#i know it wasn't aimed at me but sometimes i think about how BADLY some people write kabru and i just want to cry and die

[orions-starryeyes]

Ah yes... Kabru is CLEARLY a cop with his band of misfits and friends.

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 12c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

After they stop for the night Glorfindel asks if Alphsîr and Alphlîn want to take the night off from training. They do not. They want to hit things.

Since none of them know how strong a blow from the swan-twins' power would be, Glorfindel isn't comfortable having them aim at anyone, and it's hard to strike so abstractly at nothing. He rigs up a target of a polearm stuck into the ground with a bucket on top; goal is to knock the bucket off the polearm.

(Inert objects with no real spirit of their own are not ideal targets for this kind of attack, but Glorfindel is guessing with their level of strength they should be able to manage it.)

There are a few false starts, but when Alphsîr manages to loose an actual strike the polearm gets ripped out of the ground and knocked flat in one blow, dirt flying. The polearm is also now slightly bent.

That's supposed to be a dragon-grade polearm.

Glorfindel sets up the same target again, but says they can't get another polearm for a target if this one gets too badly damaged.

(They still haven't seen any sign of dragons but wrecking all their dragon-grade polearms would surely summon some.)

(Celeborn does not, in fact, drink the rest of Legolas's Mirkwood moonshine. Celeborn stares blankly up at the stars missing Galadriel until Elladan and Elrohir bring the palantír over and make him talk to Arwen.)

*****

Turgon's reprieve is over the next day.

There is no reprieve for Celeborn, as he still insists on riding beside the wagon listening to all of it, even though Turgon tells him again he doesn't need to.

Did she talk about them?

"Not if she could avoid it I'm sure. She would have wanted to protect you."

But did she talk about them in the past, about back before she died?

"Not to me. We only ever discussed the kin we had in common, and very seldom the past. Mostly we avoided talking about our pasts at all. All orcs-who-know, not just me and L—Nimloth."

She didn't forget them, did she?

"No, no, everyone avoided— She alluded to you, sometimes — to what Celegorm's servants did to you."

What did she think about working with sons of Fëanor?

"She hated it but there weren't enough of us that we could afford to do anything about our grudges. —Except she did kick Reckless in the crotch hard enough to actually rupture something once, the first time they met when she remembered all the way."

Why do some orcs remember? How?

"There are a lot of different ways it happens. Any orc can get reminded, it's also — not falling apart, after you get reminded. I don't know why some people can handle it and some can't, and I don't know what things pushed Nimloth into remembering. It wasn't every lifetime. —That's not a bad thing. It's still awful, if you don't remember, but it's not — you don't fully understand how awful it is. Or feel as bad about how awful you are."

But if you remember can't you… be less awful?

"Well, when the Shadow was light we could just go to ground, but other orcs could do that too… You need to understand that when the Shadow is — was strong then an orc is an orc, and all of us did bad things. If we were lucky we could avoid doing bad things directly to people important to us, but all of us hurt innocents and served the Shadow's purpose. And if you were unlucky— If there was any doubt the Dark Lord could bend any of us to his will if he took the trouble, then after— There wasn't any doubt. We were weapons or we were dead. And it's hard to stay dead."

What's it like in the Crucible of Souls?

"…Hot. Close. Confusing. Bad. I'm not sure how to explain it better, just… it's very bad. It hurts. Everything always hurts, but the Crucible hurts worse."

Did she want us to come help her?

"Absolutely not, no. There's— Glorfindel recognized me once some centuries ago. He was a great warrior when I was alive and I could tell he'd gotten better, but I never once wanted him to come after me. He couldn't have done anything to help me, not truly. It would only have put both of us in danger. It might have put him in danger from me, if the Dark Lord noticed. He made an orc-who-knows torture his own son to death once, out of spite. None of us wanted our living family coming near us. She wanted you to stay away."

What happened to her, why isn't she alive now?

"I don't know what exactly happened to her, or to most of the other orcs-who-know. There were some very great battles, and landslides and other disasters — it's more surprising that we're alive than that they're dead."

…

Turgon sighs, and looks over at Celeborn for the first time in a while. "This is the thing I was hoping you wouldn't have to know. And I really don't know very much."

"Yes…?" Alphsîr prompts.

"She believed Saruman and went to Isengard. She's probably the same Leafblight that Zuste mentioned."

Celeborn goes gray.

Alphlîn asks, "What's Isengard?"

Oh, hell.

Alphlîn asks, "Are you all right, Uncle Celeborn?"

Celeborn's eyes are open, but he is starting to list sideways.

*****

Glorfindel and Elladan come take charge of Celeborn.

Elrohir herds the swan-twins up to Zena's wagon and asks her to give them a brief introduction to what was going on in Isengard. He figures they have a complete lack of relevant context that might make Zena's version appropriate.

After overhearing enough to understand what's happened, Legolas goes back and volunteers the rest of the Mirkwood moonshine. Glorfindel says to hold it in reserve but he's starting with miruvor.

[mysticmellowlove]

can we get another yandere chat / yandere streamer please I really wanna know where the three people went

note; omg i'm fucking alive holy shit. i'm in exam period right now and i swear the universe is trying to take me out. shit's rough out here lol. I've been rattling the bars of my enclosure waiting to get out and write some more. missed you guys, cute lil friends xxx

warnings; yan chat is back, yan streamer, reader 'sugar', yandere tendencies, gang violence, they mean frfr,

word count; 1123

After logging off for the day and raiding one of his friends Streamer found himself checking on his discord, in particular the chat he had going on with three of his long-time fans, affectionately titled his three musketeers to respect their anonymity. The ones that had been with him since the beginning when he had no viewers and a silly dream of becoming a popular creator.

To think that he had that in his foreseeable future, it was intoxicating. Fans, money and most of all influence. Of course, he couldn't forget about his lovely mod as well.

His eyes scanned over the private chat with a satisfied grin on his face, they had found him. For a while now there was one particular chatter that was getting on his nerves. No matter how much Sugar banned them they always seemed to find a way back. He had been trying to appeal to Sugar for weeks now, always mentioning them and gifting various rewards that were specifically aimed towards the beloved mod.

Streamer knew things sometimes got a little parasocial when it came to internet personalities. Still, something about this creep trying desperately to get close to Sugar had his blood boiling as if he was using the chat as an e-dating server. He wasn't the only one either, it seemed.

A call button appeared on his screen for a moment before he adjusted his settings and answered it, the people chatting on the other side becoming more and more apparent.

"The man of the hour." One of them jovially said, a playful lilt to her voice. Porthos always seemed to be the one ready to talk, with perhaps a little too much energy to seem natural. It seemed her words had set in motion the other two greeting him, one with their ever-present modulated voice covering their identity and the other sounding like he'd just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes.

"Hey you, I see some interesting things in the chat." He hummed as he took a sip of the coke he had next to him, waiting for the three to fill him in.

"Yeah, we tracked down the guy in the chat that was bothering Sugar, it was laughably easy." Porthos mused, the low hum of who knows what buzzing in the background.

"He had his details all out in the open, turns out using multiple emails all leading to the same IP is a dead giveaway." She said before a sniffle interrupted her.

"Don't take all the credit, it was only because I have access to the city records that we even found him," Athos noted.

"Technically I did most of the work." The final of the three, the one who hid behind the voice changer, Aramis chimed in. The other two seemed to stop talking as soon as they spoke up, for good reason as well. There was something different about Aramis, but their knowledge was gladly welcomed.

"I assume you're all waiting for the finale?" They monotonously droned as the sounds of clicking came from their mic. Not long after a window popped up, fileshare. Without needing to do anything the file opened to a video and began to play.

The camera work was jittery but it was obvious what was in the middle of the screen. On the ground, legs and arms bound, was a middle-aged man wriggling. There was a group of men surrounding him, masked and dressed entirely in black with a badly stitched logo on their jackets.

No sounds came from the men as they drew ominously closer, that's when things really picked up. Their feet began to slam into the sides of the bound man, muffled screams coming from his gagged mouth as he tried desperately to wriggle away. Hands ripped at his clothing, showcasing the darkened bruises on his skin as the men continued their assault. The video tracked for about twenty minutes, all of it consisted of the men beating the shit out of the man on the ground. Screams turned to groans turned to whimpers as a mixture of piss, tears and blood mixed on the ground he was on.

His body seemed to turn entirely blotched with bruises as the video went on and on before no more sounds appeared to leave the man. Then the footage cut.

The silence seemed to wane on for a moment before Athos spoke up.

"That's some dark web shit or something." The only response he seemed to get was a clipped laugh from Aramis.

"I like supporting local businesses." It was no secret that Aramis was the only one of them who dared to play around on the darker side of the internet but damn were they good at it. Who knew what they got up to after hours, but it wasn't hard to tell that he had hired someone to beat the shit out of the creep.

"He's gone, probably being sold right now, well that parts of him that made it out unscathed. Don't worry, these guys are newbies but the group they're part of don't play around." A low whistle left his mouth as he listened to Aramis ramble about the exploit.

"You're a freak for real." Porthos laughed, seemingly having gathered herself, "Now that's dealt with I think we should get something in exchange, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes as he scanned the now blank screen.

"I'll organise something." He began before he was cut off rudely.

"Not something, we know you know where they are so why don't you get us all a little gift." Athos drawled. A harried sigh left his mouth as he tugged at the strands of his hair. The three of them were his fans, their support over the years had helped grow his platform greatly and they did fund most of his activities but... that also meant he had to keep them pleased.

Athos eluded that he was a well-known figure in the city, Aramis had ties to the black market and Porthos seemed to have no boundaries... they could very well take him down if they wanted to.

"Sure, I'll pick something up." He finally managed to get out, his voice obviously strained. All that greeted him was a chorus of laughter as the call ended. He stared at the screen for a moment more, thinking about the logistics of breaking into Sugar's apartment before a notification came through.

'Good boy' With a scoff he closed the application and got off his chair, annoyance swelling inside him. He was still closer to Sugar than them, he didn't have to panic yet.

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

Of Bad Days and Pool Noodles (A Harrisco One Shot)

Hey, y'all! It's been a bit since I threw a one-shot out into the ether, so here ya go! Enjoy! (You can find this and other one-shots on Ao3. Link posted below.) Do you have a Harrisco one-shot idea? Feel free to inbox/message me! I would love to write one for you! - QD

*** Harry was not having a good day. He'd spilled the coffee Cisco had made him all over himself first thing that morning, which resulted in a slew of profanities at how it had burned before he'd managed to peel his shirt off in an attempt to try to save his skin from the boiling hot caffeine. Except yanking his shirt off resulted in completely knocking his empty mug off the counter, making it shatter on the floor at Ramon's feet as he'd come into the lab. And the look Ramon had given him, hands out about as wide as his eyes had gotten, should have been the first sign of all the bad luck to come.

