#i'm really out here having the same feelings about my days clean from sh as i do about my snapchat streaks or duolingo streaks huh

[scarletcomet]

i am so normal and not mentally ill at all

[purinfelix]

possibly, maybe i'm falling for you [pt. 2]- joao felix

summary: after almost a month of ditching shifts to avoid the new barista at work, you're forced to work a closing shift together with no way out ( read part 1 here ) w/c: 2.4k

a/n: okay if i'm being completely honest this isn't my best work and also ended up being way longer than i expected (but i'm on a roll tonight and ik if i don't finish this rn i never will sooo....) hoping this won't flop <//3

You had done a lot of stupid things in your life, but you were fairly sure this had taken the cake. Though part of you, the immature part was also slightly proud of how smart you had been about all of these - it was borderline genius.

You had spent the past month or so meticulously orchestrating your work schedule. Whenever the roster for the week dropped, you would scan over it obsessively, every name and every timeslot. If it wasn't to your hopes you'd immediately message your boss with some excuse - "Uni work is piling up.", "I need to catsit for a friend.", "Caught a nasty cold." - for why you wouldn't be able to make it. You were fairly sure she would catch on soon enough, but even if she did she still obliged and let you switch to another day. Was it tedious and a little more stressful than you'd like? Sure - but it was what you had resorted to, in order to avoid the new barista.

At first, you weren't entirely sure why you were going through all this effort after only working a single shift with him. He hadn't been that bad of a coworker, in fact, he was perfect. He managed to stay on top of orders and keep the station clean at the same time, a feat not many could achieve - and to top it all off, he was thoroughly polite.

But the more you caught yourself avoiding him, the more it started to click. Sure, it was annoying that he was basically perfect at his job and even more irritating that he got tips for just looking good, but even those weren't good enough reasons to hate him. It dawned on you throughout the weeks, with each shift you took without him - which was still full of people coming in to ask "Where that good-looking barista is?" - that you didn't really hate Joao at all. In fact, that couldn't be further from the truth.

The realisation dawned on you largely against your own will. You tried everything to combat it, tell yourself you couldn't possibly feel like that about someone you had barely spoken to, let alone your coworker. And strangely enough, avoiding him - which you had hoped would help you forget about him - only made it worse, giving you time to conjure up ridiculous thoughts about him, what he was doing, what he thought about you. Admittedly, you regretted slightly being so mean to him the first, and last, time you shared a shift.

If only I had a chance to apologise, then maybe it would be alright, you thought, turning over in bed before bringing up a hand to shield your tired eyes from the morning sunlight. As you soon learned, Joao tended to take a lot of morning shifts, which let you get used to the feeling of sleeping in. The soft ping of your phone alerted you though, to an unexpected notification from your boss.

Your eyes widened slightly when you opened it up to see her begging you to work tonight's closing shift, despite you knowing full well that he would be working as well. You knew you had wanted a chance to talk with him, but this had come far too soon. Already halfway through typing up an excuse, another message came through explaining that the staff who was meant to take it had dropped out, that it was an unexplainable emergency and that you'd really be helping her out by coming. You paused your frantic typing, letting out a soft sigh.

After all, you did have a duty to your boss and you'd feel guilty if you let her down now - even after her obliging all your ridiculous requests for shift changes. Slowly, you typed out your response before rolling onto your back, letting your phone fall somewhere amongst your crumpled bed sheets. All you could do now was get ready for work and hope it wouldn't be too bad.

The afternoon came far quicker than you had hoped and before you realised it, you were standing at the door of the cafe. Despite having grown a sense of comfort attached to this door and what lay beyond, having been an employee for so long, your heart twisted at the fact that you had let something as simple as a boy throw a wrench in that. You wiped your clammy hands on the sides of your shorts before reaching out a hand to the doorknob.

Through the frosted panes of the door you could just make out the foggy silhouette of the very boy you had been avoiding, as he busied himself with wiping down tables and clearing empty cups. For a moment, you felt bad for having avoided him all this time, because as he rushed back and forth there was a sense of loneliness in his actions. You recognised it, having worked many closing shifts alone in your earlier years, and soft guilt washed over you at the thought of him feeling the same isolation you had then.

"Hey," you said in unison with the tinkling bell at the top of the front door. You watched as Joao whipped his head around and his expression turned from one of slight boredom into a mix of surprise and relief.

"Oh, hey!" You walked slowly over to the employee entrance to the back counter and he followed quickly, seemingly eager to rid his hands of the several plates he was holding. "I didn't know you were working tonight too."

"Oh yeah sorry, the boss called me in last minute," you fixed your attention on the display case of cakes, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

"No, don't apologise. It does tend to get a little sad here alone," he laughed guiltily and you can only offer a sympathetic smile in response.

"Well I better-" you begin, gesturing to your bag.

"Oh yeah go ahead," he says, moving out of your way though he pauses for a minute - almost as if he's about to ask you a question, but quickly decides against it. You don't think much of it as you move past him into the employee room.

The first half of your shift passes by quickly with waves of customers keeping both of you busy in your respective areas. With each ring of the bell, alerting you to the arrival of a new customer, you felt a slight wash of relief knowing they had bought you a couple less minutes alone. You weren't sure why, but more than anything you feared the awkward silence that would inevitably fall once the two of you were alone.

And of course, with your luck, the stream of customers soon trickled out to just a handful of regulars finishing off the last of their meals. There was less than half an hour left until closing, and you felt your stomach churn with worry each minute that ticked past.

"It's been a while since we worked a shift together," comes Joao's voice from behind you, causing your stomach to drop. You hadn't been expecting the conversation to start so soon.

"Oh yeah, I've just been sort of busy," you laugh, hoping your excuse and attempt at a light-hearted tone do enough to dispel any more questions.

"It's funny though, every time I looked at the first roster and we'd be scheduled together, the next time I checked you would be moved." Maybe not.

"Really?" You're not the best at acting but you try anyway. "I guess it's just a coincidence."

"I guess." Hearing his mocking tone, you grab a hold of a rag and dash out from behind the counter to go clean a couple tables - anything to get away from him, and this conversation. But he's relentless, and you hear his footsteps as he begins to follow you.

Just in time though, the very last of your customers gets up from her seat and waltzes towards the counter, forcing him back to the register. You smile to yourself as he takes her payment, but this happiness is short-lived once you watch her walk out the door, leaving the two of you alone.

You continue wiping down the tables, starting with the ones as far away from him as possible.

"You need any help with that?" he calls out.

"Nope, I'm good."

"Alright."

It's almost painful how awkward this is, and the way you feel as though the last ten minutes have inched by excruciatingly slow. Once you reach the last of your tables though, you have no choice but to head back behind the counter and start cleaning there too. As you do, you're suddenly made aware just how little space there is for the two of you to pass by each other - and you end up accidentally pushing past his shoulder.

"Sorry," you mumble, though it comes out a little ruder than you'd expected. Suddenly though, you feel a slender hand wrap around your wrist, forcing you to drop the rag on the floor and spin around o face him. "What th-"

"Did I do something?"

His question comes so quickly, so suddenly - though you'd be lying if you said you hadn't been expecting it. For the first time since your last shift, you're forced to look Joao in the eyes, and a part of you is caught up by how beautiful they are, looking directly into yours. But another is more concerned with the almost painful pleading expression they hold, and your heart twists while your brain searches for a response.

"No, you didn't, you're actually a great coworker for what it's worth." It feels cathartic, to tell the truth after forcing yourself to speak the language of polite niceties.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, I get tipped enough to know I'm a fine barista."

"Then why do you care what I think?" You try to wriggle yourself free from his grip but your feet stay planted where they are, almost paralyzed under his gaze.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Stop acting so stupid, you know exactly why I've been avoiding you!"

