#i might change it someday it's a nightmare to figure out)

[icedille]

when you're just some girl but everyone is convinced you're so so evil and maybe they're a little bit right you did kill a lot of people but also. you're just some girl

[i-heart-hxh]

Favorite Killugon Headcannons??

Thanks for asking! I have a ton of headcanons about them because I've been into HxH for years and I think about them constantly... Some of the ones I have are longer and I'd like to develop them into fanfics eventually or at least individual posts, but here are some random shorter ones off the top of my head:

I prefer to think they end up with a similar height difference to the one they have now, just a few inches apart with Killua being a bit taller. This might be genetically unlikely, but it's my own preference.

They share a bed most of the time starting in Heavens Arena. Every now and then Killua will decide to go sleep in his own room (because they each get rooms in Heavens Arena for reaching the 100th floor), which leaves Gon feeling a bit lonely. They just get one room after Heavens Arena, and even if there are two beds in the room they'll still usually end up sharing one. The exception is if they're in a situation where someone else is likely to see them (i.e. Bisky in Greed Island), in that case Killua definitely splits off into his own bed. They don't generally intentionally, full-on cuddle/hug until after they reunite/get together, but they do end up sleeping right up against each other a lot nonetheless (accidentally or "accidentally"), which they both quietly love.

They're both casually touchy with each other, like arms over shoulders, fluffing each others' hair, play wrestling, sitting close together, sometimes even holding hands if one is guiding the other somewhere, etc., but again they don't really full-on hug until things change between them. Gon doesn't want to push Killua's boundaries too much because he knows Killua gets flustered if Gon gets too affectionate, and it's just an emotionally vulnerable thing to do. They certainly both think about it, though.

Gon is naturally an early riser and he's a deep sleeper, Killua struggles with insomnia because of his training and he tends to stay up late and sleep in if they don't have anything important going on. Killua's sleep patterns get more normalized by being around Gon, but he's usually up about an hour or more later even then (playing video games, watching movies, etc.).

Gon can make basic, simple foods because Mito taught him, Killua doesn't know how to cook at all at first because he grew up with butlers, but Gon gradually teaches him how to make some things. (They do eat out a lot, though.)

Gon tends to keep everything clean and tidy in their living spaces, Killua is a lot messier and will leave stuff laying around if Gon isn't there to remind him.

They teach each other about the differences in culture where they each grew up, like mythology/folk stories, holidays, popular phrases, etc.

They both have nightmares and flashbacks at times post-CAA (Killua always did, but they intensify) and once they reunite, they help comfort each other through those. It helps a lot once they're reunited, because they can easily know the other one is safe.

This may have to change someday depending on what Togashi does or doesn't do in canon, haha, but I like to think their separation isn't all that long, maybe a year or less, and once they're back together and working things out it doesn't take them all that long to confess to each other and start a relationship. Especially because once Gon realizes how he feels it's hard for him to hold it back; he only stops himself if he doesn't think Killua is ready to hear it yet.

Once they're in a relationship, it's basically like their natural state of being and they never even consider breaking up. Of course they both have things they have to work through and they have to learn to communicate better, but they adore each other and they're incredibly happy to be together. They're very affectionate with each other once they get through the initial stages of the relationship where they're just figuring things out.

Gon loves PDA, Killua is self-conscious about it but allows it in small doses because it makes him a little happy even if it's embarrassing.

They eventually have a house built on Whale Island, not far from Gon's childhood home. They have places elsewhere, too, because they love traveling around, but it's nice for them to be able to go "home" when they want to.

They never grow out of having silly competitions, light-hearted bickering, playing harmless pranks on each other, etc.

I could go on and on, but at least this is a start. It was fun thinking about it and writing some up instead of just having them live in my head all the time, thanks again for asking!

[bluecatwriter]

Hmmm, Director's Cut on Butcher-work?

Thanks so much for the ask! I have a lot of Feelings about this one. :)

(The fic in question.)

CW for description of blood/injury below:

-This fic was directly inspired by Re: Dracula, because the scene with Van Helsing staking the Weird Sisters was just. so horrifying. I loved the way that Alan Burgon voiced the part, as well as the sound design that emphasized just how gruesome it was. This is no triumphant killing; we believe Van Helsing when he says, "Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher-work." I listened to it, and had to take a break afterward, and my first thought was, "Oh man, he is gonna have some trauma about this," and this fic was born.

-As long as I was having Van Helsing deal with trauma, I figured that he should also have some deep lingering regrets about how he handled Lucy's situation. Although he doesn't admit to doing wrong, I think it's noteworthy that he treats Mina very differently than he does Lucy— there is no yeeting Jonathan away from Mina's side, for instance— which indicates to me that his attitude toward vampires changed as he gained more knowledge, and it just made sense that he would second-guess how he acted when he was first trying to aggregate all his fragments of knowledge about vampires.

-A dream sequence seemed the best way to explore his doubts and trauma in a vivid way, so I settled on the most dramatic setting possible. I was a bit inspired by fairerforafleck's excellent fic "There is Some Fascination," although their setting is even cooler than mine!

-The image of Lucy looking up at him innocently while he brushes aside her hair to place the stake over her heart was one of the earliest moments I thought of when brainstorming. I made myself very sad thinking about it. :(

-"She screamed. Blood hit him like the slap of an ocean wave, salty and bright, and in an instant blood welled up from the floor and rose, knocking him off his feet. He fell into the rising tide, drowning as he felt his own body flying apart, limbs rent from their sockets, chest cracking open, entrails spilling out. Blood in his throat, his guts, his eyes, blood dissolving the cells of his body like acid, blood so thick it was impossible to tell where sensation ended and the scream began." I figure that if you're gonna go with the nightmare imagery, you might as well go hard. When I write a paragraph like this, I draft it with the weirdest, most intense imagery I can think of, throwing together associations even if they don't make sense, and in a later draft I sort through them and pick out the ones that I like the most. Oftentimes phrases that seem nonsensical at first glance end up being the most evocative. (I am very much a "throw everything at the wall and see what sticks" writer.)

-Even though Jack/Van Helsing isn't the point of the fic, I knew that I wanted someone to be there for him when he woke up; I think there's nothing worse than waking up alone from a nightmare. So I put Jack in there; he can't fix anything or bring any closure, but he's still there, and that still counts for something.

-"Art gets these dreams too, John told him once. Perhaps it is just the price to pay for rescuing a soul in such a manner." Someday I am gonna write a Van Helsing & Arthur fic where they either bond or clash (not sure which) over the shared experience of staking a vampire. Meanwhile Jack is holding fast to his conviction that Van Helsing made the right decision, because he can't emotionally handle it if VH is wrong.

-In the end, Jack asks if there is not any peace for Van Helsing to find, and he answers, "There is not." I wanted to capture the feeling of being caught in a trauma that feels like it will never end; there is no way to find peace in the foreseeable future, and the trauma can only be borne in the meantime. Usually when I write hurt I write comfort to go along with it, but I left the ending a bit raw and unfinished.

-The last two lines are, "Moonlight bathing them in silver. His chest aching with tears he could not shed." I liked the play of visual and tactile detail and the unfinished feeling of it all, emphasized by the sentence fragments.

Thanks again for the ask, I really enjoyed picking this apart!

(Ask game here)

[nyhti]

Can I ask for Jeremiah Arkham (my beloved!) headcanons? (If you are so inclined)

TBH your blog is the thing that has made me stan these old men 🤧😰

Haha. Okay. Sorry this took literally like a month and a half lol. It is what it is. I'm glad my blog has been able to make people care about characters that imo don't get enough love <333 And I'm flattered people want to hear my takes on them!

So, yeah, I figured I could write about Jeremiah's trauma, but first let's clear some things up, or otherwise this might be a confusing essay.

Firstly, my Jerry takes only from Alan Grant's Jerry. I don't like how anyone else wrote him. Neither do I really like how even Grant started writing him later on. Jerry has a surprisingly good character arc from The Last Arkham (Batman: Shadow of the Bat #1-4 (1992)) to Madmen Across the Water (Showcase 94' #3-4). After that though, it felt like Grant no longer knew what he wanted to do with the character and even went backwards on the progress the character had made, which to a reader was incredibly disappointing.

So in a nutshell: my Jeremiah is morally most like he was in Madmen Across the Water, personality wise most like he was in The Last Arkham, and sprinkled in are some traits and fun little facts from later issues by Grant.

And when it comes to Arkham Asylum itself, I go with pre-crisis Arkham, even thought Jeremiah is a post-crisis character. I just don't like any edgy torture chamber version of Arkham. Arkham is not a perfect place by any means, but in my verse, the staff actually tries to do good. Think of the Arkham we see in Super Powers #1 (1984). That's my Arkham.

I will also be touching on the history of Arkham Asylum and Amadeus Arkham in this one a bit and for that please keep in mind that I do not like Grant Morrison's writing. My Arkham/Amadeus lore is based on Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #1 (1985), with some changes made. The only thing I take from Batman: Arkham Asylum (1989) are the names Constance and Harriet and Morrison's headcanon that Amadeus wrote a journal. Also, Amadeus is still alive in my verse lol. You can guesstimate from Who's Who that Amadeus lived to about his 70s, so he really should still be alive during his nephew's time as director. Might write about how that affects Jerry in my verse someday.

So. With all of that out of the way. The flashback from Shadow of the Bat #1. The trauma something like that would leave you with was left unexplored in the story so of course I wanted to explore it in my verse.

I think there is a period of calm right after the incident. It's like nothing ever happened. Like everything is fine. It's not, of course. Jeremiah just hasn't yet even began to process what happened and once he finally does, it all comes back. He has flashbacks that leave him vomiting on the floor, he has nightmares that leave him shaking in cold sweat. He starts to develop these new fears. He begins to fear being in places like stores, or anywhere with a lot of people around that he doesn't know. He becomes more vary of strangers in general. He will eye at their clothes and bags and wonder if they could be hiding weapons. You might think he could avoid facing these fears if he just stays at home, but no. Even in the quiet of his own room, they keep him company. He has this new goal in life, he has this dream career ahead that he starts to feverishly study to reach, but every time his parents leave to run errands, it seems impossible to concentrate on his books, as he fears his parents won't make it home. And the worst thing is, that he is afraid of being afraid. He is afraid and ashamed of his behavior and feelings. He feels he has to hide it all. He lies to his parents that he is fine and even though his parents can see through it all, they choose to believe the lie rather than get their son help. Why? We are going to have to talk about my headcanons for his father and for the whole Arkham family.

Just for a moment, think about it all from Jeremiah's father's perspective. First, your own mother's mental health starts to decline. Then, your dreamer brother tells you he is going to re-open the asylum that has brought nothing but shame on the family name. Years later, your brother's wife and young daughter are murdered by a man who is later admitted to Arkham Asylum. Sometime later this man dies in an "accident" under your brother's watch and you have your suspicions. You then begin to witness your brother's mental health slowly decline until he is admitted to his own asylum. This tarnishes the family name even further and now even people you've known your entire life wonder if you could be next. Years later your only child is nearly killed by an escaped patient from Arkham.