Harry had left him there with the mess before Ramon could protest about Harry 'throwing' things. Or making messes in the first place. Or explain why his eyes looked like they were about to bug out of his head. That look alone, and the way Cisco's eyes roamed over Harry's exposed torso, stuck in Harry's brain like a blueprint of all the ways he'd imagined Ramon might look at him. He almost preferred the burning coffee, at least that hurt less than knowing it was all in his head. It was one thing to dream about Cisco Ramon. It was another thing entirely to delude himself into imagining things that absolutely were impossible. It wasn't a good start to the day.

Not even two hours later, a meta showed up with a pension for electricity and fried just about everything worth using in the building. Including his patience. He hadn't eaten. Hadn't had his coffee. And he'd had to watch Ramon jump in front of him and get zapped in the shoulder when the meta aimed for Harry. Luckily, other than some frizzy hair and a Lichtenberg burn, Ramon hadn't gotten badly hurt. But still… Harry's frayed nerves had gone from agitated to furious to completely losing his ability to think in a heartbeat as he'd watched Cisco go flying across a room from the impact. They all got beat to hell doing this work. But Ramon getting hurt in any way was… singularly horrifying.

Thankfully, Barry intervened before the meta could do much more than make a quick getaway. Harry had gotten Cisco to the med lab, and the whole time he was being dragged, Ramon was mumbling about how he'd seen the way Harry had looked at him and he 'knew it all along.' Whatever that meant. By the time Snow had taken over, Harry couldn't take much more of Ramon's staring. He could practically feel Cisco memorizing his face. So he left to do some actual work. Or left to avoid those eyes. Cisco Ramon was the last person he'd ever thought would look at him like that. And really the only one he'd wanted to in a very long time. He was going to end up dreaming about those eyes every night now.

The day couldn't get any worse.

Or so he'd thought.

Then he'd gotten a migraine of epic proportions. Which probably had something to do with the monumentally terrible way he took care of himself. Forgetting to have more coffee. Forgetting to eat. Stressing over Ramon. His Ramon. The man who made him smile and feel at home and listened to him ramble and laughed at his stupid jokes and watched terrible sci-fi with him and sometimes fell asleep on the couch with his head on his shoulder and…

And Harry'd downed a fresh cup of coffee with three acetaminophen before he could think much more about how much he wanted Cisco Ramon to be far more than just his friend.

Harry's headache had mostly dissipated by the time they'd come up with a plan to stop their latest meta nuisance. And he was almost finished with the prototype when… thwap.

Harry stiffened in place at the feel of something quite literally thwapping him on the top of his head, screwdriver in one hand gripped tight enough to make his knuckles blanch, the other carefully pulling away from the spike he was rigging for a mobile Faraday cage. His brain stalled for a moment, desperately trying to catch up with what he was fairly sure was- Thwap. Slowly, he turned on his stool, stiffly setting the screwdriver down to see Cisco standing about four feet away, staring at him with the most serious expression on his face. Harry almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. 'Almost' being the key word. "Did you just… hit me… with a pool noodle?" Harry demanded. Thwap.

"That's what it looks like, doesn't it." Cisco had the offending piece of bright green polyethylene foam held like a sword, beautiful chocolate brown eyes stuck on Harry's blues, brows tensed, and feet apart. And without a moment of hesitation, he thwapped Harry again. Right on the head. "Stop it." He said flatly, frowning harder than he had all day. But Ramon shook his head.

"Nope." And thwapped him again. Harry stood up quickly, stool screeching a little. Ramon stepped back, holding the pool noodle aimed skyward while pointing the index finger of his free hand at Harry. "Wait." He ordered, and Harry planted his hands on his hips, about ready to start yelling. Or throwing things. Or both. But then Cisco very carefully, reached to the side of the work table and grabbed… a bright pink pool noodle. He tossed it unceremoniously at Harry, who caught it one-handed.

"You can't be serious." He scoffed lightly, staring at the damn near neon-colored floating contraption before he looked back at Cisco who was, in fact, quite serious. Because that was his serious face. And those were his serious eyes.

Damn him and his beautiful serious eyes.

Thwap-thwap.

Harry blinked, lips set in a thin line.

"Defend yourself, Harry." He made a 'come at me' motion with one hand. "Bring it on." And for the first time since this incredibly childish encounter started, Ramon smiled, wiggling his brows with his eyes sparkling…

Sparkling at Harry.

Then he swung his poodle noodle at him, and Harry instinctively swung his own to meet it.

The ensuing thwapping war could probably be heard throughout the entire floor.

Several minutes passed and they managed to knock over just about everything on the work table, a lamp, and the stool. The whiteboard was halfway out the door, having been shoved at one point. His glasses had landed… somewhere. And Ramon even managed to get up on a chair with a wild flourish and an 'en garde!' before losing his balance.

Harry caught him halfway, and they both ended up tumbling to the floor on their backs, laughing like absolute morons, green pool noodle pinned beneath both of them, and the pink one landing on the other side of the small lab. It took Harry a moment to realize that Cisco's side was flush up against his own. But the laughter died naturally, till they were just staring up at the ceiling in the quiet, their lungs no longer heaving, and the soft hum of the ventilation system offering a pleasant white noise. "Where did you find these?" Harry remarked lightly, pushing up on one elbow and turning more onto his side to try to yank the noodle out from under himself. It barely budged, and Ramon turned right into him, lifting his hips so Harry could tug it out. He tossed it to the side, only to look down at Ramon's ridiculously enchanting stare as he looked back up at him. They were practically chest to chest. Harry had to fight every urge to visibly swallow. And he wondered, very briefly, if Cisco could feel his heart doing an ungraceful impression of an acrobat.

"Would you believe I keep them for emergencies?" Cisco squinted a little, eyes roaming over Harry's own, apparently unperturbed to be this close. So… Harry didn't move away. He should have. He knew he should have. But there was something about the warmth radiating off Ramon, and the fact that all the heaviness Harry'd felt for most of the day was gone now.

"Honestly, knowing you, that makes perfect sense." Harry smirked, and Cisco's squint turned into a gleeful smile. "What was the emergency this time?" "You were, obviously." He reached out and poked Harry right in the chest. "I figured you could use a pick me up." Harry's eyes fell, and he sat up all the way, one hand on the floor, the other hanging loose between his legs. Ramon sat up, still somehow so damn close. "It's been a rough day." He was smiling, but it was softer now. Almost tender, even. Impossibly… fond.

Harry couldn't keep doing this to himself… deluding himself into thinking that maybe Ramon might feel even slightly the same way about him. He had to stop wanting… well, so much more than he would ever be allowed to have. But that train of thought derailed at the sight of inflamed and red skin peaking out of Cisco's collar. Harry furrowed his brows a little, looking at Cisco's shoulder. He reached up and carefully pulled aside the collar of his 'Don't Trust Atoms, They Make Up Everything' shirt. There were tree-like lesions resembling red feathering roaming toward his neck and into the depths of his shirt from where he'd been struck by the meta's electricity.

"I would say you've had an objectively worse day." Harry said gently, letting go of the material with every intention of giving Ramon space and maybe getting off the floor, but what actually happened was…

Well, it was far better than a pool noodle fight.

Because Cisco's hand shot up and grabbed him by the back of the head, and his mouth pressed against Harry's so quickly that he was momentarily convinced that he was hallucinating it. He'd finally lost his mind. But… hallucinations didn't feel like that. Ramon was very real, and very really kissing him. It didn't last long. As quickly as Ramon's lips had molded to his own, they were suddenly gone and Harry was left blinking at a wide-eyed Ramon for the second time that day.

"I… I didn't mean to…I… no, wait, I did… I mean I did mean to… I just…" he was rambling, stuttering, fingers still curled into Harry's scalp. "Wait, did you…" His eyes darted to Harry's lips and back, "Did you kiss me back?" And Harry couldn't think. He knew there were words he was supposed to be saying. He was fairly sure he was still a genius, or at the very least intelligent enough to be coherent. But all that came out of his mouth was a breath before he wrapped his arms completely around Cisco's torso and pulled him back into himself, mouth attaching back to his in record time.

This time, the kiss went from lips molding together, to Ramon straddling his lap, to tongues searching each other's mouths for all there was to taste. And anything else Harry had tried to disillusion himself of didn't matter anymore, because Cisco Ramon obviously had been thinking all the same things about him. Right?

Unfortunately for them both, air was a thing their lungs needed. And they were left panting, foreheads pressed together, holding onto each other for dear life.

"You totally kissed me back." Ramon smiled, wide and ridiculously goofy as he pulled back just enough to see Harry's face without going crosseyed. And Harry laughed, watching the way Cisco's eyes glistened unabashedly at him. "I knew it."

Thwap.

Harry stiffened at the feeling of Cisco's hand smacking the back of his head.

"What was that for?" He demanded. And Ramon settled more in place, completely relaxed in his lap.

"I knew you like-liked me. Why didn't you just say something?" Cisco countered.

"Like-liked… is not a real term." Harry softened, but gave Cisco a knowing look. "You never said anything, either."

"Dude, I've been ogling you for months. I make you coffee every morning. Shit, I got electrocuted for you today. I even let you win while sword-fighting with pool noodles. What more am I supposed to do? Skywriting?" He practically pouted. Harry chuckled and kissed him again, soft and slow, so very easy.

"For the record," Harry said softly between kisses, "You did not let me win."

Thwap.

"Stop hitting me, Ramon." He groused. But Cisco smiled. And his eyes, his goddamn beautiful-gorgeous-brilliant eyes shined at him like beacons on a starless night.

"Not until you say-"

"I have been in love with you for months." Harry interjected. "Happy?" That only made Cisco smile even brighter.

"In love, huh?" He practically pushed Harry onto his back, flattening his hands to either side of Harry's shoulders, hair hanging around their faces as he brought his mouth down. "I like that better than like-liked." He kissed Harry deep and so full of longing that Harry completely forgot that the day had been absolutely terrible. Nothing beyond Ramon existed. He was having the best damn day of his formerly miserable life. "I'm in love with you, too."

"In that case, I think we both win." Harry winked. And Cisco chuckled.

"Are you guys finished with… hey, why is the whiteboard in the hallway?" Barry's shoes squeaked very loudly as they came to a full stop in the doorway, "Oh my god!" He blurted when his eyes fell on Harry and Cisco, who had both sat up quickly at Barry's entrance, but hadn't separated, Ramon still sitting in Harry's lap. "OH MY GOD." Barry planted a hand right over his eyes, turning away, smacking right into the whiteboard and nearly falling over. "I'm… you… oh my god." He muttered uselessly, disappearing out of sight. Both Harry and Cisco found themselves looking at the mess they'd made of the lab before their eyes fell back on each other. They could hear Barry speed away. And they both burst out laughing.

Harry hadn't been having a good day.

