#i need to go to sleep before i become convinced i live in a simulation and my cats are robots (again)

[wickjump]

on the ground sobbing in a puddle of actual tears my face feels like a wet towel im going to hyperventilate (i reread my own writing from yesterday)

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

<3

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."

[blueberry-sunshines]

Late Night Rendezvous - Keith x Reader One Shot

Summary:

You are a fellow pilot at the Garrison and Keith's only friend, he sneaks you out to show you something during the night...

Word Count: 3.2K

Slight Angst | Sweet, Vulnerable Keith

{This can also be found on my wattpad: @/blueberry_sunshines}

{POV: Yours}

You were sitting criss-cross on top of your small bed in your dorm at the Garrison. The dim yellow glow of the school commissioned lamp lightly lit up the pages of your biology textbook. You were staying up late trying to study. Your roommate offered to stay up with you to help but you told her just to go to sleep. You didn't want her to be all sleep deprived.

Keith Kogane wasn't in all of your classes, but he was in a few. You were both fighter class pilots so your curriculum was quite similar. Everyone always says they're so surprised he's nice to you, and your roommate loves to tease you about it. She says that Keith has a 'soft spot' for you, but Keith just says that you're the only person he can stand.

Besides, you've known each other since you were kids. You both transferred to the Garrison at the same time and were partnered together. At first Keith was really cold towards you, but you always just thought he was shy and it didn't bother you that much. He seemed bored with the simulator and you always found his showing off to be rather funny. After what happened with James, Keith finally opened up to you and after that, you two were rather close. By the end of the year you two definitely started to become real friends...

You guys are 16 years old now and Keith is probably your best friend. There's always been a thin barrier between you two, but you've been ignoring it because you don't want him to push himself further away. You kind of always wished he would open up more. You thought about asking him to help you study tonight, but boys and girls aren't allowed in each other's dorms and you've been trying to make sure he stays out of trouble because you've been worried about him recently. He's been kind of distant lately and much more aggravated. A lot of people had been antsy lately because the Kerberos mission was a few months away. You knew that Keith sees the pilot, Shiro, as an older brother figure. He took Keith under his wing, so maybe that's what he was thinking about all the time when he was out of it. You had talked Shiro many times about Kerberos and he seemed very confident about it, so you never thought to worry about it. You shook your head, trying to refocus on your biology book. You turned around to look at your alarm clock and saw it flash "1:13 AM" in its big, red numbers. Damn, you really needed to wrap this up and get to bed soon...

-Knock Knock-

You had just about jumped from the surprise of someone knocking on your door. You looked over to your roommate's bed to see her definitely asleep. You sprung off your bed knowing exactly who it would be. Shaking your head in half disappointment, you put your hand on the button on the wall and let your door slide open to see none other than Keith Kogane. You felt the accidental smile form on your face the moment your eyes met his. He looked uncharacteristically nervous as he stood there in the hallway all dressed up in his red jacket and boots. You loved seeing him in his outfit because the Garrison uniforms were rather bland. Although, you thought, Keith could probably pull of anything.

"Are you gonna let me in?" Keith whispered to you with a furrow on his face. Your face began to heat up in embarrassment from spacing out.

"Sorry, just tired..." you whispered back, peeking outside the door to see if there was anyone there before grabbing Keith's sleeve and pulling him into your dorm room.

"I didn't think you'd be awake..." he admitted quietly as he walked towards your bed.

     "What's up?" You asked curiously. Normally he tells you he's coming before he does, so you weren't sure what he was doing here.

"Get changed, we're going out." He was sitting on your bed now and had his arm crossed. You looked down at yourself and realized you were still in your old T-shirt, sleep shorts combo. Eh, well this isn't the first time Keith's seen me in my pajamas.

"Keith," you sat back down on your bed, pulling him down with you. "I don't know if we should." You cautioned, "You're always getting in trouble and you can't afford losing your scholarship. You are the best pilot here, you were born for this."

     He frowned at you before speaking, "(Y/N), we're not gonna get caught. Besides, if I get kicked out, they have you left." He bumped into you jokingly.  "Where are we going?" You asked quietly to make sure your roommate doesn't wake up. Keith started standing up then and shook his head, "You'll find out soon." He said shortly, not leaving any room for you to guess what he's planning.

     "Come on," he stood up quickly and held his gloved hands out to you. You placed your hands into his and felt the warmth of his palms. It made your heart jump for a second. He pulled you up off your bed and slightly spun you over towards your big, gray wardrobe.

    "Now get dressed and come with me~" he whispered into your ear and pulled back with a smirk. He let go of your hands then and slipped out towards the door, "And hurry before we get caught!" He whisper-yelled to you as the door slid shut.

     Your heart was beating so fast. Something about Keith always made your adrenaline start pumping. Maybe it's because we're always doing things that could get us in trouble. You thought to yourself.

     Okay maybe more like convinced yourself. You then started changing out of your pajamas and into your regular outside of school outfit to distract yourself from your thoughts. You didn't want to like Keith. You guys are best friends and there's no reason to ruin that just for a silly crush. Once you were changed you made a dash to the door and snuck out next to Keith as quietly as you could. You smiled up at him and he looked down at you kindly before heading down the corridor with you stealthy following after him. You were glad to see him like this, this is the first time he's really seemed happy in the past couple weeks.

     You slipped around past some adults and teachers before making it out of one of the dock's open doors. You and Keith had snuck out of the Garrison many times before but you normally don't go with him every time he goes out. He likes being alone and so do you, so you understand.

Keith was leading you around the side of the building to stay out of cameras' and lookouts' lines of vision you eventually managed to creep around to a corner and ran until you were in the spot where you are completely hidden, there you two found Keith's land speeder. Keith plunked a helmet onto your head and started to get on before you protested.

     "Hey I wanna drive!" You whisper shouted to him hoping he'd let you be in charge of the speeder. Shiro had taught Keith to ride them ever since you've known Keith, you tried to convince him to let you join them when you were younger but he always refused. It wasn't until you were older you realized your boundaries much better. Over the past year, though, you had asked Keith to teach you and he's been trying. You weren't the greatest yet but you were definitely learning.

Keith let out a soft chuckle, "No way, sweetheart." He snipped at you in a playful tone while using a sarcastic nickname that always caused your chest to ache. "Besides, you don't even know where we're going." He fully sat down on the seat now and patted the seat behind him, other hand on the handlebar. You reluctantly obliged and slid on behind him. He turned his head around to look at you and gave you a smirk, "Hold on tight, we're going fast."

     You grinned and nodded then wrapped your arms around his torso and hung on as he revved the speeder and you two went rushing across the desert. Your heart began to race as you pulled yourself closer to Keith, feeling the wind on you as you flew through the air. You began thinking to yourself where Keith may be taking you as you looked around at your surroundings blurring past you. You eventually leaned your cheek against his back as the ride wasn't super short.

"We're almost there!" He yelled back to you, not turning his head back this time. You could hear the smile on his face and it made you smile too. You picked your head back up to start looking around again to see if you knew where you were. As you slowed to a stop, you peeked your head around his shoulder to look in front of you.

"Hey!" You began laughing, "You liar! I so know my way here!" Keith had driven you guys to his old house he used to live in with his dad. You guys have come here many times in the past. Keith comes here all the time and even skips classes to be here. It's a cute little home but it's not very cleaned up inside. Perhaps Keith likes it the way it was left and you can see why. Keith joined in on your laughter.

      "This isn't the place, we're just stopping to pick something up." Your laughter subsided as Keith got off the speeder. "Stay here," he smiled down at you, "I'll be right back." He then pushed down the visor on your helmet just to tease you before he walked off towards the house. You flicked back up the visor and rested your hand on your palm tiredly. You were starting to feel tired again after that adrenaline rush. You yawned as you thought about what on earth Keith could be grabbing. By the time he came back you started to feel more awake when you began having conversation again. Keith had a long case in his arms and he strapped it safely to the back of the speeder. Keith got back on and began driving you two up a long hill a small while away from the old Kogane house.

Once you made it to the peak, you two both got off the speeder and you got to see the beautiful sky line over the dessert mountains. You let out an amazed sigh at the sight. You were pulled out of your awed state when you heard the sounds of Keith doing something behind you. Turning around, you saw Keith setting up a telescope. You looked at him in confusion because you didn't think Keith liked telescopes, especially not after that full semester on telescopes and astral charts two years ago. He looked up at you through his long hair that was sagging in this face from his bent over stance. He didn't really look so amused either which just pushed your confusion even further.

"Come here." He beckoned after he was done setting it up. "Come here and see what you can see, right in the middle of the scope."

You looked at him skeptically before getting down to look into it. In the middle of your view was a small faint blip in the sky. "Dude," you snorted, "what star is this?" You still had no idea what he was having you look at.

"It's a moon. Jupiter's Europa." He said shortly. You stood up from the telescope and saw Keith sitting nonchalantly on the ground now. You walked back and sat down next to him, letting your hands fall behind you to hold yourself up.

"Europa is about 365 million miles away. That's nothing compared to Kerberos." He said, his voice starting to sound a lot more unhappy. "It's over 3.2 billion miles from here. And Shiros actually going!" He shouted with a growl in his voice. There it is, you thought, this is about Kerberos.

You kept quiet. You knew during times like this, it was better to just let Keith talk and you were perfectly fine with that. Looking over at him, you could see him still looking up at the night sky. His eyes were sad, his gaze was lost, yet angry. "I heard him fighting with Adam when I was outside his door a couple hours ago. Adam told Shiro that if he goes to Kerberos, that he won't be here for him when he gets back." His eyes wavered down at the ground between you two now. "And it got me thinking, everyone's been saying this is just a routine mission but, why would Adam be so worried about it?" He looked over to you now, helplessly, you didn't have an answer, and he didn't expect you to have one.

       "I think you should confront Shiro tomorrow and ask him to tell you the truth about it." You offered finally after a small moment of silence. Keith nodded slowly, thinking about your response.

      "Thanks, Y/N." He gave you a small grateful smile before laying down on the ground now, face up to the sky. You followed suit and laid down, suddenly even closer to him than you were before.

      "Anytime, Mullet." You grinned turning your head to face him. You saw him looking at you with a disappointed scowl on his face, causing you to let out a small laugh. Keith let out a sigh as you stopped giggling. You never knew what he was thinking, and the look on his face, you could tell he was thinking deeply about something. "What are you thinking about?" You decided to ask him, thinking there'd be no better time to have real conversations with him than tonight.

Keith looked back at the sky now opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. Most likely thinking over his words.

"I've been thinking about something else too. I don't know what I would do in Shiro's shoes. I'm impulsive and stupid as hell, and when I want to do something I don't let anything stand in my way, but if someone I really loved tried to stop me from doing it, I don't know if I could, even with the thought of them leaving me for me. And it scares me, Y/N, so many people have left me and I don't know what I'd do if it were my fault you left."

You felt a lump form in your throat from hearing Keith talk about this. This is one of the times in a very long time he has let you in on how he feels about anything. Hearing him openly express your emotions was touching and you felt so honored to be the one he tells them to.

"Y/N?" Your name escaped his lips again, this time asking as if he was longing for you. You turned your head again to look at him. You held your breath when you noticed that your faces were close enough that your noses could be touching if either of you moved any further.

"Yeah?" You asked him suddenly much more quiet now, you cursed yourself for sounding so nervous but you couldn't control your pounding heart at the proximity. You were searching his eyes to see if you could guess what he was thinking, he's never been very touchy and you were oh so close to touching, you started to sit up a bit to give him space, but you were stopped in your tracks when you felt Keith's hand grip onto yours as he sat up too, pulling your hand towards him.

The warm touch so foreign and yet so familiar. An hour ago in your dorm, a month ago while guiding you in the simulator, a year ago when he tried to help you fix your bad hair day, all the way back to age 13 when he handed you back your glitter gel pen in class and you felt the flaming rush in your chest.

"I want you to know," he whispered, holding onto your hand a little tighter now, "no matter what happens, I will never do anything on purpose to make you leave me."

You didn't know what to say, so instead you flung your arms around him and pulled him into a loving hug. You let out a shaky sigh as you felt Keith's body relax into yours. "I know you wouldn't." You were in this weird state of shock having never seen Keith this vulnerable before.

"God I'm so fucking stupid..." you hear his muffled voice growl from your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug then, angry at himself for just simply showing you his emotions. You shook your head quickly and put his hand back into your own.

"No you're not, Keith." You reassured him, "Thank you for telling me this." You said then, hoping to make him feel more secure again.

"Yeah..." he sighed then, "Let's get you back in your dorm, they should be switching look outs soon." He quickly changed the subject. You frowned at him, both for putting back up his wall and for making this night coming to an end. You agreed nonetheless, you were glad Keith was beginning to let you in and you were willing to accept that the boundary was back up. Keith means the world to you, and you'd never let that go.

Keith drove you guys back to his speeders hiding place before helping you sneak back in and back through the halls to your dorm. There wasn't any talking on the way back but it was a comfortable silence. Once you were back at your door, you thanked Keith for the wonderful night and told him to get some sleep before the sun starts to come up. You turned them to your door and were about to open it when,

"Hey, uh, (Y/N)?" He whispered for your attention once again. "You're really important to me." He said shortly but still full of so much love. You pulled him into another hug. "You too, Mullet." You whispered into his ear, "Never forget it... please?"

You felt Keith nod and he gave you a quick squeeze before letting go of the embrace, slowly, his hand sliding down your arm as he began to walk away, once it reached your hand and gave it another quick squeeze before he finally let go and slipped around the corner into the darkness. You let out a large breath you didn't know you were holding once you saw him disappear. God were you in love with him. Even if he's never usually like that during the day, you love every Keith and maybe one day you'll tell him....

__________

Hey!!! Let me know what you thought of this one shot :))) I know Keith was pretty ooc, but I like thinking of him being very sensitive around the ones he loves!

Also this didn't proof read yet because I rlly wanted to get this chapter out to you guys !!!!!

This is my first like official Voltron work so bare with me!

PLEASE PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING LOL

[judyhopps934-mt-zd]

Thoughts on Miraculous New York: United Heroez

Warning: Spoilers! I am back! Also, this is my 700th post, so yay!

The new intro is so cool! I stan! Will it be the same for the Miraculous World Specials (ie. Shanghai)??

Mr. Pigeon? Akumatized for the 51st tims?!?!?!?! I thought he moved on from pigeons and went with rats?!?! (Timetagger anyone????)

The Spacesuits! So cool! (By the way, its the purple potion).

Ladybug and Chat Noir are very autonomous, trust connected from their bond, and super efficient! (You will see where this comes into play later on.) Ladybug could have not gotten a better partner than Chat and she says this herself.

The rose scene after defeating Mr. Pigeon! I loved it so much and its better than expected!

Oh Marinette, didn't you say you have moved on from Adrien? I think her heart has yet to catch up with her brain, which takes time. Time will tell...

Tikki is visibly annoyed with Marinette saying she will move on and yet act like she still has a crush on Adrien. First of all, that is the fandom's mood. Second of all, be patient. Time will tell...

The sock puppet film was adorable. And apparently famous in NY amongst the Queens students (thank you Zag for including another NYC borough!)

Miss Bustier is pregnant?!?!? Wait...IS SHE IS MARRIED?!?!?!? Whether she is married or is seeing someone, this is still shocking (unless her prefix in the French version is Mrs.)

Poor Mrs. Mendeleiev. The class was less than satisfied with her being their chaperone. I know she is not the fun teacher, but she still has feelings and I know she is a nice person. People tend to judge and despise teachers based on them being fun or not, which is unfair. But karma comes after the class since throughout the trip, she becomes the teacher they think she is. What? She could have been fun.

Lila was not welcome in New York to begin with. At least she won't be causing any problems on the trip (though I wish she went to Antarctica).

Marinette has done more for Adrien in this episode than in all three seasons when she promised him that she will find a way to convince Gabriel to go to New York. I guess her deciding that he is "just a friend" has allowed her to do more for him than beforehand.

But she still collects pictures of him, so we will keep quotations on "friend". Or we need to give her a break (Alya I am looking at you). We'll see as we go on.

I am happy Nathalie is alive, though I am not happy with the fact that she showed Gabriel the Eagle Talon Miraculous. And he plans to go to New York. And that this is the only reason he lets Adrien go to NY.

Speaking of which, the Miracu-class showed up to his place, with Marinette being the spokesperson to yell at Gabriel Agreste's freaking face. Good for you Marinette for fighting against Gabriel. Though you did not have to put up a long fight, which while shocking, is also worrisome.

Adrien was understandably sad to not be able to go to NY. Kagami seems happy about it though. Maybe too happy...

Yes, I know that Kagami and Adrien are potentially dating (Battle of the Miraculous ending anyone? *sobs in Adrienette stan*), but it still pains my Adrienette stan heart though when she kissed him.

Of course Chat Noir will be sad to see Ladybug go. But she brings this cute cat buzzer and seeing him play with the buzzer was adorable. Ladynoir anyone?

Adrien is stuck with this dilemma: NY or Ladybug? Poor sunshine boy was shocked to hear this news. He initially chose Ladybug and wanted to stay and alert Ladybug about the new situation, but Plagg was like "FREEDOM! GO AFTER IT! BESIDES, YOU CAN USE YOUR SPACESUIT TO RETURN TO PARIS IN THE EVENT OF AN AKUMA!" Seemed like a good plan...initially. (Plagg, I am after you...sorta).

Of course Marinette will miss the bus, but Luka?!?! They either trying to remind me of Miracle Queen or Luka is superhuman for being able to show up to her place and peddle so fast that they caught up with the bus. Pains my Adrienette heart once again to see her kiss him, but he does have a point about her needing some clarity in NY.

Then we have the plane scene. Poor Marinette was panicking over sitting next to Adrien (really now universe?!). There was more to the scene: from the AC trouble to the seat reclining at the wrong time to Adrien placing the luggage in the compartment (not in that order exactly). It was somewhat cringeworthy then seeing that Marinette went to swap seats with Mrs. Mendeleive (though she only did it when Alix whined).

Note to self: DO NOT SIT NEXT TO MR. DAMOCLES IN AN EIGHT HOUR FLIGHT. He is not very conscious about personal space as he took over Marinette's seat when he was asleep and woke Marinette up. And sleeping with a bucket of popcorn? Really?

If anyone has ever been on a plane, turbulence is common, and Marinette's experience with the Bathroom is very relatable. That's why I only go in an emergency.

Adrienette watching a sunrise! (Or sunset? They are not too clear on this, especially since they arrive at the hotel at night, but everyone was asleep on the plane). And get this: Adrien complimenting Marinette and hugging her tightly! (Just a friend now, huh sunshine boy?)

Alya and Nino are a mood when they say that they love their friends, but they wish that they could express their love to each other (Operation: New York).

Alya, did you really have to tell Marinette that NY is the city of love? Thank you for making her feel even nervous.

TechnoPirate and the United Heroez everyone! (By the way, Alya needs a chill pill because she was WAY too excited to be rescued by the United Heroez. And the Owl Mr. Damocles? Really?!)

Note to everyone who does not live in NYC: no, there is not a superhero for every job.

Ladybug and Chat Noir are exceptional superheroes, but Marinette and Adrien cannot open or walk through automatic doors, which is funny and kind of sad. Peoples, your saviors of Paris.

Sabrina has her own story peoples! She is given her own love interest from Astoria! I love them! And how he invited her to the rooftop party.

Alya, do you really have to tease her and Marinette at once. "Maybe you will make a "friend""

Aeon, I agree: Marinette and Adrien are made for each other. But you sound like Master Fu in Stoneheart. Are you secretly Master Fu???

The feeling is mutual Chloé. Marinette and Alya do not want to be your roommate as much as you don't want them to be yours. And I know you do not want to be there in the first place (my city is beautiful btw).But I am happy you did not rat them out for going to the rooftop party.

When they hid from Mrs. Mendeleive, Marinette and Adrien ended up in Jess(Sparrow) and Aeon(Uncanny Valley)'s room.

Magic hotdogs!

Remember the Hotdog Scene I posted over a week ago? That really was Adrienette and it was better than before, with them floating up and dancing to the song from Despair Bear! Yes! Best scene so far!

Doorman! I want him to be my college professor!

Okay, I know I am desperate to see Marinette and Adrien get together, but really Alya, Nino, Jess, and Aeon? Put them in DANGER?!?!? I cannot.

So Marinette and Adrien are put in danger and actual danger. Danger: Jess and Aeon simulating a dangerous situation. Actual Danger: Hawkmoth in New York having akumatized TechnoPirate and make him break into the museum to get the Eagle Talon. Oof.

Then where my Ladynoir heart wears off: Ladybug and Chat Noir seeing each other in NYC to save their civilian selves. They have seen Paris being destroyed by a sentimonster, with Chat supposed to be there and call Ladybug.

Uncanny Valley and Sparrow see Ladybug and Chat Noir in action and decide to be like them because they do not have that same freedom. Look, I feel them, but I still think they should have called for the United Heroez. Plus, cool transformations!

Remember the whole thing about "autonomous, trust formed by their bond, and super-efficiency"? Yeah, that was Sparrow saying that. But Ladybug and Chat Noir are now currently lacking the last two because of the whole "Chat you are supposed to be in Paris" ordeal. Well, you are generally right Sparrow, but now they have their own issues.

Of course, the new lack of trust (and Ladybug making her anger verbal) has affected their ability to fight TechnoPirate inefficient. So much Chat cannot defend himself and while trying to free himself...

HE CATACLYSMED UNCANNY VALLEY!!! This took a dark turn as this is the first time he cataclysmed a "person" (though she is an android, but still a person by standards. I mean Majestia was understandably very upset and I get it).

Majestia punching TechnoPirate into multiple NY buildings: woah.

Ladybug manages to fix everything, but two problems arise:

1. Knightowl wanted to take away their Miraculous and reveal their secret identities. They are now somewhat fugitives in their eyes for almost killing Uncanny Valley.

2. We see the limitations of Miraculous Ladybug. While Ladybug repaired NY, she was unable to repair Paris and the damage caused by the Robostus sentimonster. Which not only indicates that the Miraculous Ladybug cure only repairs the damage created by a specific villan, but that they have to be present. Here, there were too late.

Here is where my Ladynoir heart shatters: 1. Marinette sobs over how she was unable to repair Paris and felt horrible about how she failed them, and 2. Adrien renounced Plagg because of what happened to Uncanny Valley AND for disappointing Ladybug. Then, he runs off and Marinette sobs over losing Chat Noir. It was very sad that I wanted to cry.

I know this part is still very sad, but can I say that Tikki and Plagg are cute together in Marinette's purse? Poor timing? Moving on.

Aeon and Jess are disciplined by Majestia and Knightowl for disobeying their orders and for straying from their mission: protect the French class.

Are Majestia and Knightowl together in their civilian life? And Aeon and Jess are sisters?!?! I stan.

Here's the thing: I like how the special stayed true to this part of the Miraculous Comics. There, we find that Knightowl is a woman (which you can find out from this scene or at the end). And i just stan her relationship with Majestia.

Also, how dare the writers forget the Miraculous Comics! Sure, they might be different entities, but still: how dare they let the United Heroez forget about the power of the Miraculous Cure! I know that Chat Noir should be more careful about his cataclysm and Majestia has a right to be upset, but still: they had a deadly plan set in the comics to defeat a villan and called on Ladybug to cure the millions of dollars in damage. But hey, to each their own.

Also, somewhat unrelated, but Julerose appeared in the beginning and I am here for it!

Gabriel kidnapped TechnoPirate and akumatized him again while giving him the Eagle claw jewel to liberate people from their fears or other factors. Oof.