He needed a culprit for all that had happened. It couldn't have just been change, because how do you protect yourself, your family, against change? You can't. In order to feel like he could protect his son, he needed something more tangible to blame. He was faced with tragedy after tragedy and it all tied down to this one place - Arkham Asylum and it's patients. The answer was clear. The culprit would be mental illness and the asylum that was full of it. He convinced himself if he could keep his son away from the asylum, from mentally ill people and from mental illness itself, he would remain safe.

When Constance and Harriet were still alive, Jeremiah and his parents would visit the asylum often. It was like a second home to them. During these times, he never had an issue with a single patient. He would even talk to them sometimes and found them to be perfectly fine people. He simply chose to forget every positive interaction he had had with a patient for an easy culprit. He could not put his son in therapy, because that would mean that he is mentally unwell, and therefore in danger.

Of course Jeremiah, being that he was only a child and that he had already faced judgment from his peers at school for his last name, would adopt his father's beliefs. In canon, Jeremiah freely tells Batman about his gift of how he can see into madness. In my verse, he would not. He never understood just exactly what it all was and how it had happened, but he knew he could not tell anyone, because they might think he imaged it all. If mental illness is the worst thing that can happen to a person, then any odd behavior or beliefs are to be seen as threats. Being able to suddenly see into a man's mind and learn everything that had ever happened to him definitely counted as odd to Jeremiah 16 years old. He never told anyone that detail until- oh, I'm skipping ahead.

Time does start to heal Jeremiah's wounds. Little by little, he would start to feel more at ease in public places. He would learn ways to treat himself when he began to specialize in psychiatry, but the lack of support meant he still carried the trauma around. It would still come back to him in nightmares during times of stress.

In my verse, he is also a psychotherapist and I don't know how it is in the rest of the world, but at least in Finland, to become a psychotherapist, you need to go through psychotherapy yourself and, oh boy. Oh man. Jerry in therapy? Dr. Jerry ”HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY SANITY?!” Arkham in therapy? That could be a topic for an essay of it's own, but let's try to keep it short. I'm not sure just how easily you could lie in therapy like that, but if it is possible, Jeremiah would be lying the entire time. He's just so damn scared that if he says one thing wrong, they are not going to give him his license or worse, they are going to lock him up. Jeremiah could possibly get away with not mentioning the incident at the store, because the therapist wouldn't know about that, if Jeremiah himself doesn't bring it up. The tale of his uncle, on the other hand, is public knowledge in my verse and the therapist would definitely ask how that affected Jeremiah. He would have to talk about his family trauma to some degree, but might get away not mentioning any personal trauma. Either way, he does get his license. I think the therapist might be able to tell Jeremiah didn't tell them everything, but ultimate, they would see he's not ”crazy”, just very anxious. And working at Arkham would not make his anxieties any better.

Every day is like walking a tightrope. Everything could be so nice and calm for days and just one little slip up could send the whole asylum into chaos. Even though my version of Arkham is not edgy, even though it's not some spoopy mega prison with 20 casualties everyday, you still have to stay on alert. Jeremiah especially, being he's the one in charge of the whole show. He knows that you could be having the most normal, most boring day of your life and then a heart beat later have someone threaten your life. Just like at the store.

It's the uncertainty of life at Arkham that makes him have such a need for control. He needs to know exactly what is happening and where at all times to feel safe and weirdly enough, he does. He feels safe at Arkham. More safe than anywhere in the world, even though many would call it the unsafest place in the city. It's safe for Jeremiah, because he's in charge. He holds all the strings. If someone so much as farts in the staff locker room, he'll have a written report on it on his desk in 15 minutes. It's outside where he feels afraid.

He doesn't venture out a lot. He is a workaholic. He did use to have a social life, but little by little, he just stopped staying in contact with friends when work consumed his life. It's gotten to the point where all that progress he made all those years ago to be comfortable in public spaces has faded away. Really, spending every waking moment at Arkham has made it worse. He could be at a clothing store trying on new shirts, but his mind is still at Arkham. He's constantly looking around for threads. He's eyeing the place trying to see how much security there is. Could that person be hiding a gun under that coat? What are the best possible exict routes if worse comes to pass? He can see threats everywhere, but he cannot do anything about it. He has no control here. He's definitely having a panic attack at aisle 9.

Obviously all staff at Arkham need to be aware at all times, but Jonathan, being the Master of Fear and all, would notice that Jeremiah is far more vigilant than the others. Now, Jonathan is not physically a threat at all. (I'm going with pre-crisis Jonathan so no ”violent dancing”, this man cannot throw a punch to save his life.) And while Jeremiah is obviously not strong either, he's definitely been to a self-defense class or two in his time. What I'm trying to say here, is that Jeremiah could defeat Jonathan in a fight any day. This became crystal clear to Jonathan the first time he snuck up behind Jeremiah and whispered ”boo” in his ear. Suddenly he found himself face down on the floor with Jeremiah on top of him before he could even realize what was happening. Jonathan began to suspect Jeremiah's behavior wasn't just normal ”you have to be vigilant in this job” behavior, but rather something more.

I'm not going to go into detail about my arcrane headcanons here or we'd be here all day, but to keep it short, Jonathan becomes the first person, 28 years after the event, that Jeremiah opens up to. First person he actually tells the whole story to. It's at that time that he is finally able to truly heal from it all.

[like-wuatafauq]

Things that have genuinely helped me with PTSD: TW:

(These are some things that worked for me that I figured out so they might not work for everyone)

• I took myself to a wreck room so I could wreck something without injuring myself (if you can't afford this, use old clothes, fabrics and tear it or just simply throw it out. This helped me a lot when it comes down to SA)

• Touching the nearest texture(like a wall or fabric) and focusing on it, I use this often when my mind confuses the location/time I'm at.

• Looking at the year/date and thinking how I'm no longer there or something is no longer happening

• Thinking of someone who calms me (if you feel that you don't have someone, think of how your body is there for you and trying its best, I've done both and when it comes down to thinking of my body caring for me it also helped me start caring for my body and taking the steps to feel/be more healthy, this eventually led me to do less selfharm things)

• Knowing that just because I'm trying to be healthy/ get better doesn't mean I should be mean to myself when I'm not.

• Practicing breathing techniques every now and then even when I'm not having a ptsd attack

• Allowing yourself to be cared for little by little to what you're comfortable of course but the right people/partner won't see you as a burden

• I struggled a lot with nightmares not just from SA but other life and military things so I stopped dissecting the nightmares to "fix" myself and would remind myself they are just nightmares, I also go to sleep with piano music instead of other music or even orchestra music that has big jumps in the song. Good examples of the calm piano music:

Stuff We Did by Michael Giacchino,Olga Scheps,

Before You Left by Yehezkel Raz

An Elephant for Mum by Joachim Heinrich

Back in Time by Borrtex.

Because these types of songs don't have drastic changes in volume/tempo throughout the song that can cause more sleep disturbance.

• Letting people know what your triggers are but also working on how they don't always have to be a trigger for you. What I mean: cabinets, doors or anything being slammed or making a slamming noise always triggers me and I've let my roommates know which they've done very good at but when they are rushing and something gets slammed etc. I remind myself they are not doing it on purpose and they are not trying to hurt me. I still flinch, I still worry, but not as much anymore and over time I've been able to even ask if something is up which before I use to just have a sinking feeling they were mad and would take it out on me. It helped me a lot to realize that just because I have a trigger not everyone is going to hurt me

• Doing childlike things help!!! Pretend ptsd is a bully and it's just being mean to you, tell it to go away!! I use to open up a window at night after I had a nightmare and would be like "okay that was mean go away"

• Going back to therapy and taking meds (and if you are already taking meds this is a quick reminder to take your meds with food and water so it doesn't upset your stomach)

• Deciding to actually move on. I have talked to multiple therapists about things but it took me a while to realize talking about it helps but doesn't always work on letting it go. THIS DOES NOT MEAN YOURE GOING TO FORGET AND ITLL MAGICALLY DISSAPPEAR. This all took years, effort, and also allowing myself to take breaks, reminding myself that just because I still get nightmares, have triggers etc. Doesn't mean there isn't improvement. And just because there is improvement doesn't mean that what happened is no longer "as bad". It does not invalidate how bad it was. A big thing with any mental health disorders is admitted and allowing yourself to see that you're dealing with something hard. Just because what happened doesn't seem as bad or affect me as much anymore doesn't mean it wasn't a terrible thing, it certainly doesn't mean that if someday I need to breakdown as if it happened yesterday that all that work was for nothing. It was for something. It was to enjoy life a little better, care for myself a little better, be able to have better in all sorts of aspects. You deserve to be happy,loved and cared for after something shitty happened. Because the truth is it was shit. Can you honestly expect someone to go through something insane and be sane? No, so go easy on yourself,  take your time. The right people will be there for you, The right people will show up, The right people will stay and put effort and won't see you as a waste or burden.

I hope this helps anyone even just a tiny bit. If you need someone to talk to, rant or ask for advice etc. Just leave me a msg or an Ask, anon or not. Take care, it's going to be alright. And if it's shitty now, and there's nothing good anyone can say then, it's shit that's fucking shitty and you're allowed to feel like shit. Lastly, if you're not able to fully recover, I'm still proud of you and you should be too.

[hadestownhistory]

4, because I genuinely can't figure out how those lines are supposed to scan.

Ohhhhh yep. They’re a nightmare. We have a reference in the highlight reel, but there’s so little time between lines that it’s freaking hard as hell to pull off. Hell, even writing out the rhythm in proper notation took me an hour. What makes it even harder is that the fates’ lines don’t always match up. On the “how’s the weather / worse than ever” lines, Hermes & Hades start on the and of the beat, whereas the Fates start half a beat earlier.

(Unrelated fun fact: the structure of Wait For Me barely changed over the years, so if I had the right tools I could modify a Broadway era karaoke track to match this version. Alas, I have neither the tools nor the skills to pull that off.)

I wrote most of that before starting. Now I can say: I low key want to fight whoever did the pacing on those lines. Good god. However I would like to thank whoever turned the trombone into a metronome with emphasis on beat 4 (probably Michael Chorney. Thanks Michael Chorney!)

I’ve got the first verse sorted out, and now I understand the measure of each line, and how those lines interact and flow. I can use this as a reference point for figuring out verses two and three at some later date.

Slight changes I’d consider making are in the first “Hermes! / Hades!”. The change I’d consider making is to set them half a beat off, sort of like the “how’s the weather / worse than ever” lines, but it’s good as is. That change might make those two lines flow a little better into “back in town!” and would demonstrate how the Fates are undercutting their voices pretty clearly.

But I’ve already got a good recording, I’m not redoing it. The change is small enough that I’m sure you can imagine it yourself, though someday I may figure out where the words are set and re-record as needed.

