take over the group like that"

i- IS THE ENTIRE SECOND SUBUNIT SASSY

SDFGHGFDSSDFGH shes very oblivious and confused also idk if i should show you this but its hella funny and falls into the dumb blonde stereotype. she acts cute in a live stream and then she just

*that beautiful face plant video*

and at the enD KIM LIP IS LIKE "yes. whats next?" and looks through the comments

i-is she ok

yeah, she just stays there like ten seconds and then lifts her head while laughing. her superpower is teleportation btw. anyway, shes just very oblivious and awkward

nice man

the next member is choerry

oof, she qt. her color is purple.

yes. she doesnt like cherries btw

of course. why doesn't she like them? they're gud ;; maybe they remind her of all the bad puns she must have had to endure

i- most likely tbh. she prefers her actual name too sdfgfdsasdf. but choerry is a play on her name. cho yerim.

ah, i see

here's her song that takes a very weird turn and supports further the girl crush concept lawl

i expect lewd dancing. wot’s her animal?

a bat

e d g y. they made her eat a cherry. the monsters

i know, the madmen

o, here comes the lewd dancing. oof, that was short, but it was cool. back to... this??

it happens more than once. hmm, its a really nice song tbh

yeah, it was pretty nice

shes the bright, positive one

and managed to feed a squirrel out of her hand, so shes a princess confirmed

o damn how tall is she. she looks pretty tall in this pic

oh my god all of them are so small i literally cannot cope

;-; pure babies

hmm i think this is old information but the tallest is 165 sdfsGHJKJHJ

o damn

it says here shes 160. p u r e. her super power is plane travelling, like, shes the only one who can meet both kim lip and jinsoul. thats why i told you about the dimension thing

..alright..? this seems pretty redundant, idk. the whole superpower thing and the different planes thing is just odd. what purpose do they serve

well, its basically a whole universe, i guess it ties to the whole story

there's a story? uhh

yeah, but we won't get into that too much. here's odd eye circle's debut song

oh, this song is... something. i could live without the weird distorted voice. fucc yes more lewd dancing. well, that was trippy.

anyway, the third subunit is called yyxy, and it has "fall from eden" as their concept

o

the first member from this subunit is yves, pronounced as eve but it gotta be fancy y'know

oo, noice. please for the love of god tell me her color is white

no one's color is white

well, it’s not a color ;D

ug h. anyway, here’s her song.

hecc yes more lewd dancing

omf

the song is.. odd. GET OUTTA HERE HER COLOR IS TOTALLY WHITE. EVERYTHING HERE I WHITE. SHE WEARS ALL WHITE.

:( her apple is burgundy

what. is that- is that her color

yeah

...i quit.

fgfdghjkghjGHJ

well, that was something

her name is eve, so people speculate the song and mv are about her living a normal life after falling from eden y'know. anyway, shes the mom friend #2

o, interesting pFF

she was very awkward at the beginning, when she first was introduced

awh ;;

and her animal is a swan

AND HER COLOR ISN'T WHITE GET OUTTA HERE

fgfdsdfg shes also pretty savage now that she isnt as shy, but she takes care of the members, since shes one of the older membersGHJKJHGHJK

wholesome

shes very cute i like her uwu

the next one is an actual animu waifu. her name is chuu

i-

and she is the full of cuteness member

yeah i can teLL. the second image scraped my stone heart

yes, she softens everyone. here’s her mv, and the other girl is yves. and chuu is more or less in love with her. lesbian icon

alexa ur doing the thing, but reverse

SHES LITERALLY STALKING YVES AND GIVING HER AN APPLE AND THE SONG IS ABOUT ROMANTIC LOVE get outta here

ALL OF THESE BANDS ARE BASICALLY FAMILIES YALL SHIPPING THEM IS INCEST

ASDFGFDSDFGHJ but yves just shot a heart at her

it's a music video smh

hey, im not saying shes gay for yves in real life, just in, like, the universe theyre building

ah, i see. the choreography is gud. and the whole music video is nice. and the song is nice too. alright, what's her color

peach

do these people only know red and blue variations. THERE ARE OTHER COLORS OUT THERE

her animal is penguin, hence her posing with a penguin plushie in that photo

awh ;;

and her fruit is strawberry. she also sang a kids show ost before she became an idol :( and the other members make her act cute sometimes in front of the camera because everyone loves her. take dis