The kwami for the Eagle Miraculous is relatable. We would all wish we had our previous owner and fear about our power going into evil hands, right?

Now back to Adrien and Marinette, my heart breaks to see Adrien having to go back to Paris because Gabriel delcares NY as "too dangerous". YOU ARE THE FREAKING DANGER THOUGH! YOU MADE TECHNOPIRATE DANGEROUS AND RELEASED HIM FROM DANGER!

Marinette decides to go after him, but falls over from the bike she borrowed due to the rainwater as she begs him to stay.

And peoples, the moment we waited for three seasons (sorta): Marinette finally utters the words "I love you" when referring to Adrien. Too bad he got too far for him to hear her.

Also, who was going to get her off the road when she broke down? Is that her form of closure?

The United Heroez are now under the Liberty Eagle Miraculous' influence, which made them go haywire. Huh. So Jess and Aeon now have to save them with the help of the French Superheroes!

So Aeon was able to uncover that TechnoPirate is akumatized and using a Miraculous through her scanners. I stan her!

Also, she was able to recognize Marinette is Ladybug and Adrien is Chat Noir. And we have a reason to explain why everyone is blind: there is a quantum mechanism in the suits that makes them unrecognizable when compared to their civilian form in the eyes of humans. She can only figure out their identities since she is an AI android. So our theory about everyone having a reason to be blind is correct AND we can cut everyone else some slack. Please.

Marinette confessed that she needs Chat Noir. This was what we wanted to hear after all that has happened: what she said in the beginning, but now in the most genuine form. I have no words other than that this is heartwarming and heartbreaking.

Adrien was worried over Ladybug's disappointment, but Uncanny Valley is amazing in the sense that she recorded Marinette's genuine words, which inspired him to come back.

Plagg, you literally make light of everything. He literally made faces in front of Uncanny Valley because she can't see him. I can't.

Ladybug and Chat Noir's reunion healed and broke me. It was so emotional as Ladybug expresses how worried she was and how she missed him and Chat explaining while admitting his mistakes.

Time to take down TechnoPirate while using Doorman's powers to take the Eagle Talon and freeing everyone. The fight scenes are epic per usual, this one especially.

TechnoPirate counting down the time was alarming, but also funny as he makes light of it.

Hawkmoth, you would have been to blame for the World War III because of your ultimatum, not Ladybug and Chat Noir.

They missed the countdown, but Majestia stops the rocket and sends it to the sun. What the hell?! What if the sun exploded?!?!?!?! (I dunno? It was an atomic bomb for starters?)

So TechnoPirate is defeated and the United Heroez apologize for misjudging our Parisian superheroes and decide to no longer treat their children like kids.

So Paris for the first time in forever needs to undergo actual reconstruction, but Nadja is somewhat forgiving as she mentions that they needed to help the United Heroez and save NYC, where Hawkmoth also was. Hope there are no hard feelings?

Marinette had the idea of having the banner saying hello to Adrien, which he watched on the plane. So nice of Marinette the class to do such a nice thing for him.

Chloé, we might have somewhat forgotten that whole Miracle Queen stunt, but I am glad to see you enjoyed NY even if you will not admit it.

There are more Miraculous around the world. At the end, we need to fear Hawkmoth. Also, there are more Miraculous guardians and I am glad to see Jess convince one of the Guardians to create a new team of next generation superheroes

Overall, the New York special did not disappoint. We got Adrienette and Ladynoir (even if we know that Lukanette and Adrigami are also a potential reality, though good news for the shippers). We also saw the New York superheroes. Though there are some points that really surprised me (ie. The Ladynoir trust fight and Uncanny Valley dying temporarily and Paris being destroyed), I enjoyed watching the special.

I am worried about the Love Square, especially with Marinette though, but that is for another post. To sum up, we know what happens in NY stays in NY, but since the season 4 synopsis mentions Marinette struggling to find time to tell Adrien her feelings, I think that the Love Square is not 100% dead, but I am not too sure. Oh well, let's leave that for tomorrow.

I stayed up for another hour or so, so I will sign off. In the meantime, go ahead and watch it on an Instagram Page or on Disney Channel or wherever you can watch the special because I will tell you this: you will not regret it! (I watched it twice and will watch it again tomorrow!)

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Words On My Skin Chapter 30

Bucky Barnes X Reader (Soulmate AU)

A/N: I guess it takes a quarantine and deadly virus for me to start writing again, huh? LOL! TAGS WILL BE REBLOGGED ON THIS EVENTUALLY! I have like... a whole year of tag requests to sort through! So... Sorry LOL

Warnings: Be gentle... I’m rusty at writing lol

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

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

Y/n: I'm on my way back! Happy is driving me! I'll tell you the details when I get home! I got you a surprise! <3

Bucky: I'm in the room, doing paperwork. Steal one of Steve's granola bars for me, please and thank you and I love you.

Y/n: I'm not taking the fall again if he catches me!

Bucky: He's out with that one blonde chick we don't like.

Y/n: Ew. Why???

Bucky: Why do you think?

Y/n: Ew. She looks like she has crotch crickets. Plus she was a bitch to me last time she was here. I tried to be nice. I think she's in it for his fame... and the D.

Bucky: ...that's disgusting.

Y/n: I'm making him an appointment for an STD check.

Bucky: He's going to kill you.

Y/n: He'll thank me when his dick doesn't fall off

Bucky: He's going to make you do more cardio.

Y/n: ...Okay, yeah, I'll just let his dick fall off. LOL fuck cardio

Bucky: You seemed to enjoy last night's cardio. ;)

Y/n: That was more like naked yoga... with a happy ending! Totally different!

Bucky: We can do naked yoga anytime you want.

Y/n: I'll take naked yoga over cardio all day every day

Bucky: All day every day? ;)

Y/n: Shut up, fool. <3

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

Placing your phone back into your purse, you stared out the window, watching the busy streets blend into trees and snow. Stupid snow. You were lost in your own head, thinking about the meeting with your parents. Which had gone... surprisingly well.

Your mother was fairly civil to you - as well as the waitstaff - and your father actually had a serious conversation with you.

It was one of the weirdest days of your life... and you lived with a bunch of superheroes.

Seeing your parents like this, after so many years of loathing, arguing, controlling... You weren't sure where your relationship stood.

Though, it was nice to gain at least a little clarification and get everything out in the open.

They'd apologized for the way they treated you in your youth, as well as the way they treated Bucky. You'd apologized for all the shit you'd said to them before you'd moved away, as well as keeping them pushed away in your adult years. The excuses your mother had for acting like a controlling robot were just... sad. She talked about how your grandmother treated her the same - if not worse. She was the way she was because she wanted you to be better than her. No wonder you've never actually met your grandparents in person. Your mother hated her parents. Almost as much as you'd hated yours... until now.

Now... You just had sympathy. Not that it excused any of the behaviors over the years, but you understood now.

It seemed as if she'd convinced herself that the way that she raised you made you the positive person that you were, today. Which was true to some extent. It was recovering from the way you were raised that made you the person you were today. You may have been comfortable with money, but money wasn't everything behind closed doors. Money didn't solve the problems that you'd dealt with in your youth. In fact, it was living the stereotype of a rich family that had caused the majority of your problems. It was the cold, brash emotions modeled by your parents that made you want to be different. The controlled diets, the need to hide emotions and compartmentalize, the forced dating, the fights, the lying, the fake public image... it was dealing with those things after you'd escaped it that made you the person you are today.

Personal growth, and all that jazz.

After the emotional bit of the dinner, you'd actually enjoyed yourself. Your parents asked you about your job, the first day you met Bucky, college, your friends, and everything else they hadn't been a part of for the last decade or so.

They told you about their trip to Paris, where your mother had tripped over a crack in the pavement and they spent half the day in the emergency room so she could get stitches. They told you about how they got their entire office to donate a large sum of money to Bucky's charity that he had been running. They told you about the day that they realized that they needed a change of scenery from California.

It was almost... normal.

If you even knew what normal was.

"Y/n?" You heard Happy's muffled voice, followed by a light tapping on the cool window. He hadn't opened the car door, because your head was leaned against it. "You ready to rock and roll?"

"You're such a dad." You giggled, grabbing your purse and leftovers as he opened the door for you, "Speaking of dads, are you going to become Peter's step-"

"I DON'T-" He paused, taking a breath through his nose and blowing it out of his mouth, "I don't want to talk about that."

"Happy and Mae, sitting in a tree..." You sang, grinning as you skipped past him, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"You're such a child." He rolled his eyes, slamming your door closed and walking to the driver's door.

"You love me, anyways." You pulled open the front door to the compound, leaving Happy to bring the car over to the garage.

You removed your coat the moment you stepped into the heated building, throwing it over your arm and hiding the bag of leftovers and Bucky's surprise. Glancing around, you saw the lobby was nearly empty, save for a few agents using the lobby to cut to the other wing.

Glancing over to the front desk, a grin spread over your face as you took in the sight in front of you.

Caleb was snoring loudly, mouth hanging open, head tipped back, and his feet up on the desk. The book you'd given him for his birthday was open, resting on his stomach like he had fallen asleep reading in his chair.

"FRIDAY, can you please do me a favor and record this please?" You whispered into your watch, sneaking over to the sleeping agent. "Send it to my tablet when it's done."

You were glad you wore flats instead of heels, so your shoes made no noise against the hard floors as you snuck behind the desk. You kept out of swinging distance, grabbing a clipboard off his desk and readying yourself for whatever happened.

"CALEB, WAKE UP!" You screamed loudly, slamming the clipboard repeatedly on the desk. "CALEB, THE SKY IS FALLING!"

He let out a loud shout, limbs flailing around, and chair tipping backwards. "I WASN'T SLEEPING." The obnoxious laugh you let out made his face scrunch up in confusion from the floor, "Y/n?" He glanced around, springing up gracefully and surveying the empty lobby before sending you a glare, "Rude."

You couldn't reply, leaning against the desk and tossing the clipboard in front of him, hysterical laughter echoing through the nearly-empty lobby. "I- You- Oh- Dying." You wheezed, trying to calm your laughter before you peed yourself, wiping the tears from under your eyes, "Oh my god."

"I'm glad my fear brings you such joy, you awful human being." Caleb grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, "I hate you so much right now."

"I brought you dessert." You replied, finally able to pull your shit together, grabbing a box out of the big bag you were carrying. "It's chocolate and peanut butter cheesecake."

"I hate you less, now. You are forgiven." He lunged forward, a large smile on his face. "Gimme', gimme', gimme'."

You handed him the box, shaking your head and glancing at your watch, "I'm beat. I'm gunna' head up."

"Your soulmate is an asshole, by the way." Caleb informed you, mouth full of cheesecake, "He kept telling me he's going to get Claire an obscene amount of slime for Christmas." He glanced up at you with narrow eyes, "I'll hurt all of you if you get her slime, or anything else with loose glitter. My kitchen table is ruined."

"I cannot confirm nor deny that we got her slime for christmas." You shouted, jogging towards the elevator. "Love youuuuu."

"Fuck youuuuu." He sang back at you, as you disappeared from sight.

"My floor, please, FRIDAY." You requested as the doors to the elevator opened and you got in, "Is Bucky in his room?"

"Yes, Ma'am." FRIDAY replied.

Leaning against the wall, you inhaled deeply through your nose - trying to dispel any weird feelings in your gut. Ever since you'd left dinner with your parents, your shoulders felt lighter... but there was a sense of unease in your belly. You'd never expected in a million years that you'd actually have a relationship with your parents where they communicated with you in a semi-healthy way.

Was this real life?

Honestly, it felt like you were in a simulation or something.

Nothing felt normal anymore.

When the lift doors opened, a wave of delicious smells hit your nose - and you followed the scent to the kitchen, calling out, "Who's cooking delicious-smelling food?"

"That'd be me." Sam called, head in the fridge as he searched for something in the back, "Where the fuck did my strawberries go?"

"That'd be your not-so-little buddy Steve." You chuckled, watching as Sam glared at the fridge before moving back to the stove in a huff. It was actually Bucky, but you weren't about to snitch on your soulmate. "What are you making?"

"God dammit." He grumbled, stirring whatever was in the giant pot, "I'm getting a mini fridge in my room. This 'sharing' business is pissing me off."

"Sam. Food."

He turned to you with a grin, "Momma Wilson's famous lasagna soup."

"They make lasagna in soup form?" You frowned, walking over to the stove to inspect, confirming the fact that he had - indeed - made soup out of lasagna ingredients. It was confirmed by the broken-up lasagna noodles floating up to the surface, and the red sauce littered with spices. God, that smelled good... "Where'd your mom come up with this, and can I have the recipe?"

"Nope. Special made by only me." He shook his head, shooing you away with the spoon. "Go away. You already ate."

There goes getting the granola bar... Sam would totally snitch.

"Save me some for later?" You stuck out your lip in a pout, giving him your best innocent face.

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and stirring his soup, "We'll see."

You giggled, turning away and walking towards the living quarters with a pep in your step, "I appreciate you."

"Yeah, yeah." You heard him grumble, "Since you do my paperwork..."

"And I do a fabulous job!" You called in sing-song, rounding the corner into the hallway and feeling giddy about bringing Bucky his surprise.

He'd been talking about how he'd been craving French Silk Pie, and you just so happened to spot a few slices left at the restaurant. The manager had recognized you from the photo of you and Bucky at the sushi restaurant and seeing you in that interview, and had offered to slip in a few extra slices of pie for next to nothing... so you'd taken a page from Bucky's book and tipped the staff an obscene amount.

Bucky was going to shit when he saw how many pieces of pie you were coming back with.

"FRIDAY can you unlock the door for me, please?" You called out quietly, listening to the door click as it unlocked. "Thank you." As you pushed open the door, you spotted your handsome soulmate sitting at his desk, sharpening a knife carefully. "You planning on murdering me with that, or what?"

"Ha-Ha. Very funny." He deadpanned, eyes trained on the knife as he examined it, "If I was going to murder you, stabbing you to death would be too messy."

"Comforting." You chuckled, shutting the door behind you and hanging your coat on the back of the door and laying the plastic bag full of food on his bed. You reached behind you to unzip your dress, heading over to his closet to grab a shirt to lounge around in. "I buy you a delicious treat, and you plot my murder."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm also looking at files for the new recruits." He replied, voice sounding really far away. "Jennings looks promising."

You frowned, pulling his shirt over your head. Trying to feel him out through the bond. He seemed... neutral. It was weird. Not upset, but also not happy. Peeking around the corner, trying to be sneaky, you watched him as he read through another recruit file flipping the knife around skillfully. He didn't look tense. He also didn't look like he was concentrating on the file, either.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked suddenly, not turning around. His hair looked messy, like he'd been running his hand through it.

"Why are you being weird?" You asked, walking over to the bed and grabbing one of the small to-go boxes out of the bag. Setting it on his desk with a plastic fork, you leaned down and wrapped your arms around him from behind - resting your chin on his shoulder. "I got you french silk pie."

He turned his head, pressing a small kiss on your bare arm. "Thanks, sweetheart."

You didn't think you could frown any further, but you were wrong.

He was totally being weird.

"Okay, okay." You moved away from him, sitting on the edge of his bed and grabbing one of the pie slices. "What's wrong with you? What are you hiding from me? You're too... neutral."

"Nothing's wrong with me." He replied, not turning around. "I'm not hiding anything."

Bullshit!

"Lies." You sang out, digging into your piece of pie. "Can't bullshit a bullshitter. Especially when she's connected to you emotionally through a magical soulmate bond." You shoved a bite into your mouth, realizing that you'd grabbed one of the apple pie slices. A pang of annoyance nudged you in the chest, and you rolled your eyes, "You can be annoyed all you want, but that's not telling me what's up with you."

He sighed, leaning his head back for a moment, before spinning around in his chair and giving you a look of annoyance. "If I tell you, will you let up?"

"Maybe." You smirked, taking another bite of pie.

"I..." He looked down, picking at one of the plates in his hand - a nervous tick. "I talked to Tony, today."

Oh.

Oh shit.

You hoped it was a productive conversation. It had to have been, if Bucky wasn't upset. Then again, he was attempting to hide his feelings from you. Maybe it wasn't, and he didn't want to tell you?

You set your dessert down on the bed, leaning forward in interest, "And...?"

"He..." Bucky cleared his throat, not looking at you. "He wants to have us see Dr. Collins." He finally looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Together."

You smiled, relief washing through you. This was good. If they saw Dr. Collins together, they might get to the root of their issues in a positive way that didn't include destroying the building... one can hope.

So why did Bucky look like someone pissed in his coffee?

"This is good, right?" You asked, confused. "Progress?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking back down at the dark, metal plates in his hand. "I guess."

"But...?"

"But-" His leg started bouncing up and down, and you could feel the nervous energy outside of the bond. "I'm a little... afraid about..." He sighed, shaking his head and closing his beautiful blue eyes, "I don't know. Doing all this-" He seemed to be struggling for the right words. "-opening up."

You nodded along as he paused, waiting for him to continue.

"What if... what if he still hates me in the end?" He rushed out, leg still bouncing. "I'm just... I'm so sick of people hating me for something I did when I was... him." He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth, and you had a feeling that he was about to explode. "I'm trying so hard. SO HARD. I..." He stopped, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "I just... I hate what he did. I hate this. I don't want to go through all of this just for Tony to still hate me in the end."

He sat back down in his chair, hand running through his growing hair and leaning his elbows on his knees, "I'm just... I don't like this nervous feeling. That's why I was trying to hide my feelings. Because... I don't want to feel them." He looks back up at you, blue eyes full of sadness that hurt your heart. "Sometimes I feel like it's easier being him. He doesn't feel anything, and I barely remember half the shit he did."

"Bucky..." You sighed, standing up and moving to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his middle and leaning the side of your head against his shoulder. "It's understandable that you don't want to feel the hard feelings. They suck ass." He snorted at your words, arms wrapping around you, but you kept going, "But you're human. Even if you're a supersoldier with some crazy serum running through your veins, you're human. Feelings make you human. Feelings make you Bucky, instead of him." You looked up at him, as his arms tightened around you. "I'm not going to pretend I'm Dr. Collins and say something irritatingly profound, but... I think you know exactly what Dr. Collins would say."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He sighed, pressing his face into the top of your head - warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "He's annoying."

"He may be annoying, but he knows what's up." You chuckled, turning your head so you were looking into his icy eyes, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He smiled, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, "I love you, too."

Shifting around, you moved so your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your face was level with his, "I brought you french silk pie."

"You spoil me." He grinned, arms around your middle, "How'd your dinner with your parents go?"

You grimaced, rolling your eyes, "It was weird. It kind of feels like those two hours were a dream. I don't believe that my parents actually had a real conversation with me." He raised an eyebrow at you and you huffed out a sigh, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm happy. I'm glad that we can finally talk, but... it's just weird. I don't really know how to process it."

"Finally going to be one big, happy family, huh?" He laughed, poking you in the side. "Like The Brady Bunch?"

"First of all, when the hell did you have time to watch The Brady Bunch without me?" You narrowed your eyes at him, raising a brow in question, "Second of all, there's only three of us."

"I didn't watch it," He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at you before standing and setting you on the bed, turning around and grabbing his container of pie, "I read about it."

"STOP DOING THAT!!" You whined in annoyance, throwing a chunk of your apple pie at him. Oh my god, if he kept fucking doing that... "You need to actually watch these things! Stop reading the plot on Wikipedia! It's not the same!"

"I read faster than I watch!" He took a huge bite of his pie, crumbs falling onto the floor. "I can read the plot in a fourth of the time it would take to watch the whole thing." After another obnoxiously large bite of his pie, he set the container back on the desk, moving towards the bed, "If I try and catch up on all the shows and movies I missed over the last century, I'll be biologically ninety before I'm caught up."

As he moved the bag of containers to the floor, you held the slice of apple pie closer to your chest, "I'm not sharing my pie." You took another bite of the sweet pie, the taste of cinnamon on your tongue. He kept moving closer, and you turned your body away from him holding the pie away from him, "NO! You can't have my pie! You have your own!"

"If you don't put it on the nightstand it's going to be in the bed." He warned, an evil look in his eye. "I'm giving you three seconds."

You yelped, attempting to scarf down the obscenely large and sweet piece of pie as fast as you could.

"Three."

You scrambled away from him, but his arm wrapped around your middle as you continued to shovel the food in your face.

"Two."

"NO!!! I'm TRYING!" You giggled, tossing the fork onto the floor, but unable to reach the nightstand with the container full of whipped cream and a large chunk of pie still sticking in the container. You shrieked out a laugh as he tackled you into the bed, the slice of pie completely smearing all over your face and hair. "BUCKY!!"

"One."

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

Part 31 ...coming soon to a Tumblr near you.

[mandochlorian]

planetary (Padawan!ben solo x Padawan!reader)

summary: what do you do when you just want to start a new life? 

in other words:

planetary  (adjective)                 1. wandering, or erratic.

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

warnings: mentions/allusions to mental illness, angst, kinda sad but trying to be uplifting or optimistic. running away. 

The field is seldom occupied - that’s why it quickly became your and Ben’s favourite spot. He leans against a large tree, close but somewhere far away. Pressing your back against the cold grass, you let your head rest against his arm, “I’m tired.” 

“Today was tough.” Ben agrees, already feeling his eyes becoming heavy with exhaustion, “Luke’s really testing us.”

“There’s...” you find the words, struggling to pinpoint your thoughts, “There’s something about him lately. He seems...”

“Afraid,” Ben finishes, giving you a nod, “I’ve sensed it in him for some time now.”

“I thought Master Skywalker was never afraid.” You admit to Ben, staring at his expression for the answers, “Do you know what this is about?”

Ben just shakes his head. His uncle has always been a mystery to him, why would that change now? Luke doesn’t treat Ben like he’s his nephew. He treats him like he’s any other Padawan training under him. “I don’t know if I can take another day of this, if I’m honest with you,” Ben shuts his eyes, “He’s burning us all out. Did you see-”

“Lou fainted! I know!” You cut him off, nodding your head quickly, “Lucky she was okay. I think I still got bruises from Master Skywalker though.” The comment comes off in a casual laugh. But Ben doesn’t return it. He stares at you.

“Bruises?” Ben repeats your words. He’s confused, trying to hold back anger and fear that threatens to overflow in his chest all at once. “What bruises?”

“You didn’t see what happened?” You question him, furrowing your eyebrows. He’s not going to like this. Shit. “I thought you-”

“I was talking about Fera.” He dismisses.

“What happened to him?”

“Ripped the skin from both his hands from using his lightsaber too much. What bruises?” Ben asks again, never having let go of a question once he has posed it.

Shaking your head, you blink softly, “It’s not a big deal. I get bruises from training all the time.” You remind Ben.

“From training against other Padawans and simulators. Not from my uncle.” He stares, more sternly now, while his eyes are wide and staring down at you. He’s already examined your body, trying to find any clear evidence of damage or harm.

Letting out a sigh, you confess, “When I tried to help her up, Luke came at me with his saber. I tried to fight him off with the force, I left my lightsaber on my training mat to help Lou. And he took a big swing, I wasn’t able to dodge in time, so he pushed me to the ground before the blade could get me. Said if this were a fight, I’d be dead.”

Turning his head away from you, Ben casts his furious eyes upon the grassy land in front of him. He says nothing. Ben just pauses for a long moment. The moment is filled with rage, you can sense it inside him; bubbling, almost at the tipping point. Ben has to clench his teeth together, has to push the thought of the incident from playing in his head. “I detest that man.” Ben finally speaks up.

“It’s nothing, please don’t take this to heart,” you reassure him, placing your hand on his.

“I hate him.” Ben responds, looking to you with all the seriousness in the galaxy, “I know he’s my uncle but... I have zero respect for that man.”