This should take you to the file, it’s an m4a.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

The curse had been going on so long that we'd pretty solidly determined it went into effect before a certain age (21)

I came out as nonbinary and ace at 18 and a couple of my cousins made a joke that i was now immune and we all had a good laugh and forgot about it. its hard to explain the kind of like.... hopeless-but-amused misery that comes with having a curse this bad in the family for so long. everyone tries to beat it, and everyone knows its not going to work. even the people who dont believe theres a curse (or indeed magic at all) as kids have generally conceded by like 24

like, there was the typical 'you'll find someone someday' that you get as an ace, but it wasnt (completely) an assumption based in aphobia. no one believed it was even possible for me to not be married and a mom and miserable by 21. it would have been like arguing the sky was green.

but i got to 20 and wasn't even dating anyone and started getting side eye, and when i finally got to 21 everyone was so happy for me, it was crazy. my grandma cried.

but everyone assumed i'd just broken it for me (and honestly, it went a long way in unraveling a lot of transphobia in my maternal family - if my gender was enough to break the curse, it must at the minimum be real, right?), and then the next oldest cousin (my sister) almost got got, got all the way to living with and being engaged to a dude who was a fucking nightmare, and then just. woke up one day packed her stuff and walked out. no one could believe it, they thought she go back any day, but she never did.

next was the oldest male cousin, D, and as he approached 21 that was where (i, at least) start to suspect the curse was gone. we were really poor and so our families shared a house for most of my childhood, he's like my brother. I knew him well, and I was certain there was no way he was going to become an abusive husband or father.

and then he didnt! he did get a wife and kid before he turned 21 but he's a huge simp and so so good with his daughter, even with her being autistic which so many parents might have taken as a flaw.

at that point me and all the cousins were chatting about it one day and D pointed out that the only thing that changed between the previous person to get got (my uncle /neg) and everyone who didnt was me. We had something of a back and forth where we tried to figure out if my sister's ex-fiance counted, but we eventually came to the consensus it was curse death throes lmao. and no ones got got since.

(of course if you do want to take a hard line against magic or argue it's confirmation bias, you can, it's not gonna bother me - it's arguably possible that the belief that the curse could be or was broken was what gave my sister and subsequent younger relatives the confidence to leave/break the cycle)

can we ask about ur family's curse

according to my great grandma it was cast on her grandma by a neighbor with the evil eye - "your daughters will marry their fathers and your sons will become them"

which is really just a fancy way of describing the cycle of abuse and therefore worked very well, generally going into effect before the kid in question turned 21

so my matrilineal family tree winds up a fractured, miserable mess, lots of young marriages and parents falling apart generation after generation, serial toxic marriages with generations of kids scattered across the whole state in foster homes - very nasty stuff

until it gets to me (firstborn in my generation of cousins) and by the time im twenty one i am 1. both daughter and son and neither 2. extremely aspec and queer

which apparently this neighbor did not conceive of when casting her eye and seems to have simply error messaged the curse into oblivion. no one born after me has had this problem. all their romantic relationships are loving (though i would never claim them perfect) and their children adored. fairytale loopholed so hard the damn thing disintegrated. its the funniest magic story i have lmao

[lux-s-mind-com]

Dramatic Diary Entry #34

I thought people were joking when they said they couldn’t get the person they loved out of their head. Now I know they were not. Not at all. No matter where I am and what I am doing, I attribute all and everything to him, no matter how unrelated it may seem. He haunts me everywhere so I scan the room for him if I know he might be there and it is so hard not to stare at him all the time. It feels as if I just woke up one day and decided that he would be constantly occupying my mind from now on. There is a corner of my mind, reserved just for him, that I like to visit at those times that others would check their phone or chat with someone they barely know, simply to pass time. At the beginning, it did not get in the way of school. On the contrary, I was more motivated than ever to participate in class and spoke my mind. Only when the insecurities started to set in, when doubt disturbed me in my waking hours, pushing my sleeping hours behind, only then did it start to bother me. It had been so easy before, I didn’t think it would be too bad to think about him whenever I got the chance to. It felt natural and it felt right. And all of a sudden it had become a living nightmare, thinking about him all hours of the day, postponing sleep and work and hardly talking to friends. I went from an active student to someone who slacked off and showed little interest doing whatever the teachers asked me to do. It felt like I was going through hell. Each day I forced myself through to the other day and not even laying in bed helped. Nothing helped. Nothing excited me and all I could do was to think about him, anyway. What should I have done? I could only watch the shell left of me wander through the monotonous daily life as all my mind could pay attention to were my oh so grand movements. My weird gestures. My fluctuating tone of voice. What stupid things I said. And how dumb he must have thought I was. And really nothing could stop me from eating myself from the inside, just because I needed to understand, what it was that I was being and what it was that I needed to become. Who I needed to be to appease him and everybody I admired. To meet the expectations thrown at me whenever someone pointed out that I could use brain cells. Who are humans? What are they, really? Who did I need to be, in order to be a human? Are there wrong ways to be human? Is there a defect human? Was I doing it all wrong? Was I destined to be a defect, forever? Who are the defect people? We have to change them, don’t we? We have to show them the way to trully be human! They just don’t know it yet, but they are wrong. They were born defect.

I couldn’t stop thinking those thoughts. It is not that they wouldn’t let me alone. At some point, it was all in my control. It was me who couldn’t let go of this image of the bright kid who got excellent grades in elementary school without trying. I had somehow got lost in my path and I had to become that bright kid again, so that I could be someone. Someone who could stand in a room with extraordinary people feeling the urge to evaporate into thin air. If I could not be someone, what even was the point of being? My entire existence felt like a tragedy. I couldn’t grasp the fact that I still existed, within all these contradictions my mind had imprisoned me, I just couldn’t find a reason to be. So, I just survived day after day and hoped that someday I would figure it out. I had to believe that! There was no other way out of those contradictions. I had to become familiar with them, look at them from every angle possible and understand them. To know how they existed and what they meant. And it took a lot of observing and more patience than I had left to finally come to understand them. And by doing so, also understanding that I existed and that I had every right to do so. Really, it was the most liberated I felt after a long time. I was me again. I wasn’t that bright kid I remembered others had called me, but I was me, the kid who others did not see, who wasn’t “bright”, but was just curious about it all. Who loved. Loved books and their home, library (which also became my second home), the beach, brazilian sweets, mom’s cooking, writing, singing, and coincidentally also loved to learn about every subject they encountered in- and outside of school. That was me. Not shy but also not looking for much attention, just living in their own world, which is really the best world there is. Sometimes very bubbly, sometimes very cold. Scared a lot, but not afraid to speak their mind. I was me, existing in contradictions I didn’t see, which I didn’t need to understand. The important part was that I existed within them. I didn’t try to fit an ideal and be someone who I wasn’t. And I wasn’t ashamed of that. I simply accepted the reality I was in, and thereby accepted the contradictions others may have been confused by. And though many people find contradictions irritating, I think they are what makes the world such a strange and exciting and terrifying and monstrous place. It is the best place there is and I am the best me I could ever be.

[rapono-writes-stuff]

Stuff people might be wondering about unfinished and seemingly abandoned fics:

Q: Will you ever continue the "To find belonging where it shouldn't be" series?

A: Maybe, but not a hopeful maybe. I left the fandom in early 2022 (i think?) for multiple reasons, but some of the characters are still blorbos to me. There are 2 fics in the series (1 that was in progress) that I'd like to finish before officially marking the series as complete, but I don't know if I'll ever get around to them, especially since I've already got so much on my plate.

Q: Will you ever continue "In the Boogeyman's House"?

A: Probably not. I'm not as passionate about Myers as I used to be (and some of the new movies haven't helped, along with me not being into DBD anymore). I'm not very good at writing long fics without running into pacing issues. While I totally planned to have it so I could easily time skip over difficult parts so I wouldn't get stuck, I got too ambitious and forgot about that plan, and last got stuck trying to write a complicated scene that just wasn't working out the way I wanted (but was too stubborn to drop it so I could do the joke I'd been planning for it). Would rather keep my focus on my current long fics than add another one to juggle.

Q: Do you plan on finishing the final chapter rewrite (and bonus epilogue chapter) of "Pretend I'm Still Here"?

A: idk anymore. I did have a rewrite partially finished (managed to salvage it from my old phone), but it's been years since I've been active in the Overwatch fandom, and now I worry my depiction would be even more OOC than it was in the original final chapter attempt. I haven't even touched Overwatch 2. Still, I feel so guilty abandoning it, and hope maybe some day I can figure it all out and finish it, finally, after all these years.

Q: What happened to archiving the remaining untyped chapters of "Lost on a Requim"?

A: (muffled screaming) Okay so even tho what was going to be just an archive of an old FNAF fanfic of chapters I wrote on paper but never typed out, turned into me rewriting the chapters to better fit my current writing style, I ended up hitting the brakes hard while trying to type of chapter 6. I was so wrong about chapter 5 being the problem chapter, it was this one. Even if I typed it all up as it was with no changes (apart from spelling mistakes), this chapter was a fucking mess. Rewritten multiple times with several gaps and unfinished scenes, and messily attempted to stitch together like a choose your own adventure book (literally I have instructions to myself to go back/forward x amount of pages for next section). I have to rewrite some of this just so it's cohesive, but it's been a nightmare to do so. Been procrastinating (or just avoiding) working on it, but maybe someday I'll figure out how to make it at least somewhat cohesive.

Q: What incomplete fics are 100% discontinued?

A: Mostly just super old ones: Art of Corruption | Curing the Dead | Scorched Strife | Blood Pact | A Cup of Coffee & Piece of Heart Cake | Human Child | Bonded by Blood, unfortunately

[c-is-for-circinate]

I am so tired and it is midbreak and I need to go to bed, but

Her name is Matilda for reasons that have absolutely no meaning in Exandria, that have everything to do with one tiny magical little girl alone in the world, because of Roald Dahl and Marisha Ray and I want to cry about it okay, because look, the thing you're invoking with that name? The character, the story, the reference? She's a little girl. She's just a little girl. She's just a little girl.

It's so hard to tell what here is Laudna and what's Delilah, who's moving which chess pieces and who owns the board. Delilah has such a wealth of torture implements to choose from but Laudna has more than enough memories to torture herself.

This is not real and it can't be changed. Something about the validation of taking a story that plays out again and again and again with the same terrible ending every time, and changing the ending. The beauty, the thing Imogen's yearning for, of getting to walk into Laudna's nightmare and say, no. Say, you don't have to do that this time, we can stop it, we can change it, you're safe now. You have us and you're safe now. The story is different.

Versus the power of playing the story all the way through to the bitter, bitter end, and then keeping going after that. The thing Ashton's clenching fists on, trying to get through the memories to get to the now. Something about the interplay of being a broken wreck of a person who's kept on person'ing out of luck and spite and genuine determination, and knowing someone, caring for someone, who wants so badly to make your trauma never have happened. How safe and cared-for that feels. How claustrophobic and fake that feels.