"Do you think I'd be here if I did? Do you think I would have prodded you with so many questions?!" His voice rises with each question, and it's almost as if he's speaking without thinking. "Do you think I would've begged our boss to roster us together if I did?"

He shrinks back almost immediately, realising what he's just said. "I-"

"You what?" He sighs.

"I had to get you to talk to me somehow, I knew you were avoiding me, I'm not that daft."

You pause, taking this in. This entire time you thought you'd just been serving yourself, and that he hadn't even given you a second thought - and now you're forced to realise that it's in fact the opposite.

"I didn't like that you were getting more tips than me," you sigh, voice tiny and confessional even though you know that isn't the full truth. And he does too.

"That can't be it."

"Well, what do you want to hear, huh Joao? That I don't like the way you push past me or how you're so easily friendly with our regulars?"

"No-"

"Do you think I don't like the way you wipe down the counter, or how you steam your milk?" You're not sure why you're raising your voice so much, but it's almost as if all the frustration from the past month has bubbled up to the surface.

"No!" He's yelling too, but strangely enough, it doesn't scare you at all.

"Then what? Tell me what you want to hear huh!"

"I want to hear you say you don't hate me!"

"God, you're such an idiot," you laugh, a mean and spiteful laugh as you throw your hands up in exasperation.

"Am I?"

"Yes!" you huff, "because clearly you've been too stupid to realise that I've been avoiding you because I like you!"

Shit.

You physically feel yourself recoil after hearing what you've said, and Joao does the same, his eyes widening and mouth dropping agape. The two of you stand there in a thick, tense silence for what feels like ages.

"You what?" his voice is tiny when he speaks again.

"Please don't make me say it again."

"You like me?"

"Yeah, no need to rub it in."

"Oh, thank god," he sighs, and the relief in your voice confuses you. You watch as his body finally relaxes, and he trudges over to lean against the cafe counter, rubbing his eyes with his hands like he has a headache.

"Excuse me?"

"Here I was, stressed out of my mind thinking the coworker I had a crush on was avoiding me because I had creeped her out or something." It's almost as if he's talking to himself.

"You what?!"

"Oh, and I'm the idiot here?" You resist the urge to hit him.

"You," you pause, almost not being able to believe what you're saying, "you like me too?"

"Is that not obvious?" he laughs, and you let out a scoff of disbelief as he stands up and closes the gap between the two of you. The cogs in your head finally start working to put the pieces together, but you're still a little shocked - even when you feel Joao's hand reach up to hold your chin.

"Now that we've cleared things up," his voice is low, causing your cheeks to heat up, "can I kiss you?"

He still has that innocent tone, and it almost reminds you of the way he asked you questions during his training session. A little unsure but still wanted to make sure he was doing everything right. You nod, and let out a gasp as you feel his lips on yours.

When you finally pull away, he holds you close, almost ready for a second when you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"What now?"

"We finish closing?"

"I mean, with us."

"You doing anything after this?"

"Don't think so."

"How about dinner, on me?" You roll your eyes at the smirk spreading across his face but nod regardless. Freeing yourself from his embrace, you go to pick up the rag you dropped earlier.

When you stand back up, Joao pulls you in once more for a quick peck, before pressing his forehead to yours.

"I'm guessing you won't be avoiding shifts with me anymore?"

[r1poutmygvtz]

longgg ramble/vent/whatever's on my mind, idk man i'm tired and should probably schedule another therapy appointment soon

also this is kinda just all over the place, idk my thoughts are kinda scattered rn for some reason

(tws: mental health talk, sh, suicide attempts, od mention, ed, body issues, weed + alcohol talk, medicine misuse, childhood abuse, pet + family death mentions, possibly more idk if i missed one lmk and i'll tag it and put it up here)

my mental health right now is so fragile i don't understand, like obviously i know i'm depressed, i've been diagnosed for nearly two years now but i should've been much earlier, maybe that's why it got so bad, i don't even remember why i was diagnosed tbh, i think it was my first time back after like a year and a half maybe two years of not being in therapy and obviously a lot of shit happened, in that time that i went without therapy i tried to kms three times, had an alcoholic phase, and got addicted to weed

it was also sometime around my birthday i believe, which would make sense on why i got diagnosed, im always super depressed around my birthday, i mean i was expelled on my 13th, my great grandma died the day after my 14th and the day after that i tried to kms and that was the most traumatizing one and it took me over 2 years to be able to take the meds that i od'd on again without freaking out, i was literally so high i can't even remember my 15th, 4 days before my 16th i graduated (horrible for me, i had a panic attack everyday leading up to it for like 2 weeks straight) and 2 days after that my cat that i had since my 12th birthday died, so there's literally nothing enjoyable about my birthday and it feels more like a curse than anything

anyways, i've been the same since i was like 8 or 9, i was depressed and dreamt/wished i would die or get seriously hurt, maybe i just wanted my dad to care about me for once or maybe i did really just want to die, im not sure, i can't really remember my childhood, my therapist says i most likely have ptsd from the abuse which would explain the memory gaps and dpdr (depersonalization & derealization for those that don't know, the derealization is confirmed by my therapist btw just not the depersonalization but that's probably only because i didn't bring that up)

i think the most fucked up part is the fact it took me 16 years to find out the abuse was also physical, i spent the entire time before that thinking it was only verbal towards me and my siblings but i guess not, also apparently all the times me and my sister went to my neighbors/aunts house was because we were hiding from my dad, i thought we just went over to watch cartoons because we didn't have them at home, idk it was just weird for me to find out 7 years after it stopped, it doesn't really bother me all that much tbh my dad was already dead to me and i've been mostly no contact with him for almost 3 years now

also speaking of me as a kid, that's when a lot of my problems started, i was 9 almost 10 for the dpdr and 8 or 9 when i started hating my body, sh came in later tho i was like 10 or 11 when that started, i actually remember being like 9 and writing down everything i ate on a piece of paper, and when i was 10 i kept a notebook full of what i weighed in the morning and night and would see the difference in it, i also vividly remember asking my mom how many calories were in something from mcdonald's and she told me i was too young to be asking that so i just kinda stopped after that which obviously ended up coming back, i mean just look at my account

anyways yea i just hate how back and forth my mental health is, one day i could be doing great and think i'm amazing and unbelievably pretty and smart and ill try to better myself by getting sober and staying clean, then the next day i'll hate myself and consider going back to taking my meds throughout the day just so i was loopy and hardly able to process anything

tbh i do miss it a lot, i started back when i was heavily addicted to weed and would take my meds when i couldn't smoke, actually i used to take melatonin a bunch throughout the day so i could just pass out if anything happened that i didn't want to deal with (literally anything at all tbf) but that started to not work as well as i wanted so i turned to my meds, i'd take my nightly dose (50mg instead of the 20mg i was supposed to take) at like noon and would be loopy until it was time to actually take it, i didn't do it much tbh, my sisters bf caught on after the third or fourth time because i had just met his family for the first time that day and their dog tried to bite my face apparently and i didn't even react (didn't even realize it happened tbh) and he asked what was up with me and i told him bc i've known him forever, anyways yea he yelled at me to knock it off and went on about how it's gonna kill me if i kept doing it, so i did it like once after that and it's been months since i've done it again

it's kinda funny tho, those meds actually could've killed me regardless, i was supposed to take them three times a day but only really did once at school and i still got a bunch of the more serious side effects because i wasn't supposed to smoke while taking them but obv i did bc i was addicted, like breathing was hard, i nearly fainted all the time, my appetite was nonexistent, my heart was starting to mess up, like i literally thought i had a heart attack one day because the side effects were that bad and my mom and sister started looking up symptoms of POTS because that's what the side effects looked like, anyways i got taken off those months ago but i still have them somewhere and i'm fighting the urge to find and take them just so i have no appetite and so i'll sleep through the day

i think that's really all idk, there's more i was gonna say but i can't really remember plus this is already super long jfc, i don't expect anyone to actually read this, i just wanted it off my chest and i don't really trust talking to many people about this kinda stuff

[bitchfitch]

Character test between Chase and his sire.