“No, Ben, come on.” You mumble, moving to kneel before him. You place both hands on his cold cheeks, staring him deep in the eyes, “You can’t let hate consume your heart. Remember your training.”

“My training?” He scoffs, the inklings of a sarcastic smile on his lips, “My training tells me to be a droid; emotionless, logical - to remove everything I fear to lose.” You take your hands from his face. He continues, “Don’t you see the irony? We were trained by a man who is now consumed with fear,” Ben notes, gazing up at you as you listen intently, “I hate every second I have to be in the same room with that man.”

“He’s your family,” you calmly remind him.

Ben blinks up at you, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Family means nothing to me now.”

“Ben-”

“It’s true,” he cuts you off as you sit back down onto your knees, “My parents don’t visit. My uncle calls me ‘Benjamin’. I mean nothing to anyone-”

“You mean something to me.” You cut him off, watching him closely, “You mean everything to me.” Your eyes gaze into his own, and you find yourself leaning in to him. Ben’s brown eyes are focused on your lips, how soft they look, how they’re getting closer to his. And he finds himself leaning in too. He puts his hands on your waist, pulling you closer so you’re sitting in the middle of his stretched and parted legs, facing him. “Ben.” You mumble, your forehead pressed against his. There’s hesitation in your voice.

“I know,” he mutters back, voice low, “Trust me, I know.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feeling of having you so close to him. It’s torture. Sitting here, alone with you, and being unable to even kiss you. It’s torture being a Jedi. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ben’s eyes open and drift up to you. His lips are parted slightly and he looks down as he takes his hands away from you.

You watch him fondly, staying between his legs and laying your back against his front. Ben wraps his arms around you, holding you close and warm.

Ben stares at a distant ship pervading through the air, heading in the opposite direction of you two, “I know you like my hair, but sometimes I look in the mirror and I get this sudden urge to shave it all off.”

“Oh, yum.”

“Yum?” He exclaims out loud, snapping his eyes to you as he laughs, “I’d be... all ears.”

“That’s hot.” You tease him, turning your head to look up at him, “We can be bald together.”

“You’re going to shave your head?” Ben raises his eyebrows.

“If you do, yeah, why not?” You shrug.

Ben huffs our a breath, turning his gaze back up to the sky, “You’d probably look good bald.” He says it with feigned anger and jealousy, causing you to let out a laugh.

It dies down against the quiet breeze that begins to build. Ben can sense your melancholy, the feeling that resides deep within you despite being able to laugh and joke and smile. Your face is expressionless now.

“Maybe you just need a change. A big change.” You add, “I feel like that too sometimes - like I could change my name, my face... everything.”

Ben understands. He asks, “What stops you?”

“You.” You admit against the quiet. Ben sits up beside you, his eyes almost questioning you; pushing you to go on. “When I think about leaving this place, you’re the only thing that stops me. I could never leave you.”

“Me too,” Ben admits, eyes widening slightly, “in my sleep, I dream about living a new life. I pack my bags and wait until nightfall... But whenever I want to board a ship and leave, I just walk to your room instead. I never leave. Y/N?” He asks all of a sudden, you watch him seriously, eyes filled with concern at his tone, “What are we doing here?” He pauses, seeing you unable to answer, “Why are we living a life we don’t want to live? I can’t live my whole life not touching you, or being with you, or...” he takes a breath, admiring your lips, “I can’t go my whole life pretending not to feel.”

“Ben,” you frown, “We’re becoming Jedis.”

“Is that what we want?” He asks sternly, seeing you look to the ground, “What do you want?” Ben stares at you closely.

“I can’t answer that.”

“Why?”

“You can’t make me say it, you know what I want. Ben, what don’t you understand?” You ask him, your heart seeming to shatter, “We have a gift, you and I. It’s our responsibility to use it for good.”

“Who says this is good? Luke?” Ben questions you gently, “Do you believe that? Or is it something you’ve learnt to recite?” He softly takes your hands into his, “I’ll tell you what I want... I want to leave this place. I want to find a planet where I could live, nothing big just a place to eat and sleep. I can get a job anywhere as a mechanic, or smuggling, or anything. Y/N,” he swallows the lump in his throat, “We can do that. Together.”

After a pause, a small smile grows on your face, “Smuggling?”

Ben lets out a small chuckle, “My dad used to take me on some pick ups. I know the most popular routes.”

“What about Skywalker?” You ask him, “I doubt he’d let his nephew go that easy.”

Rubbing a thumb on the back of your hand, Ben gives you a shrug, “He can’t make us do anything.”

A smile builds on your lips, noticing how Bengrows closer to you, “How are we getting off this planet?”

“Flying.” He answers smugly, sensing that he’s convinced you.

“What ship?” You shoot back, leaning back with ever moment he moves closer to you.

“Any,” whispers Ben, now staring down at you as you lay against the grass, “we’ll find a ship and fly into the stars.”

“Do we change our names?”

“You can,” he shrugs with a smile, “though you have such a lovely name, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at him before pausing, taking a breath, “Ben.”

“Yes?”

“I’d follow you to the end of the galaxy.” You admit to him, placing a hand on his cheek.

Ben’s eyebrows lift slightly when he closes his eyes. It feels as though a massive weight has been lifted off of his shoulders... like he can finally breathe. “Ben?”

“Hm?” He responds, eyes still closed.

“Does this mean I can kiss you?”

Ben opens his eyes. A smile automatically comes to his mouth. “Yes.” He grins widely, “Yes.”

“Good.” You mumble quietly, breath caught in your throat as his lips brush yours. The electricity of it has you gasping lightly, your eyes coming to a close when Ben finally touched his lips against yours. Your lips move against one another sweetly, slowly, calmly, and this surprises you; you thought it’d be way more heated after spending so long keeping away from one another.

When you pull away from him, you just look at him for a moment. The grin is gone from his lips as he stares at you, his heart in shock. But then Ben grins, his eyes squinting with the size of his smile. He pecks your lips quickly, pulling back to stare into your eyes. You smile too, rubbing your thumb on his cheek.

“We’re gonna fly out of here,” Ben confirms, “We’re gonna find some place we can live. Really live.”

Pressing your body against his, you wrap your arms around Ben who returns your embrace. You can’t help but smile so wide your cheeks start to hurt. But you can’t stop smiling. You squeeze him tightly and Ben laughs, rolling around on the grass. You laugh with one another, and he pauses. You’re both side by side and you pull apart, still grinning.

The air feels fresh, you take a deep inhale of it before you speak, “I can’t wait to finally live.”

[skyprincesscommander]

A Heart in Crisis

Summary: Angst, post Kara finding out the truth - The Monitor delivers a prophecy of Kara’s death, and Lena isn’t dealing so well. 

The irony was almost poetic. Not long ago, Lena had lied to Kara about seeing apocalyptic visions in her dreams. Now, she was living that reality. Every time Lena closed her eyes, she saw her world die.

It started with the visions she’d seen before but didn’t truly understand at the time. Nanobots consuming Supergirl in Jack’s lab. Kara crashing into the ground, bloody and broken and a breath away from death after her fight with Reign. Kryptonite infecting her body from her toes to her eyelids as the very air poisoned her, lighting up her veins with sickness.

It only went downhill from there. Lena started dreaming about her own simulations, watching Kara die by her own hand. When she awoke she would run to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach (which unfortunately did not include the crippling anxiety that seemed to find its home there). She had even shut Hope off entirely, dizziness overcoming her the second she heard that automated voice. Hope only ever inquired as to her well-being, but all Lena heard was a robot who had offered to kill Supergirl.

Finally came the images she’d never seen before. The Monitor with his hands around Kara’s neck. Anti-matter consuming only her, leaving the world untouched around it. And no matter which dream her mind chose from the lottery, it always ended with his voice. 

“In order for billions to survive this coming crisis, Supergirl must die.”

That was the message the Monitor had brought. They had all stood frozen - Alex, Brainy, Jonn, Nia, and Lena, until Kara flew off into the sky, not willing (or able) to look or talk to any of them.  It was Brainy who approached Lena, concern painting his features. She had not moved for ten minutes.

“I don’t think I have a big enough box for this,” she whispered to him. Brainy just stood awkwardly beside her, his own boxes not sturdy enough to stop the flow of tears. It’d been two weeks since that day, and they still hadn’t spoken. Whether it was because of Lena’s own lies or because of Kara’s impending doom - it did not matter. All that mattered was that each day was another day closer to reaching Kara’s fate, and every morning when Lena woke it was like a new setting had been added to her panic meter. Inside, Lena felt like there was a doomsday clock ticking on her heart. For whether they were best friends or worst enemies, that was exactly what Lena would lose. 

Her sole focus became researching anti-matter. She’d never been a religious person, so as far as she was concerned, God and his prophecies could go fuck himself. Just because she wasn’t speaking with Kara didn’t mean she couldn’t help. Alex, while wearing a harsh scowl, gave her bits and pieces of information, but it made no difference. There was not enough time in the universe, apparently, for her to fix or even understand this problem. She stayed in the lab for three days, avoiding dreams and barely eating. When she practically collapsed on one of her test tubes, Lena knew it was time to go home. Without the strength to make it to her room, Lena collapsed on the couch with the sound of the television in the background to hopefully block her dreams. Her rest doesn’t last long. She wakes in a sweat, the Monitor’s words still echoing in her ears. However, it’s when she sees Supergirl on the television, battered and bruised from her latest battle, that all thought of sleep flies from her mind. First, she has to pinch herself, squeezing her eyes together to try and wake up once more. Kara has a single cut on her forehead from the battle, but Lena knows how the rest of the story will go. When the news story changes three minutes later, Lena cries with relief. However, her tears turn hot and angry quickly, and before she can change her mind Lena hits the S on her watch, right before throwing it against the wall. Somehow it still shocks her how fast Kara arrives, even after everything that transpired between them. With a whoosh and a thud, Kara barrels into the apartment, scanning the area for immediate danger before focusing on Lena. Behind the look of panic in Kara’s eyes, there is only exhaustion. It is the look of a woman whose mind and body have not stopped moving for days. Lena recognizes the image like it is an old friend. With one hand, Kara rubs the worry from her face, replacing it with exasperation. 

“Lena, no matter what happens, I will always be here to help you. But the next time you hit that watch there better be a real--” The still bleeding cut on Kara’s forehead snaps Lena into action. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

The words are unexpected, and Kara doesn’t have an immediate response for Lena. Instead, Kara’s face scrunches and she stares at Lena as if trying to see inside her mind. Considering the x-ray vision, Lena guesses that with the intensity of her gaze, that could be exactly what Kara is doing. Lena tries to remain as stoic as possible, pushing her anger to the forefront and allowing it to seep into each muscle to hide everything else she is feeling underneath. Seeming to give up on observing Lena, Kara sighs. “What do you want from me?” “For you to stop being a moron.”

“Which would include, what, exactly? For me to stop saving people? To run away from this Crisis?”

“To act like you don’t have a death wish!” “No! You don’t get to do that!” Kara bellows, edging closer with her finger pointing right between Lena’s chest. “You don’t get to worry about my fate when you’ve been killing me inside your head for months.”

One more thing Lena had to thank Leviathan for: knowing what happened inside her simulations and making sure to tell Kara. Lena’s heart winced, and as much as she wanted to unleash on Kara, to accuse her in return and make her hurt as badly as she was, Lena had no time to be distracted from the issue at hand. “Haven’t you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy, Kara?” Kara turned to leave, exiting out the balcony door. “I don’t have time for this.”

Lena followed after her. “Croesus, the King of Lydia, asked the Oracle of Delphi in Greece if he should go to war with Persia. The oracle tells him that if he goes to war, he will destroy a great kingdom. So he does. But Croesus loses, and has to admit that it was his own empire he destroyed.” With a hand on the balcony’s edge, Kara faces Lena. “What’s your point, Lena?” “Believing that you are going to die might be the only reason you eventually do.” She throws the words into the air like punches. “The Monitor must know this and you are playing into his hands.” 

There was no flicker in Kara’s eye that told Lena she was learning new information. In fact, the words seemed to bounce of Kara like they were bullets that had been shot at her a hundred times before. In front of Lena’s eyes, Kara transformed. The invulnerable hero deflated like a puppet whose strings had been dropped. “Whether that’s true or not,” Kara began softly. “If the Monitor knows what we must do to defeat this Crisis...then that’s what we must do.” Lena could feel an eruption rise inside of her. Of what, she couldn’t be certain. Anger, despair, sadness, desperation...she had been blocking her own emotions for a lifetime and could barely identify them anymore. That’s why Kara was different. For three years, she had made Lena feel every day, Lena being unable to build a wall strong enough to block out the girl of steel. Even after learning of Kara’s betrayal, Lena was helpless against the Kryptonian, and that absolutely terrified her. But not more than her dreams. And not more than the crestfallen look on Kara’s face. 

“You’ve given up.” Kara clenched her fists. “We have to save the universe, Lena, no matter the cost.”

“You are my universe, Kara!” Without meaning to, Lena marches up to Kara, their faces inches away from each other. So close together, Lena could identify the wet blanket covering Kara’s eyes, though it becomes obscured when her own vision turns blurry. She ignores the tears, though it’s harder to ignore Kara’s sharp intake of breath or the newfound proximity of their bodies. She presses on regardless. “Why do you think I did it all? I was told that my entire universe was a lie. The very foundations of my life were taken from me. The one thing that made me believe in people, in goodness, in myself...” Lena trailed off, giving up on keeping her composure. 

Kara’s lips began to quiver. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? Instead of pretending you were fine?” The words come out as a squeak, slipping between sobs. Lena scoffed, though it came out as more of a hiccup. “And have an honest conversation? How was I supposed to do that when we’ve never had one before?” Kara brings a hand up to Lena’s cheek, stroking away her tears with her thumb. Lena doesn’t have the energy to pull away, nor does she want to. The soft comfort in Kara’s eyes is like a gravitational pull, barely allowing Lena to blink. “I wish I had the time to apologize one thousand times over,” she begins, something laced in her tone that Lena does not have the capacity to hear. “If it took the rest of my life, I would spend every day trying to convince you how sorry I am. Call me an idealist, but, even if that life is cut much shorter than I thought it would be...I still hope I can.” 

Every piece of armor fell from Lena’s body in a single breath. She raises her hand and places it over Kara’s, leaning her cheek against Kara’s palm. Her eyes shut as she tries to stop more tears from escaping, having lost enough over the past few months. “Please, Kara. Please, fight this.”

Kara presses her forehead to Lena’s. “I promise, I will always fight for you.” Kara kisses Lena so softly that it could almost have been mistaken for the wind. Lena can’t help but react immediately, pressing back harder and searching for more. She needs more. Time is ticking in her ear, the air getting thinner around her, and her breath dissipating from her lungs. But none of it matters if she can keep Kara on that balcony with her - not even the entire universe vanishing. But too much has happened. The mixed taste of tears on their lips remind them of everything that has transpired in the past months, the conversations they haven’t had, and the boxes Lena hasn’t opened. Kara pulls back first, their eyes meeting and glimmering with all those unspoken words. Lena swipes her finger slowly over the cut on Kara’s forehead, but the intimate gesture combined with longing stares becomes too much to bear for either of them. Without a word, Kara steps away. She keeps her gaze locked with Lena’s as she walks backward, one, two, then three steps. Lena becomes aware of nothing else in the world but the space between them. Somehow, even after the last few months, Kara had never seemed further away. “How could you think I would want you to die?” Lena rasps. Kara begins to float, hovering underneath dimmed stars. “It’d be easier if you did. I wouldn’t have to say goodbye.” In an instant, she vanishes, and Lena is left alone with her despair and the words that were left in the air unspoken. 

I hope you enjoyed! I am so excited for Crisis - is it too much to ask for Kara to temporarily die and for Lena to be present? Maybe? Part 2

[theproblemsofdonhi]

cap.- 6

(”quotation marks” means we pass fron catra narrating to that scene)

The moment I realized where I was and how I looked, I was paralyzed.

And the sword... the sword fell from my hand. Before I even noticed it, I had returned back to normal.

"Catra was agitated. She was breathing frantically and her whole body was shaking. Her head jumped from thought to thought - h... how did I get here?! Someone saw me like that?!?! W-Where is Adora?? !! Nononono ... I don't know ... I don't know what  to... - all that information moved in her head like a swarm of bees, her ears began to buzz and the force of her feet was fading, it was mess.

Until suddenly, everything became clear. Without realizing it, Catra stuck her own nails in one of her legs.

 The pain became the new priority and thus, catra could focus. The mountains surrounding the center of the horde were still a two-hour walk away and there seemed to be no patrol on the surface of the ravines, Catra was still far enough  that they hadn't seen her. So she still had a chance to go home. "

Glimmer - we know you entered. But how?

Catra - Look. I may not be the best soldier there is. But even I know some protocols form the place I live in.

It could be a small patrol or a full squad that was returning from a mission. I just had to wait for someone to appear and take me.

Bow - why not just enter through the door. So serious was your injury?

Glimmer - No, what happened was our dear friend, the hordian, wanted to take the sword with her. And she couldn't do it without hiding it somewhere first.

Bow looked at Catra - I thought you didn't want anything with the sword.

Catra looked down in frustration - you don't understand. I did it for security.

Bow - whose?

Catra - mine! Of course. If Shadow Weaver was furious with me, all I had to do was give her the sword so that at least she wouldn't kill me.

"After spending half an hour waiting, Catra finally spotted a transport of supplies. Leaving the sword on the ground, away from sight, Catra got up and began making signals with her arms until the transport noticed her.

as it approached, Catra had already thought exactly what she would say.

When it parked, the pilot and a soldier went out to see the situation.

- Soldier, lucky we found you here, it seems like a serious injury on your leg -

Catra - That problem is for later. Listen, I wasn't alone in the woods. A friend got lost just like me, I thought I heard her in that direction - pointing towards the woods -

But with my leg like this, I can’t move very well. So please, go and check if she is  there.

Both, soldier and pilot exchanged confused looks, as Catra sat back down on the floor again. The soldier said - Well, the woods are right there and it’s just us here, I guess we don’t lose anything to check a little - while the pilot helped catra with the wound on her leg, the soldier pulled a small vehicle from inside the transport. in which both went to the entrance of the forests, as close as possible to the place that catra indicated them.

At the moment that both were no longer visible to catra, she got up immediately, her lie worked better than she expected. Now with an opportunity in front of her, took the sword and headed for the transport.

Searching quickly where to hide it, she end up put it in a tool compartment, as deep as it could be, behind all the other things there.

By the time both soldiers returned, Catra was waiting for them next to the transport - and well, did you find anything? - She ask pretending to be worried.

- No ... I'm sorry but we didn't see anything- one said.

- it's okay. I guess it's best to ask for help back in the horde - Catra said. - I'm going to travel in the back of this thing if you don't care -. The soldier nodded indicating there was no problem and Catra climbed back. Both went to the front of the transport. The engine started and now it was only a matter of time to return home.

passing the desert, entering one of the great ravines and finally stopping in a resupply hangar.

.

.

.

"- Hey, thanks for helping us land the leftover material - the soldier said to Catra.

Catra - well, I have to start returning the favor in some way. Besides, my leg is not SO bad - She joked reading the transport's identification number - Eh! What is supposed to happen with your transportation now? - She ask simulating curiosity.

- Not much, really. This one, for example, is stored in hangar 5 when we don’t use it.

Catra - oh... okay. Sounds... tedious. But. Nice to have found your partner and you... you… umm...

 - my identification number is G5 C614

Catra - yes ... I’m not gonna  remember that in my life. I'm going to tell you 14 nothing more.

- I guess that's fine for now-.

while they were talking, the pilot approached them running. he looked exhausted - hey men, we... we need to go back out there. we have emergency orders of going to a specific point -.

his partner responded - what? there was an attack or something? -

- I don't know, they never tell us nothing.-

The soldier turn back to catra and said - well i guess this is it for us now. I hope you recover well, soldier catra -.

Catra - And I hope you both don’t die in whatever your gonna do now.-

Catra walked away while both said goodbye with a gesture.

 Catra walked slowly to her sector in The Horde. passing by the big metal buildings, some patrols of soldiers moving together, the smoke of the factories in the air. All covered by black and scarlet clouds. When she finally reach the outskirts of the cabins, she notice that there was no one around the area - I guess it's time for training ... for everyone ... at the same time - She said when she saw the desolate scene. Upon entering the building, she found more of the same. practically nobody in sight, just a couple of soldiers guarding in the distance.

But in the end, after so much walking, Catra arrived at the door of her cabins. She took a moment to breathe before continuing. When he opened the door, she saw dozens of empty beds. Catra approached her’s - I guess Adora still doesn't come back - she told herself when she saw the drawings at the headboard, but before she could even sit down, She heard

 - Catra, I see you came back safe and sound.that’s good. You had us all very worried.

"Catra - Sh ... shadow weaver, what are you doing here?

S.W. - The same as everyone in the sector, looking for Adora and ... you.

Catra - That’s why no one is here?

S.W. - Correct, I can't let a recently named force captain disappear just like that.

Catra - That make sens...

S.W. - AND SO! I think we all benefit if you tell me where. is. Adora.

Catra - well to start, this was not my...

S.W. - NO! non. of that.  Answer the question.

Catra - the whispering woods.

S.W. - Why were you there?

Catra - Adora came out at night one day ago. I knew something could happen to her if she went out alone, so I followed her but, I couldn't stop her before she reached the woods.

S.W. - I see. So ADORA was the one who decided to break the rules of her home and leave the horde.

Catra - yes. That's how it happend. So ... I think the best thing we can do is, let me to rest a little and as soon as I get some strength back I can help find her.

S.W. - Then you didn't find adora after entering the woods.

.

.

.

Catra - ... no. I didn’t find her.

 Catra approached her bed again, supporting herself with the metal bars of this one, she went to sit down but, even before she got to touch the mattress, catra was motionless, her whole body was stiff as rock. Gradually the shadows that held her body become more visible.

- What?!! What are you doing, Shadow Weaver? -

S.W. - I know what it's like to blame others for your mistakes. I did that a lot as a child. It is called "an easy way out" for a reason.

- What are you talking about!!! I am telling you the truth!!!

S.W. - Your TRUTH is a little ... incredible, in the bad sense of the word. There is only one way to really know if you lie to me or not, my girl. And that will be when we find Adora. We, not you. Meanwhile, you will wait -.

 Catra turned her head towards Shadow Weaver - okay okay, let's not go crazy, okay? I know that what I told you doesn't sound like Adora, at all but, it's what happened. Do you want to clarify things? No lie? Good for me. Just... let me help you find her. And she will tell you the same thing that I just told you.

S.W. - But there is the matter, catra. If you're lying to me now, that guarantees me that you won't convince Adora to lie for you later. ”

.

.

.

Catra - I thought she would put me in a cell while they found adora ...

Bow - how nice of her not to do that.

Catra - yeah ...

 "Shadow Weaver took Catra to a small room in the building where the black garnet was stored. It had a bed, a toilet, a sink, a shower and a small radio lying on the floor. All lit by a dim green light.

- Here you will wait - said S.W.

Catra voluntarily entered the room, completely unimpressed by "the tremendous penance" in front of her - oh well. If this is what I have to do, to prove that I am telling the truth. I accept it - Catra said. "

Catra - it was fun while it lasted ... Until the doors closed.

 "- Well, I hope you don't have such a bad time, catra. - S.W. exclaimed as the door closed.

Now alone, Catra dropped the act. Her ears start buzzed again and her head began to spin - what happens if Adora telling her about the sword? that I lost it and that's why I also lostAdora. Nonono... ñm Adora could read the room, yes. She could lie as soon as she was asked what happened ... yeahyeah... no, the girl is too innocent for that.