How terribly, terribly complicated it is that Laudna's not here to decide for herself, if she wants to be saved from her past (wants Imogen to show up and change the story, to make it not happen that way, tenses all a-muddle) or if she wants to face it (admit it, be dragged through and out the other side, pain and strength, strength in pain). How utterly unfair, that the decisions are being made by Imogen's love and devotion, Ashton's understanding and self-projection; strategy decided on by Chetney and Orym and Fearne and FCG. How godawful that the one person who might truly know what would help Matilda now is the one person who can't weigh in on the subject.

I bet Whitestone Andy got eaten by a zombie giant like six months into the Briarwoods' occupation of the city, and I am not sorry.

(At some point, I need to sit down and figure out Chetney. Someday I'm going to get him to click. I can't wait.)

[jackfrostsisterssisterinlaw]

They say Hell is better than Heaven

League of villains x Y/N  (Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi, Himiko Toga, Twice and Mr. Compress) A/N : sorry I didn’t do the others. I felt like I didn’t know them well enough.

word count : 925 warnings : none. 

Tomura Shigaraki will tear the world apart to find you, disintegrating anyone or anything that stands in his way. He is powerful and reckless, driven by one thing. His love for you. He doesn’t care if he gets hurt. It doesn’t matter to him if he doesn’t make it as long as you do. If you don’t make it, he vows to disintegrate himself so that his atoms can join your atoms and he can hold on to you and never let go. He disintegrates himself after disintegrating the world of course. Because what kind of world is a world without you? He’s a little showy and impulsive cinnamon bun but he’s your cinnamon bun so you put up with him. And love him. hopefully you never get hurt because if you do, then us innocents also will suffer. Stay safe...for our safety!

If anyone makes fun of you, Toya Todoroki (Dabi) will politely and efficiently make that person go up in flames. Literally. He doesn’t want anyone to make you feel like you aren’t wanted, the way that he once did. He tries to protect you from everything which sometimes gets on your nerves but you realize that he’s paranoid because he knows what being hurt is like. You gently touch his scarred face and kiss him. You can feel his power from the mere touch, a small spark waiting to be fueled into a raging forest fire. But he can contain it. And he will contain it. For you. But if someone tries to take you away from him, well that person had better pray to all the heroes to come to their rescue.

Himiko Toga loves you like no one has ever loved you. You used to find her annoying because she seemed so happy and morbid at the same time but the more she clung onto you the more she grew on you and now you two are inseparable. She loves keeping her pig tailed head on your lap and telling you all the bloody and gory stories she wants to. You’ve got used to it now but now and then because she knows it makes you uncomfortable, she talks about how much she loves you and how she gets insecure that you might turn away from her and get disturbed because she’s morbid. You lovingly tell her that, that could never happen. And she snuggles comfortably into you. If anyone tries to push you away and tells you that you are weird, Himiko Toga brightly smiles at them, lavishly licking her incisors and will turn into that person’s worst nightmare. Maybe someday she’ll bring the bloody body back and ask you if it’s pretty. Hopefully not because then you’ll both have to run away together to escape the heroes and the cops.

Twice loves you twice as much as the person who once loved you the most. Even though he struggles with who he is and if he is just a clone from his experiment both of him agree on one thing. They love you so much and neither of them can live without you. He sometimes finds it difficult to talk you to you because both sides start yelling instructions and at one point he acts like the hot bad boy and the next, a total nerd. But you thought it was really cute the way he kept changing personalities to make him seem appealing to you. After laughing at him for trying so hard, you told him you would date him. When you learnt about his mask, you smiled and said that you would wear a mask too if that made him feel less self conscious. He stared at you open mouthed like you were an angel. Which you were. When anyone approaches you he starts cloning himself to scare them off and when he saves you and if you’ve got the smallest wound, his half and half will break into a huge argument trying to figure out who’s fault it was until you wrap your arms around both of them and say that you’re fine and thank you for being the hero. At which both of them shut up and display the type of satisfied smile two friends have when they nudge each other after they get the chick.

Atsuhiro Sako (Mr. Compress) is an entertainer. He can make you smile no matter the circumstances by reaching into his pocket and bringing out a full bunch of very bright and colorful flowers for you. He was a little shy sometimes and you found it hard to talk to him at first because he kept disappearing but then one day you realized all the people had disappeared and he was the only one standing in front of you. (He may have compressed them all because he didn’t want anyone to see this, in case he got rejected) You obviously said yes. This bad ass commitment was hella attractive and you were here for it. He began to grow confident and really became your magic man. A lot of people were attracted to him but his eyes were for you and you only. If someone so much as took a step towards you, he would stand in front of you displaying compressed balls with people suffering and screaming inside it and imply that the same would happen to them. You were a little concerned about this but you realized they were lowlife thugs and decided oh well, the world’s safer anyway. Which is a little concerning, but you be happy :)

A/N: I sincerely apologize for this. the past and present tense mix ups :’)

[kdramacrybaby]

Top 10 Favorite Kdramas

As I have now watched my 50th kdrama, I thought it would be fun to go over them all and pick my current top 10 🥳. I had a really hard time placing them all, and my opinions might change again, but as of now my top 10 kdramas of all time are:

__________

1) Memories of the Alhambra (2018)

This drama is what really got me into watching kdramas back when it first came out, and I have still yet to find a drama that tops it. It may be nostalgia, but I just love this drama and the emotional rollercoaster it put me through. I have already watched through it twice, and will definitely watch it again someday.

2) The Uncanny Counter (2020)

This one blew me away right from the start, and it has absolutely everything I love in a good drama. If you like fantasy, found family, and an overall amazing story, this one is for you! If I'm going to rewatch another drama in the future, this will definitely be the first one.

3) Mad Dog (2017)

I came for Woo Do-hwan, but I stayed for literally every single character. Another found family story that just absolutely breaks your heart in the best way, along with some amazing crime-fighting shenanigans - what more could you want?

4) Vincenzo (2021)

This went from being a drama I didn't want to watch, to now being one of my all-time favorites. It is brutal in so many ways, but somehow also one of the funniest dramas I have ever watched. Fantastic drama!

5) Crash Landing On You (2019)

Somehow, I am a little surprised this didn't end up higher on the list because this drama just absolutely destroyed me in the best way. Truly one of the best romance stories I have ever watched across any media.

6) Hotel del Luna (2019)

When watching this drama, I obviously loved it, but I didn't think it would ever make my top 10. Since though, I have often found myself thinking about it, and have compared a lot of other dramas to it. Other than being a visually gorgeous masterpiece, it is one of the few dramas to just completely break me.

7) Sisyphus: The Myth (2021)

I watched this one alongside a friend of mine, and we had a blast trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Even through plot holes and time travel (which I usually hate in media), I just loved watching this. I've seen people love and hate this for different reasons, but I don't really care, I just had a good time watching.

8) Navillera (2021)

Another absolutely stunning drama that had me crying my eyes out. Such a tragic story told in a beautiful way, teaching us to live in the moment and never take anything for granted. Find what you love and don't mind what other people think.

9) Happiness (2021)

I just recently finished watching this drama, but there is no doubt in my mind that it belongs on this list. Despite being filled with my literal worst nightmare, and the cut-short ending, I still somehow loved being stressed throughout the whole show.

10) The Last Empress (2018)

Now I will always be the first to say that this drama is a hot mess, but it was one of the first dramas I ever watched (and the second to rewatch), and I loved every second. It is a masterpiece, and I will die on that hill.

Honorable mentions in no particular order:

Her Private Life (2019)

Descendants of the Sun (2016)

The Untamed (2019)

100 Days My Prince (2018)

Doom At Your Service (2021)

Sell Your Haunted House (2021)

Your Honor (2018)

Squid Game (2021)

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - Chapter 8

As promised to the anon who sent me that ask today, here is the next chapter. Also, I just started reading A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows and if you like this fic I think you'd also like this book. It also features a queer arranged marriage. AO3 | Chapter list

Thomas was exhausted when he woke up the next morning, but too awake to go back to bed and attempt to sleep some more. Alastair was still in bed, and Thomas decided to leave him there. He’d gone to bed even later, Thomas didn’t think he’d slept at all before they’d gotten stranded in that memory together. He had some things to think about anyway, and he wanted to speak to Matthew. Knowing Matthew, he wasn’t awake this early, so Thomas took his time making breakfast, leaving something for Alastair in the fridge. He was so skinny, Thomas hoped he had been eating properly. If not, cooking good food for him was the least Thomas could do.

He checked on Alastair once more before leaving, leaving a note on Thomas’ pillow to let him know where he’d gone. He heard noise, a voice speaking softly. Alastair had mentioned he talked in his sleep. He seemed distressed, but Thomas couldn’t make out what he was saying. It made him wonder what kind of memory he’d tried to escape last night.

‘Stop,’ he could make out. ‘Please stop.’

Thomas gently shook Alastair’s shoulders, who shot awake. ‘What’s happening? Thomas?’ His voice was weak.

‘You were having a nightmare,’ Thomas said. ‘I thought I should wake you up. Are you okay?’

Alastair shrugged. ‘I have nightmares often. I’m used to it, you shouldn’t worry.’

‘I was going to go out and see Matthew, but if you’d rather I stayed with you, I will,’ Thomas said.

‘No, that’s fine,’ Alastair said and Thomas realized he should not have mentioned any plans if he wanted Alastair to be honest with him, but then perhaps he needed some space.

‘Okay. Breakfast is in the fridge,’ Thomas said. ‘Take your time. And maybe you can think of something we can do to get to know each other better in the afternoon or evening. Or you could go see your sister.’

Thomas left for Matthew’s new rooms, which he realized was where Alastair used to live with Charles. Would Matthew have changed it much? He had a rather exquisite taste, but he’d only lived there for a couple of days now and might not have had the time to make major changes.

Matthew was up already, but barely, watching a period romance in his silk dressing gown.

‘Thomas! I wasn’t expecting you. I figured Alastair would have kept you occupied for a little longer.’

‘It’s an arranged marriage, Matthew,’ Thomas reminded his friend. ‘He doesn’t have feelings for me. How are you finding your new living space?’

‘It’s a work in progress,’ Matthew said. ‘I finally got the cigarette smell out.’

Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘You did?’

‘Okay, fine, I hired a cleaning crew to do it and also replace all the wallpapers and curtains. The place looks and smells much better now. As far as vices go, I don’t get smoking tobacco. It doesn’t even get you high. Alcohol or even weed would be a far better choice. It doesn’t turn your wallpapers yellow and lets you have way more fun. Seriously, this place was gross.’

‘I heard Charles was a smoker,’ Thomas said. ‘Alastair is working on quitting himself. Do you think that’s too much to ask of him? I explained how I feel about smoking and how it might impact my health.’

‘He can do whatever he wants to destroy his own health, but you have a right to a smoke free house, especially with your health issues,’ Matthew said. ‘You don’t want to know what this place smelled like when I first moved in. I can’t believe mom allowed Tilly to come here.’

Tilly was Matthew’s younger sister, now seven years old. Thomas used to babysit her sometimes and both he and Matthew were quite fond of her. Alastair had to know Tilly as well and Thomas wondered if he was good with children. Thomas wanted children someday, he wondered how Alastair felt about that. Despite being heir to the throne, Charles had never seemed interested in having any.