There were rumors about a monster in Uncle Jim-Jim's Fun Complex. A beast that came out at night to devour any child who lingered after closing.

The rumors bred a sort of fear in the night staff who came to clean and cook for the next day's lot of tottering brats. A brand of child a little too old to still act like they enjoyed coming here would dare their fellows to stay as the final closing calls were announced.

The fear in the night staff dissipated to the same dull boredom they would enjoy at any other local, the titular Uncle Jim-Jim's nephew was too much of a constant nuisance for them to have any worry about the supernatural. The children who tried to hide were always found before the doors locked by the same deathly pale boy.

There was no monster in Uncle Jim-Jim's. Not usually at least.

The sprawling complex was dark, the ac and various electrical fixtures that were left on overnight hummed with steady life. Chase sat at a table in the pizzeria, alone with his back to the main entrance as he awaited a visitor.

He was a boy. Too young to really be called a man even if he was as grown as he would have ever gotten. His face was narrow from starvation and too many bad decisions made for him by someone who hadn't been described as a boy in many many years.

Chase had been a boy for far longer than he ever should have been. 18 for over a century.

The man who trapped him on this edge entered the building. There was nothing dramatic about it. The door opened and shut like it did for anyone else. His boots squeaked on the freshly mopped floors, the vinyl seats creaked as he sat across the particle board table from Chase.

"It's good to see you again, my treat," he smiled, soft and familiar like Chase's favorite bottle of wine.

"Yeah," Chase avoided looking him in the eye. He didn't drink anymore but he was never good at ignoring the temptation of an old addiction.

"Don't be like this. You love me, we haven't seen each other in decades, and all you have to say to me is 'yeah'?" the man was still smiling, his words never took on a bite.

"You wouldn't want to hear what I have to say."

The man clucks his tongue and holds out a hand, his elbow braced on the table, the gesture lazy and so painfully familiar.

"Oh my dear, You should know better by now. I already know everything you have to say to me, I just want to give you the chance to claim those loathsome words. They'll sound better on your tongue than mine. Start with the janitor."

The order made Chase freeze, he'd done so much to hide his and Silas's relationship.

"Sh, don't fret. I'm not upset, I've been neglecting you. I know that. Of course you would go looking for someone else to call Daddy in these lonely years. Just tell me about him, so I know if he's good for you or not." he still held his hand offered out to Chase. It was a trap, it was a bargaining chip.

"He's nice. Human. Tastes good and offers his blood readily," Chase puts his hand in the man's, he hates how much he missed that cold touch against his, "He's smart enough not to talk about me to anyone. I like him, he's useful."

The man's fingers close around Chase's hand, like a spider crawling over its prey, as the man listens intently to the few words Chase is willing to share about his new lover.

"Oh my dear, dear, dear, Chastity. Do you think I don't already know how deep your affections for that worm run? I can feel them you know, every so often I'll get this surge of affection or euphoria through our connection and it's always him who's causing it when I look into your mind. Do you know how much that hurts? To feel your pleasure and then see you taking it in the arms of another man?" the man cocks his head, "Do you think I'll let you make him one of us?"

"No. No, he's just- I just needed my fix ok. You know how I get. I- It's lonely and I just needed to be warm and fed and- he's nothing. He's absolutely nothing. I promise."

The man never stops smiling. He brings their hands to his lips so he can brush kisses over Chase's permanently bruised knuckles.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm Not! If you- If I wasn't all alone here I wouldn't care about him in the slightest-"

"Shut up. Stop trying to protect him. You should know you're too precious to me for me to hurt in such an awful way. So long as you two stay smart, and he doesn't impede my access to you, then you can keep your little pet."

"Th-"

"I said shut up. Don't speak. You'll just ruin it, ok? I want you to have this. You know how much better you are for me when you're happy hm? When you have something I can take away. Behave, be good, make sure he always remembers that no matter how much you call him sweet pet names or how often you beg for his touch like the dirty little animal you are, I was the one who gave you your immortality. I was the one who made you the gorgeous creature that you are. He will be a blip in your memory one day, while what we have will be forever. Understood?"

Chase nods.

"Good, perfect even. Come on then, I have a hotel room that's much more appropriate for two lovers reuniting than this... lovely place."

[aching-tummies]

Aww, poor thing, want me to rub it for you?

Yes, please! ^^

I wince as another explosion takes place on-screen. The sound system causes the couch to tremble as the speakers are set up all around the room, directing sound at the couch that we are currently lounging on.

I'm on the right side of the couch, curled up and leaning heavily against the far right arm-rest. You've got the other side, right arm up and resting across the top of the couch. Every so often, you move your arm to reach for more popcorn from the bowl we have between us.

It's date-night. We've both had a month from hell, barely being able to see each other thanks to our hectic work schedules. Due to that, neither of us managed to plan anything extravagant for date-night. Just as well, both of us are pretty introverted—preferring the idea of a stay-cation to going out and living it up. A cozy night on the couch ranks high on our list of favoured dates, so when we found ourselves with an evening off together, we flipped a coin for who was going to choose the movie and who got to choose what we'd have for dinner. You won the movie toss so I got to choose what we got for dinner.

Honestly, I've been suffering through an upset stomach all week. I really hope it's not the flu that's been going around lately. Due to feeling queasy, I didn't really have a strong preference for what we ate so I took cues from you on what you were craving. That ended up being some rich pasta from a place we got delivery from. I'm regretting it now.

The lightest entree they had was an alfredo ravioli, so I got that. We cleared our plates about an hour and a half ago and my stomach's been churning ever since. I've been sitting here, thanking my lucky stars that you chose a loud action movie—full of explosions and other loud noises. It's been completely drowning out the distressed squelching from my belly and the dark room we're sitting in has allowed me to hide the tears pooling in my eyes over how badly my stomach is hurting. The persistent queasiness I've been feeling all day has grown into a full-blown ache since we finished dinner.

“Nngh...” I can't help but moan as the reverberating vibration from our sound system against the couch jostles my upset stomach. I'm sitting slightly turned away from you, a throw-pillow clutched tightly to my sickly tummy to further muffle the sickly noises. It's getting very active, churning painfully. Flu or not, it's almost a guarantee that I'll end up throwing up at some point tonight.

“Hmm? What's wrong?”

Everything on-screen freezes as you hit pause.

“Ah...uhm...i-it's noth--” My stomach chooses this moment to let rip a sickly rumble. With the movie on pause, there is no way you did not hear it. Realizing that I've been caught, I decide that I may as well come clean. “Uhm...a-actually...I've been feeling kind of gross all day.”

“Gross? In what way?”

I fidget in my seat. I get kind of weird about all things tummy-related. “Uhm...m-my tummy really hurts.”

Little do I know the effect those words have on you.

“Aww, poor thing. Want me to rub it for you?”

I nod, leaning forward until my forehead rests on your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as I ride out a painful cramping in my belly. “Y-Yes, p-please...owww...” I can't help but sniffle as I slowly remove my arm from around my middle, allowing you access to my upset stomach.

You waste no time, placing a hand on either side of my belly as you squeeze, prodding into it, trying to diagnose the problematic areas. My stomach revolts at the attention, feeling like it's flipping and twisting at the same time.

“My, my. What's going on in here? Feels really sick right here.” You punctuate your statement by pushing deeply into the spot where the cramping is at it's worst and my guts respond with a wet gurgling.