But as they managed to get off the floor, kissing each other again and again before they hunted down Harry's glasses and started cleaning up the mess their impromptu pool noodle fight had made, Harry quietly decided that it would be impossible to ever have a bad day again, all because he had Cisco Ramon at his side…

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52644898

(Gif credit goes to its creator)

[double-detonation]

Double Detonation Chapter 3

Having graduated from preschool several years ago, Katsuki and I are now fourteen. Our relationship has grown far beyond what I thought possible. Even though he can be an asshole sometimes, I love him more than anything. I had tried my hardest for him and Midoriya to get along but he still hates his guts. I could never understand why, but I won’t force them to be friends if it just doesn’t work. However, he doesn't even think about fighting Izuku in front of me. In junior high, we didn't get put in the same classroom since we are twins. Which doesn't really make sense because we are not identical twins. That didn't stop me from kicking the door down if I heard he was causing trouble. I think I almost broke his jaw once when I found out that he burned Midoriya badly enough that it left him with a first-degree burn. I wouldn't have even known if Izuku didn't come and tell me. To think that Katsuki is the older twin and he acts like an immature child half of the time. 

When my brother brought up the topic of attending UA, he asked if I would be joining him. I had to do some serious thinking after that. I wasn't sure if I truly wanted to aim to be a hero. I know that is the whole point of the Anime but the idea of fighting for my life and others was kind of terrifying. However, Katsuki wouldn't take no for an answer. He said I had great potential and shouldn't waste it on being uncertain. “You always stick up for that worthless Deku, you'd be fine.” Yeah- standing up against a bully is EXTREMELY different than fighting a full-on fucking villain.

Right now we are in our backyard throwing punches at each other. Mom and Dad are currently out on a date so we thought we would do some practice while they’re gone. Ever since my brother announced he wanted to be a hero, I was dragged by him to help him train our quirks. I didn’t really want to at the start but Katsuki said that if anyone was going to train with him, it might as well be me since I’m the only person he can stand being with for hours on end. I grunted as I backed away a couple of feet from him as he shot a large explosion my way. Since we have similar quirks, we have been trying to bounce ideas off of each other when it comes to ways of using them. The main difference between us is that I can use my quirk in my hands and feet, while he can only use his hands. In a burst of energy at the bottom of my feet, I launch myself over Katsuki, holding a hand out, aiming another blast at him. He saw it coming and twisted himself to face me, blocking my hit with his own, bouncing me backward onto my ass.

“You really need to work on using your feet more,” Katsuki said as he offered his hand to me. I gratefully took it and he helped me up. “I know you can move faster than that if you just tried harder.”

I groaned loudly. “Yeah, but it's not exactly easy. You're more gifted at your quirk than I am.”

“That's some bullshit. It's just because I practice a lot more than you do.” He said as he concentrated a small blast in his right palm. “If I'm going to be the number one hero, I need to train like one.” 

“Yeah yeah, I know,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes at him. I clench my fists to the side. I have never been as good as my brother when it came to power. He got his quirk earlier than I did and is fully focused on his goals. I could never get my head around how quirks work. Half the time I used mine, my limbs would ache like they wanted to fall off. I don’t know if that is normal since I’m using explosions or if it’s just one of the drawbacks of my quirk. He didn’t seem to have the same issue, or if he does, he doesn’t show it.

Katsuki looks over and gives me a small smile. “Besides, if you want to be by my side in the hero course of UA, you will need to learn how to use your quirk to the fullest. Even if you don't like the idea of that, I know you can do it.”

I stare up at him with wet eyes. Katsuki isn't always like this but when he does, it always seems to catch me off guard. Fuck, I love him sometimes. I rushed forward and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Oi, get the hell off me!” He shouts, pushing me off of him. “You fucking stink!” I gasped, pulling away from him, and giving him a smack across his shoulder.

“Hey! It's not like you smell like a bed of roses either ‘Suki!”

“Whatever.” He grumbles, stuffing his hands in his pocket before making his way inside. I shake my head and follow him. 

“I'm gonna take a shower bro, call me if you need anything,” I said, passing him to go to the bathroom. As I pass I see his devilish smirk. “What…?” I looked at him confused. He then takes off in a sprint leaving me stunned. I realized where he was going and screeched. I ran after him but he made it to the bathroom first, slamming and locking the door behind him.

“KATSUKI BAKUGOU!” I shouted, pulling roughly on the door knob.

“What old hag?!” He shouted back through the door. “I got here first, you are going to have to wait!”

The front door of the house opened with Mom and Dad walking in with small smiles but stopped at the door when they heard their daughter cussing, and hitting a door.

“YOU LITTLE SHIT, ONCE YOU GET OUT HERE YOU'RE DEAD!”

The parents looked at each other, sweat dripping at the scene. Masaru looks at his wife. “Should we just…walk out and pretend we aren't home yet.” He suggests. Mitsuki deadpans and walks back outside without a word. “I'll take that as a yes.” He chuckles and walks out, closing the door behind him.

Hearing the bell ring, signaling that school is over for today. I get up from my seat, swinging my backpack over my shoulders, and start walking out. Thank fucking god, any longer and I think I would have gone crazy. I sighed as I walked down the hall towards my brother's classroom. I usually try to meet up with him there so we can walk home together, but this time, I think I’ve heard something I probably wasn’t meant to. “You know, if you wanted to be a hero that badly. There actually might be another way. Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in the next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.“ I heard my brother’s condescending voice through the door laughing mockingly. I swear I think I saw fucking red. The eyebrows on my forehead furrowed downward as I stood at the entrance of the door with a large scowl. Seeing the door open I made a low growling sound. Katsuki proceeded to bump into me as he tried walking out.

“Who the fuck!” My brother said, rubbing his face. His friend’s eyes widen at the sight of me. “Oh shit!” The gray-haired one whisper-shouted and they both darted down the hallway together. He looked up, confused as to why his friends ran out, seemingly with fear in one of their voices. His face pales, as he starts to realize that he just fucked up.

I look past him to spot a shaking Midoriya with tears in his eyes. The smile on my face was fakely sweet as I called out to him. “Oh, hello Izuku. That's okay, you can leave first!” I said as I grabbed Katsuki by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back inside the classroom, and giving him enough space between us and the door. Midoriya looks between us with a worried gaze. He grabbed his bag before slowly walking out, not before glancing back at me before fully leaving. I stood there for a few more moments, making sure he was gone before glaring at my brother.

“What the FUCK do you think you're doing, saying shit like that!” I screamed, smacking him roughly across the head.

Katsuki hissed, reaching to rub the spot with one of his hands. “What are you talking about, I said nothing.”

I smacked him again. “Don’t try to gaslight me! What gives you the right to say that to Izuku, let alone anyone? I know you don’t like Midoriya, but you can’t just tell someone to go off themselves!”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” Katsuki grumbles, stuffing his hands inside his pockets, and starts to walk into the hallway. “Then make me understand!” I shouted back. Katsuki paused and then turned to face me with a hard glare. “He needs to understand he can not become a fucking hero, that’s why I’m doing it.”

“That’s not a reason for abusing him like how you have been Katsuki! Besides, Izuku can become a hero if he tries hard enough, isn’t that what you always tell me!”

“THATS THE REASON WHY I DO IT!” He shouts, putting his hands in his hair, and pulling on it slightly. “Because I know he could make it as a hero if he tried hard enough, but I’m trying to fucking scare him out of it! I know you wouldn’t get it because you fucking baby the bastard every time!”

I paused, looking conflicted. He believes Midoriya can become a hero? Then why even do this? “I don’t understand…If you think that way, then why try to stop him from accomplishing his dreams?” I asked.

Katsuki sighed. “Because, if he somehow becomes a hero, with him being quirkless, it’s only a matter of time before he nerd gets himself killed.” He says as he starts walking, and I follow him closely beside him. “It’s unfair, but it’s true…and I don’t want that to happen.” He finishes as we continue to walk in silence.

Katsuki and I are walking through an alleyway, a shortcut that we usually take. It’s faster than following the streets, plus it’s less crowded. We haven’t spoken since we left the classroom. I sighed as I kicked a plastic bottle with my quirk, causing some green gunk inside of it. Gross I think I burnt whatever was inside. “You don’t hate me, right?” Katsuki asks quietly. I looked at him surprised. “No, you make me angry sometimes, but I could never hate you. Why would you think I’d hate you?” I asked. He shrugs his shoulders at me. “Just making sure…” I shake my head before freezing in place. A large glob-shaped shadow appears over us, making us look at who is making it. Our eyes widened in fear at the sight.

“Perfect! I love a meat sack with some fire! The creature said before rushing forward to me. Katsuki screams my name, pushing me roughly out of the way, getting caught in the sludge instead. “KATSUKI!” I screamed as the villain left with my brother. I followed them closely with my quirk as the villain left a path of destruction. I leap forward, ready to let out a blast before I get tugged back by a thick branch.

“NO!” I shouted, smacking at whatever grabbed me. “Let go of me you bastard!” The hero, Kamui Woods kept me in place. “Don't even think about it kid, let the pros handle this!” He shouted as a larger hero with white arms rushed in and smashed the slime with zero effect. “W-what is this stuff! I can't grab a hold of it!” He said before a sludge arm came out and slapped him away.

I struggle in Kamui's hold. “Let me go! Please! He has my fucking brother!” I shouted, making a small explosion trying to knock him away from me. He looked shocked and turned to the other heroes. “That thing has a kid hostage!”

The heroes looked around. “Shit! None of us have the right quirk for this! The kid is going to have to wait until someone with the right quirk comes along!”

The pain of watching my brother struggling in the hands of a villain is something I forgot that could happen. Fuck this is all my fault, I forgot that sludge fucker existed!’ I cried to myself. A green blob passed me, making me lift up my head. Midoriya!

Midoriya throws his yellow backpack at the monster, hitting him in the eye, making him loosen his hold slightly on my brother. My eyes widen as he gasps for air. “That's fucking it, let go of me you fucking twig!” I shouted, blasting a large explosion at him, making him release me. I was about to charge in myself before someone shouted, “DETROIT SMASH!” Blasting the villain away. I ran into the scene to catch my brother.

“KATSUKI!” I cried out.

[backgroundbaker]

Sticky: Fic 6 for @remadoramicrofics

Content warning: language and implied references to abortion

Note: Believe it or not, I started this thinking I was going to write a fluffy piece - and this is literally anything but. Sorry! I'm noticing in my own writing, having done it for 6 days now, that this might be a trend. I'm setting myself the challenge of trying to write a few more happy things next week. We'll see...

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

He sits on the sofa in the living room, a blanket pulled tight around his shoulders. He's a few days post moon and there's a chill in his body that's lingered on slightly more than it usually would. His hands are curled round a steaming mug of tea, which he brings to his mouth every so often, though every time he has attempted to take a sip, he's found it still too hot. The book that's open in his lap he's only got half an eye on - instead he's listening to his wife as she moves about in the kitchen, baking something - most likely Sticky Toffee Pudding.

Dora is surprisingly good with cooking and baking, despite her clumsiness. She always makes a mess of the kitchen, and inevitably drops a spoon or two, but Remus has always loved the food she makes. Her mum does too, probably because Dora has a similar cooking style to her dad. They used to come round once a week for dinner, before Ted ran off into hiding, but now Andromeda comes over on her own twice a week, sometimes more. At least it keeps them on top of the dishes - a job that wouldn't get done otherwise.