‘I can’t imagine that would have been good for her health,’ Thomas said.

‘Exactly. So, how is your marriage? Are you planning a honeymoon? Anything to get to know each other better?’

‘I asked him to pick an activity for us this afternoon to get to know each other. But I don’t think he likes me a lot,’ Thomas said.

‘Did he say that?’ Matthew inquired.

Thomas sat down on the couch next to Matthew. ‘No, but I can tell from his behavior. He’s not comfortable around me, he doesn’t feel safe. He’s not happy. I’m not sure he ever was though. You know Charles better than me. Do you have any idea what their marriage was like?’

Matthew shrugged. ‘I always got the sense Alastair was super in love with him, which I never understood. I mean, it’s Charles, who could love him? Charles never showed any affection towards Alastair in public, but he never has. I don’t know if he ever loved anyone more than he loved power. But I have no clue what their marriage was like. Who knows, maybe Charles does have a hidden softer side he never showed me.’

‘Or perhaps he didn’t,’ Thomas said. ‘Do you think he was capable of hurting people close to him?’

Matthew grimaced. ‘Honestly? Yes. Charles always craved power, and as heir to the throne he believed he was entitled to it, that he was more important than everyone else. I’m not sure he realized other people are, well, people. Everyone seemed disposable to him.

He was never particularly careful with me when I was little, nor protective, and sometimes when he failed at something he’d place the blame on me even if it had nothing to do with me. As a child I thought that was normal, siblings fight after all. But he was a lot older than me and when Tilly was born I realized I cared for her and loved her a lot more than Charles had ever done for me.’

Thomas considered his words for a moment. ‘Alastair won’t talk to me about it. And we’ve only known each other for so short, I can understand why. But something seems off. Charles forbade him from speaking to his family, and Alastair makes excuses for him but I can tell it hurt him a lot. He asked me for permission to call his mother. And yesterday I accidently hurt Cordelia. Alastair got super mad at me, which I can’t blame him for. But Alastair knew how to cover up her bruise expertly, like it was something he’d done many times before. I know something’s wrong. But what am I supposed to do?’

Matthew looked down. ‘I don’t think I’m the person you should be asking that. I mean, I can believe Charles was an ass and I can believe he mistreated his husband. And you’ve always been the most observant out of us, so if you say something’s up you’re probably right. But I have no clue how you should talk to him about it. Maybe you shouldn’t, he might not want to talk about it.’

‘I’ve considered that, but it’s not going to be easy having that hang in between us. Nor is it fair, I mean, he deserves to know that I suspect something happened to him. But it will also make things more awkward, and I don’t think he’s ready to talk about it.’

Matthew shrugged. ‘Maybe you should let him know you suspect something, without pressuring him to talk about it. Not sure how to do that, though.’

Thomas nodded. ‘I’ll give it a try,’ he said, but he was not sure if he would.

He returned home after drinking tea with Matthew, talking about how his fashion business had been. One of the reasons Matthew disliked being made crown prince was that it took him away from his true passion, which was clothes. As the second son of the Queen, he had been free to pursue a career as a fashion designer but now he’d been called home for responsibilities that did not suit him. But if what Thomas suspected about Charles was true, he would have been an even worse ruler someday.

Thomas remained of the opinion that monarchies were a bad idea, but abolishing one was easier said than done. The problem was that the intergalactic treaties demanded clear rulers that did not change too often, and political marriages to align nearby parts of the universe. If Charlotte were to change the system she risked nullifying every treaty she’d ever signed that kept them safe. There was a reason the Emperor of Edom was often called the Thief of Planets and he was quick to take any planets that lost their protection.

He found Alastair in the living room with both Cordelia and Lucie.

‘Thomas! Are you going to the beach with us?’ Lucie asked.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘I’m going to the beach to collect seashells for my charms,’ Lucie said. ‘Cordelia is flying me.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Wait, why fly? There’s a beach right outside.’

‘Yes, and on a sunny day like this, it’s completely packed with people,’ Lucie said. ‘I cannot work in such conditions, not to mention people would have trampled the sea shells. Alastair also prefers the quiet, so it’s perfect. You two come along with us and enjoy the afternoon at the beach while I work.’

It wasn’t uncommon for Lucie to go out in search of spell ingredients herself. Thomas was no expert on how it worked, but she had a better sense of what ingredients were right whereas Thomas could only tell which sea shell was the prettiest and the most intact.

‘I thought it might be fun,’ Alastair said. ‘You said you wanted to go on an activity, and Cordelia offered to take us with her. I haven’t been swimming in some time.’

‘Okay. That’s a good idea,’ Thomas said.

‘I just went to buy a swimsuit since I didn’t have one,’ Alastair said. ‘I hope that’s okay.’

‘Of course. Alastair, I don’t care what you do with your own money.’

‘I also bought a computer,’ Alastair added. ‘And I’ve been thinking about going back to studying. I never finished my master’s degree and I thought it might be good for me to go back to it.’

Thomas didn’t know what to do with Alastair’s tendency to ask him permission for things that really weren’t up to him. Had Charles truly controlled Alastair’s life to such a degree that he felt he needed permission to make basic choices for himself?

‘Of course,’ Thomas said. ‘I want you to do whatever makes you happy. I got a master’s degree in linguistics myself not long ago. It’s hard, but you’re clever and a challenge might be good for you. Give me a moment to pack a bag to bring to the beach and then I’ll come along.’

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction@imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 18

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 18: AFFETUOSO

 Music glossary:

 Affetuoso: to perform with passion and emotion

**Chapter illustration by @corgi-likes-chat​ **

----

(Mood Music: “Christofori’s Dream” - David Lanz)

Adrien’s eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile still present on his face. He breathed out a long, contented sigh, stretching his limbs out wide enough that they poked out of the bedcovers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.

Last night, after Marinette awoke him from his most harrowing night terror to date, he’d fallen back asleep and something remarkable happened: for the second time in years, he’d actually had a pleasant dream. The only other time he hadn’t suffered from his usual nightmares ever since becoming Chat Noir was on the first night that he’d arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence.

He tried to think back, wondering what might have caused this, not just last night, but back on that first day Marinette had brought him home. What did these two occurrences have in common?

His mouth quirked to the side and his brow furrowed, deep in thought, trying to remember. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when he’d arrived a couple of months back, given all that had happened when he ran away from his father; so it was no surprise that his memory of that night was hazy at best. Nevertheless, he hoped to find a correlation; if there was one, maybe he could figure out how to repeat it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand sliding across his midsection. Disturbed by his movements, a smaller body rolled toward him, settling comfortably on his chest and breathing out a drowsy sigh.

He looked down and there she was: sweet, lovely Marinette; one of the dearest and most important people in his life. The raven-haired girl stirred, letting out a small whine; Adrien stilled, subconsciously holding his breath, not wanting to wake her and accidentally reveal his identity.

This became much harder when she reached around him, her fingers lightly skimming across his rib cage. His muscles tensed and he bit back a laugh; why did he have to be so darn ticklish?!

He readjusted himself, trying to shuffle out from underneath her; but she clinged to him like an overgrown barnacle, even in her unconscious state. I guess she’s a cuddler, he thought, and he couldn’t help but smile about how well that suited her.

It was still pretty dark in the room, as the sun hadn’t risen yet. He glanced over at the wall clock; he still had about an hour and a half before he had to report to work at the bakery, so he didn’t have to rush to get ready. Relieved, he sagged back down onto his pillow. He could relax for a little longer, he supposed.

Deciding to check his notifications while Marinette slept, he gingerly reached towards his nightstand to grab his phone, careful not to disturb her. He’d deactivated all his social media accounts since running away from home, so there weren’t very many notifications; there was a school-related email and a couple of late night funny memes from Nino.

Adrien checked the Ladyblog next. No news about any akumas this morning, thankfully. However, there were a few blurry snapshots of the previous night’s attack. He scrolled down for a bit, then stopped, his eyes popping open as he focused his attention on a particular photo.

He couldn’t suppress the lovestruck sigh that escaped his lips when he stared at a picture of Ladybug. His Lady was breathtaking, her eyes so ethereal, her smile utterly resplendent. She was indescribably beautiful, both inside and out and there was absolutely nothing he would change about her. He was hopelessly smitten, no doubt about it.

A few months ago, he would have berated himself for feeling this way about his mortal enemy. But his entire life had been turned upside down since then, and he wholeheartedly embraced this unexpected development.

The next photo was taken after the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had set everything back to where it should be. Ladybug had seen that Alya was about to snap a photo, so she grabbed Chat and turned him around to face the camera, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She grinned widely, and did a peace sign with her free hand. So cute.

He glanced over to his own face and instinctively grimaced. He was winking at the camera with a goofy, cheerful salute, not bothering to channel the suave, sophisticated mannerisms of a proper model that he’d incurred over the years. God, I’m so cringy, he thought.

Nevertheless, he saved the picture onto his phone. It was the first photo of them together like this, as opposed to impersonal ones taken by the media from afar, or during press releases and interviews.

It had only been posted a few hours ago, but already it had thousands of likes and comments. He didn’t dare look through those, however. Not since he first discovered the kinds of things people wrote about Chat Noir, both before and after his change in alliances. It was better to avoid those, lest he ruin his day reading about how much some people still hated him.

But he remembered Marinette’s words from the night before. She was right; he had to have hope, and believe that things would slowly get better. Attitude was everything.

Speaking of Marinette…

He looked down at his roommate once again. By this point, she’d slinked and climbed almost entirely on top of him, utilizing him like a mattress. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he wondered how in the world he’d be able to slip out of bed undetected.

All the stealth-based videogames I’ve ever played have prepared me for this moment. I got this!! he thought, hyping himself up.

Taking a deep breath in, he rolled over to his side, managing to slide Marinette’s ragdoll-like form back onto the mattress. She made a small noise and he froze, electricity crawling up the back of his neck. A few tense moments passed, and her stirring subsided, her breathing becoming slow and even once again. He exhaled, just now realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Freedom!! Adrien celebrated as he stood, stretching his arms high over his head, taking care not to hit the ceiling lights. His skin felt grimy with dried sweat from the night before; a shower was exactly what he needed right now. He tiptoed over to get a change of clothes from the dresser, giving the occasional glance towards the bed to make sure Marinette was still asleep.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped by her side, a warm smile spreading across his face. He bent over and gave the top of her head a small kiss. Where would he be without her and her family? She and Sabine especially went out of their way to help him feel at home, to make him feel like he belonged, instead of treating him like a nuisance, or like some freeloader just taking up space. He loved them all so much; he vowed to himself to make it up to them someday.

He pulled the bedcovers up to Marinette’s shoulders so she wouldn’t miss the extra warmth too much, then made his way to the bathroom to start the day.

--

Marinette stirred, enveloped in softness and a familiar scent of spice and fresh rain. Eyes still closed, she extended her arm, reaching for the oversized cat pillow on her bed that she always liked to cuddle.