What am I going to do now? - her eyes stopped moving erratically as soon as he saw his bandaged leg - very well, catra. Remember plan B. You did it for a DAMN reason. As soon as the door opens, we will use THAT “card” as best we can. 

Time began to passing, even if she wanted, she couldn’t sleep, her head didn’t let her. She didn't have much to distract herself with. nothing more than lying on the bed and moving the radio levers.

that thing only transmitted general information about the horde, patrol schedules, supply arrivals, "princesses bad, horde good", but suddenly after an hour all the signals began to transmit a single message - communications center, priority message is reported for Shadow Weaver, the force captain, Adora is back in the horde, I repeat, force captain, Adora is back -

Catra's heart began to pound faster. The time was approaching. But out of nowhere. The message was repeated - communications center, priority message is reported for Shadow Weaver, the force captain, Adora is back in the horde, I repeat, force captain, Adora is back - catra took the radio to see what It happened. She brought it to her ear while the message was repeated a third time, but it was no longer coming from the radio, But from the walls. The fourth time was different - Adora is back in the horde, I repeat, captain of the force, Adora has returned - the tenth was even shorter - captain of the force, Adora has returned - the twentieth hereafter was simply - Adora is back - catra knew it was SW Playing one of her games. She knew that old witch just wanted to mess with catra’s head, but knowing what it’s happening doesn't always make you invulnerable to it.

After two hours, Catra was about to smash her head against the wall. Every once in a while she shouted at the ceiling - EH Shadow Weaver I BELIEVE THIS JOKE LOST GRACE 500 ADORAS AGO! - although she received no response.

After 2 hours, the voices stopped and the door opened. Shadow Weaver found catra, with red and scraped knuckles 

- I see you had fun - said the witch.

Catra - who didn't you see me play your little game of voices ?? !!?

S.W. - Not really. I Just leave it repeating so you didn't feel alone. lets just go straight to the point, ready to talk, dear?

-

-

-

first - previous - next

[bubonickitten]

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path. 

Chapter 4 is up! 

Previous chapter: tumblr // AO3

Full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 4: description of a panic attack; blood & injury (within a dream); canon-typical worms; canon-typical horror/nightmare imagery (think MAG 121: Far Away). Also, some canon-typical scopophobia in the form of the continued presence of some unwanted and very rude eldritch tagalongs.

      Chapter 4: Interlude

      Calm down, Jon tells himself, quaking with panic. Breathe. Four seconds in, hold seven seconds, eight seconds out. Just –

  Wait. He has no body. He has no lungs. How – how is he supposed to breathe with no lungs? He can’t – he can’t –

  Stop, stop, stop – shut up and think about it, he reprimands himself.

  No lungs means he’s not hyperventilating. No heart means there are no palpitations. He still has a body, he’s just – disconnected from it right now. And even if he wasn’t, during his first coma he had no pulse or respiration, so – so there’s no way he’s experiencing the physical symptoms of a panic attack right now. He’s imagining it.

  Forget about breathing for now. Think about – think about the positives –

  His plan worked. Sort of. Yes, he’d hoped the rift would take him back to the very beginning – before he started reading statements to that damn tape recorder, before he’d started compelling answers without even realizing he was doing it, before Prentiss and paranoia and burned bridges and the Circus and Sasha and Tim –

  Oh, God. If he could have showed up just a few months earlier, he could have stopped –

  Stop, he thinks, imagining Martin talking him through his racing thoughts, like he used to do whenever Jon got like this. Think about what you can change.

  This is still an improvement on the future he left behind. The world hasn’t ended yet, and now he has an advantage that he didn’t have last time. He knows who Elias really is, what his plans are, and all the little traps that he set along the path.

  Jon can still stop the Grand Ritual.

  Okay. What else?

  He might not have been able to prevent Daisy from ending up in the Buried, but he can still save her, just like he did before.

  And he knows more about Peter’s intentions this time, knows about the Extinction and the extent to which Peter might be exaggerating its imminent threat. He… he can keep Martin from succumbing to the Lonely.

  …can’t he?

  Yes. Yes, he can. He won’t entertain any alternative. He knows Martin much more intimately now, knows himself more intimately. The first time around, it took Jon far too long to identify how he felt about Martin, to find the right word for it, to admit it to himself – and then, it took him even longer to confess it out loud. He was almost too late.

  There is the pressing question of how to approach Martin now. It depends on how soon Jon can wake up and how much of a stranglehold the Lonely has on Martin by then. Lonely or not, though, he probably won't be receptive to a love confession at this point in their timeline. From Martin's perspective, it would seem to come from nowhere. He wouldn't believe it. As difficult as it is to accept, Jon knows that he can't corner Martin with a declaration of love and expect to pick up where they left off. 

  But Jon also knows what words used to comfort Martin and how he liked to be held and where his boundaries lay. Jon had painstakingly learned the best gestures to convey his affection – how best to help Martin believe that he is loved, that he deserves to be cared for, that he doesn’t have to be lonely. Hopefully it will be enough. Hopefully those things are still true, present tense. And if they aren’t, Jon will unlearn it all and relearn how best to be there for Martin here in the past – present, now.

  Jon is feeling calmer already. Okay, good. Go on.

  This is before he started to actively hunt for statements. It’s too late for him to save the ones who came before – and even though they came to the Institute willingly, and even though he didn’t know at the time he took their statements that the nightmares were real, he still feels guilty about the nightmares – but now he knows better, and he knows he can stop.

  He will not take live statements this time. He won’t. It doesn’t matter what it does to him, he just – he won’t do it.

  Keep going. What about the others?   

  Jon isn’t sure exactly what the date is, but based on Martin’s visit just now - his last visit, Jon thinks with a pang - Jon is definitely too late to warn them about the Flesh attack. That means the Slaughter likely has a strong hold on Melanie by now - but if Jon can wake up earlier than he did before, maybe he can save her before she gets any worse. Maybe this time he can find a better way to approach the bullet situation. Maybe. She probably still hates him, but it’s worth a try.

  He can warn Basira about the true motives behind Elias' false leads. Last time, Basira felt like she had to carry everything on her shoulders, but maybe this time, he can give her the support she needs - if she lets him. Maybe this time he can earn her trust again. Maybe this time he’ll even deserve to be trusted.

  And maybe… maybe he can even salvage his relationship with Georgie – if she’s amenable, that is.  

  All of that is bound to be easier said than done, but at least it’s a starting point.

  Now if only he can figure out how to wake up.

      Time has even less meaning here than it did in the apocalypse. Jon can’t Know or even guess at the passing of time as he drifts aimless in the void. He splits his time evenly between panicking, talking himself down from the panic, planning, and sleeping. Or – something like sleep, anyway. It’s more like his mind just goes blank, and it’s – rather nice, actually. It’s the first dreamless rest he’s gotten in years, even if it is under such grim circumstances. 

  It doesn’t last, though. One moment he is nothing and nowhere at all, and the next he’s in a very familiar graveyard surrounded by very, very familiar fog. 

  So much for dreamless sleep, he thinks. A moment later, the muffled sound of crying reaches him through the mist.

  He waits, then, to be overtaken by the nauseating sensation of being puppeted. It was a familiar routine. The dream would string him along, stopping him before each victim in turn. He would be compelled to behold their torment, unable to flee or speak or even close his eyes. It never got any easier, but at some point it had become his new normal, and during his previous coma, after six months of the same endlessly looping nightmares, he did start to feel numb to it all.

  During the apocalypse, though, he didn’t sleep. He didn’t dream. There was no need, not when the nightmare was all around him and he could See all of it at every moment. A creeping sense of dread washes over him at the prospect of returning to this again every time he tries to sleep, and he realizes that the old numbness has worn off. He isn’t looking forward to cultivating it all over again – and he doesn’t know if he can take months of this nonstop a second time.  

  As he stands there lost in his own head, time ticks by second by second until finally he notices that he’s waiting for a compulsion that… doesn’t seem to come. It never takes this long for the dream to commandeer his body.

  Jon decides to take a step forward, and his legs surprise him by obeying. That’s new. He stares blankly at his feet until another choked sob, louder this time, cuts through the fog. He cautiously takes a step toward the sound, and then another, and another, expecting the entire time for the dream to rip his agency away from him again. It doesn’t. He finds himself at the lip of the grave, as usual – but for the first time, he came here of his own volition.

  When he looks down, he sees her sprawled at the bottom of her lonely plot, one hand scrabbling weakly against the earthen wall. The skin on her arms is pallid and covered in gooseflesh; her face is covered in dirt, but where her tears have eroded watery tracks down her cheeks, the skin underneath is ashen. She looks… grey, colorless, as washed out as the mist clinging to her. The moment she sees him, a soft, broken wail clambers up her throat.

  Naomi Herne.

  “Why are you doing this?” Naomi croaks weakly. It’s a refrain that Jon has heard time and time again, and he feels his heart clench painfully in his chest – or at least, a convincing psychosomatic simulation of it. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I’m so sorry, Naomi,” Jon whispers.

  They both flinch simultaneously. Naomi flings herself bodily against the wall and Jon jolts backward into thin air so abruptly that he loses his balance and ends up in a heap on the muddy ground.

  He’s never, ever been allowed to speak in this place. Years of apologies have sat heavily on his tongue, piling up and crowding his throat with every live statement he consumed, and never once has he been able to let them out. And more than that, it’s – it’s his voice. It’s not the Archive, it’s just… it’s just Jon. Staring ahead in stunned silence, he brings one hand to his throat and lets it rest there.   

  “I… I…” Naomi’s hoarse voice drifts up into the fog, confused and frightened.

  Limbs still trembling, Jon crawls over to the edge of the grave and looks down again. Naomi watches him, her eyes wide and pale and wet.

  “You… you spoke to me.”

  “I…” Jon clears his throat uncertainly. “I – yes, I – I suppose I did.”

  “You’ve never spoken to me.”

  “Yes,” Jon murmurs, massaging his throat again.

  “Why?” When Jon doesn’t reply, Naomi smacks her palm against the muddy wall of her plot and raises her voice. “Why?”  

  “I –” Jon shakes his head and tries to corral his thoughts into some semblance of order. The fog in his brain just might be as thick as the haze choking the cemetery. “This is the first time I’ve been allowed to speak.”

  “That’s not good enough!” Naomi shouts, rising to her knees now. “Do you realize – do you know how long it’s been, how many times I’ve been forced to sit here, watching you just stare down at me with… and – and how many times have I asked, how many times have I begged for you to just – just say something, or look away, or do anything else other than – than watch me?”

  “I…” Jon clears his throat again. “You gave me your statement on 13 January, 2016. I’m not sure what the exact date is right now, but – I think it’s December? 2017.”

  “Almost two years!” Naomi’s voice cracks. “I can count in double digits the number of decent nights’ sleep I’ve gotten in two years.”

  “I know,” Jon says quietly. “I know, and I’m – I’m so, so sorry.”

  Naomi looks like she wants to rail against him some more, but she seems speechless.

  The apologies are throwing her off. She wants to scream at a monster, and you’re robbing her of the opportunity –

  Jon had forgotten how strong the Knowing is in this place. He swats at the nearest group of eyes hovering around him, and the influx of information is interrupted as they scatter and fade out. Whether he successfully distracted the Eye or simply redirected his own attention, he doesn’t know, but either way, he finds the quiet – at least for the moment.  

  Naomi watches the movement with utter bemusement, then schools her expression back into defiance and suspicion. “So what changed?”

  “I’m… not sure, exactly. This is the first time this has happened, and…” Jon pauses, suddenly feeling self-conscious staring down at Naomi from six feet above. “Do you want –” He cuts himself off. He’s going to have to get used to dancing around questions again. “I can help you out of there. If – if you’d like.”

  “Why?” She sounds less incensed now, but fire still simmers just below the surface of the word.

  “I’ve – I’ve wanted to this entire time,” Jon says haltingly. “I did try, at first, when all of this started. I tried to reach down to you, but I – the dream has never let me move or talk or – or blink before.” 

  Naomi stares at him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “I don’t trust you.”

  “I… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

  Naomi falls silent. Jon watches her gaze flit nervously from eye to eye to eye as they blink open in the open air out of nothing and then pop out of existence again like soap bubbles, an endless shuffle of Watchers of varying sizes. The light they emit bounces off the water molecules in the air around them, illuminating the fog and bathing the entire area in a sickening greenish glow.

  “Here, let me try…” Jon trails off, closes his human eyes and focuses on shutting the others, hoping to make himself appear just a little less monstrous. At one point he manages to pare their numbers down to just a couple dozen before all at once several dozen more blink open again, every one of them immediately swiveling to fix him with a reproachful stare.

  He’s so preoccupied with glaring back at each of them in turn that he jerks when a hysterical giggle bubbles up out of Naomi’s throat. Now it’s Jon’s turn to look bemused. When his human eyes meet Naomi’s, she laughs harder. She still sounds tear-choked, but Jon can feel the fright draining away from her.

  “Naomi…?” Jon tilts his head slightly, brow furrowing in consternation.

  Naomi wipes tears from the corners of her eyes as she tries to catch her breath. “It’s – nothing, nothing. You just… you looked so put out, and it’s just – it’s hard to feel intimidated by a monster when it’s pouting like a toddler chasing peas around a plate with a fork.”

  Jon feels his face heat, and then suddenly a quiet, involuntary chuckle is clawing its way up and out of his throat as well. It’s just – the tenor of her teasing is so, so reminiscent of Martin.

  “Sure,” he says, his voice taking on the same teary-and-tickled tinge, “bully the penitent monster.”

  Naomi stifles another giggle and doubles over, shivering with the surreal hilarity of it all. Both of them stay like that for a long moment, fighting back the bizarre combination of tears and laughter. Jon can’t remember the last time he’s laughed like this, and the realization brings another swell of tears to his eyes.

  Eventually, Naomi stands on wobbly legs and rubs her eyes, carelessly smearing the moisture and dirt on her cheeks into a thin paste.

  “Well?” She stands on tiptoe and stretches one hand up toward him. “Are you going to help me out of here?”

  With a surge of gratitude – he’s being allowed to help someone for once – Jon stretches out flat against the ground and reaches down. A single eye sprouts uninvited on his palm and he scowls at it until it melts into his skin and out of existence. He looks back at Naomi, expecting fear and disgust, but she just looks fascinated and more than a little amused. When he extends his hand again, she reaches back. Their fingertips just barely brush and he scoots closer, head and shoulders leaning over the edge until Naomi’s clammy hand is clutched firmly in his.

  “Are you actually going to be able to pull me out? You don’t look like you have any upper body strength.”

  “Every day with the schoolyard bullying,” Jon sighs, reaching out a second hand to grip her wrist more firmly. She takes his cue and does the same, clasping his wrist with her other hand until it aches. “It’s a dream, Naomi. I don’t think physical laws matter much.”

  She begins to pull herself up, her bare toes digging into the wall as she clambers up. She slips a few times, and Jon grimaces as he takes more of her weight.

  “Seems like the dream’s decided your noodle arms are just as useless here as they are in the real world,” Naomi says with a strained grunt.   

  “Watch it, I might just drop you.” Jon panics as the retort leaves his mouth and he hastens to add, “I’m – I’m kidding, I wouldn’t – that was in poor taste, I’m sorry –”

  “I know,” Naomi says with a breathless laugh. “Are you always this awkward?”

  With one final burst of energy, she heaves herself upward and Jon shuffles back, pulling her over the edge until she has enough leverage to drag herself up the rest of the way. They both lay there for a few minutes, waiting for the adrenaline to fade.

  “Thank you,” Naomi murmurs shakily.

  “The least I can do, right?”

  “The absolute least.”

  Jon lets out a tired chuckle. When he realizes that one hand is still linked with one of Naomi’s, he starts to pull away, but she tightens her grasp and the look in her eyes turns panicked.

  “Please,” she blurts out and then looks away, embarrassed. “I’m – I’m not trying to make it weird, I just –”

  “It’s okay,” Jon says quietly, and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. We can stay like this for now.”

  Naomi nods gratefully. She still looks a bit mortified – the color is returning to her cheeks, Jon notes – but more than anything else, she seems relieved. They spend the next few minutes in a slightly awkward but mostly companionable silence.

  “I really am sorry, Naomi –”

  “You said.”

  “– but I don’t know how to stop this from happening.” When Naomi doesn’t reply, Jon continues: “I – I promise that if I find out, I’ll do whatever I can to stop it. I just – I wanted to say that, if this is a fluke – if next time we find ourselves here, I’m back to…” Jon hesitates for a moment. “Remember your anchor.”

  “My… anchor?”

  “The first time you got lost in the fog – think about how you found your way out.”

  “Evan,” Naomi whispers, and Jon nods.

  “Next time you find yourself here, if you’re alone, or – or if I’m… unresponsive, remember your anchor. And - and it doesn't have to be Evan, it can be anyone or anything that tethers you to the world you came from. I don’t know if it will lead you out of the fog in a dream – it might not even allow you to leave the grave – but it should… it should help you remember that you're not lost. That this is a dream, and you will wake up from it.” He swallows and closes his human eyes. “That the fog doesn’t actually go on forever, even if… even if sometimes it might seem like it.”

  Naomi is silent for a long moment before she speaks again.

  “Will you stay with me until I wake up?”

  “I – I – yes?” Jon stammers, taken aback by the idea that she’d want to willingly pass the time in his company. “Yes, if you – if that’s what you want.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Naomi says. She rolls her eyes, but it comes off more as indulgent than annoyed. “Keep talking?”

  Jon opens his mouth and closes it again. He’s never been a great conversationalist, especially with people he doesn’t know well, and it’s not like he’s had much chance to practice for… a long time. Not since he lost Martin. There was Helen, of course, but their chats were seldom rewarding, even before Jon was reduced to speaking in statements.  

  Apparently Naomi senses his struggle, because she fills the silence for him. “Do you have an anchor?”   

  Jon is glad of the assistance. Answering questions – that’s something he can handle.

  “Yes,” he responds, just a bit dreamily, fighting back a smitten half-smile. “Yes, I do.”

  Naomi raises an eyebrow.

  “I… can tell you about him, if you’d like?”  

  “Sure, why not?”  

  “Alright then.” Jon fidgets nervously; being open about this sort of thing doesn't come naturally to him. “Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding his anchor, and all the intricacies of being Seen.”

  “Wow,” Naomi says flatly. “I take it he’s the one responsible for changing you from an arrogant prick to a besotted puppy?”

  “He… may have had something to do with it,” Jon says, simultaneously fond and abashed. “He’s a poet and a hopeless romantic, and it may or may not have rubbed off on me. Now, do you want to hear this story or not?”

  “Definitely, but I reserve the right to make fun of you when you’re done.”

  “That seems like a fair deal, considering the past couple years.”

  “I think so.” Naomi gives him an expectant look. “Well? Go on.”

  “His name is Martin K. Blackwood.” Jon doesn’t bother holding back his smile this time. “The ‘K’ doesn’t actually stand for anything – he just, and I quote, ‘liked the way it looked’…”

  It doesn't take much prompting for Jon to start rambling about Martin, and it takes him a few minutes to remember that Jonah might be listening in. He hadn’t been planning on mentioning the apocalypse to Naomi, but he reminds himself to be careful not to mention any major events that haven’t happened yet, anything that might hint at his foreknowledge of Jonah’s plans.

  There is a risk of raising suspicion just by talking about Martin in such affectionate terms. At this point in his timeline the first time around, Jon was fully occupied with regularly having his life threatened – and then routinely, studiously refusing to process that ongoing complex trauma in any remotely healthy way. He didn’t exactly have the time or breathing room or emotional capacity to examine his developing feelings for Martin, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate the vulnerability of admitting it to himself, let alone to Martin. 

  But Jonah can’t always be watching them; he has to assume that he misses out on things from time to time. He probably won’t think too hard on mundane slice-of-life moments involving tea and poetry and debates about what criteria should be used to identify a good cow, as long Jon is vague about the time frame and contextual details of each story. He avoids explicitly putting a label on the nature of their relationship and tones down any particularly romantic interactions. In the end, he succeeds in sounding like he has a not-so-subtle crush on a coworker and is both too emotionally repressed to acknowledge it and too unobservant to realize that it’s reciprocated. (It’s… not a difficult act to pull off.)

  Jon manages to get through several non-incriminating anecdotes like that before Naomi wakes up. He hopes he’ll still have his voice the next time he sees her. It’s… nice, to talk to another person after so long with only the Distortion to keep him company.

  He stands and brushes himself off as well as he can, which isn’t much. Resigning himself to the drying mud clinging to him, he steels himself and prepares to continue his well-traveled tour of the dreamscape.

      Jon’s first stop is Dr. Lionel Elliott’s anatomy lab. Jon manages to snatch the apple away from him before either of them have to catch a glimpse of the molars hidden inside it, but it doesn’t stave off the bone-crunching contortions that always dominate this part of the dream. It takes Jon some very long, very painful minutes to talk Elliott down from his fear long enough to redirect the dream’s trajectory, and even longer to convince the man that he means him no harm.

  Jon does eventually manage to coax him out of the dissection lab and into the hall – (“I think sitting on the floor out there is preferable to staying in here with all the…” – and here, Jon gestures at the nearest blood-spurting heart) – but they don’t get very far into their conversation before Elliott wakes up.

  They’ll have to see each other again the next time Elliott sleeps, though. Jon can try again.

      Next up is Tessa Winters, sat at her computer. She nearly has the keyboard to her lips before Jon manages to reach her. In his haste to stop the dream sequence, he overturns the table and sends the entire setup crashing to the floor, yanking the keyboard away from her for good measure. Tessa promptly drops to the ground and makes a grab for the nearest shard of glass from the broken monitor.

  Unable to control her own body, she shoves the glass between her lips and crunches down on it before Jon can wrest it from her. When it slices into the roof of her mouth, an identical gash opens up in Jon’s, and soon both of them have blood running down their throats. As Tessa reaches out a shaky hand to snatch up another piece, Jon catches her wrist.

  “Tessa, listen to me – you don’t have to do this anymore.”

  The look she gives him is a perfect mix of enraged and terrified, and she tries desperately to pull away.

  “Tessa – Tessa!”

  Shaking her head frantically, she shuts her eyes tight, sending tears streaming down her cheeks. Jon chokes a bit on the blood still pouring freely out of the cut in his mouth. He can only imagine what a sight he must be right now: covered in mud, teeth stained red, all those hungry eyes looking on. He’s loathe to use compulsion, but…

  “Tessa, look at me.”

  She abruptly stops struggling and a glimmer of cognizance flares in her eyes. A moment later, she rips her hand away from his grip and backhands him across the face.

  I probably deserved that, Jon thinks. He puts both of his hands up in a nonthreatening gesture and leans away from her, giving her space.

  “What is wrong with you?” Tessa seethes. She spits blood onto the ground through her teeth, never once breaking eye contact with Jon. With his human eyes, he notes. “I’ve been having this dream for nearly a year and – and…”

  “You… know that this isn’t just a dream.” It isn’t a question; Jon already Knows the answer.

  “It’s a very lucid dream.” She’s clearly aiming for decisive, but Jon can detect the waver of uncertainty concealed underneath. Tessa looks away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a crimson streak painted across her skin. 

  “You don’t really think that, though,” Jon says gently. He could tell from the first time he met Tessa in her nightmares that she knew there was an element of the supernatural at play.

  “Then what? You’re – you’re secretly a monster in disguise, siphoning off people’s ghost stories? Feeding on nightmares like some kind of – what, dream vampire?” 

  “I…” Jon frowns. “I’ve never heard it phrased that way, but I suppose? Sort of? I mean I was – I was human once. When you first gave your statement, I hadn’t realized what I was becoming just yet. I was having nightmares like this, but back then I still thought they were just… bad dreams.”  