“Uh-huh.” I sniffle, feeling terrible. The queasiness hasn't subsided and the rhythmic squeezing of your hands on my sickly, achy tummy isn't helping. “ 'm gonna--” I get cut off by a sudden, sour belch. It's short and sharp, but it also brings up an extremely sour taste. I moan as I swallow back the icky shot of sick that managed to breach into my esophagus. A series of sickly grumbles follows the eruption, my churning stomach not at all pleased by the failure to expel more than just air.

“Oh wow, it's very active now. Here, and here too.” You push your fingers into my stomach as you map out troublesome areas—the worst areas of cramping and churning. Every push of your fingers results in a loud, wet noise from my distressed digestive tract and you are loving every moment of it.

[lieslab]

Tw : Sh / cutting / toxic mother

Hello, how are you doing ? I already requested two fics on your account, one of them is “star lost” which I love so much ( star lost is one of my favorite skz song ).

Recently, I haven’t really been doing great. I’ve just spent time in my bed barely being able to eat and to take care of myself. I’ve relapsed after 4 months and one day of being clean after realizing that my mom is controlling me more than loving me. And my dad… he’s a story for another time. I feel like my situation is both special and sadly very common. Could you write something comforting with Seungmin ? I like his personality and I think is really underrated. Thank you for your hard work and your time, and I if it’s to triggering or you don’t want to write it, feel free to ignore this text. Thank you 💕

Hi, darling. I loved writing star lost!! It's one of my favorites and I'm glad I accidentally named it after your favorite song. I'm really sorry life is beating you down. It can be really rough out here sometimes.

That feeling you're describing of being stuck in bed, ugh, it's the worst thing in the entire world. I wouldn't wish that feeling upon my worst enemy. Self-harm can be really difficult and I know it sucks to relapse. When I used to struggle with self-harm, I remember how worthless I felt when I relapsed. Life is hard and sometimes that feels like the only thing that can help with the pain.

I'm really sorry your mom is like that. Being kept under the thumb of a controlling parent is rough. I don't know the situation and it seems complex. Please remember that you are allowed to be your own person. I know it seems difficult, but I hope you know how important your existence is.

Sometimes parents forget how important their children's mental health is. Sometimes they get too caught up in their own thoughts and feelings and sometimes they never cared much from the start. I really hope you have someone you can turn to and talk about it or have some sort of emotional release for it that isn't just self-harming.

Parental issues are rough when you just want love. You deserve to be loved for who you are. You're not a clone of a parent, you're not meant to be a puppet, you're meant to be you. Please try to eat something. I know it's difficult when you feel so miserable, but not eating makes the feeling of worthlessness worse. Even if it's a granola bar or a protein shake. Maybe it's washed fruit or even something smaller like a cheese stick. Don't forget to have a bit of water here and there too.

Sometimes when I'm down, I like to imagine that I'm a plant. It sounds pretty silly, but flowers cannot bloom without nutrients, water, and sunshine. I remind myself that it works the same way for humans. Our bodies struggle without them.

I don't mean actual sunshine (unless you prefer that) I mean the warmth and tenderness and care from the people we love. Even if it's our favorite k-pop idols or another celebrity. Sometimes it helps to watch videos to cheer ourselves up and use a bit of escapism to get through the day.

I'm sorry I'm responding to this like a day later than you submitted this. I saw it yesterday and the gears in my brain started to turn. I instantly pulled up a brand new Google doc and began to write off and on for a few hours. By the time I finished, it was so late.

Unfortunately, this is common and ugh. I wish I could give you the parents you deserve, darling. You deserve the best. I know how much it really sucks to have shitty parents. I'm twenty-one and there's still days I struggle with it. It's hard to go on when you feel like you missed out on so much. It's even harder when people you know have good parents.

As for Seungmin, he is underrated. I love his sharp wit and playfulness. He's a treasure and I love him. Since I have everything written and edited, give me a few minutes to create the post after I post this, and it should be up. I hope you enjoy it <3

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt.4]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Geralt finds out the truth, and so do you. How is he going to handle it?

Warnings: None

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

You woke up with a shudder the next morning, greeted a good morning by the chirping of a canary that sat perched on your window but flew off the second you sat up in bed and rubbed the remainder of the sleep away.

The memories of last night came spiralling back into your mind— Geralt being hurt, his words that had hurt you, the talk between him and Jaskier, and finally, you throwing up the remainder of your supper away— in fact, you still felt a little queezy.

You wondered if Geralt and Jaskier had left, and you had mixed feelings about it. A large part inside of you wanted Geralt gone, but another part inside of you wanted to embrace your friend before he left you again; Jaskier. And, another really tiny— miniscule part inside of you wanted to see Geralt off, for you knew that there was no guarantee you would see the man again, unless Yennefer's spell had worked.

Maybe, now that the two had left, you could go to see the midwife in the village and confirm whether your hunch was true or not.

You cleaned up, changing into a fresh tunic, with a half a mind to milk your goats so you could take the pails of milk to the village, while at the same time, visit the midwife on your way back but maybe the goddess of luck wasn't in your favour.

Your entire plans went down the drain, when you realized that not only had Geralt and Jaskier not left, but the Mage was back.

"Oh hello, little pet, good of you to grace us with your presence, finally," Yennefer placed her palm against your cheek, her padded thumb stroking over the side of your face, her eyes sparkling with joy. "You're here at just the right time, love. I was just planning to tell my love that we finally succeeded. The things I did, just to see this day. Thank you, love."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your eyes reaching out for support from Jaskier's, looking for answers as to why Yennefer was even here— but all you got from him was a cheery smile that didn't even wash off his face.

"Get this done with, Yen," Geralt mumbled under his breath, and Yennefer's smile widened, her dark eyes falling down to your belly once before she lifted it up once again, and turned around.

"I told you it would work, Geralt. And now it did. Come on, my love, see for yourself. Listen for yourself," Yennefer's eyes twinkled as she beckoned to her lover to come over and see for himself what she already knew, and a part of you was dreading.

She walked up to the chair and lowered herself against it, sitting back in a comfortable way, her eyes drawn to you as Geralt finally moved from the place he had been standing at, by the slab and started walking towards you.

No one spoke, and it was as if the time had stopped— until Geralt lifted his palm and placed it on your stomach, his eyes slightly widened, as though in shock. Slowly, he looked up into your eyes, and the only thing that you could describe in that moment was the heat that your face felt, suddenly.

"I can.. hear it. I can —" Geralt mumbled in a low voice, was so low that you had to strain your ears to listen to him, and finally when you did make out the words that had flown from his lips, confirming your thoughts, you realized that the look on Geralt's face right now, was maybe worth it. He looked like he had found a motive in life, a destination and wasn't left to meander on earth with nothing but to kill monsters.

"I don't believe ..."

"My spells never fail, my love. I told you."

Just like you had found a warmth in your heart a few seconds back, as swiftly was it dissolved into a sudden gloom, when you watched the Mage step up, until she was walking towards the two of you— only to pause just next to Geralt, until her long arms wrapped around the Witcher's neck, and she pulled him into her, their lips crashing against each others, forcing you to look away.

It was then Jaskier caught your eye, and he gave you a look of sadness, a look you knew too well— the look that said that he knew how you were feeling, and what you were feeling.

It was decided then.

Not by you, but the parents of your baby that one of the three were always to remain with you, at all times. They snatched away your cloak of privacy just like this, invading into your home and into your life, for a satchel full of coins.

When Geralt had to go for a bounty, Yennefer mostly stayed, but when Yennefer had to go too, then Geralt left Jaskier behind, although he didn't stop grumbling that he was missing on the Witcher's heroic monster hunts.

It was just another usual day— you were still not showing yet for you were only perhaps 9 weeks along and there was a long way to go. It was one of the days when both Geralt and Jaskier were home, as they had just two nights back, returned from one of the neighboring villages that was being tormented by a vukodlak.