Her searching hand found something soft. Aha! She brought it closer, snuggling it tight, then began to get comfortable again. But then, her pillow started poking her cheek, over and over and over. The pillow’s poking only intensified when she tried squeezing it even harder. How rude!

Wait... what?

A single eyelid groggily slid open, meeting a small pair of eyes of a distinctive shade of green. A rather frazzled-looking Plagg stared back, his expression unamused from being squished between her and the pillow she was hugging.

“Sorry, Plagg,” she slurred sleepily as she pulled away to give him some space. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his little arms, raising a brow. “I live here, remember?”

“But why are you in my room–– oh, wait…” she stopped, the memory of last night starting to rush back to her. This wasn’t her room; it was Chat’s. She’d slept in his room last night. And the bed she was lying in was his bed. These were his blankets and pillows, and they carried his scent. Heat rose to her face and a multitude of imaginary butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she realized that she’d actually spent the night with him, albeit under less than ideal circumstances.

And then a second realization dawned on her: Chat Noir was gone.

She sat up with a start, her head whipping back and forth to search for him. As she was about to panic, she heard the shower running in the en suite bathroom, punctuated by some cheerful humming. With a heavy, relieved sigh, she laid back down, careful not to squish the tiny cat god next to her.

“By the way, Little Bug,” Plagg murmured, meekly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for helping my kid last night.”

“Oh, of course, Plagg!” she replied. “I’m always happy to help however I can.”

He gave her a melancholy smile. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done. I tried waking him up myself, but he couldn’t hear me at all, no matter how hard I tried.” He sighed, twisting his mouth into a pained frown. “He doesn’t deserve this. He's already gone through so much.”

“Plagg, no, it’s okay! You did your best, and I’m sure Chat knows that too. I’m just glad I was able to get through to him. It was lucky that I happened to be downstairs at that time. Chat couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.”

Plagg grinned widely at her. “I always knew I liked you,” he remarked, scooting closer and nuzzling into her.

Marinette smiled back, returning the hug and kissing the top of his head, followed by providing him with some gentle scratches behind the ears. He let out a small, contented purr as he leaned into her hand.

After a few moments of hesitation, Plagg spoke again, “Little Bug, there’s... something else you need to know.”

They pulled apart, and Marinette eyed him with trepidation. “What is it?”

“It was too dark, so you didn’t see it, but–” he said with a grim tone in his voice, “–I need to let you know what really happened last night.”

“Huh?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I know he said his night terrors aren’t usually this bad, but was there something else?”

A dark look flickered on Plagg’s face. “Hawkmoth tried to akumatize him last night.”

Marinette felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of ice water. “W- WHAT?!” she sputtered. “B-but how is that possible?! Akumatized?? He was asleep! Hawkmoth can’t akumatize people who are unconscious!!” She paused, pondering the possibility. “Right…?”

“It’s tricky, but not impossible,” Plagg replied. “Hawkmoth knows about Chat Noir’s nightmares, so he must’ve sensed his opportunity and finally taken it last night.”

Marinette brought a hand to her temple in disbelief.

Plagg continued, “I don’t know why he decided to try it now, instead of when he first ran away. And what if–” he gulped, and his voice quavered slightly as he continued, unable to conceal his fear, “What if he tries it again? What if he tries it every night?”

“No… he wouldn’t… he can’t!!” Marinette cried, staring at the bathroom door, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She clenched her fists as she tried not to give into the feelings of dismay and anxiety that were clawing away at her. “Plagg… What do we do?! Hawkmoth’s patterns seem to be getting more erratic and desperate recently. Is he under some kind of deadline? Why is he doing this??”

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Tikki answered from across the room.

Marinette practically leaped off the bed in surprise due to Tikki’s abrupt entrance. “Tikki!” she exclaimed.

The brightly colored kwami hovered towards them and elaborated, “Firstly, as Chat grows older, his powers will continue to get stronger, as will yours, so you’ll be more difficult for Hawkmoth to defeat as time goes on. Secondly, I think the effects of misusing the butterfly miraculous must be catching up to him as well. His desperation suggests that maybe he thinks he’s running out of time.”

“Out of time? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, confused.

Plagg sighed. “It’s his health,” he answered. "He wasn’t doing very well even before we left. Slowly but steadily, it’s been getting worse for a while.” He turned to face Tikki. “You think Hawkmoth believes that he’s gonna… you know... soon?”

Tikki shrugged in response, her expression blank.

“Oh… I see,” Marinette said, her voice almost a whisper.

Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions crashing into her simultaneously, like a rowboat in a tempest, slamming into a cliffside without respite.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Her chest felt tight, like it did when she wanted to cry. Should she feel happy or sad that her mortal enemy was getting sicker and sicker, to the point where his life was potentially in danger? Was it okay to feel–dare she say it– relieved?

What was she supposed to think? As a hero, was it more important to be merciful, or was it more important to be just? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two completely opposite directions. Despite hating the man with every fiber of her being, part of her thought that maybe dying was too extreme a punishment. And yet, at the same time, the hurt, embittered part of herself thought that maybe dying would be too easy, like he was getting let off the hook instead of being forced to acknowledge his wrongs and feel remorse for the horrible things he’d done.

For years, she’d dreamed about the day when Hawkmoth would be defeated and his miraculous confiscated. It was supposed to be a happy time, full of rejoicing and excitement. But she’d never considered the possibility that Hawkmoth would be defeated by an entirely different force, one that she had no say in how or when it happened. It didn’t feel fair. She hated feeling this powerless.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief tug at her sleeve. She looked down at Tikki, who motioned towards the bathroom with a small nod. It was then that she noticed the noise–or rather– the absence of it, which could only mean one thing: Chat Noir had finished his shower, and he’d be coming out of the bathroom any minute now.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tikki whispered.

Marinette nodded. She turned to Plagg and whispered, “We’ll talk more later. I’ll call Master Fu later today and see if he has any advice.”

“M’kay. See ya,” he replied with a small wave. “Bye, Sugarcube.”

Tikki looked back and gave him a reassuring smile, then followed Marinette out the door.

Plagg hovered towards the windowsill while he waited for his charge, plopping down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the window, taking in the many colors of the dawn sky, which looked almost too bright and vibrant for his liking. How dare the heavens look so beautiful while he felt so miserable inside? The day hadn’t even really started, and yet the only thing he wanted to do was to just crawl back into bed. He dearly hoped that the heavy, uneasy feeling in his gut would go away soon.

(A short while later)

Work at the bakery had been lively and hectic today; so much so that Chat Noir had to be reminded when his shift was over and that he needed to head to school. He gave Sabine a parting hug, the latter thanking him for his hard work and giving him some encouraging words as she helped dust the flour off his suit and hair.

Chat retrieved his cloak from a coat hanger by the door and stepped into the stairwell that led to the living quarters, so that he could retrieve his school supplies and exit through Marinette’s balcony trap door as he normally did. That was definitely one of the plus sides of working in the kitchen while transformed; he could wear his school outfit underneath and not require a change of clothes or a shower when he was through. He could merely detransform and be good as new.

As he ascended up the stairs, he heard a familiar deep voice call out to him from below. Chat froze, then turned around, trying to keep his nerves under control.

“Could I speak with you for a minute?” Tom asked.

Uh-oh.

“O-of course, Mr. Dupain,” Chat replied, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves.

Tom’s face was mostly neutral, but his body was rigid and there was a hint of gloom in his eyes. Chat did his best not to cringe as he stood in front of the much taller man who, despite not being a superhero, looked like he could toss him clear to the Eiffel Tower if he felt like it. To prevent himself from fidgeting, Chat finally opted to stick his hands inside his pockets.

“What is it, sir? D-did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I was running a bit late, so I apologize if I didn’t put something back in the right spot. O-or did I mess up an order?? I’m sorry, I can go back and fix… whatever it is!”

“No, everything’s fine; it’s something else,” he answered, and Chat felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.

However, it came back full force when Tom didn’t say anything else. Chat’s heartbeat sped up as they stood face to face in silence, unsure of the route this conversation was about to take.

What else could he be in trouble for? Did he find out Marinette had fallen asleep in his bedroom yesterday? Oh no… Did Tom think he and Marinette had… done something unseemly together last night?! Was he getting kicked out of the house?? His mind raced and his chest thumped, and he prepared himself to beg on his knees for forgiveness if need be.

A few agonizingly long and awkward seconds later, Tom spoke again, “Chat Noir… I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Oh, I see. Wait… WHAT?!?” Chat felt like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath him. “Apologize?? What for?”

Tom lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, his entire posture taut as a bowstring. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot, you and I. You’ve been nothing but cordial and polite, and all I’ve done since you arrived is give you the cold shoulder, and for that I’m truly sorry. I wanted to clear the air and start over, if that’s okay with you.”

“Mr. Dupain! N-no, please, it’s okay!” Chat sputtered, his hands waving frantically. “I totally understand why you would have reservations about me living here, o-or even interacting with you guys at all! They’re totally justified concerns! I mean, up until a few months ago, I was still working with Hawkmoth; so the fact that you even allowed me into your home at all is incredibly kind of you! I’ve never felt any ill will towards you, I swear! You were just doing what any good father would––” he trailed off, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice, “–would do.”

Tom winced and sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly my point, though. It may have been justified at first, but that was back then . I tolerated you for the sake of my wife and daughter, but I was always suspicious. I should’ve given you a chance instead of just judging you for no reason, especially after all this time. So I wanted to try to make it up to you.”

It was then that Tom brought something shiny out of his shirt pocket. It was an adorable little keychain shaped like a croissant. But wait… no, it wasn’t just a keychain, Chat realized. There was a key dangling on the end. A house key. Tom handed it over, doing his best to try to conceal a timid smile.

Chat gaped at him, reeling from what was happening. “I… I don’t know what to say. That is so generous of you! Thank you, Mr. Dupain,” he replied meekly, staring into his hands at the key. HIS key.

He felt the man’s large hand pat him on the shoulder and Chat looked up, meeting his soft, forest green eyes. “Please, call me Tom.”

Chat had to consciously fight the urge to let his jaw drop. If he wasn’t dreaming last night with Ladybug’s revelation, he was surely dreaming now. “Y-yes, sir! Uhh, Mr. Tom, sir. Uhh, I mean…” he stammered, still not recovered from having been gobsmacked out of nowhere.

The older man gave out a hearty laugh. “Just Tom. And please, if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Even if it’s just someone to lend an ear. You’ve got a good heart despite the bad hand that’s been dealt to you, and you have so much potential. We’re happy to have you in our family, even if you’re only here temporarily. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”

Chat’s heart swelled with affection, so full that it felt like it might burst, and his eyesight became blurry with unshed tears. He threw his arms around the giant man in front of him, someone who he never thought would fully accept him, squeezing hard.

“Thank you, Tom! Thank you so much, I’m just–” he let out a shuddering sigh then continued, voice cracking, “–thank you.”

Tom squeezed back firmly, giving him an affectionate pat. Failing to hide a sniffle, he then added, “I should let you get going, I don’t wanna make you late for school.” The pair pulled apart, and Tom ruffled Chat’s hair. “Be safe out there, kiddo.”