:'c

when she does the winking thing she stops and asks "why am i doing this..." and the others are just "because its cutE"

s-STONE COLD I AM S T O N E C O L D

anyway, yes, we all love chuu

we have two members left, keep your head in the game

i'm in it to win it

the second to last member is go won

speaking of winning, apparently she already did

she is a real life doll- oh my god alex

yet another qt what is new. cute dolls. cute talented dolls e v e r y w h e r e

i remember her song just because of the way she sings "baby" there

o

*check out “One&Only” yall*

ah, i see. some nice cinematography here. she has an interesting voice

shes mostly a rapper

yeah, i can picture that. that was a pretty nice song

her color is eden green :3

n o i c e

her animal is butterfly and her fruit is pineapple

but does she like it on pizza tho >> that is the question

she's kinda cold, but shes pretty oblivious, the staff messed with her saying that "adam" is her stage name (adam translates to "small" in korean) and she actually believed them and she didnt get the joke either affdsdfg

;-; god bless

shes pretty savage tho, we have three so far

oof

she is olivia hye

and she does not appreciate olive jokes

she's pretty 0^0

she is~

wot's her personality

shes very blunt and she seems like someone that might succeed at being a famous blogger

o damn

she always speaks her mind. i haven’t really seen her play around, but that doesn’t mean i don’t find her funny sdfgfsdfg

pff the mom friend

hmm, she doesnt really take care of the others, shes the second youngest

o rlly

but she does boast about how shes the only one without a fear of heights jasdfjks

pfff alright, hmu with her song

her song is my favourite

*”Egoist” ftw*

s m o o t h. yeah, this is a nice song

ikr !!

aaand more lewd dancing the world is kind to me today

they never give it up

wot's her color and animal

her color is gray, her animal is wolf and her fruit is plum

o damn

here’s their song~

this is hype af. this song is nice too but it has odd parts

i feel like the quality of their music increased with time. the first songs are also nice but you can tell these ones are better put together

well, it makes sense

it has been two years yes asdfdsdfg

o o f

here's a predebut song. the first ever with all of them, but not their debut the intro and the chorus are the best parts ngl

that's a lot of idols fam

eh, 12 isnt that rare. BRRRRRRRRRAH

where the esketit at. that was a pretty good predebut song, all things considered. they fit a bit of everything in there

yep, here’s their debut song

this one's trippy. ah, that's why it's called "hi high" they're saying hi to me, and i'm high after watching it. UOUOUOUAAAHH

I ONLY LISTEN TO MUSIC WITH MEANINGFUL LYRICS

HLBJLNKBJLNKBKLN

do you remember any of them as your favourite or did everything already vanish

i like chuu and the last one but i think the first is still my fave

oo alright, i see. any last thoughts?

well-managed for a 12 idol group, nice choreographies (& lots of lewd dancing >>), plenty of good songs, gud stuff overall, 10/10. 11/10 for the UOUOUOUOOAAAHHH

noicE

alexa here!! oof, this took so long to put together;; also if haseul sees this please marry me goddess ily

i hope you enjoy this post, even though its a little messy!! pop a little message in our ask box too, it’ll make our day~ i hope everyone has a nice day or evening!!

[oncewhenweweregods-blog]

Importance of Representation

Every statement that I make is from my own experience, and my own opinions. I do not believe that everything I am about to say is true for everyone, or even that it should be true for everyone.

***

When it came to my own sexuality, I was always confused as a kid. I grew up Catholic, and I would listen to priests and parishioners speak about how wrong it is to be gay, that it is a sin, blah blah blah.

Obviously, I believed it. I was gullible like that. If someone told me something, it had to be true.

Every show or movie I watched was the same: white, straight main cast. It was normal. It was constant. Still, I would look around at my friends, the ones who definitely were not white, the ones who spoke with accents from different countries, and I would think, where are they in the things I watch?

I do not remember much from my childhood (shoutout to repression of traumatic events, whoo!), but I do remember watching my favorite television shows and movies and not recognizing the characters in all of the people I interacted with on a daily basis.