"I swear to the Gods, [Y/N], you should have seen that thing, it was sort of handsome?" Jaskier nudged you as you sat huddled on the ground in your barn, milking your goats while the bard aimlessly sat atop one of the sacks of hay, his legs swinging in amusement. Geralt wasn't far behind, he was standing next to Roach, as he groomed her, much tenderly.

You were about to mutter some annoyed words because you were clearly annoyed for many reasons; the goats had just decide to pick today of all days to be difficult with you; on top of that, it was a hot day today, and you could feel sweat trickling down the side of your face, down your body; then there was the feeling of nausea, that you couldn't shake off, no matter how much dry heaving it caused you since the morning. Before you could speak though, Geralt grunted in response to Jaskier's words, causing your head to shoot in his direction.

His fingers were moving in a tantalisingly slow pace, stroking over the mare's side and you couldn't help but bite your lip, your cheeks suddenly feeling hotter as you began thinking of that day on the Mount, when Geralt's fingers were all over you— until Jaskier's voice interrupted you again.

"Have you encountered a monster before?"

You frowned, finally standing up, your hands flying to your hips as you shot Jaskier a look and shook your head, "Never been lucky enough, it seems that all the monsters reveal themselves for your friend over there."

With sarcasm in your tone, you pointed towards Geralt with your eyes, who seemed unfazed by the subtle mention towards him, even though you knew that he was pretty well listening in on what you two were talking about; Witcher hearing and all.

You slowly bent, your hand fixing on the top of the pail of milk, ready to lift it when you felt someone lift it for you, your eyes instantly shooting up. You didn't realize how the Witcher had managed to know that you were planning to do it, or how he had managed to just be here next to you in such a short span of time but he was there now.

"Don't," he gave you a one word warning, and you frowned at him, giving him a stink eye as you stepped away and he lifted the pail effortlessly and began following you inside, ignoring Jaskier's gaze fixed on the two of you, a tiny smile on his lips as he watched the interaction between the broody Witcher and you.

"I could have walked from my home to the village like I always do, Geralt."

You grumbled under your breath, keeping your eyes to the road ahead of you, the only feeling of someone's presence next to you solidified by the sound of his footsteps by the grunt that escaped his mouth. Although Roach was there, neither of you were riding, and it was easier to walk as the walk wasn't a long one. Geralt held on to Roach's reins, the pails fixed on either of the mare's sides.

"I don't need a babysitter, and I'm no monster, what did I do wrong to have a Witcher always on my tail?" You grumbled yet again, annoyed, although you were well aware of the fact that you weren't getting a response of the thick skinned man.

"You chose this," he muttered under his breath, not even bothering to turn his head towards you, his gaze fixed to his front, making your frown even worsen.

"I did it for coin—"

"Sh, wait here," the Witcher suddenly shot his hand upwards towards you, his palm raised and you gulped, your words stopping that instant you saw the white haired man start walking towards the crowd of men that were gathered by the road, heavy bannisters blocking the way into the village. You instinctively crouched closer towards the mare, her warmth against your side providing you with a temporary warmth as she began nuzzling her nose against the side of your face.

"What's going on?" You heard Geralt ask one of the men, who turned towards him and frowned when he realized who he was, however, grimacing slightly, he still spat out the words grudgingly, "Road's closed, look for another way in, you can go through the forest."

"Hm," he almost growled back as he turned towards you, and began walking in your direction.

"We turn back around, road's closed."

"What? We're not turning back around, we've walked half a mile and I really would like to sell off the pails I worked so hard to milk."

"You know that I can fucking pick you up and take you back home?" Geralt growled, now turned towards you, but you were adamant as you crossed your hands over your front, raising your chin.

"You try that, Witcher, I'm going to run away at the middle of the night when you are asleep, or busy and Yennefer's not going to like it when she returns."

"Fuck, woman, I curse the day Yennefer chose you for this, " Geralt turned away and grabbed Roach's reins once more, nudging the horse off the road as he began walking towards the forest, and you began following him.

"So do I Geralt, I curse the day I fell into her temptation and decided to go ahead with this."

He didn't reply— but you could feel his discomfort by the way his spine straightened, and he took a sharp breath.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy  @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl

Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox and comments.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Can you imagine losing interest in BTS and their music ever? I've seen it's a hot topic on Twitter, how some fans just lost connection and how others put it as "exiting the magic shop". I don't understand. I spent my teens listening to the Beatles, Incubus and now that I'm 30's I still love them. I suppose it could happen but I just dont like it when people say they lost interest bec BTS has already healed them. Like, you can heal and listen to them at the same time right? Your thoughts guys?

First of all, thank you for this ask because this is such an interesting topic.

Secondly, I'm fairly sure this whole thing about "being healed from BTS", as in stopping being ARMY/stanning BTS was started by "ex-ARMYs" (or people cosplaying as such) on either twt or t*kt*k (or both) as a way to feed into the narrative of how you can only possibly like Bangtan while you're "sick" but eventually you get "healed" and move on to other artists, specifically other K-Pop groups. It's also occasionally used by people who stopped "stanning" BTS to make themselves look better in the eyes of kpoppies (or suck up to them) and to get hit twts. A quick twt search showed me a twt where someone spoke about how now that they've "left the Magic Shop" they're able to "love other people" and have found themselves in (Other Group’s fandom name)-land. As in Bangtan healed them so now they can listen to/stan “better” groups.

Do I think there are also genuine people among them who credit BTS for helping them heal before moving on? Probably, but I find the phrasing and way of thinking rather weird and also something that plays into the stereotype that liking a "boy band" is just a phase that you grow out of and then move on to "real music". 

Are there people who genuinely "lost" whatever connection they felt or interested they had in BTS? Probably, though sometimes I feel like people misinterpret twts where people talk about leaving ARMY twt/their sns stan accounts as them stopping being a fan which is false. Being a fan of a musician is more than just posting on your stan account, right? There are plenty of people who are ARMY yet don't engage in fandom sns.

Now circling over to your question about if we/I can imagine basically falling out of love with an artist (BTS) and, well, personally I think it depends on certain factors. Just like you in my early teens I used to listen to a band called HIM, a little later to a band called Placebo, and to this day, if someone asks me who my favorite rock band is, I still name both of them without hesitation despite not actively listening to them anymore the way I do with Bangtan, as example. Yet it doesn't change the fact that I still love their music and check out what Placebo are up to from time to time. 

I think there are certain bands and artists whose music simply does something for us, this specific something that makes us connect to them in a deeper sense, in one that makes their music and artistry stick with us even far down the line when we might not listen to them daily anymore, might not check their sns every day anymore, or even at all. At this point I'm pretty sure BTS are exactly that for me as well. I can imagine that perhaps one day I might not be as invested (invested in the sense of having a stan account and blogging about them) anymore as I am now, because that's natural, but I doubt I'll ever go as far as saying "I've lost interested" or "been healed from being ARMY" or whatever else some say.

So, when I said it depends on different factors if you'll ever fall out of love/loose interest, what did I mean by that? I think a major deciding factor is why you became ARMY/a fan in the first place and what it is that keeps you interested in them.

More below the cut:

If you became a fan because you’re into shipping and your main focus is your ship and nothing else, honestly, I doubt you’ll stick around all that long. And I say that as a vminnie and namjinist myself. I imagine, if the only thing about Bangtan I would care about would be those two pairings and I would spend all my time hunting for clues and looking at gifs/pictures and discussing them and nothing else, their music only being of interest to me if I could make it about my ship? I’ll be honest, I would probably lose interest in less than a year because you can’t possibly remain invested in two people, their lives, “relationship clues” and ship fights with others for years without basically getting tired of it.