  “So why are you suddenly talking to me now?”

  “The dream has never let me talk before. Usually I don’t have control of my body, I just get piloted around and made to… well, Watch.”

  “And what, I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “No, I – not at all, I just –” Jon sighs. “I’m answering your question. The reason I’m just now speaking to you is because this is the first chance I’ve gotten to do so. I don’t intentionally bring you here and I wish it would all just stop. But…” He falters, struggling to get the words out. “But it is because of me that you’re brought here, and so I – I owe you an apology.”

  “Why?” Jon looks at her questioningly. “You’re saying you don’t bring me here, and that you didn’t know what would happen when you took my statement. So, what are you actually apologizing for? Because you feel guilty, and you think saying sorry will make you feel better? That’s not an apology, that’s a cop-out.”

  Jon’s first impulse is to deny it, but he stops himself, because that is the impression he’s giving, isn’t it?

  “I do feel guilty,” he admits, “but apologizing isn’t going to make me feel better, trust me. I’m sorry because… like I said, even if I didn’t expect or intend this specific outcome, it’s still because of me that you’re here. I need to take responsibility for that.”

  Jon gnaws on the inside of his cheek nervously, trying to organize his thoughts. Taking Tessa Winters’ statement was, in retrospect, a watershed moment for him. He had taken several live statements by that point, but all the earlier statement givers had made their way to the Institute independently. (Well, except Helen – Jonah had confessed that he was the one to lead her to the Institute – but Jon didn’t know that at the time.) Tessa was the first time Jon actively and knowingly brought someone to him – and he did it under false pretenses.

  It’s been eating away at him ever since that first nightmare they shared.

  “The forum post that drew you to me,” he says in a rush, “asking for statements.”  

  “What about it?”  

  “I’d never solicited statements before then. People would just come to the Institute on their own.”

  “And?” Tessa fixes him with an intense look. “What changed?”

  “Well, I… I had an ulterior motive in posting on tech savvy message boards specifically.” Jon picks at his cuticles, human eyes carefully averted from Tessa’s. “The laptop you helped me with, it belonged to my predecessor. I didn’t learn until after I was selected to replace her that she was murdered. It was an unsolved case, and I… I needed to know why. I thought, if I could get access to her computer, maybe there would be a clue somewhere.”

  “And if it wasn’t for that post…”

  “You would never have come to the Institute. You wouldn’t be here now.”

  A full minute passes before Tessa speaks.

  “Did it even help?”

  “Not as much as I would have liked, no,” Jon says with a short, humorless laugh.

  Tessa’s lips move wordlessly for a few seconds before she eventually snaps, “Why the hell did you feel like it was your job to solve a murder, anyway?”

  “It seemed unlikely that it would ever be solved – the police certainly didn’t seem invested in it – and I was worried that I would be next.” Jon rubs the back of his neck for a few seconds before twirling a lock of hair around his finger, tugging gently. What does it say about his life that he misses when things were as simple as a workplace murder? “There’s more to the story, but – suffice it to say, I was paranoid and stubborn and - and unstable, and people got hurt because of it.”

  The silence stretches between them for several minutes this time before Tessa speaks again.

  “I don’t forgive you.” Jon winces before he can think better of it, and Tessa continues: “But your apology is accepted.”

  Jon gives her a baffled look. “I… I don’t understand.”  

  “I can appreciate a genuine apology, and you seem sincere enough.” Tessa shrugs. “Sounds like you acted out of disregard for others, rather than out of malicious intent. Still not great, but I don’t think one action defines a person.” Her expression hardens and her voice turns firm. “But that doesn’t mean I have to forgive the action. And I’m not ready to forgive, not when I’m still living through the consequences. Maybe not ever.”

  “That’s fair,” Jon says, and he means it. “Especially since – well, I don’t know how to stop the dreams. If I find a way, I’ll do it, absolutely, but for now… I can’t promise an end to this.”

  Tessa makes a noncommittal noise.

  “I am hoping that I’ll maintain basic bodily autonomy going forward. That way, I can – I can try to intervene again, the next time you get trapped in the loop. I’ve done this a couple times now, with other dreams. So far, it seems that if the script gets interrupted, we can ride out the rest of the dream without the nightmare component.”

  “And if you go back to how you were before?”

  “Then I’m forced back into the role of Watcher, I suppose.” The thought of it fills him with dread, but he isn’t about to make Tessa process that with him, so he quickly moves on. “But – but I think maybe you don’t need me to break the script? It might be enough to just… memorize how you feel right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is the first time you’ve been here and still had control of your own actions. The moment you’re sat in front of that computer, you become a passenger in your own body.” Jon gives his hair another gentle tug as he hunts for the right phrasing. “Find something – a word, a gesture, a memory, anything – that you can associate with how you feel right here, right now. Something sensory, or at least simple enough that you can remember even when – when your thoughts start to disintegrate.”

  “'The angles cut me when I try to think,'” Tessa recites quietly. It sends a shiver up Jon’s spine, and he Knows it does the same for her.

  “It’s an accurate description, isn’t it?”

  Tessa gives him a suspicious look. “You can feel it?”

  “Yes.” Jon shifts uncomfortably at the memory of it. “Like having your consciousness shredded until everything is sharp edges and… and noise.”

  Jon can feel Tessa’s anger soften a bit, and he Knows that it’s not out of forgiveness. It’s because she feels vindicated, knowing that the one responsible for her suffering is at least facing the same torture as she is. She feels a twinge of shame over that feeling, he Knows, but even if she didn’t, he wouldn’t hold it against her. Honestly, he isn’t ready to be forgiven any more than Tessa is ready to forgive him.

  “Anyway,” he says, unceremoniously shoving the Knowing away, “breaking the association between the computer and the loss of control might be enough to snap you out of the usual dream sequence.”

  “Trick my brain with a bit of classical conditioning?” Tessa snorts. “That’s your advice?”

  “Just a suggestion.” Jon shrugs. “I’ve found it helpful from time to time.”

  “Alright then, Pavlov’s monster.”

  Jon gives an awkward little laugh. “Never heard that one before, either.”

  “I’m sure I can come up with more,” she says, and graces him with a very small, very tentative smirk. It feels remarkably like an olive branch – or maybe just the ghost of one. He doesn’t feel like he deserves even that.

  Tessa refuses Jon’s offer to stay with her until she wakes up, so he stands and takes his leave.

      Jon isn’t walking for long when the dreamscape shifts around him again. Rain patters down on the asphalt of a lonely road, stretching onward and outward with no end in sight. The harsh police lights refract off of the rain and the mist, the incessant bright flash sending a stabbing pain right to his temples.

  He drifts towards the coffin on autopilot, never once breaking his stride, and he throws the chains aside. Before he can think twice about it, he walks down those familiar steps, taking two at a time in his haste to get through this segment of the dream as quickly as possible.

  The instant the soil closes in around him, he reflexively calls Daisy’s name. It takes him three desperate shouts before he remembers with a sinking feeling that he won’t find her here. The coffin doesn’t allow for sleeping or dreaming, and it will be another few months before Jon can go in after her.

  As soon as he resigns himself to that realization, the earth falls away and he’s standing in a coffin of a different sort, watching Karolina Górka from across a sweltering, buckling train car. All around them, the twisted metal groans and strains under unimaginable pressure. Karolina does not respond to his explanations, his apologies, his offers to help, his questions. She simply watches him, as he used to watch her, and smiles, until the train car collapses in on her and the scenery fades.

  Next time, he tells himself, fighting back nausea and guilt. There has to be some way to reach her, and he has plenty of time to figure it out. Next time.

      When Jon finds himself in front of Helen’s door, standing solitary in open air, he’s half-tempted to fling it open, finally see where it leads in this place. He has to force himself to turn away – 

  Which, as expected, gives him a full view of the undulating carpet of ants. He scans the swarm diligently, watching it writhe and twist until he catches sight of a hand reaching out to him, and he lunges to grab hold of it. As soon as Jordan is free of the horde, he shrinks away in terror, and Jon can feel the way his emotions vacillate: gratitude, confusion, fear, suspicion.

  “This way,” Jon says urgently, trying to keep his mounting fear out of his tone and waving Jordan forward. Jordan looks hesitant until the incinerator door materializes beside them, heralding the appearance of Jane Prentiss. “Keep walking.” Jon's voice is definitely taking on a panicked edge now, despite his best efforts. “Don’t look at her.”

  Much to Jon’s relief, Jordan listens and hastens after him. In this part of the dream, Jordan has always stood there frozen, eyes darting between the Archivist and the hive, unable to decide which was the lesser of two evils. This time – for now, at least – Jordan seems willing to take his chances with Jon.  

  Jon, of course, can’t fully avert his gaze. Even as he walks away, a few mutinous eyes watch behind him, captivated by Jane and the simmering worms wriggling and tunneling through her flesh. Jane’s burning stare burrows into him like larvae, and he fights the urge to scratch.

  “Cover your ears.” Jon is careful to keep the compulsion out of his voice. Luckily, Jordan complies of his own volition – and not a moment too soon, as the hive begins to screech out its death knell only seconds after the words leave Jon’s mouth. He watches as Jane’s eyes liquefy and run down her cheeks. All the while, she screams and screams and screams until finally her throat crumbles to ash along with the rest of her.

  Jon stops then, bending over with his hands on his knees, trying to quell his trembling. Jordan nearly runs right into him, throwing himself backward at the last moment and hitting the ground with a grunt. He takes one look at Jon and begins to scramble away. Now that Jane Prentiss is gone, all of his terror can be directed at the sole remaining monster.  

  “W-wait,” Jon says, voice raspy. “I – I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Jordan stops moving, but continues to stare with wide, terrified eyes.

  “I know what I look like, and I’m – I’m sorry about that, I don’t have control over them.” Jon gestures half-heartedly at the eyes phasing in and out in the air around him. Their focus darts about in all directions, greedy and possessive and eager to See everything there is to See. Even just a momentary glance of their restless movements elicits a burst of annoyance, and he can’t resist once again striking out at the nearest grouping of them. They instantly dissipate and Jon turns his human eyes back to Jordan. “But I want to help.”

  “You’ve never helped before.”

  “I know. The dream wouldn’t let me.”

  “But now suddenly it will?”

  “Yes, and I’m hoping it stays that way. But – but if it doesn’t –”

  Before he can finish, Jordan flickers out of sight as his real body wakes. Jon groans in frustration. He would have liked to outline a contingency plan in the same way that he did with Naomi and Tessa, but… hopefully the next time Jordan sleeps, Jon can continue the discussion. 

  The eyes that he had previously banished pop back into existence one by one to his left.

  “I really, really hate you, you know that?”

  In unison, they all blink and reopen, slow and purposeful. He tries not to assign personality to them, but he can't help thinking that they look amused. 

  Jon swears, turns away from them, and kicks the ground uselessly. Hopefully Jonah isn’t watching this impotent little outburst, but just in case, Jon takes the time to glower up at the Eye looking down on him before he stalks off. It definitely makes him look even more like a petulant child, but at the moment, he can’t bring himself to care.  

      Jon paces feverishly in front of the door to the dissection lab, scratching absently at the back of his burned hand as he tries to calm his nerves. In one fluid motion, he reaches out to grab the door handle, then shrinks back again and runs his fingers through his hair with an agitated sigh. At this rate, she’ll wake up before he works up the courage to go in there.

  He reaches toward the handle again, but stops at the last moment and raps his knuckles lightly against the door instead. Knock-knock, his mind supplies, sending a chill down his spine.

  Even though he’s expecting it, he still starts at the answering, “Hello?”

  Jon steels himself and opens the door, and suddenly he’s eyes-to-eyes with –

  “Georgie…”

  The customary sadness and pity in her expression fade away, replaced by faint surprise.

  “Jon?”

   End Notes:

- JON GETS TO USE HIS WORDS AGAIN! Finally. (There will still be some more Archive-speak peppered in throughout later chapters, though.)

- I took some liberties with Naomi's and Tessa's characterization, since we only got an episode each of them + some glimpses of their nightmares in MAG 121, and Naomi was in the middle of grieving during her episode. Hopefully they don't come off as too OOC, but either way, I was having fun writing their dialogue like this, so I just kinda ran with it.

- The scene with Georgie was running long, so I decided to end it there and pick it up in the next chapter. (Chapter 5 should be ready by this weekend, hopefully.)

- Btw, it was very tempting to title this chapter “How Am I Gonna Be an Optimist About This?” because Bastille’s “Pompeii” has been stuck in my head for days now and honestly?? It's probably not a bad song choice for these first four chapters.

[from-the-clouds]

Everything You’ve Come To Expect -- Quentin Beck/Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A former employee of Stark Industries hides in solitude from her past, until she is forced to confront it years later. After all the time away, she realizes still hasn’t recovered from her heartbreak. 

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Listen, this isnt probably canonically accurate, but I’m convinced Quentin is still alive. This might be trash, but also...I might turn this into a mini-series if you’re interested. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

****

The nights were peaceful. Silent. In the middle of the wilderness, she could make out all the constellations, scattered across the sky like jewels in a display case. Every star was visible out here, she’d never been able to see them amongst the light-polluted sky of the city. And she was completely alone. This was how it was supposed to be.

So when she was curled up on her couch with a book, a fire burning in her hearth only a few feet away, eyelids heavy as she dozed off, the knock on the door startled her. Of course, she wasn’t completely alone. A mile down the road was her closest neighbor, and she occasionally had visitors. But she was far from her past, that was what mattered.

She approached the door with caution, and contemplated retrieving the old pistol she owned, just to be safe. But, she knew she was just being paranoid. After all, she’d managed several years of safety. Anyone still searching for her had given up by now. Right?

So when she opened the door, and saw the face of a man absent from her life for what felt like ages, she almost instinctively slammed it back in his face. But he reached out, stopping her.

“Wait, Y/N please,” he said. “Please, I can explain,” his hand gripped the end of the door, eyes pleading, voice cracking in desperation.

Questions spun through her mind, a million emotions stormed inside of her, and she decided to dwell on anger, annoyance. She couldn’t betray herself and allow anything else. “What do you want, Quentin?” she asked.

“Five minutes, please,” he said. “That’s all I ask, and if you want to send me away, you can.”

Her chest was heaving, she wasn’t expecting to see him ever again. It took a few breaths before she made her decision, even if she knew it wasn’t the smartest. With one hand, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Opening the door a foot or two wider, she jerked her head and he muttered apologies as he scurried past. She took a sweeping view of her front yard, satisfied when she could make out no other figures in the darkness, and finally turned to focus on Quentin.

What she hadn’t seen as he stood on the dim porch was apparent now. Face riddled with scratches and blood, hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot, all areas of his exposed skin now covered in bruises and marks. And despite all this, he was still horribly handsome.

“I got into some trouble,” his mouth twisted in a half smile, which disappeared quickly as she crossed her arms.

“Clearly,” she said. “And at whose expense?”

“No one’s hurt. I promise.” He shook his head. “I need your help, Y/N.”

Over the years, she’d made a point to avoid the news in general, but particularly anything involving Quentin. It was too painful. To her relief, she’d never heard much about him anyways. But based on how he looked right now, he clearly was up to something. No good, she suspected.

“Sit down,” she instructed, eyeing the bruise forming at the corner of his eye. She was still weary, and could hear it in her voice. “Let me get you something to drink, we’ll clean you up a little bit.”

She cursed under her breath the moment she entered the kitchen. What was she thinking, letting him into her home like this? Where was her resolve? She’d thought after all these years she’d built up a resistance to not become a complete idiot if he’d ever come back into her life, but she hadn’t expected him to show up looking like a kicked puppy, defeated and tired. All she wanted to do was comfort him. And she was angry with herself for being so empathetic, so desperate.

When she returned to the living room with a cup of tea, first aid kit and an icepack, Quentin was walking around the perimeter of her living room, taking in the minimal decorations, peering out her front window. The cabin was small, and rundown when she’d first bought it, but she’d worked hard renovating it over the years, until it finally felt like a home. She cleared her throat and he jumped with a start, closing the curtain that looked out to her front yard, and giving her a weak smile.

“I made you tea,” she said flatly.

Quentin approached her with some hesitance, until she finally sat down across from him on the couch. Her hands tangled together for a brief moment in her lap, rubbing the base of her ring finger absentmindedly. She eyed him carefully, every detail and fine line of his visage. Not much had changed, though his features may have become a bit more defined. Full lips she once drank from with unbridled fervor, deep blue eyes that had first captured her own in stolen glances at one another across the lab. It was still him.

Then something occurred to her. Without a second thought, she reached out, pressed her hand to the center of his chest, and felt him, warm and solid under her touch. “So it’s really you,” she said. “You’re not playing tricks on me.”

Quentin swallowed hard, his hand grasping hers as she moved to pull away. His touch was firm and steady, though his palms were rough. “I’d never do that. Not to you.”

The technology she’d helped him create, what had caused all this in the first place. He’d never used it to take advantage of her, to trick her. If anything. His first experiments had simulated sunsets on a Carribean beach, the quiet solitude of a moss-covered forest, and rolling, green hills covered with flowers. Anything he thought was romantic that he could dream up, he took her there. And she knew, before she left, that he didn’t have the best intentions, but he was right about that. He’d never used it to manipulate her.

And she wasn’t sure if it was better that he was really here or not, his hand wrapped around hers, his fingers now threading through the spaces in between her own. If he pulled her closer, she wasn’t sure she could resist him.

This isn’t the man you fell in love with. She forced herself to remember. After they’d gotten fired from Stark Industries, he’d changed. He was distant, vengeful. It was a slow change, slow enough that it took her awhile to realize what his intentions where. Ultimately, he’d broken her heart. He’d hurt her. And she ran.

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, frowning when she saw the golden wedding band on his ring finger. Recoiling in disgust, she pulled back, released him. Quentin removed the offending object as she opened her mouth to object. “It’s not real,” he said. “I promise you, it was all a part of the plan, I forgot to take it off.”

Studying him carefully, Y/N narrowed her eyes. His hand had come to rest on her shoulder, he was leaning forward, closer to her than she wanted for ideal focus. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t lying. He’d always been a bad liar. Well, convincing to others, but never to her. “It’s not like it matters, anyways,” she stated bluntly.

Quentin’s jaw clenched at her words, and Y/N was startled by how good it felt to see him hurt, even if it was just for a brief moment. Because within the next few seconds, she was lifting the icepack to the side of his face, gingerly pressing it against his eye, placing his hand over top it. “Keep that there.”

She didn’t want to ask questions, despite how quickly they were firing through her brain. So she worked in silence, cleaning the cuts and bruises on his face and body. It was clear he was tired. He hunched over slightly, undereyes puffy and eyelids drooping, even though he kept a steady gaze on her as she worked.

“Well,” she said, once she was finished.  “We have a lot of talking to do, but I’d rather do it after a full night’s sleep. You can stay in my spare bedroom.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she answered. “But you need rest.”

Quentin rose from the couch alongside her, followed her down the hall to a linen cabinet, where she retrieved a couple towels and some oversized clothes that would likely fit him. “Take a shower, go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Quentin nodded as she gestured to the spare room, which he entered, hesitantly moving to close the door behind him. When she turned her back, she was surprised to feel a hand clasp gingerly around her upper arm. “Y/N,” he said. “Thank you.”

Turning her head, she looked at him over her shoulder. He was expectant, waiting. “You’re welcome,” she muttered.

“It’s….it’s really good to see you,” he said, hesitant. He was looking at her again, his eyes warm and insistent. And she couldn’t tell if he was manipulating her, or being honest. Somehow, sincerity would be worse, she thought. She was angry.

But she was mostly frustrated with herself.  Because the easiest thing to do would be pitch herself into his arms, nuzzle her face in his neck, let him tell her it would all be okay. Why was that easier than pretending she didn’t care? To act cold? It was delusional. She’d so desperately wanted things to work between them, she had her whole future planned out with him. And it was pulled from underneath her. And all these years had apparently done nothing to quelm how badly she still believed things would work out.

****

Quentin stared at the door long after she’d closed it. There was a solid chance he wasn’t doing the right thing. But despite her cold, he knew he couldn’t be vulnerable, or at home with anyone else. Though he wasn’t quite ready for everything that was associated with seeing her again.

She’d left him suddenly. With almost no explanation. And he had been angry, for a long time. But now he was beginning to think he hadn’t understood before. Maybe it had been harder to cut herself away than she’d made it seem. Tonight, she’d appeared conflicted. And she was still beautiful as ever. And sweet as ever, despite her clear reservations.

He needed a place to regroup, rethink. Coming here was probably not the solution. If anything, it only complicated his current situation. But now, he wasn’t sure if he could take himself away. After all these years, maybe he deserved to be selfish.

Part II

[slamsams-blog]

Dr.No - #24WeeksofBond

#24WeeksofBond continues this week with the first ever James Bond film under the leadership of Harry Saltzman and Albert “Cubby” Broccoli who would form Eon Productions to produce the James Bond films.  Hollywood was skeptical about the films and didn’t want to make too much of an investment in it, saying that the novels were too British and sexual.  When they finally got the green light to produce Dr.No, they were only given 1 Million dollars...can you imagine that?  It takes 10 times that to shoot a rom-com these days.  Well even back then, 1 million wasn’t all the much to make an action movie - and it shows.

There’s only so much negative you can say about this movie before you start sounding ungrateful or pretentious.  It’s hard to really shit on Dr.No since this would be the start of a franchise that will last 57 years and counting.  The longest Hollywood franchise ever all starts here with this stripped down, methodical, detective thriller that brought Sean Connery into mainstream heights.  Cary Grant was the man who was the strongest choice for the role, however he was only willing to commit to one film and they needed someone who could provide a bit more staying power.  In walks Sean Connery.

Connery was a relatively unknown at this point, he had a few roles on stage and in film but landing the role of 007 was Sean’s breakthrough.  He went from “oh yeah that guy” to household name in two hours (or whatever the run time is for this film).  Ian Fleming was originally against the casting of Connery but quickly changed his mind after how much of a commercial success Dr.No would become and started to work Connery’s Scottish heritage into the character in the novel “You Only Live Twice”.  

So here we are, off to the races in 007′s first ever adventure to Jamaica where he will go and stay.  Usually with the Bond films they are shot in multiple locations, but with the budget they had - they shot everything in Jamaica and in the famous Pinewood Studios.  Dr.No isn’t what I would call a high octane, action adventure.  The film itself is quite dull and slow, but it is more about the mission than it is about the stunts and the gadgets and the cars.  This is a straight up detective drama.  MI6′s contact in Jamaica goes silent, so they send Bond down to Jamaica to find out what happened.

First of all, this opening is just so 60′s, I love it.  No pre-title sequence that will start to be a tradition come the follow up film “From Russia With Love” so it opens with the gun barrel sequence that Connery’s stunt double films right into this psychedelic light show that makes you feel like you’re raving at Studio 54. (Not sure if thats the right time period for that reference, but oh well).  We see a man named Strangways get shot and killed followed by his secretary.  Now Bond is on the case.  But first we are taken to the local casino where we will meet Bond playing his favorite card game.  Connery looks so good here, and delivers his first “Bond, James Bond” line to perfection, complete with cig hanging out of his mouth.

Right away we get a sense that James Bond is as smooth as butter and takes a lovely lady named Sylvia Trench to the cleaners with the game they're playing.  He charms her and they become a thing.  But after that, Bond is now on the mission in Jamaica.  We come to find out after Bond’s great police work that there is this island named Crab Key that people on the island are scared of and rumors of a Dr.No running the island like a camp.  Bond’s ears are perked up and he is curious.  But everyone who gets a little too close to the island ends up dead.  Naturally Bond finds convincing Quarrel (John Kitzmiller) to take him there.  Quarrel tells the story of a dragon that lives on the island and Bond rolls his eyes.