Putting up with Andromeda seems to be one of the few things that himself and Dora can bond over. Without Ted to tamper her down, condescending insults come flying out her mouth unguarded, and no-one is safe from being a target. They both know she doesn't really mean it, but her overly critical comments are still hurtful.

"You're still here, then," everytime he opens the door to her.

"You're not exactly glowing, are you?" aimed at poor Dora one time when she had her head in the toilet.

He even kicked her out early once, when she nearly reduced her daughter to tears with some harsh words about her being unprepared for motherhood. Despite the fact he hated that Dora had been hurt, his heart had soared a little at the genuine gratitude on her face when she looked at him after that. It was the only emotional expression she'd given him, other than cold indifference, for weeks. A guilty part of him thought he would be sad if Andromeda gave up the insults, as he would miss the looks that Dora and him get to share behind her back.

It was obviously his own fault that his marriage had been reduced to two people acting like barely-friendly housemates. He wanted to fix it, badly, but Dora wasn't letting him. He had attempted to come back positively, leading with how excited he was to have a baby with her and how sorry he was for leaving. She had looked him dead in the eye and asked, icily, if she should cancel her appointment for the next week, seeing how he was so excited for a baby now. He thought the right answer would be an enthusiastic yes, of course they should keep the baby. He had tried to keep out of his voice the slight shock and disappointment he felt that she would even make such a plan, but he was not sure he had managed it. Her response was a very angry "fuck off, Remus" followed by her expressing she was done living her life doing whatever pleased him, whenever he wanted.

In the end, the appointment was cancelled for her by the Death Eaters taking over St. Mungos. This angered her further, turning against him more, annoyed he always seemed to get his way despite him changing his mind every five minutes.

"You wanted to be friends, and so I was your friend. Then you wanted space, and I gave you that space. Then you wanted to have sex, so we did. Then you thought you'd made a mistake so you kicked me out the bed. You wanted comfort so I let you fall asleep in my arms. When I needed comfort, you weren't sure it was right for us to be in the same room. Then you wanted to get married, so we did. Then you didn't want the baby, so you left. Now you want the baby again and I guess you're going to get it. The fact I'm not sure I really want this isn't going to factor, is it?"

"You wanted this relationship, Dora," he reminded her, "you were the one who made a scene and pushed so hard for us to be together, in spite of me being unsure about it. So I think it's unfair to say you never get what you want."

"Guess we're both as bad as each other. How very deserving we are."

That was the last thing she had said to him on the subject and that was when the cold indifference began. She let him stay at the house, probably because she felt he had nowhere else to go. They sometimes spoke, only about the most neutral of subjects, and occasionally she even let him rub her back when she was sick. But that was it.

Now that leaves him sitting on the sofa, while she prepares dinner for her mother coming over. He can tell by the smells wafting under the door that she's definitely making Sticky Toffee Pudding. It's her favourite and she's very good at it. Remus has to admit that it's delicious, but his favourite is chocolate brownies. She used to make them all the time, but she hasn't made them once since he left and came back. He really misses her chocolate brownies.

[aggressive-almond-cookie]

I know how cheesy this sounds but lord sometimes the gimmick really is just believing in yourself.

I feel like I have said this to myself and relearned this lesson so many times but lord do I keep peeling back layers and layers of it.

I have struggled, more than anything in this game, with basic mechanical control of my character. I have understood, repeated that mechanical control (jumping exactly where I intend to jump, moving exactly where I intend to move) is one of my weakest areas of this game. It's why the first part of After Alterna was the part that stalled me out so badly and it's why I generally just underperform compared to most of my teammates.

I even set out to correct this. I set myself a goal of learning how to complete Deadly Dance Hall perfectly, getting all the power eggs along the way. And every day I practiced this.

I made very little progress. It all felt so random and like I wasn't improving. A couple times I did actually luck through into finishing it, but it was always a struggle and I would just kind of mindlessly grind it over and over, usually dying in the same ways around the same time.

A couple days ago I was rambling to a teammate after a just barely-failed salmon run shift that I feel like the core of why I'm doing poorly on paper all the time (I nearly always have the fewest golden eggs and power eggs) is that I've never had the mechanical ability that other people seem to have. I jump to the wrong places, I fall in the water all the time, I aim erratically, and I don't know if I have the worst luck with egg lag in the world or what but it feels like I can swim through four golden eggs on the regular and somehow still fail to pick one up.

I spent some time in this frustrated little pity-party about how demoralizing it's been my entire life being the weakest link in any game I play with my friends and so on. And I don't even know what happened, but somewhere in the middle of my whining it re-occurred to me that there isn't some mechanical control superpower that everyone has except me. There's no reason I shouldn't be able to systematically train this.

And like, I had been training this, in theory, in Deadly Dance Hall, to little avail, but it occurred to me that I hadn't really been trying. So I went back in there, and got a perfect clear on the second try. And then I did it again.

And suddenly it feels strangely easy to do. I don't get it every try but I get it at a much higher rate and more importantly I actually feel like I have way more control over where I land.

You can't teach someone this. I don't know how I learned it, but suddenly it started working.

Here's what I think is happening-- (I think this because months ago I realized a similar thing about my confidence in aiming.) I commit fully to an action and then don't change course. I know some time after committing that I am going to fail but I make no effort to control my way out of it. Even though I have several fractions of a second to move around slightly so I land in the different place, to move my reticle a bit further to the left, to perform a quick squid roll off the wall I realize I shouldn't be climbing. I don't change what I am doing because I simply on some unconscious level I don't believe that I have enough time, I don't believe that any attempt to course-correct will have any effect. I accept that I made a poor choice and have to live with it, but the information I needed to make the correct choice became clear after the choice had already been made, leading to a feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of 'I really don't know what I could have done differently,' a feeling of frustration over my lack of skill because I was expecting myself to know exactly where to jump based on information that I would only have (or at least would become much more clear) once I was in the air. I would instead make a choice, commit to it, and decide 'well there's nothing I can do now' when there was actually plenty that I could do. Changing direction mid-action is scary and stressful, because you have less time to think about what to do and if it is the right thing to do and it's more comfortable to surrender to whatever your past self did and let the chips fall where they may, but it actually isn't too late-- you actually can change course, and if you get used to changing course often enough, you eventually learn what works and what doesn't. But first you have to believe that you have that agency. You have to believe it's actually worth trying or you won't try it. And this is all happening in such small fractions of seconds that these are all decisions you're making practically subconsciously without realizing what's actually happening, so it's sort of something you have to... deal with the underlying cause of in a unconscious way.

I dunno. I'm overthinking it probably, and maybe I'm way off, but at the end of the day I think I'm seeing improvement, and it'll be interesting to see if this radiates out to other aspects of my play.

[semper-legens]

170. The Shadow Cabinet, by Juno Dawson

Owned: No, library Page count: 504 My summary: Her Majesty's Royal Coven is still dealing with the aftermath of the downfall of their previous leader. But all is not well in the county of Yorkshire. Leonie's brother is missing, probably gone after evil warlock Dabney Hale. Elle's husband is acting very strangely. Theo struggles to fit into school, between being a witch and being a trans girl. And Niamh Kelly is not who she seems... My rating: 3.5/5 My commentary:

Ah, back to Her Majesty's Royal Coven. This is the second book in Juno Dawson's first series for adult readers, and though I am very much enamoured with her writing when it comes to YA fiction, HMRC left me a bit cold the first time I read it. I've discussed it with a friend (herself a trans woman) since, and she hit the nail on the head with her commentary - while she didn't think it was a bad book per se, she was disappointed at how it was aimed more at middle-aged cis women with book clubs than trans women. Trans women don't get so much fiction that is aimed specifically at them, after all. And I agree with her on this - a lot of Dawson's writing in this series trends towards what I call the 'baby's first' style of writing. By that, I mean that it introduces a social issue, but in a way that is meant to be for people who have absolutely no prior knowledge of or experience with that social issue. In this case, it's a combo of baby's first trans teenager and baby's first systemic oppression. None of this is by necessity bad. It's just not quite what I was expecting or looking for.

So yeah, as previously mentioned, the main protagonists of this book are middle-aged cis women, though trans teenager Theo does get some point of view time and her own B plot. This isn't necessarily meant to be a book about transness, but as I said, I'm still left a little disappointed by the lack of trans characters. That said, this book introduces an intersex witch who helps Leonie in her quest to find big bad Dabney Hale and her brother Radley, so that's an interesting addition at least. But for all I have complained about the focus being on said middle-aged cis women, it isn't as though Dawson writes them badly. On the contrary, she manages to perfectly walk the line of universality (everyone knows a woman who acts like at least one of these women) and specificity, where her characters still feel like full people with lives and stories that aren't just meant to be blandly relatable. Reading about them is fun! I particularly like housewife Elle, who learns of her husband's infidelity and winds up unlocking a part of her and a power that she wasn't aware of previously. It's an interesting idea and I want to see where it's going.

But the politics of this book are very baby's first. I get it, when you're writing about issues like women's rights and trans identity, particularly transfeminine identity, in a modern setting then there's no reason why your characters can't be spouting the modern social justice terminology when they talk about it. I just think that the messaging with the politics of the book was a little too clear-cut and unsubtle. I would have liked a little more ambiguity, and perhaps for the characters to not always talk like internet teens sometimes. At its worst, it just came across as clunky and obvious, and that's the kind of thing you really want to avoid in a book with these sorts of messages.

Like I said, the characters in this novel are engaging. Ciara is one of our main point of view characters, the sister of Niamh who took over her body and is now masquerading as her. The heel-face turn she is slowly making, plus her attempts to piece together her past and understand who she really is, are engaging, and her voice is a fun one to play with. Poor Theo gets a subplot where she is coming to terms with her magic and her transformation after the last book which raises some interesting ideas about dysphoria, identity, and gender as well as being really endearing. Leonie's determination in her quest to find her brother is strong, and Elle's more domestic problems are a slow tragedy that is nonetheless interesting to see unfold. I'm probably gonna end up reading the next book in this series when it comes out. I do still really like Dawson's writing. I'm just a little disappointed that this story could have been a lot more complex than it is.

Next up, back to CHERUB, as a plane crashes into the ocean.

[titanicfreija]

Nervous Energy

Thomas saw frequent efforts to relax, likely on cue from Sunny, and he watched from the corner of his eye to see if she was checking him and how she reacted when she did. 

He only caught her at it a couple times, both after staring into empty space, so he suspected it was merely a flashback or other thought and she needed to reorient. The first time, he asked about it and she seemed embarrassed, so he didn't ask the second time, instead giving her a small nod when she caught him looking.

~

She stayed agitated well until the early hours of the morning. He didn't watch, but Rex did. Thomas could hear her groaning from time to time and sometimes Sunny whirring and chirping. 