Also when I say just focusing on a ship, I literally mean just the ship aspect, not even the artistry those two people have, like their music etc, but just the bond they have and nothing else. And yes, there definitely are people like this. I’ve seen Xkookers only care about (insert song here) because they thought it was about their ship but once they realized it isn’t, they never brought up the song again, and never spoke about the song itself at all. And I don’t want to just point my finger at them, there are also people who ship other pairings who act this way as well, definitely.

At the end of the day, eventually you’ll have analyzed all there was to be analyzed, discussed every aspect and detail, seen every moment and taken it apart, and will have had every fight you could have, and then...what? There’s only so much “content” and “entertainment” you can get out of someone else’s life and bond and that’ll only be able to keep you interested for so long...and then what?

But if you got interested in Bangtan due to their music first and that is your primary focus while them as people is more of a nice “extra”, that’s “sustainable”, for a lack of better words. They release lots of music every year, have a huge discography along with side/solo projects, their lyrics are so layered and you can find so much in them, immerse yourself in their artistry. Their music can become your companion, basically. There are so many ARMY that have songs and albums that mean the world to them, that helped them heal or love themselves, that they keep coming back to, that engage in discussions about their music, old and new, and who find boundless joy in all of it while also adoring the members themselves.

If you got into them for their personalities while thinking their music is just okay, an all right extra, but you love their bonds and shows like RUN or Bon Voyage, I could imagine that being some kind of middle group but then again, why stan musicians whose music you only find okay? Would you be a fan of an actor whose personality you like but find the movies they are in and their acting ability mediocre/okay?

I’ve been around for a long time and the way I think that’s possible, and why I think I will remain ARMY for years to come as well, is because I genuinely love their music, love spending time listening to it, reading about it, talking to others about it, but also because I adore the members, their personalities and who they are, their bonds, their variety show type content and vlives, and I adore vmin and namjin. While I love talking about vmin/namjin, if I had to just focus on that (as in the ‘ship’ aspect of their bonds) all the time, I’d get exhausted and/or reach a point where everything that could be said would be said, but because I also spend a lot of time with OT7 content and in non-shipper ARMY spaces, with their music, their other content, reading their interviews and everything else, it’s a “sustainable” way to be ARMY. And I’ve seen and spoken to other ARMYs who have been around far longer than me, some even having been around since the very beginning, even before their debut, and that's how they’ve remained ARMY since, because it was this package deal that they fall in love with, the fact that they spend their time engaging in different fandom discussions and activities, instead of hyper focusing on a certain part of it exclusively, like shipping.

Of course, if you fell in love with the package deal in your twenties while in a dark place but then reached your thirties and, with the help of their music (side note: while Namjoon (inspired by Seokjin) told us to use BTS to be happy, don’t put the “responsibility” of healing you/helping you heal solely on an artist, since that’s not fair or healthy, rather if you really need help/assistance/someone to talk to, please reach out to someone, friends or family, or a professional if you can) and other (outside) factors, reached a better place and don’t feel as connected to them anymore as you did before, it’s possible you might “unstan”, but that doesn’t have to mean you’ll move away from their music completely, that you’ll make a clean cut and never look back. Especially if they helped you, chances are they will always remain with you one way or another for a long time. At the same time, I guess it’s only natural that sometimes our interests and tastes change and the band you used to love might just not “do it” anymore for you. It’s human. There are bands I used to love as teen but don’t care about anymore nowadays because their music isn’t my taste anymore, I don’t connect with it the way I used to etc. Does something like that make you a fake fan? No, it just, well, makes you human. Though, like I said, at this point I don’t foresee that happening for me with Bangtan and there are a lot, and I mean a lot, of others who will tell you the same thing. We’re in this Bangtan sh*t for life, purple blooded. Even Namjoon joked about how once you get into Bangtan there is no exit anymore. Or that no jammer joke about how once you JimIN you never JimOut.

Lastly there’s also a whole conversation to be had of what will happen once the members start enlisting, or once the daily content turns into monthly, bi-monthly, every half year and eventually only sporadicly spread out throughout the year, when their music will be all that we’ll get instead of music + additional content like sns posts or RUN. What will happen when that day comes? Shippers and those interested in their personalities will stop “being fed” and eventually their interest will dwindle away. Those who need to constantly be engaged with and fed to remain interested will likely dwindle away and move on to other content/musicians that’ll keep them fed with new things on a regular. And those who are into their music, or the package deal, they’ll likely still be fans, still love their music and come back and be active when new releases come, still occasionally return to content like watching concerts or old RUN episodes, but even they won’t stick around the same way we all do right now. This isn’t to say that when that day comes we’ll find out who “the real fans are”, because the question of what a real fan is, is a whole other discussion to be had, but rather it’ll be a natural, normal part of fandom, of a musicians career, of a human cycle.

Take AC/DC as example, after so many decades they still have fans that show up when they release a new album, but I doubt those fans have active stan accounts and engage in daily fandom stuff the way you do with a constantly active/present artist like BTS etc. And I can imagine that’ll be Bangtan and ARMY much later down the line as well.

To sum it all up, I don’t think there is a black or white answer, merely a gray one.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

This chapter is very dialogue heavy. Stephen Strange being a little bit of a dick and Tony being a sweetheart. No warnings here, just plot and worldbuilding. I think Tony is his own warning to be honest... Do we want fun facts before each chapter like before or nah?

Sorcerer Strange stared at me with the heat of a plasma beam after I finished stuttering throughout my story, one accurate eyebrow raised and sharp cheekbones painting him displeased and dangerous in the yellow light of the store lamps. The whole experience shook me more than I would have liked to admit to myself and his mute reaction wasn't helping matters at all.

"Hmph," he finally cleared his throat, taking a step back and casting a thoughtful look over the shelves in the store. "You did all you could. Perhaps, we owe you gratitude," his tone was far kinder than his face. "How long have you been doing... This?" He vaguely gestured with a gloved hand.

"Long enough," I replied without thinking. My stress levels urgently rose above acceptable and the feelings needed to be let out now; Wong's dismissive attitude and Strange's half-assed apology for the attitude was still fresh in my mind.

The sorcerer sighed, briefly touching the bridge of his nose. "I won't pretend to understand the reason for your hostility but I'd like to remind you we're on the same side here," his steely blue eyes attempted to peer into my soul.

"There are no sides here," whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying it. "There are just people who get hurt, either because of unstable maniacs with superpowers or aliens who think Earth is an all-you-can-kill buffet," I stuck my dirty, bloody hands in my pockets. "You do your part in mitigating the damage, I do mine. That's all there is."

"And you would be making my job expotentionally harder if you get in the way and slow down professionals, even if you mean well," the man's temper had, evidently, won over and he immediately got on the defensive, crossing his arms and trying to glare me down.

Odette's words rang true, starting a storm of hollow anger in the pit of my skull. "Now listen here, you privileged prick," the damn burst at the seams as I squared up to give him a piece of my mind. "You and your Hogwarts rejects and the merry band of billionaires may have the opportunity to 24/7 healthcare and near-instant compensation for any damages the villain of the week decides to bestow upon your shallow little heads," I advanced half a step towards Strange, hands bailed into tight fists, internally rejoicing at the way he leaned back. My blood sang with adrenaline as I breathed the exhilaration.

"But how many people do you overlook? How many children never make it because your super secret organisation gives their parents an ultimatum just because they are different? This is a safe space for the ones you pretend not to see until it's convenient and it will stay that way, over my fucking dead body, if need be," I stared at the tall man, almost physically feeling his brain halt and pause with the cartoony sound of screeching tires. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, both of us waiting for the other to explode.