Is television a lot different now than it was, say, fifteen years ago? Absolutely, and not at all.

When I was younger, I did question why there were not any main black characters, or any main Indian characters, or why all of them seemed to come from America. But I never really dug into those question - I never actually understood why I was questioning it.

As I got older, I recognized more and more the lack of racial representation in the media. It was pointed out to be by a friend of mine who had immigrated to the United States from Haiti. She was complaining one day, rightfully, that all of her favorite American shows lacked one important detail: non-white main characters.

She told me about her niece, who was only one years old, and her fear that she would never be able to relate to the characters in a television show because these shows would not demonstrate the things she would go through. The shows she would watch as a child would not tell her about racism, or about what she would deal with - they would only narrate the lives of the white main characters.

I feel incredibly under-qualified to speak more on this, as I am white, but I do understand the importance of representation of POC, and I also understand the representation of immigrants in the media.

My family came from Portugal, from a less-than-decent life there, and sought out opportunity in America that they did not find in Portugal. They came here for a better life for the next generations of our family, and not only did they struggle to make it here, but they struggled once they got here.

They struggled to learn the language, to be taken seriously with thick, foreign accents - to get jobs with foreign names. It was not until they changed their names to their “English versions” that they were actually called for interviews.

My aunt married a man, a doctor, who once told her that he throws away applications if he cannot pronounce the name.

Where is all of this leading to?

The fact that I don’t see enough of this shit in the media.

The fact that I can’t find enough shows about immigrants, about foreign people, or even just with foreign people in the main cast. 

The fact that maybe - just maybe - if my mother had watched an American show when she was seventeen and afraid that featured even just one main character that went through the same struggles as her, she would feel a little less alone.

People do not understand the importance of representation. I have complained about a television show not having enough POC, and I have been told, “there’s a black guy as the main character - how is that not enough?!”

Seriously? One main character is black, and that is somehow supposed to be enough?

How many POC do you think are in just America alone, and yet every character in a lot - if not most - shows/movies is somehow magically white? Because white people never interact and form bonds with POC and therefore they could not possible be a main character?

In response to that reply, I always think, what the actual fuck?

Of course, things are getting better. There are more POC as main characters in television shows, more shows and movies featuring people who came from other countries (has anyone watched One Day At A Time?), etc.

But until people are adding POC into shows and movies for the reasons that they should be added, and not just to “temporarily please” viewers, we will get nowhere.

Now, onto gay representation...

This is where I relate to the most. As said before, I struggled with my sexual orientation, like, A LOT. 

I hated myself. I hated everyone else. I was just angry all of the time as I fought with myself over being gay, over accepting that I was gay. 

I hid it from everyone until my Sophomore year of high school. What helped me accept myself and tell my mom via a game of hangman?

One of the gayest shows (in my opinion): Glee.

Before I even came out as gay, I earned myself the nickname Santana from some of my friends who had also seen the show. Was it because they viewed me as gay? No. It was because they viewed me as a bitch.

But that is probably what made it easier for me. The show did not focus on Santana as some super-butch, super out-there lesbian. They did not classify her under any stereotypes, and they certainly did not make her identity easy for her (I mean, it took her three years just to come out to her closest friend, and we all know she suffered with figuring herself out long before that).

They made her casual, and they made her angry. That was something I was definitely able to relate to (especially now, but that it an entirely different story which I will get to shortly, since apparently I am going to share every damn detail about my gayness with you).

When she came out, her grandmother turned away from her. But still, she found strength from the acceptance of her friends, and even though she still was not completely okay with everything, she moved forward.

Watching her story made me more comfortable. I saw someone like me - an angry, lost teenager refusing to accept something that she already knew was true until she was pushed by her friends.

So, I told my mom, and the rest is kind of history, although I regret coming out to my mother by playing hangman and making “Mom, I am gay” the words for her to guess.

(Three years later, though, it turned out my mom is gay, too! Holy shit!)

Anyway, my point of bringing up Glee is that I saw myself in a character. I was able to accept myself because of a gay character that was part of the main cast of a television show.