After saying their goodbyes, Chat bounded up the stairs, practically floating with glee. He’d missed this feeling; the feeling of being part of a family. As he emerged onto the rooftop balcony, he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, his heart full of excitement and hope.

He arrived at the school in high spirits and a huge grin on his face. He detransformed in a discreet location and practically skipped to the school’s entrance; then he entered the campus, carefree, joyful, and blissfully unaware of the dark eyes that followed him inside.

[sacredsorceress]

Secrets (Four) || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: when you wake up in the avengers compound after being saved by bucky, sam and nat, you discover that something’s changed.

a/n: thank you for all your feedback!! reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: arguing, swearing, angst

Prologue, One, Two, Three

masterlist || request || taglist

Opening your eyes, blinking to clear your vision, you were immediately met with ice coating the ceiling above you despite feeling as though you were locked in a sauna.

“What the-”

Sitting up in your bed, you tried to piece together where you were, why you were here and what had just happened, but all you could see was the concrete room you were sat in with nothing but a bright light shining above you and frost coating every inch of the room.

Suddenly the events of the day all came back to you- the men in your house, being kidnapped, being locked in a container to freeze to death... the truth about your husband.

Bucky.

The last thing you remembered were his eyes meeting yours on the other side of the glass.

Despite years of marriage and precious memories, all that flooded your brain were the images of the Winter Soldier- masked and ready to kill. All you could hear were the screams of his victims and those who fled at the sight of him. 

All you could feel was fear.

“You’re awake.” You heard an unfamiliar voice declare.

Snapping your attention towards the door of the room you hadn’t even noticed was there, you recognized the very familiar red-headed Avenger standing in the doorway.

“Wait, you’re.... are you-” You stumbled over your words. “Where am I?”

Carefully stepping into the room, closing the door behind her, Natasha slowly made her way over to your bed.

“You’re at the Avengers Compound.” She informed you. “Do you remember anything?”

You thought then that she might have been glad to learn that you had retained your memory, but you sure wished you hadn’t.

“More than I’d like to.” You said.

Shooting you a sad smile, her gloved hands pulled up the chair next to your bed, seating herself beside you. As she did you finally took in her appearance, noting the large jacket she was wearing, the hood over her head and thick gloves on her hands, meanwhile you felt as though you were soaking in your own sweat.

“God, how are you wearing that?” You asked, pointing at her jacket. “It’s so hot in here.”

Chuckling, she leaned back in her chair.

“Well when you’re ninety degrees, I guess an ice rink would feel a little warm.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you sat up straighter in your bed.

“Ninety degrees?” You asked. “Shouldn’t I be dead by now?”

“That’s what we all thought.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you remembered the feeling of the frost hitting your skin when you were enclosed in the container, the sounds of the cold air rushing out of its walls. You were trapped, feeling the biting cold in a way you never had before. So cold that when the frost began to form over the glass, your husband’s eyes meeting yours, all you could feel was the cooling sense of exhaustion wash over you as you closed your eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

“How long have I been out?” You asked.

Just as Natasha was opening her mouth, you heard a voice coming from the other side of the room.

“Two days.”

Your eyes snapping open, you turned your attention immediately to the man in the doorway. When you saw your husband standing in the threshold, you felt your heart begin to race in your chest as you scrambled back against the bed frame.

“You.” You said, swallowing, the word venomous in your mouth.

Hearing the word slip out of your mouth almost as though it were a cruse, Bucky’s eyes widened and he began to feel his heart beat against his chest.

He knew then that the consequence of the secret he had been keeping for years was now staring him back in the face.

“Y/n-” He eased, taking another step forward.

Grabbing the pillow from behind your back, you tossed it at him.

“You lied to me!” You shouted. “You fucking lied to me all these years. I- it’s sick!”

Letting the pillow hit his chest, he began to feel sick.

He had known deep down that someday his past would come back to haunt him. Even deeper down he knew that someday you would discover the truth, but he had hoped to be gone by then, leaving you to hate him once he could no longer feel your wrath. He had shoved down the idea of the look on your face when you found out for years, but now as he stood there, his own nightmares playing out before him, he just wished he had told the truth sooner.

The consequence of losing you and never having you was better than knowing your love and having it tainted with hatred by his own hand.

“Doll,” He said your pet name, his shoulders slouching.

“No!” You shouted, pushing yourself off of the bed. “You don’t get to call me that anymore! God, did ever even feel bad about lying to your own wife?”

He did.

He felt awful every time he made up some lie about his past. He felt awful every time he told you he had no family, no friends. He even felt awful every morning when he lied to you about where he was going off to work every day.

It had been eating away at him for years.

He had told himself that it was for the best, but he realized now that he didn’t do it for you, but entirely for himself. He had been so incredibly selfish and you were now paying for his crimes.

“Of course I did.” Bucky said so low, it was nearly a whisper. “Of course I felt bad, Y/n.”

Before you could reply, you heard another knock on the door, it cracking open slightly.

“Oh thank God.” Natasha said from her seat when she saw Bruce and Sam.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you turned away from your husband, instead focussing your attention on the two Avengers now entering the icy space.

Before anyone could speak, however, the man you recognized as Captain America made his way over to you, reaching his gloved hand out for you to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.” He said, giving you a soft smile. “I’m Sam. I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, but...”

Glaring at Bucky, you shook Sam’s hand.

“Sam.” You said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you too.”

Your eyes still on your husband, the three others in the room glanced between one another before Bruce cleared his throat.

“Y- you’re probably wondering about the ice in the room,” Bruce said

“You could say that.”

“Well, while you were out for the past couple of days we had some of the best doctors we know examine you,” Bruce explained. “I understand that this may be... difficult... to understand, but this- this ice- it’s-”

“It’s coming out of you.” Sam said finally, finishing Bruce’s sentence for him.

Quirking your eyebrows at the three members of the group of Avengers, you thought for a second before shaking your head, laughing.

“You’re joking, right?” You asked. “You have to be kidding.”

This couldn’t be real. There was no possible way you actually had ice coming out of your body. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t real.

Standing up from her seat, Natasha crossed her arms.

“When you were in cryo, you were in temperatures nobody comes back from.” She said, seriously. “You should be dead right now. No one knows why you’re still here.”

Lifting your hands from your sides to stare at your palms, you attempted to digest the information the three of them had just fed you.

You were alive when every logical answer said you shouldn't have been. You had abilities that no other living person did.

You were supposed to be at home, spending the weekend with your children. You were supposed to wait for your completely honest husband to walk in the doors of your home and kiss him hello.

But now you were standing there, being told that you had changed- transformed. You were different than you were before. You didn’t feel warm and fuzzy, but cold and distraught.

Feeling the anger course through your veins, tears meeting your eyes, you stared at your palms and in a flash, frost burst forth from the center of your hand.

Jumping back, you rapidly closed your hands into a fist, feeling your heart thumping against your chest.

“I understand that this is hard to take in-” Banner attempted.

“I’m... I’m a monster.” You said, staring up at them with wide eyes. “I have ice coming out of my hands!”

Gazing at you from the other side of the room, watching the fear in your eyes behind the tears begging to break free, Bucky felt incredibly guilty.

He had known what you were going through because he had gone through the same himself. He had woken up only to discover that he had become a super  soldier with a metal arm- that he was no longer Bucky Barnes- but someone else- someone different.

He would have never wished the experience on his worst enemy, never mind the woman he cared for most in the world, but you were experiencing it nonetheless. You were in it because of him.

He had told himself that he was trying to protect you, but in the end he had forced you into a life you had never asked for.

He felt his heart shatter in his chest watching you fall apart before everyone.

All he wished was for him to be able to go over to you, to hold you in his arms despite the cold bite of ice that was sure to frost over him as soon as his skin met yours, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew you didn’t want him to.

“Y/n that’s not true.” Sam said. “I know it might feel that way, but you’re still you and Bruce is going to figure out a way for you to control it. I know it seems bad, but you’re going to be okay. You’re a part of our family now. We’ll figure it out, alright?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you nodded.

“Okay.”

As much as you were in shock, you trusted the three individuals in front of you. They hadn’t given you a reason not to- they had risked their lives to save you and even now when you felt they owed you nothing, they were working their best to help you.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You said. “Really. I think I just need some space right now.”

“I understand.” Sam nodded. “If you need anything, we’ll be right outside.”

Without a word the others followed him as he left the room and you slowly made your way over to your bed, sitting on the edge of it, placing your head in your hands.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

Shaking your head you pulled your face out of your hands.

“What part of ‘I need space’ don’t you understand, Buck?” You asked.

You heard his footsteps slowly cross over the room to you.

“I need to say something-”

Of course he did.

“Oh that’s rich, James!” You scoffed. “Funny how now you have something to say. Funny how you didn’t say anything when we started dating, or got married, or God- had children together.”

“Y/n-”

“It’s just so insane to me how you could go all this time without saying anything.” You continued. “How could you even look yourself in the mirror-”

“Fuck, Y/n, just listen to me!” He shouted, standing in front of your spot on the bed. “I fucked up really bad- I know that. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but can’t you see why I did it? I was so afraid you’d be ashamed of me because of what I am and I thought I was protecting you-”

Feeling the ice beginning to shoot out of your palm, you pushed yourself off of the bed, pointing your finger into your husband’s chest.

“I’m ashamed to have a liar as a husband.” You said, knowing just how much the words stung for him, but you felt nothing but ice flowing through you at the moment in the heat of rage. “How could you think this was protecting us? How could you think keeping the truth from me was protecting our kids? You not only put me in danger but my kids, Buck.”

“They’re my kids too, Y/n.” Bucky said.

“Are they?” You asked. “Because I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

You watched as he stepped back, his back hitting the icy wall behind him. He had known you were angry, he even knew that he deserved every harsh word you were throwing at him, but to hear you dismiss him so entirely- to almost denounce him from your life- made him feel a pain that even his worst days in Hydra or in recovery could never rival.

“I- I mean I don't even know who I am anymore, Buck.” You said throwing your arms in the air. “I mean look at this. Look at this room! Nobody can even touch my hand without gloves or without bundling up like they’re going to the fucking North Pole!”

Backing away from him, you held your face in your hands once again.

“I don’t even recognize myself and I’m all alone.” You said, lowering your voice. “I- I can’t even hug my kids- I can’t see my kids. It’s so hot in this room to me but everything just feels so cold and empty. I just wish you didn’t fucking lie to me because it would be so much easier to not hate you the way I do right now. Looking at you makes me want to scream but, God, I feel so alone.”

Beginning to feel a sob catch in your throat, your head still in your hands and the tears turning to ice when they met your palms, you felt the cool touch of Bucky’s vibranium hand meet your arm. 

Shrugging him off, you shook your head.

“As much as I fucking hate you right now, you can’t touch me, James.” You said. “I’ll just hurt you.”