"Don't you think I am aware," Strange finally seethed through gritted teeth, alarming golden sparks shining in his eyes. "The Avengers are not under the rule of SHIELD and I, personally, have no affiliation with either. I do not condone their barbaric methods," the man was struggling to form his sentences properly but even despite that, I understood his ideas.

I desperately wanted to believe his words to be true, I really did, but... "Then do your fucking job and let me do mine. I do not go out there and intervene, I merely clean up the mess you all leave. Something that nobody wants to do do, so unless you've got any takers, I'll keep helping those you deem unfit," in a fit of muted rage, I flew my arm to point at the abandoned cars and destroyed concrete outside of the window, the empty street and the clouds of dust rising into the moody skies.

The entrance door flew open suddenly, with a force strong enough to bang the heavy, old handle against something outside, letting in the stuffy air inside the bodega. Strange jumped at the sound of the screaming hinges, my own heart skipping a beat from the startling interruption.

Visibly composing himself, the man pierced me with a final stare before starting a dangerously quiet, "Very well, goodbye," and hightailing it out of Odette's before disappearing in a golden circle just outside the front porch.

I let my shoulders sag for a brief moment of respite, feeling the tension bleed out of me and penetrate every nook and cranny in the room. My protection charms were mostly destroyed, silver dull, glass and amber crackled. Tossing them into the appropriate recycling bin, I set to clean up the shop, flying through the motions in record time and wandering home through the damaged streets on autopilot.

My anger had cost me more than a fortune in my past but no matter how much I sought to reason with myself, I couldn't bring it to justify Strange's attitude towards my choices. The more I thought about it, the less rational my guesses became; I forced myself to stop thinking about it when my brain had unhelpfully supplied an absurd notion of him being jealous of my lifestyle: he knew next to nothing of my skills and his opinion was based solely on seeing me work the store front and one cleansing spell I'd performed on Bucky. There was simply no rational explanation for his behaviour.

NYC life wasn't affected by the battle in the slightest, it seemed; a day and a half later, I was back at Jeremy's, serving overpriced hot beverages to the rich and the busy. I'd slept on the Bucky and Strange situation, got a handle on my feelings and decided to simply put it away. There were other, more pressing things to worry about than a couple of men.

I didn't expect the flood of anxiety that turned my hands to lead upon seeing Tony Stark's signature suit-and-sunglasses wearing ass waltz into the café. He flashed me his usual easy grin but didn't remove his glasses, eyes eerily blank behind them, as he motioned for his usual order before leaning on the countertop with the entirety of his upper body. "So, Starshine, what is it exactly that you do?" Came the question I was dreading. "Are you, like, a witch? The broomstick and cauldron kind?"

"Mr. Stark, I am serving you coffee and a muffin as we speak," I replied curtly, raising an eyebrow.

"Drop the act, honeybuns. I thought we were friends," if I squinted, I could see that he was genuinely hurt by my lack of desire to communicate. Or, perhaps, he simply was unused to not satisfying his curiosities immediately.

Either way, I stood no chance against Stark patented puppy eyes. "I clock out at two," a sigh of epic magnitude left my mouth against my will. "You can interrogate me then. Until that, it's lattes and cheesecakes only."

Tony narrowed his eyes, smile warming up by a smidgen. "Interrogate you? Never," he pocketed the napkin with Dr. Banner's scribbles the doc had forgotten last time. "I'm merely curious." Another flash of his teeth and he was gone, taking what little peace I had left along with him.

The hands on the clock made their hurried rounds over and over. My chest had grown it's own set of ticking, grinding, mismatched gears as the endless possibilities coursed a steady stream through my head. Tony Stark was a wild card, his struggles with authority a widely known fact, as frequent as his strange habits in just about anything. And while I doubted I would get ambushed and locked up, I had no qualms of him berating me for telling off his boyfriend. He seemed like the possessive, overprotective type, anyways.

As soon as I exited the café, surrounded by the smells of flour and coffee grounds, my eyes immediately landed on the shiny, brand new Audi illegally parked right in front of the establishment, it's owner leisurely leaning against the hood with a face of contented boredom as passerby pedestrians shamelessly ogled him and his ride. His face lit up as he noticed me, immediately rushing to hold the passenger side door open for my comfort. "M'lady," the dorky remark didn't fail to summon a smile to my face even if it was a weak shadow of my usual camaraderie.

"Mr. Stark," I greeted him as soon as he peeled off the crowded sidewalk.

The lack of joy on my face didn't go unnoticed by him and every now and then, he snuck a glance at my face. "Relax, Starshine, I won't bite."

"Well," I mumbled, remembering the vicious way I had torn into his boyfriend. "Good to know."

Seeing as that didn't do much for my nerves, he suddenly swerved right, rushing into a busy intersection with the ease of a practiced manic driver. "I'm feeling like a cheeseburger," he announced unceremoniously, pulling into a parking lot of some place I never noticed.

I doubted that I could swallow anything at all but relented, sitting down opposite him in the furthest booth from the entrance. I ordered the biggest milkshake they had as Tony grinned big at the waitress, finally taking off his sunglasses when she left for the kitchen.

I rested my elbows on the table under the scrutiny of his gaze. He kept quiet. I couldn't hold back my curiosity any more. "So?"

His sharp, clever brown eyes captured and held mine for the longest second in my life. I struggled not to break eye contact until he relented, focusing on the shine of my rings instead. "RoboCop almost died from the shit that happened to him," Tony's words were curt. I inhaled sharply, assuming he was talking about Barnes. The engineer's fingers began to fiddle with his glasses. "We couldn't figure out how you helped him. Not the medical, not Banner, not me and and not even Steph," he paused to run a hand through his hair. "Barnes was hit with a poisoned arrow. There were no toxins left in his body, not even a single inflammation marker showed up on the tests." With that, Tony expectantly turned to me.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Magic," I simply answered, figuring Strange had already briefed him about my occupation.

Tony shook his head with a snort. "Magic that the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't recognize or cannot detect?" The question was saved in nature.

Stephen Strange was Sorcerer Supreme and I had pissed him off and remained alive. I couldn't believe my luck, if Odette's stories were anything to go by. Inwardly rejoicing, I nonetheless resigned to answer truthfully. "Because there is nothing to detect, no foreign energy," I tried to phrase it in a way a scientist could understand. "What I use to heal, it is given me by nature and willingly. Think of me as a... Conductor. I merely store the energy short-term and direct it where it is needed."

That sparked a visible interest in Tony. He leaned forward, running my whole form, over and over, with his sharp eyes, searching for something I knew he wouldn't find. "Like... Making a blood transfusion?" It was obvious that he was thinking hard about the subject. "Like a successful organ transplant?"

"Something like that," I agreed amicably, seeing as he was talking at himself rather than engaging in a conversation with me.

"But it doesn't come from nothing, the first law of thermodynamics..." He started off in slight confusion.

"Yes, the total amount of energy remains constant," I interrupted him, making his eyes widen. "It's all around us, Mr. Stark. You cannot see it, and most people even cannot feel it, but mother Earth supports her creations. More than we like to think," the corner of my mouth tilted upward at the memories. Working with Gaia directly was like being briefly submersed in a cocoon of pure, warm sunshine; like being held in mother's arms as a babe. "She is kind and she is merciful, especially to the ones whose suffering is unjust," I let the man mull over my words.

The waitress brought our orders; my throat was parched, I took a few haste gulps of the chocolate milkshake. Tony's burger, however, remained unnoticed and untouched.

"Earth is a sentient organism?"

The question made my eyebrows rise; I coughed slightly, meeting his confused eyes with a smirk. "Mr. Stark, keep your science headcanons to yourself," the banter came easily now that the status quo was established.

He rolled his eyes, fitfully resisting the smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm telling on you to Mean Green," there was no malice behind his words.