It might have been around dawn when he opened his tent to see her glowing orange and on her toes at the edge of camp, eyes fixed on the trees and sky beyond.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied without turning around. 

"You wanna talk about it?" 

She didn't say anything, taking a breath to say no and stopping herself. 

"I'm angry at the Traveler," she sighed. "It's stupid."

"I… I mean, I'm sure you have your reasons." He shrugged. "We did what we had to do. It couldn't have known."

"I said it was stupid. I know. That isn't making it stop. So I'm meditating. Only I'm doing it badly so I'm trying a new trick."

"Yeah?"

"That new thing, I can get a good hammer strike into the open, turn it into thundercrash, then try and lift and swing the rest of the gap."

Thomas wasn't sure what gap she meant. There was a river not too far off, but she was afraid of water.

"Where's Sunny?"

"In my pocket," Freija said at the same time as Sunny said, "in her pocket."

"You're coming off as particularly unstable right now," he admitted. "I know it's been rough. You sure you're okay?"

"It's probably just the new power," Freija mumbled, playing with the energy dancing over her fingers. 

Thomas grunted at her. "Did you sleep?"

"No."

"She tried," Sunny promised. "We figured practicing with her Light might help spend some of the energy."

Thomas nodded. "I see. Let's see the attempt, then. Where are you aiming?"

Freija pointed but Thomas still didn't see anything. 

"The river over there?" he asked.

"Yeah. Across it."

"And if you land in the water?"

"Serves me right," she growled.

"Oh, there's the self-destruction. No. You're already distressed, you don't need to upset the phobia."

Freija sighed. "I was working myself up to it. It's not that bad."

"Yes it is," Thomas countered. "I don't want you to. Don't."

She scowled at him, and he saw the twitch in her lip. She didn't seem to know what to say for a while, before she finally said, "Why not?"

It wasn't the response he expected, he expected "why do you care", but close enough. "I promise, from experience, forcing yourself into shit you hate is just excused self-loathing. Please don't torture yourself. Under any guise. I've decided your mental and emotional well-being is at least a little bit my problem, least of all because I live with you. You've been a pretty good friend for a few years now and I think I'm in a good position to help you, and I know you would do the same for me. I don't want to see you hurt, even mentally. So don't."

Her eyes watered and she snarled unconsciously, turning to face away from him. Sunny turned to face Thomas and wheeled. "Thank you."

"It's rough," he replied calmly. "You died. Even temporarily, that's a big deal."

"I killed her," Freija spat. "On her fucking command. And I was right to and so was she and fucking dammit the way my body froze, I couldn't even catch her when she fell and I didn't say I love you and fuck you all."

She sat heavily and put her chin on her fists, hunched and splayed awkwardly. "I feel like shit," she announced, obviously angry and not sure what to do about this. 

"We know," Thomas promised. "It's okay. You just need the space to practice getting through it without any unintended fires."

She groaned and dropped her head the rest of the way. "Fuck."

"Yeah. I know you were hoping we would actually make it stop," he chuckled. "We can take the edge off until it's blunted. It'll still hit and still hurt, but it'll be a bruise instead of a cut. I'm sorry. It's a pretty bad wound. It would be fucked up if it didn't hurt."

Freija buried her head in her hands and moaned again. "But she's fucking fine. Why am I still fucked up?"

"So the stab wounds didn't hit any vital organs, you still got stabbed," Thomas chuckled. "It just hurts. You're not used to that kind of thing."

"This kind? I'm used to it. It's just that being used to stab wounds doesn't make them stop being stab wounds. I don't even get to grow callouses. Fucking Caiatl gave me shit for trying to walk off this kind of pain. I'm hurt and I'm being hurt and it's not helping. Why can't I just walk it off when the only answer is walking it off?"

"There's… a very subtle difference," Thomas sighed. "Hiding it from yourself, ignoring it, you never get past it, so it lurks and you find yourself angry about it and then angry in general because everything makes you think about it, and you can't put the memory down."

Freija shrank into her shoulders and Thomas made a point not to look directly at her. "But if you spend time not doing anything particularly except thinking through– not about, but through the thing, when it happens, you'll have the conclusion to get to and you can put the memory down. You know it's over, but you're still scared. You can't let go yet because you've refused to let yourself have the time. You've got to give yourself a chance to recover." He chuckled. "I thought it was Sunny rushing you. You're rushing you. Sunny's just trying to help."

"It's annoying!" Freija cried. "What the fuck?!"

"Are you calling the psychological damage of watching your best friend die 'annoying'?" the Warlock laughed. "I understand that it was temporary, but you keep trying to pretend it was nothing at all."

"No, no, I get that, but why – my stupid heart is pounding! I can feel my Light thumping with it! I'm not even thinking of anything! I'm not scared! But remembering being upset is making me upset! Dammit!"

"Freija, your Ghost and best friend died."

"I know, but she came back! I don't even think of death as death, it would have taken me months to stay remembering that she couldn't get back up! I forget mortals are mortals all the time! I sure don't remember Ghosts are!"

"I daresay you're hyper aware," argued Thomas. "We all are. Maybe you're still not understanding– you lived a Guardian's worst nightmare. You've lived in terror your whole life of that singular event. You're right to be fucked up by this."

"I don't want to be!" 

Thomas laughed and Freija offered a nervous chuckle.

"Let it be a big deal," he finished, "and let it happen, so it'll reach its end."

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 18 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

"Thanks for cleaning me up. Now, I'll need to go get the bag before we continue. I feel like it might distract from the moment a little if I'm naked when I bring you in."

Fanner nodded.

"Okay."

"Do you want to come with me or stay here? I can get it quicker on my own but I'll understand if you're not too keen on being left alone again."

"Um... is it okay if I come with you?"

"I wouldn't have made the offer if it wasn't okay. That would be an awful trap."

"Oh, um, yeah. I suppose so."

Yore walked up the bank and offered Fanner a hand to help him up.

"But I imagine you've been treated badly quite a lot, so things that seem petty and cruel to me might be normal to you."

"I spent almost my entire life in a training facility. Everything was a test."

Fanner was standing at the top of the bank at Yore's side now but Yore didn't let go of his hand.

"That must have been rough."

Fanner looked down at their linked hands and gave Yore's a gentle squeeze.

"No, not at all. We were given everything we needed and nobody ever hurt us."

"Were you happy?"

"No," Fanner said.

He didn't even need to think about that one.

"Emotional hardship can be just as bad as physical hardship. Hell, much worse sometimes. If I had to choose between letting someone break my legs and spending a day chained up in a dark tunnel, I guess I'd have to make myself some crutches."

Fanner placed his other hand over the top of Yore's as well and held on.

"Maybe, I guess. I really don't like being hurt."

"I don't think it's really that different. Maybe if I'd been hurt in the same way you've been hurt, which I really don't know much about but I can piece a few things together, maybe then I'd feel the same way. It's all just different kinds of trauma."

Fanner swallowed thickly.

His eyes were still aimed at their hands.

"It's not fair that you got hurt so badly. You're such a good person."

"Thank you but also yes. It's not fair. Bad things didn't happen to you because you deserved it. Good things also happen to people who don't deserve them. You just have to take what life gives you and try to work towards wherever you want to be in life."

"I feel like..." Fanner hesitated. "I think the only thing I really want is to be okay."

"You'll get there," Yore assured him. "I'd say you already are okay, in the sense that you're safe and you'll be taken care of from here on out but I know there's more to it than that. You've been through something big. Heck, in a sense your whole life has been one big struggle. That doesn't just go away and become fine the second you're somewhere safe."

Fanner nodded.

He looked like he might cry again.

"Okay, let's..." Yore started to say and then he paused and looked up into the trees.

He could hear something moving around.

"Cookie, I know that's you. I know what you sound like now. You can't fool me twice."

Cookie leapt down from a nearby tree, landing gracelessly, the large bag she was carrying in her mouth sending her toppling forward.

Their bag.

"Oh, you got the bag for us. Thank you?"

"Do we have any snacks we can give her?" Fanner asked. "She likes to eat... things. Anything."

"Just some old biscuits. I left them because our water leaked on the bag and they got all soggy."

Cookie opened her dark, empty maw of a mouth as wide as she could, which was wider than Yore was entirely comfortable with and then just held it open until Yore let go of Fanner's hands, got out the bag of biscuits and put one in.

She swallowed it whole and then took the rest of the bag from Yore and swallowed that as well, bag included.

"Hmm," was all Yore could think to say to that. "Well, all right. Shall we keep going?"

They were a bit behind schedule now but Yore was still confident they could reach the mage settlement before dark.

It didn't really matter if they didn't since this area no longer held an active vampire nest but he wasn't sure how Fanner would feel about travelling in the dark after everything that had happened.

It was another hour of walking before they reached the start of Yore's territory.

He hadn't seen or heard Cookie in a while but he suspected she was still following them.

"This is where my people live," Yore explained, patting the wooden post that served as a marker. "We'll cut across to save time but I won't take you into our settlement today."

"Am I allowed to be here?" Fanner asked. "I won't get in trouble if someone sees us, will I?"

"You're with me. Of course you're allowed. But more generally speaking, we're allies. There are certain expectations like that you won't hunt on or otherwise use our land without explicit permission but it's not like you have to be afraid of accidentally crossing the border because it'll cause a huge incident or someone will attack you or anything. Most likely someone will notice you and come and see if you need any help."

"Okay. And... you live next to us?"

"No, that's the centaurs. They can seem a bit imposing at first but they've been allies to the mages from the start. The mage camp is to the east of the centaurs and we're north of the centaurs."

Fanner nodded but from the distant look in his eyes Yore got the feeling he wasn't quite taking it all in.

"Don't worry about it. There'll be people to help you and show you around for as long as you need it."

"Okay," Fanner said but he still looked worried.

Yore really wished he knew what to say to assure Fanner it really would be okay but perhaps that was just something he'd have to see for himself.

Yore heard the sound of paws running across bare earth long before he saw a pale grey wolf emerge from between the trees.

He gave her a nod as she shifted.

"Good afternoon, Kiana."

"Your mother's worried about you," was the first thing Kiana said once she was standing on two feet. "You're days late."

"I know. I was delayed but I'm fine."

She glanced over him but seemed to decide not to comment on the superficial but very obvious cuts on the side of his face and his neck.

She looked at Fanner instead.

"Who's that?"

"Just someone I'm taking back to the mages. Tell my mother I'll be home as soon as I'm done with that. Also, we'll need a party to deal with a rock golem. We encountered one on the path. I led it back into the swamp but you know how they are."

"They do tend to wander. Okay, I'll get things moving on that for you."

Without further conversation, she shifted again and dashed back into the woods.

"Who was that?" Fanner whispered, like he wasn't quite sure she couldn't still hear him.

Which was fair.

Their hearing was quite a bit better than his, though she was far away enough away that it wasn't a concern.

"Kiana. She's my, uh... cousin?"

Not that that really mattered.