He knew that. He knew the biting sting of your ice against his skin. He had spent the past two days sitting by your unconscious side and no matter how many times the others told him to keep his gloves on at all times, your touch mattered more. They brought more warmth than any glove could- no matter how cold your hands were.

Seeing you breakdown in front of him, despite all of the harsh words you had thrown at him, he was sure he felt his heart break in his chest. You didn’t deserve this pain. You didn’t deserve this suffering. You didn’t deserve to be alone.

Resting his vibranium hand on your arm once again, the frost slowly creeping up his arm, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Wrapping both of his arms around you, he pulled you into his embrace. Rather than shrugging him off and pulling away, you wrapped your arms tightly around his torso, digging your face into his bundled up chest, sobbing.

Feeling a chill run throughout his body at your touch, he rest his chin on the top of your head, running his frozen vibranium arm up and down your back.

Although he knew that all was not forgiven, and that things would not be the same or even okay for a long time- if at all- all that mattered to him in that moment was that you weren’t alone. No matter the ice that overtook his body when you were in his embrace, the warmth that you brought him would never grow cold.

Going into cyro ten thousand times would be worth just one second of your peace and he would do whatever it took for you to forgive him for his mistakes that you now bore the consequences of.

[bored-storyteller]

@severnrose honey, I shouldn't have preferences but how could I wait to write for you and Xiao?

Dear Xiao, sweet Xiao, thank you for asking, I have good reasons to love you :3

60- Genshin Impact, Xiao x Reader (angst/comfort)

From the prompt list

17- "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

33- "Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?"

For Xiao you are like a little sparrow, so fragile and so free at the same time. He never understood what bad star forced you to meet with him, it was something so unlikely that it might have seemed ironic, but still he never tried to put you in a cage. You didn't deserve it. Sure, you're an absurd being, sometimes annoying, sometimes inconsistent and stupid, but you're also something he never bothered to find, a free kindness and a relief he always knew he didn't deserve.

So he never wanted to condemn you to a relationship with someone like him.

For this reason, when the darkness inside him had become heavier, when he realized he had gone too far, he pushed your worried eyes away from him. It was his job to protect you too, and he hadn't noticed the wound he had inflicted on you.

He is never too kind with words, he doesn't talk much and when he does he is never able to sweeten his sentences. It has always gone well with you.

Yet this time something was different; maybe he had been worse without realizing it, or maybe you were more fragile than usual, but he immediately opened a cruel door in front of you and a wave of awareness hit you. Yes, you were nothing but a burden to him.

Xiao hadn't seen you since that day. Or rather, he had happened to see you around, as always, doing your chores, helping where there was need, but he had no longer had the opportunity to be with you, alone, as you used to do from time to time, maybe in the evening, under the stars.

Initially he hadn't done anything, he hadn't thought of anything either. You were simply too busy, as he was, on the other hand.

But one night, about to give way to the morning, while he was checking his wounds, your sobs had come to him, and so did the next night, and the one after that.

He found himself listening to your silent cry every night, and he watched over you, albeit from a distance. And when he reluctantly had to walk away, he cursed anyone who caused you that unspoken suffering. If only you wanted to tell him he would be ready to protect you, again. But again, you were a fragile, free little bird, and he wasn't enough for you, he wasn't enough to take the pain away from your heart. Someday in the near future that would pass, everything passes for mortals, and maybe he could see you smiling again under the stars. This was what he believed - or hoped for.

But in one of those dark moments, your call rang in his ears and vibrated in his bowels. Wherever he was, he recognized his name spoken by you, in the agony of your nights.

He had joined you immediately, he had immediately appeared there, standing at your bedside.

Your name had escaped his lips perhaps too quickly, and for a few seconds he waited for an answer that never came. In its place, your sobs continued soft and distressed, your body curled up under the pale sheets.

He should have sensed right away, that yours was just a moan in your sleep, but somehow it had been necessary for him to chase the chance to see you again. How long had he not seen you?

Your suffering face made his heart tremble; he would have devoured your nightmares if you asked him.

He again spoke your name, his hand shaking you slightly, trying to tear you out of your dream.

Your reaction had been more violent than he expected and had broken the composure of the Adeptus for a moment, making him move backwards, taken by surprise. However, he thought it was normal, given the sudden awakening.

"Xiao!" His name had been uttered by your voice in amazement, but it was soon abandoned as you took your eyes off his figure "What are you doing here?"

The delicate face of the millennial Yaksha frowned in perplexity. Even now that he was there in front of you, did you persist in hiding your torments from him?

"You called me." His response was swift and straightforward, as always.

"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry." Your apologies were fragile and uncertain.

Xiao let out a slight sigh, while his dark lashes lowered to the precious gold irises.

"Why don't you tell me?" The question he asked you later was unexpected, and for a moment you shivered at the authority of his voice, but he didn't realize "What happened?"

"Nothing." You cut it short and it irritated him. You knew how to be so stubborn when you wanted to.

"I hear your sobs every night."

He didn't want to utter those words as an accusation, maybe he hadn't even done it, but suddenly you stiffened and bowed your head even more, guilty.

"I'm sorry…!" Now your voice was broken and desperate, and a doubt began to creep into Xiao's mind as slimy as a snake.

How long haven't you called him? Why weren't you looking at him? Why weren't you smiling at him anymore?

"Who ... has anyone hurt you?" Now it was he who had lost confidence in his voice.

"Nobody ... really." You had obviously made an effort to stay calm, and somehow reassure him. But even though he didn't really understand human emotions, even though he was a different and detached creature, he could sense you.

"It's me…?" He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was hurting himself "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

Your silence was a new pain for him. You didn't dare look at him, because it was hard for you to admit how much his distance and his disappointment had upset you.

But behind his sweet stoic face he prayed to have your eyes on him, he prayed for you to remove that horrible, strange feeling that made its way inside him, at least until he was forced to turn his back on you.

Xiao is used to pain and suffering, but that time something had changed. It was something new, something he never wanted to try.

A fist clung to his chest, and he trembled. How long had his hands no longer been shaking?

He thought he was about to give in, he believed that finally his heart would break under the weight of the new, umpteenth, fault of him.

He felt the physical need to vent that sudden wave of suffering that had hit him. He wanted to cry, but Xiao didn't know what it meant to cry, so he didn't, and he just vanished, not even looking at you.

It was the only thing he could do to protect you, right? If he was the cause of your suffering, then he would no longer exist for you. It didn't matter what he did, he didn't even ask himself, he just knew he hurt you. After all, he must already know that this was his destiny.

...

You never called him again, and Xiao never showed up again. Yet, although he endured this condition with the same resignation with which he endured every painful task of him, he realized that the selfish desire he had for you had not ceased. He didn't know how to call it by name, he just knew that it was really selfish, on his part, to expect that a little bird like you at least a little bit remained attached to him.

However, even if you despised him, even if he could no longer hear your voice or your laugh even though you were still breathing, somehow at least he hoped to remain present in your memory.

So every morning a flower was placed on your window sill. He never brought you the same type of flower two consecutive days. He didn't admit it to himself, but he wanted at least in one corner of your mind the whole Liyue to remind you of him. The scent of its flora, its colors and the sweetness of it, he hoped that even if you didn't want those things would make you think of that cruel guardian. Not that Xiao dared compare himself to flowers, no, but certainly those flowers could be compared to you for him.

The Adeptus wasn't good with words, but he was capable of meaningful and powerful gestures - it was something you loved about him.

You didn't need to know that those flowers came from him - even if it was unlikely they were someone else's gifts - and he relied on your kindness to accept them with a smile.

For a while it had worked. Even though he could no longer see you and have you around, that little contact you maintained had given him a sense of peace. In evil it was that little drop of good that gave him the relief he needed.

But he couldn't deserve that either.

One morning, when the first rays of the sun began to paint the earth with the warm colors of dawn, he came to your window. The Glaze Lily he had plucked for you had remained clasped in his hands as his eyes painfully gazed upon the Qingxin he had given you the previous day, left to itself on the windowsill, away from your care.

It was so, even the thought of him you could no longer bear.

The flowers stopped coming and Xiao stopped hoping. He only prayed that Rex Lapis would see your sweetness and cherish it with love, without needing you to endure the protection of a cursed Adeptus.

...

Xiao wanted to see you again, but certainly not right now.

The first thing his mind thought was nothing, then immediately afterwards he wondered which Archon had to thank for not killing you during his battle, and then all that was important was that you were standing in front of him, and looking at him, even if from a distance.

His mask frees his face as soon as his eyes settle on you. How long had he not seen you? For a moment the pain disappears, a wonderful, ephemeral second of peace. And then again the weight of darkness falls upon him.

He should run away, run away from your sight, but like under a spell he is stuck in his place, and you still don't run away.

You are pale and scared, your eyes full of tears. How much have you seen? How long have you been there?

It doesn't matter if the blood that covers him is that of his enemies, of those who want to harm those like you, all that matters is how Xiao now appears before you: a figure disfigured by the red of shattered life, a devouring demon .

He should go, but you call him.

"Xiao ..." His name in your voice is a desperate breath as it is sweet, and you run to meet him in your anguish.

He can't look at you, not when he's like that. He looks at the ground covered in repulsive liquids, without having the courage to meet your judgment. He would have liked to see you again, but now he is ashamed of who he is, he is ashamed of being Alatus, of being the Conqueror of Demons and the Eater of Dreams, he is ashamed of being Xiao before your pure eyes.

Now you are a few steps away, he hears you, but you are afraid to approach. He wonders why you ever even wanted to come close to him again, was it your good heart that pushed you to do it?

"Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?" He did not want to ask that question, yet he posed it in front of you limpid and clear, as his "no" always are.

If he could die he would no longer distress you, nor would he hurt you, nor would he make you cry. If he could die, all aeons of unspoken pain would disappear. If he couldn't exist, everything would be better. But he can't, he has to live.

"If we are such a heavy burden to you why do you continue to protect us?" Yours is not a nasty question asked, it is rather a sweet worry distorted by insecurity.

His golden eyes return to immerse themselves in yours by instinct, without really wanting to.

"It's my duty, it's my ..." Xiao realizes he can't speak "But you're not ..." he tries again, but he can't.

He can't explain that knot blocking his throat and voice, which he can't spit or swallow.

It is my duty, my contract. But you are not a burden, you will never be.

His eyelids drop again and his head bows in chagrin. You are everything in front of him, and he is nothing in front of you.

"Don't look at me ..." is all he can tell you "You don't have to see me like that."

He was convinced that you didn't want to see him anymore, he was convinced that you wanted to forget him, but then why did your trembling hands rest so lovingly on his face?

"You are so beautiful Xiao." Your broken voice was asking him desperately to believe you, and he in front of your face now so close to him has no way to escape.

The misunderstandings between you two, the pain and the fear, no longer mattered.

Your arms gently encircle his chest and your head rests on his shoulder, without asking for permission, but he won't be the one to walk away, not now that he's found you.

"I'll get you dirty." He murmurs.

"It does not matter." You answer him softly.

You have no respect for the ways of the Adepti, but that is precisely why he needs you.

"Please be happy to live, Xiao."