While Bond is on the trail, there is a few attempts at his life.  One right away when he arrives in Jamaica and a man posing as a driver takes him in his car.  Then he finds a freaking tarantula in his bed while he’s sleeping and Bond get sweaty with fear.  Bond finally defeats the spider with some very intense shoe squishes.  Then there is another “car chase” on his way to ladies house.  This car chase is so hilarious.  You can just tell Connery is doing everything he can to simulate a car chase in front of a green screen with wonderful uses of his facial work.

Bond manages to avoid all the attempts on his life and finds his way to Crab Key with Quarrel’s help.  Here Bond meets Honey Ryder (Ursula Andress), an explorer & orphan who loves wildlife and is very guarded, strapping herself with a knife to protect her seashells.  I love Honey Ryder, she’s sexy but also has a dark past that doesn’t allow her to get close to anyone and is untrusting of anyone.  I guess that’s just what Crab Key does to you.  Bond’s crew is complete and it’s now time to get this Dr.No fellow.

This is where the movie finally picks up a little when the “dragon” or tank that shoots fire kills Quarrel.  Poor Quarrel.  Bond and Ryder are then brought to Dr.No’s office where they will dine and be softened up.  This is where we finally meet Dr.No (Joseph Wiseman), The character that partially inspired the Dr.Evil character in the Austin Powers movies.  Dr.No reveals that he is a member of SPECTRE, a name Bond has never heard before, and little does Bond know that SPECTRE will soon be a big ole pain in the ass for him.

What Dr.No is doing is toppling missiles by use of a beam in an effort to control the airspace and use it to extort countries.  So Bond kills Dr.No because that’s not okay.  But in doing so he has made it so the whole place is going to up in flames.  They escape and the place explodes!  Now apparently the studio got an extra 100,000 dollars to finance this explosion shot.  It was worth it, because that is the big climax that they were building towards.  I think It paid off.

I mean, that’s about it...Dr.No set the bar for what the essence of Bond is, a charming and confident detective who is damn good at his job.  While this film lacks in crazy fight scenes, and plane shoot outs, and remote control cars, it is meant for the viewer to just get to know who James Bond is.  From Russia With Love will then raise the bar when it comes to action, while Goldfinger sets the standard all Bond films from then on will have to live up to.

If you like a Dragnet sort of pace in your detective movies, then Dr.No is the film for you.  I have all the respect in the world for this movie, but it just doesn’t do it for me as a stand alone film, and that’s my take.

What did you think?  Let me know!

24 Weeks of Bond will return next Monday with - 

The World Is Not Enough

[fanghuas]

Part 1

For @schweeeppess, though it’s gotten away from the prompt a little bit.

If Tim had had any lingering doubts about whether Jason was telling the truth or not, seeing Dick and Bruce would have been enough to convince him. They were both waiting in the Cave, out of costume, in casual workout clothes, along with Alfred, who was the only one who looked mostly unchanged. In a way, Tim was glad to have that constant.

Dick looked older and wearier, although he flashed a grin Tim's way the moment he saw him, and had a much more sensible hairstyle than Tim remembered. Bruce...Bruce was Bruce, but even he was susceptible to growing, little as he liked it. The lines on his face were more pronounced, and there was a new weight resting on his shoulders.

The Cave was changed to suit its inhabitants too: equipment upgraded, things moved. Still, being there, seeing them – it felt like homecoming.

They examined him for further injury and asked questions to determine the extent of his memory loss, and Jason recounted what had happened during the mission that Tim didn't remember. From the way he described it, Tim got the sense that Jason worked independendly from the rest of them, though he wasn't sure why. And he didn't fail to notice that Jason always referred to him as Tim, never his field name. More and more questions arose.

He sat through his checkup patiently. He got the gash in his head and his bruises looked at, and Dick gave him civvies to wear that didn't feel like his style at all but apparently were his, and was declared healthy, amnesia aside. He made for the Batcomputer, hoping to finally get some things in order, seeing as no one had looked too enthused to answer his questions, and got stopped by Bruce with a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You should get some rest,” Bruce said.

Tim smiled his no-need-to-worry-about-me smile. “Let me get up to speed first, okay? I promise not to stay up reading unsolved case files.”

“You've never made that promise and kept it in your life,” Bruce returned, tone fond. “But no, Tim, I don't think that's a good idea. You've already had a stressful day, and it's too much to take in at once. It would be best to allow your memories to return naturally and gradually.”

Tim bit his lip, resolving not to sound as scared as he was, and asked, “But how do you know how long that'll take? Or even if they'll return at all? Bruce – what if I never remember? You can't just keep me in the dark.”

“And I don't plan to,” Bruce reassured him. “If it really looks like we can’t fix this, we'll fill you in. But in most cases like yours the amnesia isn't permanent, and many start to recover memories a day, even an hour after their injury. We've got time yet before we need to worry.”

“It's been over an hour,” Tim said, feeling petulant and far too young.

He was, what, seventeen now? But he didn't feel it. He ought to be acting like an adult, and yet here he was, whining about something he couldn't change. But wasn't that the point? Who he remembered being and who Bruce and all the others knew now were different people. He needed the information, or else how could he hope to act like himself at all? And how long could he hope anyone would tolerate this regressed version of him?

“And we'll see what we can do to jog your memory tomorrow,” Bruce countered. “We have options, Tim, just – all I'm asking you is to give yourself some time to recover on your own.”

“I just –” Tim shook his head. “What if nothing works? What if I'm stuck like this and you don't –?”

He cut himself off. And you don't want me anymore, he meant to say, but he was aware of how pathetic it sounded. He'd made himself needed, and that was enough, and even if his memory wasn't recovered, he'd just have to find a way to be useful again.

Bruce sighed and ruffled his hair. “You know what was the first thing I did after Jason called me to explain the situation? I called J'onn on the League line, asked him if he could help, as a failsafe.”

Tim swallowed and glanced away. That was a lot, considering how unwilling Batman was to ask for the League's help under any circumstances, even if it was his own life on the line. It filled him with gratitude and hope.

“And he can?”

“He can,” Bruce confirmed, “but he says restoring all your memories at once would be overwheling. He agrees that waiting for them to return on their own is the best course of action, but if we become convinced that they won't, he can simulate the process by restoring them bit by bit.”

That sounded like a lot more trouble than anyone should have to go to for Tim, but it was a solution. A guarantee. Tim closed his eyes and breathed out in relief.

“Thank you,” he murmured, wanting very much to hug Bruce. But even if that was the sort of thing they did, surely he was too old for it now.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder, and in a way that was their version of a hug. Tim leaned into it, grateful to have this much.

“And now, rest,” Bruce declared, nudging him gently.

“Do I...” Tim trailed off. “Do I still stay in the same room?”

“Of course, Tim,” Bruce said, something odd in his voice. “It's your room. I thought...I thought you knew that, even back then.”

“Oh,” Tim said. “Okay. Okay. Thank you.”

And he turned on his heel before he could do something embarrassing, like tear up or actually go for the hug.

Tim's room was much changed. The way he remembered it, it was like any other guest room, with the exception that some of Tim's things had migrated there over time for convenience. He stayed there for convenience, when his parents were away. Bruce didn't like the thought of sending him back to an empty house, and Tim could get much more Robin work done that way, saving the trip, small as it was.

And if he liked sitting in the kitchen and watching Alfred cook in the mornings, eating his breakfast there despite there being a dining room, Bruce joining them on the days he could get up before noon, sipping his coffee and asking Tim about school, so what? And what if it was easier for him to focus on his homework if he was in Bruce's study, whether the man was away or quietly working, the both of them sitting in silent companionship? It didn't matter.

But that was then, and apparently, this was now: a lived in room, with photos taped to the wall over his bed, and a poster, a closet full of clothes that Tim didn't even remember owning, his old school bag buried in the bottom, a disorganized bookshelf and a messy desk. Standing at the doorway, Tim felt a pang of longing in his heart, because somehow this was all his, except not quite.

Bruce had told him to rest, but Tim couldn't resist the opportunity: he turned the room upside down, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Neither his phone or his laptop were there, and Tim suspected that Bruce had confiscated them with full knowledge that Tim would use them to sate his curiosity otherwise. The biggest clue were the pictures: some he remembered taking, from his days of watching Batman and Robin, but there were so many more, so many people he didn't know in them.

Dick, Bruce and Alfred were in many, Jason in a couple, and another kid, a little younger than him – no, younger than he had been – that Tim didn't recognize, but he looked remarkably like Bruce, and with Jason's words about a biological son earlier, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. So many others that he didn't know, often appearing in groups, sometimes with Tim in the frame as well. He looked happy in them.

In the end, Bruce was proven right: by morning Tim discovered that his memories were starting to return. It would have caused him to rejoice, if one of the first things he remembered wasn’t his parents’ death. Facts and feelings came back to him all at once: he remembered his conflict, he remembered mourning, and he knew that it had happened long ago, but his grief was fresh as if he'd just lost them.

He hadn't thought to be afraid for them, not really. He was so anxious about the things that could have happened in the time he was missing, but it hadn't crossed his mind that something might happen to them. Why would it? They were civilians. They were out of Gotham more often than not. They weren't supposed to get caught up in this mess.

Tim knew they hadn't been model parents. He couldn't say he was going to miss them, because when hadn't he? But it felt cruel and unfair, because they had still been his, and he'd loved them, and he'd never quite stopped hoping that one day he would know they loved him too. And now they were just...

He didn't want to feel this way. He'd done his mourning already, he'd made his peace with it. Was it going to be like this with every memory he recovered? Just feeling all the pain and anger and helplessness all over again? Because if that was the case, maybe he didn't want them.

He supposed it explained why he lived in the Manor, at least. Tim wanted to kick himself for not seeing it. How else would it have happened? Present or no, his parents wouldn't have just shrugged their shoulders and given custody to Bruce Wayne. He still didn't remember how exactly he was taken in by Bruce, but it made more sense like this, didn't it? The man did have a penchant for swooping in and adopting orphans.

God, he shouldn't think that way. He was hurting and didn't have the full picture. Bruce wouldn't have done it out of pity. Tim had always made it perfectly clear that he could take care of himself. It wasn't Bruce he was angry at, though, it was himself. Because he'd wanted this, hadn't he? To be part of Bruce's family. And he'd jumped at the opportunity, even if it came at his parents' death. How messed up was that?

“Not the full picture,” he reminded himself with conviction he wasn’t feeling.

The tears came without warning, and Tim put a hand over his mouth to muffle a helpless sob. He curled in on himself, with an arm around his knees and his back to the wall. He had still been in bed, debating getting up or going back to sleep, when the memories came crashing in. All he wanted to do now was to pull the blanket over his head and stay there until he remembered anything that would make this right.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly went south: all too soon, there was a knock on the door. Tim went still and pretended to sleep, evening out his breathing as best as he could. The door opened with a gentle creak, and with eyes half closed Tim watched as Dick stepped inside, quietly as not to wake him up.

Dick adjusted his blanket and ruffled Tim's hair. And it was so stupid, because Tim had managed to get himself under control, but it was that simple gesture that made him start crying again. He pressed his lips together and tried not to make any sound, but he failed miserably.

“Tim?” Dick asked, alarm in his voice, hurrying to sit down next to him, “Hey, buddy, what's wro–?”

He would be embarrassed about it later, but Tim launched himself at Dick wordlessly, wrapping his arms around Dick and clutching his shirt. Through his surprise, Dick managed to hug him back, murmuring comforting words and rubbing his back. Tim sobbed in relief.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back, “I just – I'm –”

“It's alright,” Dick assured him. “Tim, what happened?”

Tim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Did Bruce adopt me?”

Dick frowned. “Yeah, he did.”

“After my parents died?”

“Oh,” Dick said gently. “You're starting to remember. I'm sorry that this is what you got back first, little bird.”

“Dick, I just don't know what to think,” Tim murmured. “It feels so wrong. My parents were dead, killed, and I just shrugged it off and went to live with Bruce? What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Oh, Tim, no,” Dick whispered. “It wasn't like that, okay?”

“How am I supposed to know what it was like!” Tim snapped, anger flaring up without warning. “No one's telling me anything!”

Guilt flickered across Dick's face. “I'm sorry, you're right,” he said. “We just didn't want to overwhelm you. But I think now I can risk answering a couple of questions, how about that?”

“Bruce won't like it,” Tim said sullenly.

“Maybe,” Dick agreed with a shrug. “But it's common knowledge within the family that none of us listen to him anyway. Because you are a part of this family, Tim. It didn't happen overnight, you didn't just move in the day after the funeral. You have to keep in mind that you had time and space to come to terms with your parents' passing that you don't remember yet. You're here and they're not, and there's nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone.”

Tim wished he could believe that. But maybe the other him, the one who had all his memories, maybe he did.

“Thank you,” Tim said, and then, “This doesn't qualify as one of the questions. In case you're keeping count.”

Dick laughed. “I can't answer everything, but I will do my best to make this easier for you.”

[yfere]

Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E61!

The week of…missed opportunities? Setup for future romance? It feels like some threads have been left dangling, hearts held suspended, and points do best with closure. We’ll see what happens in the following weeks. Masterpost here.

From Viewers Like You: Our fourth Battle Scene Intern has been guillotined for missing an additional +2 to Fjord/Caduceus for Fjord loving Bane (as do we all) and an additional +4 to Beau/Yasha for Yasha’s jaw dropping at Beau’s holy fists

But now for this week. Without further ado…

+2 (??????????????) to Beau/Yasha. The +2 is for Beau hearkening back to the Birth of Beauyasha and getting Yasha to very happily pick her up and use her as a stage (Body Contact!). The rest of the attempted point gains were rendered impotent—Beau begins a necessary dialogue about Yasha being a survivor which falls on unwilling ears, and there are point losses for Yasha brazenly lying to Beau (and the rest, but Beau was the one asking) about what she was up to the previous night. Just wanted to get a lay of the land? Just wanted to go outside and see some things? This girl is not ready to open up, poor thing.

+3 (???????????????) to Fjord/Caleb as Fjord also channels Yasha’s dream-lying energy at Caleb, who just wanted to know if he was okay. But perhaps it’s proof of compatibility that Caleb responds by also lying about totally being asleep. Point loss for Fjord and Caleb for separate reasons being very against Fjord accompanying him and Beau to the Marble Tomes Conservatory. Point gain for bothering Fjord with Frumpkin, because that cat is the avatar of Caleb’s affection—being in Frumpkin’s mere presence will gain you points if you’re careful with them. Caleb also generally being a worrywart in Fjord’s direction, all “Are you able to make the trip back?” and “Is your friend a god? IS UK’OTOA A GOD PLEASE ANSWER FJORD”

+6 (???????????????) to Jester/Fjord as Fjord channels his Magic Enthusiasm in her direction, complimenting her scrying all “that was impressive” and asking her a billion and one questions about how it all worked and also was she SAFE, was she SEEN while doing it? Jester giving Wursh the Stare of Doom because you will suffer if you aren’t nice to Fjord, and agreeing that Fjord has a very good heart. Fjord pretending he doesn’t know what’s going on with the Bodo skit which is a transparent lie, he absolutely does know, because he advocated for it in the first place before he was cast. And Fjord is all agreeable “I’ll follow your lead” until Caleb gets +5 to Cockblocking by making it a group thing, which all of a sudden seems “excessive” to Fjord, Mr. Pro Embarrassing Bodo In The Most Extreme Way Possible. Points not really gained for the performance itself, as in spite of Nott’s attempted Wingman, Jester does not kiss Fjord. He said he would follow her lead though. He said. Points taken away for Fjord point blank refusing to convert to the Traveler (I thought you LIKED religion now, Fjord) and calling the idea of following Jester instead a “pyramid scheme.” Fjord…

+10 to Beau/Avantika as Beau continues to gross and creep out absolutely everyone with her fixation on wearing this dead pirate woman’s clothing and being very grossly pleased that said clothing “still smells like her” like dear god, they should have just let Beau sleep with the woman from the beginning, this is unbearable and disturbing.

-50 to Fjord/Uk’otoa Which needs no explanation. Uk’otoa is a bitch.

+9 to Caleb/Jester as Caleb is perhaps an even bigger fan of the embarrassing pornographic show than Beau and Jester, going wayyy over the top in his spellwork and with his Announcer Voice and dancing around for this event. He did turn himself into one of the Bodos to match with Jester’s Lorna, and channels Beau Shipping Energy when he offers to not become a disciple to the Traveler, but a disciple to Jester. Is one of the people most willing to defend the Traveler in general and believes Jester’s account of him—though he’s also a worrywart in her direction about the upcoming TravelerCon. Jester and Caleb getting cute over how she could scry on him at any time (is Jester channeling Scanlan Shipping Energy? Gods forbid), and a lot of smiling at Jester’s new outfit. Jester, for her part, being extremely interested in Caleb’s measurements. “Good to know!” she sings, and if we’re lucky one of these days she is going to get a fancy dress tailor made for the wizard.

+9 to  Beau/Jester as Beau pulls Jester aside specially to confess all her nerdy shenanigans to. Wanting to hold onto the fabric, but then trusting Jester with it, because she’s Jester. Being more effusive than Fjord even in her praise of Jester’s scrying. As usual being a perfect chaos causing partner and on Jester’s wavelength with comedic porn, also getting a +4 to Beau/Dramatic Reading as she narrates Bodo’s letter for all the mine workers to hear. Jester being distressed that Beau woke up after her massage, she was supposed to sleep and relax!! Fond reminiscing over how great that day was when Beau was nearly strangled to death by a rug (???) Point loss for Beau implying that the Traveler may have been manipulating Jester into friendship by “appearing” as a child to befriend.

+4 (??????????????) to Fjord/Self Acceptance as he pretty easily rolls with Nott’s “half a man” jibes (because he is literally half man) with a “that’s true” and also chilling out about Wursh’s earlier “runt” comment, saying it’s “apt,” considering the company he was in.

+6 (??????????????) to Caleb/Caduceus as Caleb aims a very specific kind of smile in Caduceus’ direction when Caduceus says “I thought I’d wait until evening to start bending the laws of reality and nature.” Now who else do we know that likes bending reality??? More smiles while suggesting Caduceus do the Thaumaturgy for Beau—and Caduceus was chosen to be one of the Lornas in the play, after all. Caleb also very emphatically getting the withering staff for Caduceus but more importantly going nuts for the blade (presumably also for Caduceus) despite the Attempted Cockblocking from Beau and Nott, who sort of thought gems might be a little better than a broken blade if they could get tats out of them.

-1 to the M9/Professor Waccoh (including Beau) Stop squeezing her balls, guys! Despite Caleb’s attempts at damage control, multiple failed attempts to negotiate additional favors and reading time from her left her in a bit of a mood by the time they left. Yet that mood could not possibly match the black pit of despair that was Caleb after another -5 to Caleb/Books.

+10 to Caleb/Cat Shaped Creatures for epic Cat Person animal handling to get Jannick back (and scritch him under the chin, of course)

+4 to Caleb/The Zemnian Struggle because “granularly” is really fucking hard to pronounce in Common. He must instead use some circumlocution, that mainstay of second language learner existence.

+5 to Jester/Yasha for HUGS and Jester pointing out that Yasha seems to have kind of an aggressive god down her throat. Immediately after Fjord suggests revenge, suggesting they murder Yasha’s entire tribe in retaliation for what happened to Zuala. Jester will throw hands with ANYONE who messes with Yasha, whether it be god or man.

+15 to Nott/Yeza she takes him on library dates and carries him across the threshold! Yeza’s perpetual worries over Luke and terror with their situation sort of puts a damper on things though, and Yeza himself gets +10 to Cockblocking because he’s always fucking asleep when Nott wants to bone.

+10 to Nott/Jester because up until Fjord entered the picture, Jester was all about simulating sex with Nott in public. And Nott is also all about that, until Straight Brain kicks in and she tries to get Fjord in as a replacement. But!! Nott is still crushed to Jester’s bosom in the play. Nott also saying she’s interested in meeting the Traveler!!! She and Beau are now neck and neck for Most Likely To Convert For Love, seems like.

+25 to Nott the Best Detective Agency/Detective Work for Jester’s clutch scrying spell and perception in finding out about the Crawling King (assisted by partners Beau and Caleb). Nott’s detectively instinct in following the case above to the exclusion of all else, wanting to “Figure out what the fuck is going on” before leaving the Dynasty, like the mystery addict she is. If you continue to dangle cases in front of her, she’ll never leave. Nott and Jester do not actually gain points for so quickly hopping on conspiracy trains about horses having Zadash accents and all of the memory gaps in half of the party being connected, but they are good at brainstorming together, nonetheless.

+2 to Fjord/Detective Work for finding the Overcrow, when Caduceus failed to lead another exploring session. Point loss for failing to convince the proprietor to divulge additional secrets, even though she had a very obvious crush on him. (+0 to Fjord/Moira also). 

-5 to Caduceus/Every Single NPC as coming off of the high of the Giant Situation the man grows too complacent and is too distracted by the proper placement of his hands to properly sweet talk passerby into telling him the right direction to go.

+35 to Essik/Being Extra because when you’re a magical prodigy, apparently you are Too Awesome for rain to dare touch, and common ground is unworthy of being trod upon by your feet.

+2 to Jester/Essik for snagging a hug from the most Extra of the Dynasty’s wizards, with sheer force of personality.

+1 to Jester/Wursh for continuing to be LOUDLY appreciative of the man’s abs

-10 to Fjord/Splitting the Party as he tries half a billion separate times throughout the day to be alone, and is thwarted every time. Is not allowed to roam freely even after he dodges the library trip, is tailed by Yasha when he tries to leave the apothecary front gracefully, is watched over by Caduceus when the rest go into Wursh’s shop, preventing him from fleeing the scene.

+3 to Fjord/Caduceus as Caduceus is Fjord’s first instinct with Mask of Many Faces. Not many point gains from the epic stink eye of suspicion Caduceus aims in Fjord’s direction at his off kilter behavior and accent slippage. However, making use of the romantic force that is Fjord to acquire what turns out to be lube from an apothecary?

+10 to Yasha/Revenge “Well, I think about that every day” says this soft and gentle barbarian of theirs. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” she says, at the thought of butchering the entire tribe for what was done to her and Zuala.

+2 to Caduceus/Free Will as he’s apparently one of those compatibilists who believe in destiny/determinism and free will at the same time. Maybe. Who knows what goes on in his head.

+10 to Fjord/Visual Metaphor. What’s the saying? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush? That’s sort of Fjord’s entire life, in that one illusion.

-30 to Caduceus/Clarity. When even your deity, the being that knows you better than most others in this world can’t understand what you’re saying, you have a problem.

[wrenarrior]

Your Guide to Death

The following is a work of fiction. You have been warned.

△ preface △

Congratulations!

Now that you are 13 years old, you are officially old enough to begin practicing the death ritual.

Before we go into great detail about the ritual itself, it’s time to lay down some background information. First of all, you may be asking yourself: “Well, what is death? Why should I care?”

Well, to give some context to why you should care, everyone is going to die. The world has existed before you were here, and the world will continue to exist until the end of time itself.

And no, unlike the movies, it is not an empty void of nothingness. To even perceive an empty void of nothingness, you would need a point of reference. Death means no point of reference.

So, there would be no “you” to perceive the lack of nothing. The “you” that is reading this right now will be wiped clean from the slate, almost as if you never even existed in the first place.

Are you beginning to envision the depth of what this means? Maybe you’re starting to panic, too. We understand. Confronting our own mortality is not something that’s easy for us humans to do.