Some of the members of his pack were related to him closely enough to trace, some weren't and it didn't make a whole lot of difference for the most part.

They were all family.

"Oh," Fanner said.

He didn't sound satisfied with the answer.

"My mother leads the pack, so she'll go and consult with her about the rock golem. Kiana's mostly a scout and a trapper."

"Oh, okay. What are you?"

"Whatever I need to be."

Which was a cop out of an answer and not entirely true but this really wasn't the time to explain everything to Fanner.

Though, if he were truly honest, his reluctance wasn't just about not wanting to scare or confuse Fanner.

He was mostly just enjoying this mini vacation from his normal life and wanted to maintain the separation until he'd completed his task and brought Fanner safely to the mages.

They made it through the rest of the pack's territory without another interruption.

Yore stopped Fanner at the post that marked the territory's south eastern corner.

"Are you ready for this?"

"No, but..." Fanner shrugged.

Yore offered him a sympathetic smile.

"It's hard but waiting won't fix that."

Fanner nodded. He took a deep breath in and let it out.

"Okay. Let's do this."

[wildweirdly]

A story about taking the bus (long)

Emma lives a couple cities over in a somewhat secluded area, about a 45 minute drive from me. There's a bus that goes there for just $3 and that's where I am now, doing some writing and listening to music while I travel. This will be the second time I've taken it, with this past Sunday being the first.

The trip itself takes about an hour but the seats on this bus are upgraded like a coach so they're a bit more stylish and several magnitudes more comfortable than the regular buses. This one is also air conditioned which is especially welcome since I'm wearing my anxiety vest again. These days I've been on edge and attempting to rely less on weed so I've been wearing it to help curb the physical symptoms.

Emma told me the reason this bus is nicer than the rest is because students use it to get to the college near her. I don't know if that's true or not but I believe it. She'll be going there starting the end of this month to take a couple classes and finnish her degree. This time around she's aiming for a job as a therapist, using her prior medical accreditation as a springboard.

Since we met she's often brought up the subject of school and how she thinks I should go back because I'm "very smart". She doesn't have the same struggles as me so she doesn't seem to understand that there are a few certain barriers I'd have to breach to make something like that possible. On top of that she makes $21-$50 an hour so money isn't an issue for her. I guess that's the difference between working in a grocery store like I do and working in a hospital like she does. Fortunately I haven't had to deal with any customers dying or bleeding or anything so I'd say I'm the luckier one of the two of us.

Last time I visited her, Emma was running on 3 hours of sleep which kicked her anxiety into overdrive. She's one of the types that's afraid of medication so she's not taking anything for it which I could never do myself (I struggle badly even with my meds!) Since then she's managed to sleep properly but her mind has been in Panic Mode and doesn't seem to want to ease out of it. I know I can't fix things but I'm hoping my presence today might help calm her a little. At the very least I know I can be a good cuddle partner, and sometimes that makes all the difference.

This will be the third time I've spent the night with her, and every time it happens is always so interesting to me. When we first started seeing each other she spoke about taking things slow and cautious and how she wanted to start off as "friends with benefits". Similarly she said she didn't know if she would classify what we were doing as "dating", and that she needed to know me better before we got physical. We ended up getting physical that same day, and two days later I was asleep in her bed.

Emma and I are both trans, but I'm the first trans man she's ever been with. Up to this point she's mainly ever been with cis guys, and some of the marks it's left on her are telling. She told me about being grabbed unprompted and was curious why I asked before putting my hands on her. In a way it made her nervous I wasn't interested so I had to explain that until I become more familiar with her boundaries I'm not going to like, randomly grab her ass while we're talking or anything like that. On top of this she's used to men pulling the ol "cum and go" and she said she hadn't had anyone who wanted more out of her than just sex in a long time. She's also not used to men showering before seeing her which I can't even begin to imagine putting up with. Maybe I've just been lucky with the people I've been with, I dunno! I would absolutely hit the breaks if someone smelled bad like that, yanno? Like it's one thing to be a little sweaty or whatever but it's an entirely different story if someone had an active smell. Just really not something I could handle!

Overall I think whatever we have going on is going to bring positive change for both of us. So far it's afforded me travel, much needed company, and physical affection. We've been to a concert, out to dinner, and we're traveling to the Thousand Islands area tomorrow for a hike and picnic (weather permitting). She's also mentioned needed affection and attention so we both are able to fill that void quite nicely. I hope to end up in an Official Relationship with her eventually but for now it's good to know she enjoys my lace in her life

[uhmusingmon]

shedding the old

Healing is a fun journey. You start making some progress, you've got a plan and begin to take action then BOOM. Something else is thrown into the mix. It shakes you from your initial focus as it invites you to adjust.

The past three years have been a major transformational period of my life. When I think the transformation season is coming to an end, I am surprised with more twists and turns.

I was building a routine to work for me, lining up projects with newfound inspiration and energy, and before I could take a big step, I was faced with a curveball regarding my living situation. Although it has been pretty inconvenient and introduced unpleasant stress and pressure on top of what already existed that I was working to manage, I accept it as a blessing.

I don't know if I work better under pressure, or if I simply just accomplish more. My ass needs a fire lit beneath to get me going, it seems. When I succumb to the pressure, I might freeze from overwhelm and engage in my patterns of escape which brings on guilt for avoiding what I ought to face. I was caught in this for a brief moment, until a specific deadline was given. That was when I decided to roll my sleeves up and face the challenge head on.

My home for five years served me for what I needed. In the past 2-3 years, though, I have increasingly grown unhappy with the living space and property management. I felt trapped because how can I move if I don't meet income requirements for a better space? I have so badly wished to launch myself into a new life, but felt constricted by my environment. Anyone who's visited me has experienced a new layout anytime they come over because I frequently rearranged furniture, trying to restructure the home. It only ever worked temporarily. It was not long before I found myself stagnant and needing to switch it up again.

In two weeks I get to say goodbye to this home. I realized I wasn't ever trapped here. I just needed to get a little creative in order to be approved in a new place. Sometimes it takes a push to think outside the box and discover alternative resources and support that have always existed.

Now that I'm moving on, I am very excited. I have craved a fresh start for years. But in my mind, that meant selling and leaving everything and everyone behind, and taking off to a new location where no one knows me. I fantasized starting completely fresh. Maybe that fantasy isn't so out of reach, but maybe it doesn't have to be quite so dramatic. Even 15 minutes away from my current location can do me some good and drastically change my everyday routine (or patterns and habits, because I wouldn't call this a routine lol). For one thing, I won't have my comfort bar two blocks down the road from me. My friends won't be in my 3 mile radius. The ease of escaping through people will be a little less.

More of the less I look forward to having is less distraction, less noise, less clutter. In the next two weeks, I am aiming to downsize, declutter, and rid as much as I possibly can. The new place is a smaller space, so physically the room is not there. The room I do have is to be calm, safe, and invite me to create. I have shed several layers of conditioning, unhelpful beliefs and thoughts, and toxic patterns. Now it's time to shed the physical shit that just gets in the way or serves as reminders of unfinished business. It's like ghosts of the old me are latched on to some of these things and it's time for them to move on so I can move on.

I do recognize, however, that the problems that exist in my current place can easily follow me, because real change isn't about the environment or surroundings, but what is going on within me. So over these next two weeks, I am preparing myself for a successful transition and continued growth. I am pinpointing my needs and inviting my Soul to guide me. I take comfort in surrender, trusting that all my needs will be met and all resources will be provided. All that is required of me is choosing the life I intend to bring and cultivate in my new space. Everything else will fall into place.

[donnerpartyofone]

I probably shouldn't broadcast how very easily intruded-upon I am, which I am doing quite a lot of this morning, but I really AM very easily intruded-upon. Sometimes I think about how lame paranoia is, how it can be boiled down to a form of egotistical fantasy--like oh REALLY, you REALLY think everyone's behavior is motivated by something about YOU personally? It's like when you walk into a room with a cat in it, and you're just doing some mindless chore and not looking at the cat or approaching the cat but the cat reacts as if you are actively chasing after it with lust in your eyes and everything you are doing must be secretly aimed at the acquisition of the cat. Like fuck you cat, I'm just filling my water glass, I wasn't thinking about you AT ALL! I used to know this person who was unfortunately both a coworker and a really destructive personal friend, and he was constantly fantasizing out loud about how he was somehow BOTH the most ignored and passed-over person at the company AND the center of a vast conspiracy against him involving the obsessive attention of everyone including the executives. We're neither coworkers nor friends anymore due to the personality traits indicated by that summary of affairs.

But uh anyway I realize it doesn't speak well of my social history but I am often worried about hearing from someone who I definitely do not wish to speak with or even think about. Recently the like #2 person on this list suddenly died and while that was a disturbing experience that brought up a lot of ambivalent feelings, I have to say that a big part of me was pretty relieved. That guy was vaguely in the category of exes you don't want to hear from, of which I have a few. Then there's family-related people I don't want to hear from; we are an extremely small family including a crazy uncle people avoid, and my dead mom who people worshiped and who kind of hated me and so you can imagine that I REALLY don't appreciate it when I occasionally hear from someone who obviously thinks that if they can befriend me then they'll have my mom back. So like if your primary point of reference for me is my family, and I don't have your number already, then you probably shouldn't have my number either. And then there's home town people I don't want to hear from; for once in my life this has less to do with my neurotic boundary issues than with this kind of atmosphere where I'm from that's like, if you leave home especially for "the big city" it's because you're too big for your britches and you definitely mean it as a personal insult against everyone who still lives there. I had a couple unpleasant and confusing interactions with people who hadn't even attempted to have a real conversation with me in years, and who were not at all curious about what might have happened to me in all that time (which did not in any way involve "living the dream" as I was accused of doing), but who definitely felt like I owed them something, and admittedly I have an antisocial sort of disposition but that was really weird to me.

Sometimes my fears about being contacted are a little more obscure and even stupid, like...one of my only remaining friends from high school is someone I really like a lot, but who has a ton of brothers and a bunch of sons, and they all have somewhat androgynous not-common-to-America names, and the last time I saw him I dragged us into this extremely confusing conversation because I had lost the ability to tell the difference between some of the brothers and sons and I was very, very embarrassed. It was kind of funny, but also during the course of our last conversation I learned that one of the brothers married a little sister of this person I used to be friends with, who fucked up my life so badly that I can never talk about it and while I don't think they would dare to bother me in any way I still have these delusional waking nightmares that I'm going to suddenly run into them somewhere and I'll just spontaneously vomit or faint, or both, or they'll try to do something to me again. A different sister from the latter, scary family tried to make my dad put us in touch over Facebook a while ago and I immediately deactivated my account, that was such a creepy and unwelcome way to try to be in touch especially in the internet age when it's not that hard to find someone directly (as I have sadly discovered), like I cannot imagine what those people would want from me. And now I know I have to be careful with my dear old friend's family because he's in-laws with people who are potentially dangerous to me, and maybe I should just work on getting even more comfortable with forgetting people's names and how I even know them to begin with. The end.