And there was so many shows and so many characters that help other people struggling with their identity. People will tell me sometimes, “I don’t see the point in adding so many gay characters everywhere - we know they exist, we don’t need to push it.”

Well, maybe “pushing it” is what kept little Jimmy from overdosing on pain pills he found when he was fourteen because he found out, from television, that there are people like him, that there are people going through the same issues as him.

(Yes, that is a true story about a friend of mine and, no, his name was not Jimmy.)

The last little bit of representation I am going to talk about here is neurodivergence. 

I grew up with a severe anxiety disorder, but that is not something I am going to get into, because I would much rather get into a personality disorder - specifically, antisocial personality disorder.

I asked all of my coworkers once what they thought of when they heard the term “sociopath” (I would have used the term ‘antisocial personality disorder’, but as you will see from their response, the media has left everyone uneducated on the topic). Almost everyone replied with things like “murderers” or “psychos”, except for one of my managers who majored in psychology and actually understood the disorder.

Something I do not discuss often is my issue with lack of empathy and a seemingly “inability” to connect with or care about most people. I do not experience empathy. I experience sympathy only when around the few people I actually care about.

I was “unofficially” diagnosed with ASPD (professionally, but “unofficially” as in it was one session, I was classified as a non-threat, and I was told that I did not have to pursue therapy as treatment because I was fine with my diagnosis, and therefore I did not see that psychiatrist again). How this psychiatrist was able to “diagnose” me in one session, I am not sure (well, I may be, but that is not something I am going to get into).

Anyway, that short-lived therapy session was about two years ago.

What did I think after it?

Holy shit, I am going to end up killing someone. I am a fucking psychopath.

Was I actually going to kill someone? No, what the fuck? Was I a psychopath? By definition, no. 

But I was afraid of what I believed I would “turn into” because of everything I had seen in the media. I was led to believe that because I was being grouped in with people who were diagnosed with ASPD, I would grow up (even though, technically, I was already “grown up” - but let’s be real, eighteen is not grown up to most people) to be some horrible serial killer, even though I had never even thought of killing someone.

(Also, fun fact: loving animals and being empathetic towards animals apparently does not “count” according to the psychiatrist I saw.)

ANYWAY, fast forward to about six months later. My dad and I are talking and he mentions some show called Person of Interest. I look it up, read the description, and think, Sounds gay, no thanks.

Fast forward two more months. I am on Tumblr and find a list of shows with gay main protagonists. I see Person of Interest listed, with the character name Sameen Shaw. 

Being the gay asshole I am, I put the show on Netflix, but only started on the first episode that Shaw makes her appearance.

Axis II personality disorder? Am I watching what I think I am watching? A character with a personality disorder that is otherwise labelled as violent?

Okay, so maybe Root and Shaw are incredibly violent during the show, but I am ignoring that part while I write this.

They both, like me, suffer from issues with empathy. Of course, Shaw is a bit “higher” on the spectrum, a bit more “broken” if that is how you want to word it, but the fact of the matter? They both lack empathy one way or another.

And yet, they are the heroes. They are the ones that save lives. They are not the enemy, they use violence because it is necessary (for Root, let’s assume we are talking about when she starts actually working with the team, not when she was an assassin). 

The show never gives them “redemption” from their personality disorders. The writers do not have some character arc where Shaw seeks forgiveness for having ASPD, where she thinks that she is completely broken from it, and that she needs to be fixed, and Root even says it.

The show gave me something that made me feel safer about myself, that made me realize the stigma surrounding people with ASPD is mostly wrong, and there are so many other disorders (anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, just to name a few) that deserve this kind of beautiful representation, because people with these disorders DESERVE to see main characters that they can relate to, that they can find strength from.

Representation is not something that show creators/writers should consider a “gift” to their viewers.

Representation should not even be representation at all. It should just be.

Because the real people are POC, LGBT+, and neurodivergent.

Shows are not meant to be real, obviously, but the characters should be. The characters should reflect the people that watch them.

Representation is important because it gives the viewers someone to relate to, because it makes the characters real. 

I feel as though this goes without saying, but this is obviously the same for all types of media - novels, comic books, movies, etc.

And this is why I will make damn sure that whenever I write, I will include characters that people can find themselves in, because I have experienced firsthand just how important that is.