So, that’s why we’re here to help you out. If you follow this guide word-for-word, you will be ready to die peacefully and completely. Because you know what they say, life is very fragile.

On the bright side, though, most of you won’t have to deal with the effects of death for many, many years. After all, you’re only 13. These days, the average human lives until around age 80.

While there is plenty of time to prepare for death, starting early is important. The earlier you think about and prepare for your own death, the more prepared you will be to leave this world.

Now, without further ado, let us begin exploring the process of the death ritual.

△ mechanics △

The death ritual consists of three major phases: costume, decay, and complete erasure. While these three phases will not always happen during a person’s death, they are good for practice.

1. Costume: When one begins of age and is ready to start the death ritual, it is important to buy the right costume to prepare. In small shops all around the country, you may be able to find the proper mask and sleeping attire. Prices usually run between $500-$1000.

2. Decay: With the proper costume on, you must lie back in your bed, clearing your thoughts as much as possible. Your mind will naturally go to sleep mode, but as soon as it detects the presence of the costume, special hormones are released, simulating death. This phase may be painful for some, especially when one is a beginner, so be careful.

3. Complete Erasure: The pinnacle of the three trials. It is only possible to gauge the success of this phase from an outside perspective. You, of course, will feel nothing, do nothing, and be nothing. From your perspective, when you awake, it’ll be as if no time has passed.

If you experience any side effects during your death ritual, please consult a mortician. In some rare cases, it has been discovered that a person has died without being aware of their own death. We call these cases “technical glitches” because their death does not follow the proper protocol.

On the other hand, it is normal to experience mild hallucinations while in the “complete erasure” stage. Our science may not be perfect, but we aim to bring you as close as we can to the complete death experience. If these hallucinations persist for a long period of time, let us know.

While it is recommended to perform the death ritual every single night, it is okay if you only do it 3-5 nights a week. A regular check-in with a doctor about your plans for death is a healthy alternative to these rituals as well. Being aware of your own mortality makes life easier to live.

△ acceptance △

By this point, you’ve either accepted that you’re going to die, or you’re trying to convince yourself that none of this even matters. Well, those who avoid accepting their own mortality often report a lower quality in life. So, yes, accepting that you’re going to die is essential.

Some of you may be wondering why it’s important or how to even accept your own mortality. And because we know it may be a difficult thing to process, we are here to help you with it.

First off, read the following sentence aloud ten times:

“I am going to die, and that is okay.”

Taste the words in your mouth. Feel the meaning. Let it sink into the deepest parts of your mind. Think about how important it is for you to understand this core concept. How essential it is.

Have you accepted it yet? If not, keep repeating that sentence. Repeat that sentence as long as it takes you. Repeat it in the classroom. Repeat it while riding the bus. Repeat it in the shower.

After a while, the words will become second nature. When that happens, you will no longer need to repeat them. The words will become a part of you. The words will become your new truth.

And that, my friends, is the first step towards accepting your inevitable death.

△ grief △ While it may be years before many of you will be personally affected by the impact of death, it’s always best to prepare for such things well in advance. After all, you will have only one death.

But you will experience many more deaths of the people around you. Therefore, having some pre-knowledge of the grieving process and how to prepare for it will make your life much easier.

(Side note: By possessing this book, you forfeit your right to sue us if your loved one dies during the death ritual. We hold no responsibility for the chemical makeup of the death ritual costume.)

In this modern era, the grieving process has simplified to three basic steps. Forget everything you might have heard of the so-called “five stages of grief” because those are woefully inaccurate.

Step 1: Jealousy. While you have to continue to go through the death ritual night after night, your lucky loved one had the honor of participating in the real thing. And now, they no longer exist.

Step 2: Guilt. After realizing your feelings of jealousy, you feel vast amounts of guilt. So much guilt that some nights, you begin to wonder if you were the one that led them to their death.

Step 3: Acceptance. You come to accept that death is a natural part of life, so you put aside all your negative feelings, focusing only on the peace that comes from the death ritual. You live on.

Compared to before, our obsession with death has grown more and more. There are entire industries dedicated to every step of the way. So, naturally, our feelings have changed, too.

It is completely normal to not follow the three-step-guideline, but nowadays, it is socially acceptable to do so. If you follow any other path, you may be closely monitored for your safety.

Those who die by suicide are said to suffer the most in their last moments. However, the outcome of death is the same for everyone, regardless of if you were a good or bad person.

In the end, we will all be wiped clean from the Earth, sprinkling matter everywhere. You may be asking about souls, but we haven’t been able to conduct research to prove the existence of them.

So, settle in and enjoy the long wait until your death. You could even turn it into a game. It’s common practice for large families or friend groups to bet on who would end up dying first.

△ closing note △

In conclusion, all things must come to an end, even this lovely guide which you have treasured so dearly. At some point or another, you must learn to say goodbye to the things you love most.

Through this guide, we have taught you the essentials of the ritual, how to accept your inevitable demise, and how to process your feelings when your beloved friends and family members depart.

If you would like to learn more about the whole process on a deeper level that goes beyond the scope of this introductory guide, please look for Your Guide to Death: Extended Version online.

We hope we’ve been able to help you find peace in your life because, spoiler alert, there is no afterlife for you to look forward to. Have a nice day and enjoy the rest of your meager lives.

[November 2018]

[our-happygirl500-fan]

Inspired by @golden-redhead  Again series.

Kaito doubted anyone would call him a patient person; it wasn’t like he couldn’t be patient or didn’t know how to wait he’d been patient lots of times! When he was a kid there was a stray dog that wouldn’t even let him near it but after a few weeks of bringing it food and showing he wasn’t a threat it had eventually let him pet it and play with it until it became comfortable enough around Kaito that he managed to bring it home and make it the family pet, after begging his grandparents to let him keep it…

Though he guesses that technically might have never actually happened.

But he’d been patient with his sidekicks! He thought latching on to the memory that he *knew* was real, that he knew was his or as real as any memory made in virtual reality could be. He’d been patient coaxing Shuichi out of his shell waiting for the shy detective to open up and have confidence in himself, he’d been patient with Harumaki waiting for her to let him in, for her to trust others.

Kaito Momota knew how to be patient but that didn’t mean he liked waiting, what was the point of waiting for things to happen when you could go out and make your dreams a reality now? Why wait when you could do something?

But sometimes he thought with a sigh there was nothing you could do; sometimes waiting was your only option.

Absentmindedly he gently held the hand of Kokichi’s unconscious form almost scared that the action would shatter the smaller boy. It was hard to think that Kokichi was really here finally out of that damn pod even if he was technically still unconscious.

He wouldn’t have to wait much longer at least

He had died among the stars, finally reaching the goal he’d dreamed about for so long his heart filling with exhilaration and contentment as his lungs filled with blood and thoughts of pride and worry and hope for his sidekicks and guilt and thoughts he couldn’t shake for his rival? Partner? Whatever the hell Ouma was to him in the end mixed together in his head swirling like galaxies as he coughed and coughed until he finally closed his eyes the view of the universe being the last thing he saw…

And then he had opened his eyes to neon blue and green.

It would be a complete and utter lie to say he had anything resembling to coherent thought at the time, and honestly it was a bit of a blur from his disorientation of dying and coming out of the simulation. He remembers the confusion and even some anger though as he thrashed about as doctors and nurses swarmed him almost as soon as he opened his eyes shouting out lists of vitals and medical jargon and trying to see how aware he was of his surroundings at that moment as they tried to calm him down.

He’s pretty sure he punched one of them before he was injected with a sedative and fell back into unconsciousness. He hoped he had punched one of them.

When he had woken up again they’d explained everything to him, that everything was fake, that it was all a lie and virtual reality and a damn show that he’d fucking signed up for. He didn’t really like thinking about the feelings he felt when he learned that, before he tried to force his mind to think about, to focus on literally anything else.

“So Ouma’s alive?” Was the question that was the first thing that came out of his mouth after they had finished explaining everything to him no thought going into it as he asked. He wasn’t really sure why Ouma of all people was the first person her asked about… But it made sense to check; if Ouma was alive that meant that Kaito hadn’t actually killed someone right?

The doctor he had been talking to looked slightly surprised for a second before schooling his expression “none of the participants have actually died as I’ve explained Ouma Kokichi included” the doctor told him and Kaito felt something close to relief at the information.

Ouma was alive; part of him couldn’t believe it and part of him desperately wanted to. “Can I see him?” Kaito found himself asking part of his mind not truly being able to comprehend the idea of Ouma being alive; not when he could still smell the familiar, metallic scent of blood that was everywhere in the hanger unable to escape it even in the exisal leaving him unable to tell if it was Ouma’s or his own, not when the sounds of his screams nearly drowned out by the hum of the hydraulic press still rang out almost constantly in the back of his mind. Maybe if he actually saw Ouma and talked to him about all this the screams in his head would finally stop.

He wanted to talk to the liar anyway regardless of his own guilt just to hear the other boys opinion on all this; the smaller boy always seemed to figure out more than the rest of them, always seemed to know more than he would let on after all and after what happened in the hanger part of Kaito thought that he was probably more qualified in dragging out whatever the liar was thinking about than anyone else.

Something unreadable flashed through the doctors eyes before he shook his head at Kaito’s request, the astronaut feeling disappointment settle in his gut almost immediately not really listening as the doctor blathered on an answer “I’m afraid I wouldn’t recommend seeing anyone at the moment since you’ve just woken up and we want to check that everything is completely alright” the doctor continues talking but Kaito’s honestly not really listening anymore at this point, despite apparently sleeping for so long in a virtual reality pod he’s still tiered and he barely has the energy to thank the doctor and watch him leave before he drifts off into unconsciousness once more.

He wakes up nearly an hour after that for the doctors to run more tests him noticing that their thoughts seem to be slightly distracted he finds out why a few hours later when someone knocks on his door and a familiar face he thought he would never see again pops in.

“Hey, the doctors said you were cleared for visitors,” Kaede Akamatsu said walking quickly followed by Chabashira. Despite everything that he had been told seeing them both here and alive was jarring he almost couldn’t believe they were real.

As if sensing his thoughts Akamatsu gives him a knowing smile “I’m real this isn’t a dream or a hallucination I can offer to pinch you if you want?” Kaede offers jokingly and Kaito finds himself spluttering at being so easily read her smile becoming a bit more obvious.

“Kaede-san you don’t have to reassure him that we’re real and besides if he does need convincing Tenko can always flip him,” Chabashira offers causing Kaito to let out and indignant protest as Akamatsu hides a laugh behind her hands, part of Kaito makes note of Chabashira’s use of first Akamatsu’s first name but that’s not really important at the moment.

“…How…” Kaito tries to ask not really sure what he’s asking but still feeling the need to start a conversation and say something.

Akamatsu’s smile almost turns bitter as she responds “I was one of the first to die remember? I’m pretty used to greeting people who saw me die by now,” Akamatsu half heartedly jokes though resentment is clear in her voice, Chabashira looks at the other girl worriedly before sending a glare Kaito’s way as Kaito puts his hands up in a placating gesture and resolves to fix the situation.

“Hey Akamatsu mind telling me what’s been going on? I’ve been stuck in this room and these doctors are kind of useless,” he says rubbing the back of his head nonchalantly.

That seems to do the trick as the dark look drains from Akamatsu’s eyes and she nods as she pulls up a chair to sit at his bedside. “Sure! So what do you know?” Akamatsu asks after a moment of silence and Kaito just shrugs in response.

“I know it was all fake and virtual reality if that’s what you mean but I don’t really know how the others are doing, you two are the first ones who aren’t doctors running test results that I’ve seen since I woke up. Kaito explained as Akamatsu nodded in understanding.

“Well it’s kind of over now, they had the last trial and everything apparently they’ll pull out the ‘survivors’ soon.” Akamatsu told him and Kaito decided to ignore the almost condescending was she had said survivors to focus on another part of her sentence.

“The games over?” Kaito said his voice a mix of disbelief and hope while Kaede gave him an almost sad smile.

“Yeah, Shirogane was the mastermind… turns out I didn’t actually kill Amami-kun as well…” Kaede trailed off her eyes clouded over with a number of different emotions and seeing the other girls distress Chabashira immediately jumped in to explain to Momota everything that had happened and how Shuichi and the others had ended these damn killing games for good.

Kaito wanted to voice his pride in everything his sidekick had done but seeing the emotions barely visible on Akamatsu’s face he decided that the best thing to do right now was distract her, he didn’t know how long she knew that she had been unfairly executed for a crime that she didn’t commit but with everything now finally over there was probably a lot to think about so Kaito decided to distract the her with various small chat and conversation the three of them all talking until Hoshi came to collect the two girls saying they should probably let him rest.

The first people Kaito went to see as soon as he was allowed to leave his room were the survivors, nearly everyone had gathered in the little communal area the hospital had provided for them to greet the survivors who had just been informed of everything that had happened, they were all talking to Kiibo who lived on a computer now which was kind of weird but it was great to see him Amami seemed especially excited to see Kiibo apparently his AI was created by one of his old classmates in the last season, which was another weird thing to think about.

When the survivors came in, it was a full-scale emotional reunion Chabashira running to Yumeno before the smaller girl even had a chance to walk through the door the two of them hugging and crying before anyone really knew what to do, Angie seemed to be the one to move back into action first cheerfully moving forward to greet the magician only for Yumeno to hug her as well as soon as the artist was in range.

Smiling slightly at the scene Kaito raised his hand to grab the other two survivors attention calling out to his sidekicks “Hey! Shuichi! Harumaki!” he called and even over the clamor of the other students he could hear the sharp intake of their breath and he couldn’t fight the smile on his face as their eyes lit up at the sight of him and rushed towards him.

Maki surprised him slightly by hugging him but he wouldn’t complain as he ruffled Shuichi’s hair before returning her hug, he congratulated and complimented them both on everything they’d done, he really was proud of them. Everyone spoke and talked and caught up and it really made a knot settle inside Kaito’s stomach, it was really over and they were all by some miracle together again.

Well not all, Shirogane wasn’t there thank fuck, after all she had helped to put them through if the astronaut never saw her again it would be too soon.

There was only two things that kept the moment from being perfect because despite nearly everyone being back together again Akamatsu and Ouma were no where to be found.

After making up some reason to excuse himself and a brief search he found Akamatsu hiding out by the back staircases, sitting on one of the steps looking deep in thought.

“Hey you’re missing the big reunion in the game room,” he told her catching her attention and announcing his presence as he sat down next to her, he watched as she seemed to try and suppress a grimace before giving him a friendly smile that felt slightly forced.

“I… I don’t know how good I’ll be there I mean I didn’t even really last that long you know?” Akamatsu told him fidgeting with her hands trying to ignore the slight frown that was forming on his face.

“Shuichi would want to see you,” he told her earnestly but that might have been the wrong thing to say as she flinched at the mention of the detective.

“That’s… kind of what I’m worried about…” Akamatsu began to explain hesitantly. “Saihara-kun was nice… but we only really spent a few days together we don’t really know each other you know?”

Akamatsu let out a hollow laugh as she finished explaining while Kaito rubbed the back of his head almost awkwardly.

“Yeah but you two have a chance to get to know each other now,” he offered trying to sound encouraging while Akamatsu simply shrugged.

“Maybe,”

The pianist began to look slightly lost in thought again so Kaito decided to sigh loudly to snap her out of it “geez, you’re really moping over here over something like that?” he complained rubbing the back of his head “you and Ouma are hopeless hiding from everyone”

With everything that had happened in the game Kaito understood why the Supreme Leader might have a hard time seeing everyone again, the little liar had put them all through a lot of shit but now everything was over Kaito at least kind of understood why Ouma did what he did which meant he wasn’t going to let him just hide away he had a lot to make up for to everyone after all!

At the mention of the supreme leader Akamatsu’s head sprung in his direction so quickly he was worried that she might hurt her neck “wait has no one told you about Ouma?” Akamatsu asked her voice full of disbelief and worry.

“Told me what?” he asked giving her a confused look as he tried to ignore the dread welling up inside him.

Ouma would have probably made fun of him or called him naïve for thinking everything was over just because the game had ended. Logically he knew that things wouldn’t end so neatly, that this wouldn’t be some typical happy ending where everyone rode off into the sunset like in an ending of a movie; they all still had a long way to go. They still had to go through physical therapy after being asleep in those pods for so long, there was also trying to convince their bodies that they hadn’t actually died their minds too in a way they’re all dealing with issues and problems the game left them with but still in spite of all that those were all things they just needed to overcome.

They were out of the game! They were safe! Well, almost all of them anyway.

Kaito wondered if this was a trend for Ouma his own brilliant mind and plans making his life harder than anyone’s should be, from what Kaito had seen it probably was.

Despite kids literally signing away their identities and literally having their personalities and memories erased replaced with identities made to be tortured and traumatized in a killing game Team Danganronpa had apparently been incredibly proud about how ‘safe’ their killing games were.

After fifty-three seasons they’d all but perfected their virtual reality bullshit and were constantly monitoring the health of the shows participants and were able to pull someone out of the simulation almost immediately after they died. Executions were despite how awful they could be were ironically the safest route the staff knowing exactly when and how that student would ‘die’ and were prepared to pull them out and with victims with all their surveillance they could see the death and murders coming and could plan around that. The most risky was instantaneous death but the brain itself may not really know how it died and so it was easy to bring a student back from that.

He should have expected Ouma Kokichi to be an exception to every fucking norm.

Thanks to Ouma setting off one of Iruma’s electro bombs no one knew exactly what happened in that hanger only Kaito and Ouma themselves and Kaito wasn’t going to tell anybody what happened, it seemed too personal, too vulnerable though he wasn’t sure who that vulnerability applied to himself or Ouma but it didn’t matter he just… didn’t really want to talk about it with anyone. Maybe he could talk about what had happened with Ouma one day but right now Ouma couldn’t talk about it at all so it was pointless.

Since no one could see who died in that hanger they had no idea who to pull out, it made sense since Monokuma hadn’t known who was in the exisal if they had been able to pull Ouma out when he had died then they would have known who was the victim and who was the culprit and they could have just informed the ‘motherkuma’ AI and their plan would have been pointless.

It was kind of amazing how effective Ouma’s plan really had been when you thought about it.

But since Ouma hadn’t been pulled out his brilliant mind hadn’t been protected from the sensation of dying and so his brain was convinced that he was dead, not just any death too dying of poison and then crushed by a hydraulic press he remembered one of the staff saying how it had been a worse death than anything the people who designed the executions could have thought of.

Kaito didn’t even bother trying not to flinch when he had overheard that conversation.

It had been three weeks since the game had ended and Ouma Kokichi was the only one who was still in his pod, he still hadn’t woken up. Kaito wondered not for the first time if he was going to turn out to be the only one in his game to have actually killed someone.

Between group therapy and everything else they all had to deal with Kaito always made time every day to visit the pod room and sit by Kokichi’s pod hoping that today would be the day that the smaller boy finally woke up.

How long he stayed by Ouma’s side would vary depending on the day sometimes he only stayed for a few minutes not being able to find himself able to look at how small and fragile the supreme leader looked underneath the glass of the pod so different from the sheer presence that he had had during the game while sometimes Kaito would find that he had lost hours just sitting by Kokichi’s side.

He wasn’t exactly sure why, because Ouma and him had worked together as partners at the end or something else? He really wasn’t sure how to explain it but he just felt like he *had* to be there when Kokichi woke up, he had to see with his own two eyes that the supreme leader really was alive.

Sometimes he just sat there in silence almost like he was standing watch over the other boy in his sleep but lately he had been talking to Kokichi, telling him about everything that was going on and how everyone was doing and how his day had been. He’d read that talking to coma patients could help them wake up and at this point Kaito was willing to try anything. He had no idea whether or not Kokichi could actually hear him but it felt oddly nice to just tell him about his day.

Occasionally Amami or Akamatsu would join him in his waiting and both Iruma and Gonta had cornered Kaito to ask how Kokichi was doing; the astronauts daily ritual wasn’t exactly a secret but for the most part Kaito’s waiting was almost kind of a private thing between Kokichi and himself, the doctors and scientists that would work in the pod room simply fading into the background.

That was why he was so surprised when nearly exactly two months since the game had ended he had walked into the pod room to see Harumaki sitting by Kokichi’s side glaring at the liar with an uncertain look on her face.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it honestly everyone knew that Harumaki and Ouma hadn’t exactly gotten along so seeing her visit him was strange but it wasn’t as though Kaito was going to stop her from visiting it wasn’t like she was going to do anything bad after all.

“Hey Harumaki! Here to keep my company today?” Kaito asked taking a seat next to her. Harumaki almost jerked slightly as if she hadn’t noticed his presence until he announced himself to her which went to show how deep in thought she must have been, she almost seemed embarrassed having been caught as she played with her hair a muttered out a half hearted ‘do you want to die?” causing him to chuckle slightly to himself letting his gaze wonder over a bit to Ouma’s pod, they were all done dying, Kokichi just needed to wake up.

He wasn’t sure what to say since when he brought his gaze back to Harumaki she looked conflicted her eyes staring at some far off spot deep in thought so he let her work out whatever she wanted to say, he knew she’d tell him eventually. They sat in silence like that for a bit before she finally spoke up.

“Do you really think he’ll wake up?”

At the question Kaito found himself sitting up straighter almost defensively, “oh course he will!” if Harumaki wasn’t taken aback by the slightly the almost harsh tone of voice towards her then she was by the flicker of regret that flashed across his face.

Ouma would wake up, he had to. But with every passing day it sometimes felt harder and harder to believe that the liar would wake up. But Kaito had to believe he would someday, had to hope that Ouma would eventually get out of that pod.

He had to believe that Kaito didn’t really murder him.

With his own feelings that drove him to visit Ouma being so complex that Kaito doubted he could ever put them into words, he’d never really asked Maki on why she would sometimes sit with him in his watch over the smaller boy.

But after nearly a week or so of joining him while visiting Kokichi she did give him a brief idea.

That day had been like any other with him being slightly surprised to see Maki already watching Kokichi the same uncertain look on her face that she always did as Kaito sat down next to her simply acknowledging that today was one of the days Maki joined him.

They sat in silence for a while until Maki decided to break their routine by finally saying what had been on her mind. It was just a question, both somehow too simple and too complex for Kaito to let out more than a slightly pained noise as she asked it.

“Why didn’t he just let us die?”

The question obviously seemed to make Maki as uncomfortable asking it as Kaito felt hearing it her hair becoming increasingly unkempt as she fiddled with it, when he offered her no response she continued.

“I… I didn’t want to think about it… It was hard thinking about how easily manipulated I was and when we were told nothing was real I didn’t think it mattered you were alive and so was Ouma… It didn’t matter” Maki said as she tried to collect herself “… but he didn’t know it wasn’t real, and even if he somehow did then that means he did this to himself willingly… he let himself die at best and forced himself into a coma at worst but he didn’t need to… you were going to die anyway because of your illness but he still chose to give you the antidote… I ‘survived’ because of that” Maki’s eyes furrows before she turns her gaze to him eyes begging for answers he doesn’t have asking the same questions he can’t bring himself to ask.

“He could have just let you die and then he could have just let *me* die… why… why didn’t he?”

Kaito ran his hands down his face, feeling so, so tiered. Ouma’s unconscious body provided no answers.

“I don’t know Harumaki… I just… don’t know.”

A girl Kaito’s never seen before stands with Amami outside one of the pod room one day Amami introduces her as a classmate from his last season Kotobuki Yukari, Amami asks if Kaito has still been visiting Ouma to which Kaito responds with an ‘of course!’ and a thumbs up trying to show the same amount of certainty and charisma he was somehow capable of in the game.