EPILOGUE: I asked the person who texted me who they were and they said "Marbyn". Which is cracking me up. I had to look this up to see how real it could be. I know where you live, Marbyn, and I'm going to fucking get you!

Someone whose number I don't have in my phone is texting me at 8:30am and asking personal questions in a familiar tone, great, that's just how I want to start my day.

[orieriee]

Get to Know Trafalgar Law! A Character Analysis ✮

Masterlist here

Author's note: disclaimer, this is my own interpretation based on what I've seen and some information I gathered from blogs here and there on the internet. I've wanted to do this for so long because I like to make and read fictions about certain characters but sometimes it can get too OOC (which is not my preference) so I'm making this to help me understand about the character more and write more accurate fics! Starting off with Trafalgar Law from one piece. Also english isn't my first language so forgive me if I worded it badly :'

I might do more when I'm free so let me know which character(s) to do. I'm planning on Ace's 😋

warnings! do not repost anywhere, sl4very mentioned, some minor spoilers

Please read the disclaimer beforehand, I don't want people to misunderstand :'') and before that, I've seen people interpreting him as a dark character, neutral character, a tsundere, a cold character, a cocky d0m, a mean d0m, even a sub etc. Now I don't blame people for making him have those "stereotypes" because it's a fic, it's up to their interpretation and it's fun. But I wanna dig a little deeper on his CANON characteristics.

Overall Personality based on data

Based on personality database, he's an INTJ. But some blogs claim that he's ISTJ. For those who don't know, those are Myers-Briggs type personalities. Whether he's INTJ or ISTJ, it's ok because sometimes someone's traits can be pretty uncertain. Take a quiz at sakinorva and you'll know! For example, mine's INFP but the P is very faded because I can be INFJ or INFP.

☆ INTJ - Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging.

INTJs are very complex and I agree that Law is a complex character. Based on what I read, INTJs are rational and quick-witted. INTJs minds are never at rest and they are thirsty for knowledge and they aren't afraid to break the rules to make discoveries. Some may even call them nerds or bookworms (in which we know that Law is a huge nerd for germa) and they prioritize success and rationality rather than politeness and popularity.

They are blunt or to the point when it comes to social interaction. Not to mention, they often have a sarcastic sense of humor. Which I admit, those points are very Law and you can see evidence of these traits throughout one piece.

☆ ISTJ - Introverted, Observant, Thinking, Judging.

Reserved yet willful. When they commit to something, they make sure to follow through. Which is a very Law thing to do. Basically a logistician. They have the ability to stay grounded and logical even in the most stressful situations. People with this personality type believe that there is a right way to proceed in any situation, make plans.

They strive to meet their goals and obligations so they tend to have strong work ethics, and take responsibility for their actions and choices. ISTJs also have a deep respect for structure and tradition, and they are often drawn to organizations, workplaces, and educational settings that offer clear hierarchies and expectations.

In conclusion? Whether he's INTJ or ISTJ, both are valid. The only difference is that INTJ uses intuition and ISTJ uses logic. Which I can see both in Law on how he handles things - both with logic and intuition.

Law is rational and quick-witted even when things don't go his way, if you watch stampede, you'll know how quick he came up with improvisation or coming up with a new better approach when things don't go his way. Well, he always does. And how ISTJs have a deep respect for structure and tradition and are drawn to settings that offer hierarchies and expectations? We can see how Law respects the Hippocratic Oath as a doctor, which is an oath that emphasizes the importance of ethical and professional standards in medicine.

He avoid unnecessary murder and save lives like Luffy's even though he wasn't a friend of Luffy back then. We also know that he aims his goal towards taking down the four emperors, which is a moment of "you want to take on the emperors of the sea?!!" for me. Even applying to be a warlord before that just for his evil little plan.

About Him

Ok, enough learning from the data, let's talk more about Law that we can see from One Piece. I made a timeline analysis on Law's character development but it was too long so I'm just going to summarize it.

Tbh we really don't know what this man is thinking. He's kinda a tough character to read. He's very cocky and laid-back from pre-timeskip but then we have our all serious, kinda stressed out Law. But that's due to the straw hats' influence too so we aren't going to talk about that sadly😞.

☆ Well in summary, I might say that he's a man who plans ahead, a strategist I would say. A man who sees opportunities but also self-preserved. He's also calculative and takes what benefits him more. He can be blunt but he only speaks what's on his mind. But tbh we really don't know what this man is thinking.

After Sabaody, we get to see him during the marineford arc where he saves Luffy's life. And his reason for saving Luffy when he wasn't a "friend" of his (yet) was because he "acted instinctively" and that "it was a shame" if his rival dies there. Honestly I don't know what this man's real motive was. It could be his future investment or his way of networking. I mean look at them now, they're thriving as pals. He even goes out his way to "protect" the strawhats from Doflamingo during the dressrosa arc.

Overall, I think he's genuinely a good man. I mean that guy is WEAK for cute things (like Bepo). He took in those who don't have a place to go. Like Jean. Jean was a slave to the celestial dragon as we can see during the Sabaody arc. Law took him into his crew because Jean didn't have another place to go.

He may have a scary reputation, but he builds those up to protect his crew away from danger. He has a submarine because he wants to avoid unnecessary fights and danger away from his crew. He doesn't involve his crews on dangerous missions, he even sacrifices himself so just his crew can be free (Wano arc). I can't emphasize enough on how he SO protects his crew.

He don't like the idea of unnecessary murder. In fact, when he uses his power, he cuts at non-fatal places. I might be biased but a man with broad knowledge is my kink. And he's a doctor so he's very knowledgeable about stuff. He got some big brains if those "3 AM" thoughts are keeping him from sleeping, like we can see the dark eyebags Law🙄 go to sleep for once. He might be restless too.

What I Recommend - A Headcanon

Now here's the talk where I think how Law would be in a non-canon setting but is not OOC of him. I saw a lot of fics about him and tbh it's kinda my pet peeve that he's OOC :/ from how his character actually is.

Romantic tropes that I can see him in are slow burn, enemies to lovers, and liked each other but never made a move. But truthfully speaking, his character isn't one that thinks about having a romance. I don't see him "being in a romantic relationship".

If he does fall in love, I don't think he's the type to admit it out loud either. He would just show more of like a platonic love where he cares about your well-being just like how he cares about his crews'. You = the crews. More like a family love, not as a partner of interest. But it might be more complex than that and it's already a headcanon.

But talking about the headcanons where he is in a relationship, I can see him being the chill one (not especially laid-back but the calm, more mature one). Especially in a modern setting, one trope that I think suits him best is the smart cool boyfriend with glasses, books, and coffee and wears a dark brown coat or a jacket/hoodie. He can be flirty but only when it's necessary, not the fboy type of flirt and it is the right amount.

Talking about a type, that's up to your interpretation but one thing to keep in mind is that I think Law definitely finds smartness sexy 😉 *wink wink*

Yeah, basically that's all I can brain for Law. I might be biased but do let me know more in reblogs, comments, or ask box about your opinion because I would like to hear about Law more ☝️😩 Law's appreciation post <3

[masterwords]

Morgan gets hurt and Hotch is blaming himself. He knows Morgan's fine - it was just a bump on the back of the head, didn't even need stitches. But the man he loves just got hurt because he wasn't aware of his surroundings. It's his job as a leader to be aware of everything, think of every scenario and he feels like he's failed.

(just thought of this thought I'd share lol)

Okay, so...Morgan did need stitches here...but I was watching "About Face" (Season 3) and this ask just struck me with inspiration. Changing up the end of the episode, in my version the unsub gets the shot off as Morgan steps out of the elevator right before Rossi finishes things up. Just for fun, super short. I kinda fucked up your ask, but I tried to stay true to the idea of it even if the details got majorly effed...I'm sorry for that! I hope you don't mind.

Thank you for the ask and I'm sorry I got to it so late, sometimes I just have to wait for inspiration to strike so I can do them justice! <3

Warnings: gunshot, blood, stitches (graphic description)

Words: ~1000

**

“DOWN!”

It all happens so fast after that. Fast but somehow in slow motion.

The gun is aimed, Morgan drops to the ground but not before the bullet is fired. Not before it glides effortlessly over his skin, splitting it open as he falls. Hotch watches the way it slices through the shirt, carves a path over the mound of his shoulders but can't move out of the way fast enough, the bullet catches him too on its wayward route through the lobby. He drops his weapon, throws it really like it's molten, gun clatters to the floor and his knuckles split open, skin curling back to reveal sopping pools of crimson. It's hypnotizing. He blinks once and it's over.

It's Rossi that ends it, his bullet tears through the unsub and puts him down. Hundreds of people in the lobby of the building and everyone is silent, three people bleeding, one dead. Not how Hotch wanted it to go.

Also not surprising. The way Rossi had forced their hand, baited the unsub, taunted him. He should have seen it coming anyway, seen that it was always going to end badly but he didn't prepare for it. Thought they could somehow come out on top, they usually found a way.

Hotch's gun rests next to Morgan on the ground. He sees it there, sees Morgan trying not to show how much pain he was in as his shirt soaks with blood, turns from brown to red like a painter using watercolors. Morgan who is trying to direct the scene, scrambling to his feet like he's not bleeding. Maybe he doesn't know he's bleeding. Hotch does, he knows Morgan is bleeding in the same way he knows he is bleeding, he feels it scorching him. It tastes like failure, makes him want to retch. Then again, maybe that's the pain, his hand is on fire, he can't bend his fingers and he thinks he can see bone. (He can't, they're just spots in his vision, he knows it somewhere deep inside as his world swims in and out of focus.)

“Did I mention I hate Halloween?” Morgan grunts while the EMT cleans and bandages up his back. His shirt is off, blood soaked in a heap on the ground at their feet. Hotch's jacket rests beside it, soaking up what the shirt couldn't hold. He's sitting beside Morgan, EMTs working at their wounds in unison. There is a deep gash on the back of his hand, less scary now that it's been cleaned up, now that the bleeding has slowed. He's glad he can't see Morgan's back, he's already feeling nauseous over the way things had happened, it would send him over the top. He focuses on his hand, the way the skin pulls back and reveals his meat, nothing but a bloody pulp. Has to look away when they pull out the needles, give him some local anesthetic so they can start stitching up what they're able to pull back together. The EMT says he's lucky the bullet grazed Morgan first or he'd be losing the hand but he'd rather Morgan not be hurt at all. He's cradling his hand in his lap while they work, like that'll help or give him some comfort but it fucking hurts and he feels like a big baby while Morgan does his best to distract him. Morgan probably hurts worse but he can't see it, can't watch the needles pulling that coarse black thread through tender skin, and that's a blessing. “Beers and a movie. You and me.”