The girl rolls her eyes and tells Kaito to save the jokes for his hairstyle.

Four months.

Shuichi and the others had managed to change the world and stop the killing games finally showing that they were wrong. For four months.

That’s how long it took before fans started talking about Danganronpa again, before reruns started showing and the popularity of the show began to pick up again.

That’s how long it took for the outside world to grow more and want and miss the same stimulation they had just been convinced was wrong.

Four months.

Suddenly his trips to see Kokichi now also became about trying to avoid Team Danganronpa’s employees who had been cornering them all about interviews and photo-shoots and trying to escape his own voice playing on the TV of the hospital televisions.

Kaito was popular.

In any other circumstance he’d have been happy about that statement but having people tell him how much they loved his ‘character’ left nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth.

Statements that he had once worked so hard to earn; that he was ‘inspirational’, that he was ‘heroic’ how he was able to bring out the best in everyone… it all felt like an insult.

But Kaito’s popularity, none of their popularity compared to Ouma’s, people either finding him hilarious or tragic. Theories and analysis and music and art all dedicated to the supreme leader.

Ouma’s statements about having a ten thousand subordinates might actually be an understatement if you counted his fans. Despite his loss of love from his classmates in the game Ouma Kokichi seemed to have captured the hearts of fans worldwide.

He was consistently on the top of fan favorite character lists for the fifty-third seasons despite being the only one who hadn’t appeared in a single interview or photo shoot.

In fact Ouma’s coma might have made him more popular than appearing in the public eye could make any of them, Kaito was getting the feeling that the hospital was getting overwhelmed by the constant gifts sent by fans wishing for Kokichi’s recovery.

Enough flowers to fill a green house and crates and crates of cards and panta and sweets and toys, Kaito even saw that some people had bought Ouma stars.

It was hard for those not to feel like a punch in a gut.

It had taken six months but one day on his way to visit Ouma, Kaito was met with a swarm of doctors and nurses rushing to the pod room and Kaito’s heart almost stops when he sees Shirogane’s almost worried face as there is shouting from the pod room to help stabilize the patient.

Kaito’s body seems to realize what’s happening before his body as by the time he finally realizes what’s happening hospital staff is already holding him back from trying to charge into the pod room.

He nearly punches the orderly trying to calm him down as Ouma’s screams rip through the halls of the hospital.

If Kaito hadn’t considered himself some kind of protector to Ouma than he sure as hell did now as he stood in front of Kokichi’s hospital room glaring at one of danganronpa’s representatives giving a definite ‘no Ouma wasn’t up for a camera crew to burst into his room and have an interview on the first day he’s been awake'.

It took Maki joining him to finally get the employee to back down.

“Go I’ll wait out here,” Maki mumbled playing with her hair and Kaito felt a wave of gratitude as he stepped inside Ouma’s room knowing that she’d stop any threat from coming near them.

Ouma almost looks like he’s drowning in the gifts surrounding him that fill the room, from what Kaito’s heard there are even more on the way as fans celebrate the final contestant waking up. He’s pretty sure Ouma’s made the news.

With a sigh Kaito moves a gift basket off a chair and sits down to do the same thing he’s done every day for the past six months, wait.

Kaito had been imaging what he would say to Ouma multiple times coming up with questions and speeches but all that seems to disappear and Ouma’s eyes flicker open with confusion and uncertainty somehow looking more fragile than ever.

Ouma tries to speak but gets raspy coughs for his trouble and Kaito practically falls over himself trying to give him water and reassure him before hospital staff push him out of the room.

Kaito almost feels like Kokichi’s shadow as he hovers over the other boy as he struggles to eat, struggles to walk, struggles to do most things as he seems to try and fit his utter bewilderment at everything under that mask of his.

Kokichi seems uncertain around him and practically uncomfortable around Shuichi but after Maki had blurted out an apology and Kokichi had disappeared into a room with Iruma and Gonta for a while, the shadows under his eyes seem to lessen

Kaito had felt so useless back when Kokichi had still been in his pod; he’s not sure why he thought he’d be any less useless when Kokichi woke up. It wasn’t enough that Kokichi’s body had been messed up by everything but the fact that even his mind hadn’t escaped harm stung.

Claustrophobia, Kokichi was claustrophobic now.

It almost felt wrong in a sense, Kokichi was nimble and small to squeeze into tight spaces and hide in air vents and anything else he needed to do to cause mischief and chaos, but he couldn’t do that anymore.

Because of Kaito.

They’d found out by accident, Kaito had wheeled Kokichi into the elevator with Maki and Shuichi trailing him and suddenly when the elevator doors shut Kokichi had began to breath as if he was drowning, breaths becoming quicker and more shallow until he was gasping for air Kaito completely frozen not even understanding what was happening let alone what to do.

Shuichi pauses at his side as he watches Kokichi try to scramble out of his wheelchair and fail due to his body being too weak, muscles unable to support him from lack of use, before moving to kneel beside Kokichi as the smaller boy begins to curl in on himself.

"Ouma-kun. Breathe." Shuichi commands in a voice of certainty that Kaito hasn’t heard outside of the class trials

Despite how much Kokichi seemed to pride himself in doing the opposite of what people he actually seemed to be trying to follow Shuichi’s instructions, tears springing to the corners of his eyes as the air fails to make its way into his lungs.

"I need you to count with me. Can you do that?" Shuichi asks both gently and uncertainly.

Kokichi nods and drops his head between his knees, as Shuichi is crouching in front of him gently coaxing him. "Just repeat after me. One."

Kokichi’s breathing somehow gets faster, and he shakes his head. Shuichi puts a hand on his arm. "You're okay. Come on. One."

Kokichi glares at the arm for a second as if he’s thinking about shaking it off off, but instead seems to decide on focusing on his breathing and sucks a breath in between his teeth. "One," he gets out, and the word ends up being more like four syllables, but it's a sound and it's there and Kaito somehow feels a wave of relief from such a simple number

"That's great. Keep going. Two." Shuichi encourages with a determined nod.

"T-t-two," Kokichi gasps, and then three, and four, and by the time he has counted to ten, the elevator doors have opened, Maki’s rushed out and Kokichi is breathing again.

When the hospital staff burst in Kokichi’s shaking has stopped as Shuichi steps aside and begins explaining that Kokichi had a panic attack. Kaito watches his sidekick resolve the situation and feels a familiar prickle of jealousy.

“Momota-kun are you angry at me?” Saihara asks uncertainly after Kokichi’s first attack reaching for a hat that’s no longer there. Kaito paused in shock, why the hell would Kaito be angry at Shuichi? He was the one that had managed to actually do something.

“What are you talking about?” Kaito asks in confusion as Shuichi looks down in something resembling shame.

“I- I knew Ouma-kun was having a panic attack and I, I paused for a second before helping him,” Shuichi admitted staring at the floor as what he just said sunk in.

“Oh,”

“Yeah…”

Kaito knew the moment of silence he took as he shoved down some bitter emotions was too long, was probably too worrying but Kaito needed to take a minute before collecting himself and encouraging Shuichi with a thumbs up,

“What's important is that you decided to help him,” Kaito said both for himself and Shuichi who looked both slightly relieved and still a bit nervous as they walked down the halls in silence for a few moments before Kaito spoke up again.

“...Do you think you can teach me how to do that though?”

Apparently every season of contestants living arrangements after the game follow a trend; the contestants all get one big house together, they break up into smaller groups or cliques or they all go their separate ways their memories from their respective games too painful for the reminder they give each other.

While most of them are all on some level still caught up with their various bullshit and awkwardness from the game Kaito’s glad they haven’t all gone their separate ways completely. It’s not sixteen people crammed into one house but at least everyone is paired up with someone. Except for Shirogane because fuck her.

Rantarō chose to live with that Kotobuki girl that was one of the two ‘survivors’ of the second game which Kaito can respect even if something in him still feels a bit of disappointment at being unable to tell if Amami was really part of their group or not but for now Kaito’s decided that he is, the mysterious adventurer just as messed up from the game as the rest of them especially memory wise though from what he hears that’s getting better. He’s called Kotobuki ‘Ushiromiya’ a while back and apparently that was her name in the game. She’d changed it to stay out of public eye as much as possible.

Kaito wondered if he’d ever have to change his name to deal with all the hassle Danganronpa has given him but he can’t imagine it. No matter what anyone says he’s Kaito Momota luminary of the stars!

Still Amami being in good hands and Tsumugi doing who knows what Kaito’s glad that the group is sticking together. Angie and Shingūji are weirdly enough living together, which should be a cause for concern, but Tojo is with them so she should stop them from doing anything too crazy and Iruma and Kiibo were living together with Gonta and Hoshi. Though all their houses had a spare room for Hoshi, it made him smile at the thought of the tennis player who had been convinced he had nothing to live for now had several places to call home.

Kaito would admit he’d always been a bit of a social butterfly so it shouldn’t be surprised that his group was the biggest one but for some reason he still was. Kokichi would probably make fun of him if he voiced this however but he was still reeling over how this all happened.

At first Kaito didn’t really care about living arrangements other than his plan to stick with Kokichi, those months he spent by the liar’s bedside just waiting for the smaller boy to wake up he’d promised he wasn’t going to let Kokichi crawl back in his shell. In his bad moments when physical therapy was too hard and Kokichi’s frustration of *still* not being able to walk on his own got to him the liar had accused Kaito of simply trying to ease his own guilt. That wasn’t it and he should know it but Kaito couldn’t fully blame him for thinking it, it’s just after everything that happened in the hanger leaving Kokichi alone left a pit in his stomach.

So whether the smaller boy liked it or not Kaito was sticking with him! But then it turned out that Shuichi and Harumaki wanted to stick with Kaito which he didn’t mind he’d be glad to have his sidekicks with him! But then it turned out Yumeno was coming with his sidekicks the three ‘survivors’ sticking together and Chabashira obviously followed Yumeno and Akamatsu who had grown especially close to Chabashira during their time in the hospital followed the Aikido master and that’s how the seven of them all started living together.

Not that he minded it was great but seven high-schoolers under one roof was just asking for drama he thought as he watched the awkward air between Shuichi and Akamatsu across from the kitchen.

He’d just wanted to get a cup of coffee.

They were getting better, or at least Kaito believed they were. Kokichi was walking again and though he was forcing him to take his meds and go to therapy Kokichi was gradually looking like he was more at peace with himself.

Shuichi and Akamatsu were trying to sort out their bullshit or at least the air between them wasn’t so tense.

Everyone in the house was talking more, smiling more and though interviews, and photo shoots and panels and responsibilities were something actively working against their progress they were all getting better.

At least Kaito thought so as he help Kokichi’s hand while he turned off the TV the latest character poll putting Kokichi in the number one slot once again.

The day started like any other they’re all talking, all eating breakfast and making their own plans for the day. Shuichi walked in and passed along their mail hesitantly giving Kokichi a heavy letter and everyone’s movements slow at the sight of the all too familiar logo.

They all seem to share a frown and Kokichi dramatically rolls his eyes as he reaches over and opens the envelope though Kaito spots the flicker of worry that flashes through his eyes.

After all this time Kaito’s still not sure if those rare moments are because Kokichi let’s his mask down at least a little bit around them or if Kaito’s simply gotten that good at reading the smaller boy. Maybe it was a mix of both.

He watches Kokichi’s eyes skim the letter, and then skim it again and again each time looking more and more panicked, looking more and more distressed before his face goes blank and the letter slips from his grip.

Kokichi looks seconds away from another panic attack the rest of the houses occupants are by Kokichi’s side as Kaito picks up Kokichi’s letter and reads…

Kaito would swear he felt his heart shatter.

 Dear Ouma Kokichi,

   According to the contract Ouma Kokichi, the participant of 53rd season of Danganronpa is obliged to follow the condition of participation in future Danganronpa events and as such will be required to participate in the next chapter of Danganronpa’s history.

 Team Danganronpa is pleased to inform the renewal of the series with the latest upcoming season Danganronpa Re:Birth!

 Fifth-teen participants have been chosen to take part in this season with a fan favorite from the previous season being decided to come back for this very special season of Danganronpa the survey to select the sixteenth participant took place while auditions were still being held and Team Danganronpa would like to congratulate you on listing as number one in the polls.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as the sixteenth student of the next season and we look forward to your participation.

 More information for the participants can be found below with information on the setting and general backstory of each participant’s character. Also found below is a list of Team Danganronpa recommended doctors suggested for the surgery to support your upcoming character design….

[breeeliss]

POSITIVE (+)

shiro-centric, shadam, sheith

//

the doctors told him when he was sixteen, after his parents found him passed out in the bathroom sitting in his own piss, shit, and vomit. 

while they gave his prognosis, his mother stepped outside to cry in the hallway and his father screamed at the nurses to run all of shiro’s tests again. shiro didn’t remember how he reacted. he remembered the information sitting dumbly in the middle of his chest but there was no weight pressing him into his seat and no searing realization that burned through him. they were just words and strange intervals of time. 

it wasn’t until they came home four hours later -- when shiro raced to the bathroom and found blood and old pills in his vomit -- that he cried quietly so his parents couldn’t hear. 

//

he had to start keeping a binder. 

doctor’s appointments, test results, physical therapy exercises, medication charts, symptom trackers, personal diaries, and questions for his doctors at his next visit. 

there was a boilerplate letter that he gave all of his teachers every time he had to leave early or miss a test for an appointment. 

shiro didn’t tell anyone, but it felt like everyone was watching him get smaller, get weaker, reject his medication, struggle through his therapy, endure through the oscillating treatments that worked one week and left him bed bound the next. 

it was hard to explain to his teachers why he had a bit of a break down after his friends joked that finals seasons was leaving them “feeling like death.” he had closed off access to himself and he didn’t want others to poke around in what he himself could no longer make peace with. 

how could you tell someone else that your life was no longer a hyperbole, no long a tongue in cheek comment, no longer a fatalist joke? it was laid out bare, vulnerable, and waiting. shiro didn’t feel like death. he was death. 

one day, shiro was going to die before he was ready. 

//

it took several months for his symptoms to stabilize, and shiro entered what he called his “good years.” 

they predicted that with regular exercise and consistent treatment, he’d be able to stay at peak capability until he was 30. 

they didn’t tell him what would come after that, and shiro decided he didn’t want to be told.

he was going to drive up to the galaxy garrison next week. it was bad enough that his dreams had a time limit. he didn’t want details on how that explosive end would occur. 

for now, the garrison would be giving him the health insurance he needed to keep paying for his treatment. they’d have the best doctors in the world on call to make sure that he didn’t relapse. they’d be feeding him, housing him, and making sure that he lived out the rest of his youth in comfort and safety. they were helping him live long enough to check off every item on his now truncated list. 

he had no time to worry about the person he would soon become -- the one who wouldn’t be able to live alone, the one who wouldn’t be able to be a pilot, the one who would need help walking, the one whose muscles were slowly atrophying, whose organs were slowly failing. 

shiro was playing hide and seek with death, and death was still counting to a thousand. 

//

shiro decided to drive to the garrison campus in arizona himself. 

he could feel the discomfort his parents had towards him joining the military so he decided to save them the pain. he didn’t mind going alone. it would be the first time he’d travelled alone since his diagnosis, and shiro missed the long drives he used to take in the summer times when his body didn’t feel like a weight with a bomb strapped to it. 

he was driving through the night and desperately waiting for the next truck stop to come up so that he could nap, but it wasn’t for another few miles. shiro was already feeling himself jerk awake every couple of seconds, not even realizing he’d been dozing off. he half-considered just sleeping on the side of the road, but the risk of getting clipped by a car speeding by too quickly was enough to convince him to keep pushing through it. 

shiro didn’t notice when he fully fell asleep. he didn’t notice when he veered into the other lane. he only noticed when he heard an eighteen wheeler honking their horn loud enough to snap shiro into focus. he barely had time to swerve away from the truck he’d literally been half a second away from driving straight into at fifty miles an hour. 

he cut the wheel so sharply he almost pitched himself off the road and straight into the guard rail. he veered again and narrowly missed another car coming in the opposite direction. he thanked his sharp reflexes earned from so many hours spent in flight simulators that he was able to right his car and keep driving down the road without a scratch. 

shiro pulled off to side, gripping his steering wheel hard enough enough to make the leather squeak. his heart was still racing as his body struggled to catch up with the realization that he’d almost died. not by a disease that hid in his body, but by a fucking semi that would’ve crushed his car and left it a mangled heap with him stuck inside. 

but he was alive. he felt alive. his blood was pumping, his fingers were trembling, and the adrenaline made him lean back into his seat and laugh so hard his chest ached with all of his wheezing. death had almost found him, but he’d slipped out of its grasp and bought himself more time. he controlled the time he had left. he kept the game going. this ended when he wanted it to. 

it was euphoric. 

//

they nicknamed him “the hero” at the garrison. 

not just because he was the best pilot and clearly the first pick for any deep space mission, but because he had this senseless motivation to do anything necessary, even risk his safety, to complete his objectives. 

dangerous flight maneuvers, kamikaze stunts, and an ambivalence to danger made him one of the most dedicated and talented pilots the garrison had ever seen. his superiors called it him having the mind of a true fighter pilot. shiro just called it an obsession with control. 

adam was no stranger to the selflessness required of being a pilot, but even he seemed to notice the barely discernible recklessness that punctuated so much of shiro’s piloting. 

he was helping give shiro his last injection for the night when he brought it up. “if i didn’t know how dedicated you are to succeeding here, i would almost say it feels like you don’t care.” 

“i do care,” shiro explained. “just not about the danger. and not about risking my life.” 

adam rolled his eyes and placed a kiss under the medication cuff shiro always wore on his wrist. “you’re allowed to value your life a little more when you go through dangerous simulations, you know.” 

“i value my life plenty, adam. i probably value it more than you do.” 

it wasn’t meant to sound curt, but sometimes shiro spoke so frankly about his mortality that it would even push adam into an awkward silence. shiro grabbed his cheeks and kissed him, speaking against his lips once they separated and took a sobering breath. “i need to feel like my life is in my hands,” shiro explained. “not my doctor’s. not my family’s. not my disease’s. i want it to feel like it’s mine.” 

“i know,” adam whispers. “but i don’t want to lose you a second earlier than i have to. i want to keep you for as long as i can.”

shiro smiled. “you’ll have me for a long time, babe. i’m not going anywhere. everyday when you come back from class i’ll be here. safe and sound. not a hair out of place. besides they’re just simulators, adam. simulators can’t hurt me.” 

//

three days later, samuel holt called shiro into his office and told him that he’d tapped him to be the pilot on his first deep space mission. 

// 

the first time shiro mentioned kerberos, adam wouldn’t even hear it. 

they were sitting in the hospital together after shiro was forced to go through routine testing after coming back from his most recent mission. a little bit of vomiting, some nausea, slight muscle weakness, nothing that shiro wasn’t used to. but adam hovered over him with a ferocity that even made shiro balk, and he shut the kerberos conversation down before it even began. 

“this is you after just five months in space,” adam scolded, watching shiro swallow back a cocktail of pills. “what will you look like after a year?” 

“like someone who’s made it father into space than anyone in history ever has.” 

“and that matters more than your life?” 

“it is my life,” shiro explained. “if my life was leading up to anything, it would be this. sam told me he’d take me, he just has to get it approved by his superiors first.” 

“and if you die?”

“then i die having accomplished more than i ever imagined doing. i’m not afraid of dying, adam. i’m afraid of dying before i’m ready. i want to die when i say so.” 

adam grabbed his shoulders to turn his body. “you are not a god. you are not infallible. you have a limit and you’re pushing it.” 

shiro frowned. “i didn’t come here to play it safe. i came here to make history. i came here to discover and learn and explore. i don’t think i’m some indestructible god. i just think i’m someone who shouldn’t waste what little time he has left second guessing the things he really wants. i really want this.” 

“you want this more than everyone at home waiting for you?” adam demanded. “their pain and your death is worth living out this dream of yours?” 

adam was speaking in generalizations, but shiro knew how much adam feared being alone -- knew how much being out and in love and with someone nearby mattered to him. and shiro would never purposefully take that away from him. but he told adam the same thing he told him when he revealed the severity of his disease. “my life is mine. i have to choose how i live it. i have to prioritize myself. i literally don’t have the time to do anything else.” 

it wasn’t an answer adam liked, and the conversation ended when he went to find the nurse and ask her when shiro’s test results would be back. while he waited, shiro wondered not for the first time how adam saw him. 

handsome, yes. brave, of course. kind, surely. but how did he see his body? a beautiful vessel? a decrepit husk? powerful? flimsy? wild? docile? 

did he love it despite its finality or did he love it because its finality was something he could momentarily ignore? 

they weren’t questions shiro liked asking, and it was hard to question the motivations of someone who held him so tenderly at night, whose kisses lit a fire in him that he didn’t think would ever be lit in his lifetime. but shiro thought of kerberos, thought of open space, thought of the unknown and the possibilities and the adventure. 

and that fire turned into an inferno. 

//

shiro took keith on a hover bike ride the night before he was meant to fly out to kerberos. 

by that time, keith had mastered his vertical dives and they were both able to race each other across the desert and cackle like boys as the drove so far out they couldn’t see the garrison campus. every time they went for a dive, their hearts plummeted and their blood roared until they were dizzy with laughter the moment they pulled up to keep riding. 

keith pulled off his goggles and shook off all the sweat in his hair like a dog. “i get why you love doing that so much.” 

“oh yeah?” 

“you fucking feel....everything, you know?” keith grinned. “your whole body, everything around you, every sense is on freaking fire. it’s so addicting.” 

shiro nodded along. “it’s liberating isn’t it? adam doesn’t really get it. thinks i’m going to hurt myself or something. tried to invite him out a couple of times but he’s always fine just watching.” 

“you’re too good a rider to hurt yourself. besides, you don’t get anywhere by not doing something stupid every once in a while. i mean, i stole your car and now i’m here.” 

shiro snorted and shoved keith’s shoulder. “that’s not a habit you should make, dummy.”

“admit it. i make a good point.” 

he sighed and looked out at the sun dipping behind the mountains. “no you do,” shiro said. “hell, most of my best decisions have been really stupid ones. coming here. being a pilot. going on this mission. everyone around me said i was a freaking idiot.” 

keith bit his lip and watched shiro press the medication cuff on his wrist. “so why’d you do it?” 

shiro shrugged and tried to find words he’d only ever spoken in his mind. “because i’m...bigger than this body. i mean, we all are, but just because mine is weaker than yours doesn’t mean that it’s capable of anything less meaningful. if there’s one thing i learned from having a death sentence hanging over my head for most of my life, it’s that you appreciate just how much your body can endure. how much you can push yourself to do if you just believe in something strong enough.” 

keith frowned and picked at his jacket. “the world has to stop you eventually. it takes things away. that’s how the world works.” 

“everything is an exercise in creation and destruction, keith. for everything that dies, a new thing grows in its place. finality is terrifying, but i think it’s comforting to know that that’s the only true end. every other moment in life that feels like a dead end is entirely temporary. there are always new places you can go and new ways to live fully and happily. life gave my body this disease, so now i give my body a purpose in return.” 

keith looked up at shiro with a sparkle in his eye. “that’s a really good way of looking at it.” 

shiro threw an arm around keith’s shoulder and pulled him close. “i told you that i wouldn’t give up on you, and i never will. but you also can’t give up on yourself. when things are hard? fight. when things are taken away? grab them back. when things are destroyed? build them up. if you promise me that, then i’ll promise the same. i’ll never stop fighting. i’ll never let my body stop me. and no matter what, i’ll come back to you.” 

“you promise?” keith asked. 

shiro lifted his chin high when he answered. “swear on my life. i’ll fight to the death for you.” 

//