Morgan had been a little more attentive to Hotch since Haley left, he didn't think anyone else had noticed but it was not lost on him. Maybe there was something there, maybe there wasn't, Hotch isn't sure whether his signals were crossed and he doesn't really care much. What he does care about is that an ice cold beer sounded good, and that he was going to be using his right hand to eat and drink for a day or two because his entire left arm was fire, from fingertips to shoulder. He likes the way it makes him feel, to be the center of Morgan's attention, even if he doesn't feel even remotely worthy of it. Especially now, if he'd just made a better plan, if he'd told Morgan to stay in the elevator, he didn't know what he could have done but the stitches going into Morgan's back were his fault.

“What movie?” Hotch asks, cocking an eyebrow. He swallows hard, focuses on the depth of the mahogany and burnt reds in Morgan's eyes, thinks maybe he's going to pass out but stays upright. “Reid said they're playing a Bela Lugosi marathon...”

“Anything but that. Literally anything. Hotch, I will watch one of your long, boring Titanic documentaries if you want, just not fucking Hallow – OUCH, watch it man! - Halloween movies. Fuck Halloween.” Hotch smiles and nods, he understands. He loves Halloween, wishes he could be home with Jack to take him trick or treating, to see what he was dressed as this year. Beer and a movie with Morgan in Dallas sounded good, too.

Dave watches the two of them from the lobby as the scene breaks up, the unsub is zipped into the body bag and carted off. Witnesses are interviewed, the team ties up loose ends and he watches Hotch smiling, laughing. He realizes what Hotch was trying to tell him before, that this BAU isn't the same as when he left. They are more of a family than the team of colleagues he'd left when he retired. He couldn't fathom Gideon or Max sitting beside him, laughing while being stitched up. None of them ever bothered to provide comfort or support, not like this. But that's exactly what Hotch and Morgan were doing. They'd been hurt but they were fine because they were in it together, and even if Hotch would blame himself for the foreseeable future, even if Morgan would go about his day pretending to be totally fine because he knows how Hotch is, they were in it together. (Although there were moments, little flashes of something that told him maybe this was more than just family. Maybe there was another connection here he hadn't considered, but he wasn't going to dive into that one today.) He wondered if this was what Gideon had done when he left, taken it from a group of colleagues working separate but side by side to a family who loved and cared for one another.

He wasn't sure yet if he could do it or where he would fit into this dynamic, but he didn't mind the idea of trying.

[bxllafanficc]

A world without heroes

Summary: Loki is imprisoned after the sudden attack on New York and with that, rest of the earth. And while you always thought you would have your lover's back, you find yourself unable to forgive this one. It's time for you to decide when enough's enough.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Sidenote: This was inspired by the song "A world without heroes" from KISS. I just immediately though about a moment where reader would be thrown into a deep sea of darkness after finding out the major betrayal lingering beneath many layers of Loki Laufeyson's charismatic persona.

The cold surface of the bulletproof glass is supposed to have a large impact on your wrist as the two objects collide. It's supposed to hurt but it doesn't. The glass is meant to stand and for you to give up. You're meant to lay off and calm down; meaning, stop slamming your fist into the cell like if it was going to break if you just willed your way through.

They say that if you want something enough, you possess the power to do anything. But what do you want to such an extent? More importantly, what does he want? What did he really want? Has he ever wanted any more than a throne to sit on? Or was there something more to it? Did he even know what it really meant? And if so, did he realize the consequences of his actions; not just by the billions of lives he would have destroyed, but his family, yours and especially his own as well.

A part of you wants to believe that he was under some kind of control; that he wasn't really conscious these past days. All the lives he already stole, you want to think that if he had a choice, he would've spared them. You want to believe it all so badly. You want to throw all your common sense away and just collapse into his arms. Give him a tender kiss and gaze into his eyes with lingering warmth like you used to. To forgive and forget.

But the common sense stays where it should be. You can't. Because the past days he's been imprisoned, he's confirmed every action. He doesn't even defend anything; thinks he doesn't need to. Rock-hard believing his decision was the right one to make when he really had no right.

And your eyes are no more tender and soft; but clouded and swollen, piercing through the pair of eyes on the other side of the glass. And your mouth is not tasting the sensetion of sweet lips. Only the salty wetness of your tears pooling like mad rivers.

Your chest feels heavy and about to explode. You need to scream; feel like that's the only solution to relieve the pressure. You almost feel like you're being choked. Choked on love, choked on hope, air, trust, literally everything your life has contained so far.

And the man in front of you doesn't seem to understand how your world is seemingly falling apart before him. The pure confusion in his eyes is twisting your stomach and your feel like throwing up.

"I thought I knew you."

Your sobs has quieted down. Before, you weren't able to speak very well. You just had to wait the storm out until it came rushing back ten times worse next time.

"You do, darling. You always have."

Calm as a snake and laid back. He doesn't even seem to realize that every word spoken will matter in the following moments of actions where you will decide both your fates for him.

"Did I, really? How can you look me in the eyes and say that with your disgusting pride!" You spit at the glass; aim at his feet but it doesn't seem to faze him a tiny bit. You want to bring out a reaction from him, cause maybe then, you would get some sense of honesty out of him.

"My disgusting pride? The world we're living in is disgusting and twisted. How can you even compare midgardians brutality and greediness to Asgards prosperity and beauty?"

You don't want to hear this talk again. Only a couple of years ago, you would have ignored it as just one of his endless bitter rants and thought nothing more of it, not knowing that he was actually planning to find an end to his irritation.

"(Y/n), darling, You have agreed with me on this! We agreed that humans are short minded, only good for the cause of starting a war between their own race and assassinate each other. Their petty little lives are doomed anyway."

You can't even process the amount of irony and hypocrisy seeping through his sentences. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him. You want to cry, give him a piece of your mind. But you want to fall asleep in his arms. You miss his embrace so much. Endless tiredness since he vanished, only to find he's become a monster.

Your fists attempts to break the glass once again, aiming at his perfect eyes. Those damn eyes. The same eyes you used to adore. You still do. Torn between what you want and what you should do.

"You had no right! Who are you to choose who gets to live and who doesn't?! Why should you be any different from the humans?"

Your words are no longer contained into normal conversation. Only now, Loki seems to actually start realizing the weight behind your rage.

"I did it for us, love! For you. How am I supposed to give you everything if I'm just a mere god, son of a bastard and feared of my own people. Is that the man to give you everything? Is it?"

You don't even know where the thought process of this has sparked in his mind. Never have you asked anything unusual from him, just endless trust and honesty. You have always supported him when no one else would and when nobody wanted anything to do with him. A shoulder to cry on or an ear for venting. You've heated him up with your warmth when he was feeling cold and kissed him back to health countless of times. You used to be his. In return you only asked for trust and honesty. And the funny thing? In the end, you got none of that.

"I never wanted the world, Loki! I wanted you! Couldn't you see that you were enough?"

"Why do you care about the midgardians so much? What have they done for you? Have they given you flowers when you were sad? Have they kept you company at nights where you were haunted by nightmares? Did they do any of those? Because I recall it was me who stood by you all those years!"

Why is he suddenly so angry? It makes no sense to you. When he for once speaks from his real thoughts, anger and frustration is still the feeling behind it. Even if he got his plan to destroy earth through, it wouldn't stop his burning hate.

"You speak like they are nothing but soulless objects, pawns for you to manipulate when you feel like it!"

"They need a group of unstable mutants to protect them from dangers! A bunch of heroes that they don't even really like sometimes. The heroes gets the blame of the catastrophe happening even if they are the one fighting it! Is that a society worth fighting for? Their beloved little heroes are nothing but fools."

"Everything is worth fighting for. You don't know these people, do you? And as for the people, the heroes are a beacon of hope; a sign to stand strong and come together!"

You stand quiet for a second. Your fist lowers itself against the hard surface.

"Against people like you."

You don't want to see him anymore. Heard enough. Ready to go. You've made you decision. Because how could there ever be a change to this man? When he's been hiding his true nature behind your back for so long? Did you even know who you loved? Could you even call it love?

"Did you ever love me? Or was I just being fooled this entire time?"

Concern is now displaying on him for real. Maybe he's realize where you're going; what you're about to say.

"Why would you ask that? I love you more than anything! (Y/n), please understand this! I'd do anything for you!"

"Then tell me one single moment, just one, where you've spent time with me and thought 'I could be satisfied with this. I don't need power. I'm good with what I have'."

You heart is aching with anticipation. It's almost fatal. You don't want to know but he must realize it himself before you can finish.

And you can really see how he's trying. He's trying so hard for you, he thinks. He probably thinks he's tried doing everything for you; when he really just needed not to do anything at all. And just like you guessed, there comes no words. He knows you'll see if he's lying and knows you're right. But you don't ever think he will ever regret his attack for the right reasons. Nor for you, to get you back. No, you'll never accept that.

"I can't live like this, Loki. Can't you see you're breaking my heart?"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No. You didn't mean to do it, right? That's what you're gonna say... But I've heard enough. You have made a decision. And it's about time that I make mine as well."

The realization hits him almost instantly. And all the traces of his usually calm manner were gone in an instant. He's no longer standing with hands clasped behind his back. But they're clawing and pawning at the glass keeping the two of you apart. Loneliness is the one fatal emotion he hasn't dared himself to feel for years with you by his side. But now when it all might be taken away from him in a matter of seconds? How is he supposed to react?

He's begging, pleading, punching and screaming. Sobbing and begging even more. His silvertounge can't save him now. Nothing can save him now from the unruly fate. A path he himself had laid out beneath his feet.

"Please, (Y/n) I love you! I don't want to be here alone!"

...

"Please... It's cold and dark. I can't breathe without your warmth! Just.. Please!"

You can't stand to hear any more. His pleading is too much and you've stayed enough.

Your heart feels like it's being torn in half by your own hands as you turn around, the cold of your back hitting him in the deepest depths of his despair. And it sets him off.

You're going to leave him. The only purely good thing in his life is going to leave him. Where is he going to get his hugs? It doesn't matter because they won't be from you. Is he even going to remember your face when time has passed? Will he even remember your laugh, smile or your goofy little moments together? Will you find somebody else? Forget about him and move on.

Loki doesn't want you to move on; doesn't want you to move at all. He's ready to do whatever it takes to get you to stay.

And he would, if there wasn't a thick wall between you, keeping him from you no matter how hard he slammed it or how loudly he screamed at you.

Pleading became despair and despair led to threats; the only solution left to try.

He knew it was wrong. Wrong to threaten a loved one, especially you. But he would never accept his fate knowing that he hadn't tried anything in his power to make the only thing left for him to love slip past his hands.

But a tiny part of him knows that you won't hear him. Won't listen to him like those late summer nights under the moon on a cozy blanket, you tightly wrapped into his embrace with a content smile on your face.

Or the time when a sudden attack of sorrow and anxiety hit him in the middle of the night and you held him close to your chest while whispering sweet assurances for him to fall asleep to.

You had been his anchor to the real world.

You were the only thing to keep him sane enough.

But it wasn't enough in the end.

You had been his hero.

But not even a hero could save someone's world sometimes.

Especially when he was the one ruining it.

His love.

(Y/n)