I doubted the shy scientist would do much more than stutter out two jumbled questions but let the topic slide in favour of closing up on the issue. "Would you call a wolf sentient? No," I shook my head. "But it is autonomous, it has free will. Think of it like that," I wasn't really up to par on explaining Tony all the ins and outs of my craft. The more I spoke, the more questions danced in his eyes. It was charming but not something I wanted to spend most of my day on.

"I won't pretend to be anything but sceptical but as it is, I happen to be dating a wizard," the engineer finally chortled, making hands for his burger. He made a vague gesture with his fork, expression still not-quite out of the thinking place.

"They say opposites attract," I shrugged.

"Romanoff keeps saying we're two sides of the same coin, so," he non-commitally shrugged in return. "Can't help but wonder what the fuck did you tell him that day. He was seething," Tony raised an eyebrow, tone teasing.

"Oh lord," I briefly palmed my face. "Here comes the shovel talk."

"No, no," a fry landed on the table in front of me. I snatched it right from under Tony's hand. He pouted. "He probably deserved it. I mean, you saved the Terminator and, honestly," he paused. "I heard about one third of his rant and I distinctly remember something about 'girls way over their heads' and whatnot," he did a poor imitation of his boyfriend's deep voice. "Now, I consider myself a feminist so, respectfully, I disagree," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

I blanked, trying to process the avalanche of information. "That's a lot to unpack," I acquiesced.

"It means he likes you. I would know," the man had the audacity to wink at me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Tony Stark.

"Are you hitting on me for your boyfriend?" I couldn't resist snarking back, briefly catching his eyes as I polished off my milkshake.

Tony looked at me through his thick, long lashes, a picture perfect visage of surprised innocence. "Maybe," his tone a little too south of friendly, the direction of his eyes a bit lower than my face.

The snort escaped me before I could put a stop to it. The banter - it was easy, comforting in this situation where I found myself to be akin a fish out of water. Like I was a slightly socially awkward witch, Tony was a genius engineer and a notorious flirt. He toed the lines of appropriate with practiced gusto and I hadn't had the heart to do anything but indulge in a little bit of harmless fun ever since he first stepped foot in the café, seeing right through his stone cold facade of an alleged womaniser. Call it a hunch, if you will.

Say what you want about Tony Stark but one thing was definite: he was a gentleman. I thoroughly enjoyed my ride home in his expensive, fast, latest model car. As the city streets zoomed by in a flurry of blurred lines and flashing colorful lights, I allowed my mind to finally calm and resume it's usual even wandering pace.

A hand loosely thrown over the steering wheel, Tony quietly hummed along to the music, playing with the hem of his tee whenever it wasn't occupied with driving the car. He looked so peaceful like that.

The sound system played some contemporary rock that blended in with the moderately busy afternoon of the NYC streets, submerging the surroundings in catharsis. Grey everything with the occasional burst of colour from a traffic light; the brief car ride lulled me into a state almost drowsy.

"You with me, Salem?" Tony's voice quietly took me out of my stupor.

I blinked, seeing the front door of my apartment building. "Yeah, yeah, thanks," I didn't resist the big, wide smile of relief and rejoiced upon seeing his face return to his normal expression, sparkling and mischievous. "That's my stop," I motioned lamely.

Something hung in the air, something unsaid. It leaked through the gaps between Tony's smile and his eyes, it filled up the car with something thick and foggy. I was powerless to stop its influence on me; the daze remained just as it was when we zoomed through city streets.

Tony's fingers twitched on the steering wheel as I exited the vehicle, giving him a short wave before he put pedal to the metal, quickly disappearing into the twilight. I watched his tail lights glow red amongst the flat blacks and greys and beiges of my surroundings, blinking away the dryness in my eyes only when the car disappeared from my view completely.

My apartment was just as I'd left it, warm and slightly messy- but a new feeling had crawled up from the very gutter of me, foreign and impending. The walls didn't breathe the comfort I had hoped I would finally find: if anything, none of what I encountered on my rapid beeline towards the couch felt real.

I'd grown accustomed to the comforts of my solitude and routine, to attached to the simplest task of being. Sorting through my dirty laundry had never been a favourable ordeal for me, I'd much rather lived in a relatively wide bubble- rationally, I knew that sooner or later, change had have to come, but there was nothing ever rational about having feelings on one matter or another.

My spirit was trying to tell me big things were coming and I had no choice but to listen and let the currents of fate and happenstance snatch me up and take me whichever way they pleased.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[tj-shmt]

A Day of Curation

Unless its Wednesday, it should be around 11am right now when i get up. First things first, put in my headphones and go get some good music! Its Monday - time to listen to my Discover Weekly playlist, which Spotify usually tailors perfectly to my tastes.

1. 🎶 SPOTIFY 🎶

Fun fact - this weeks "Discover Weekly" suggs. Usually I get the best music from there. I don't really recall the last time any of my friends really showed a song I didn't already know or was adequately good. Tho, I have to give Amelie some credit here, she constanly hits me with great Spanish tunes. (Also to Jasi and Safae which hit me up with some dope music from time to time) I mostly get inspiration from (sad to say but its true) tik tok or by randomly shazaming the world. I also really hate to limit myslfe to music i understand. On the contrary I LOVE LOVE LOVE music arround the world. Trust me i hear Tibetian Throat Singing to Russian Electro and even Islandic and Nativ American Tribal Music. To give you an impression of how important music consumption is for me:

Last Year i spent a total of 210 441 minutes on spotify alone. That is about 9 Hours a day. The average person uses Spotify for about 18 000 minutes a year. (My friend took the freedom to calculate how much money Spotify "looses" by my consumption. i pay $30 a year an Spotify gives $0,004891 per stream to the creator. An average of 3 minutes per song (70.000 streams) means spotify pays $342.37 to the creators. Thats $312.37 of deficit LOL)

Apart form that i cant really give Spotify a certain schedule when i listen to it cuz i listen to it all the time. During gaming, during coding, laundry, gym, work, class, before sleep. ✨Always✨

2. 💬 WhatsApp 💬

There is nothing better than sleeping for an eternity while everyone is already awake for probably 4 or more hours, working! *laughs in privileged design student* Since everyone is already living its live while I still drool, I gotta get up to date in the morning. Before i even leave bed, i checke my messages there. Similar to Spotify, I use WhatsApp the whole day and can't really tell when I would not use it. Except, my phone is always on silent (casual zennial phone call phobia) meaning i wont notice anything while zoning out or gaming (which usualy is the same).

3. 👨‍🏫 TEAMS 👩‍🏫

Yeah Yeah i can already hear it. "You wake up 5 minutes before class withouth breakfast or anything..." - bla bla bla. Yeah that is the case! I would usuly go on teams and enter the classroom, while preparing a breakfast (if you can call it breakfast after 12) sit down at my desk and listen to class. Causally everything that is too theoretical with music and whatsapp. Other classes that are interesting I`ll put my full attention to it.

But i hate teams in gerneral. Not cuz its sh**, no, usualy people that do their clases there have a weird way of using it. Finding material or looking up homeworks is such a struggle sometimes. (Props to you Kevin here, I have never seen anybody using teams in such a clean and struktured way than you do. Even tho you dont neccesarily use it as it was meant to be. (which might be the turning point on why its great))

4. 📺 YouTube 📺

Yup YouTube is usually the place to go after (sometimes during (I NEVER SAID THAT!)) class.

Actually, YouTube is the place to go for me. Relaxation, Entertainment, knowledge - anything! After class I'd usually watch "Cut" or other channels that produce let's plays or entertainment of some sort.

But it's also THE place to go during coding. I rather listen to Lofi or (Slowed, Reverbed) Music that doesnt really distract me. ALSO, during coding watch A SH*TLOAD OF TUTORIALS, cuz I am proud selftaught Zennial. #BestOfBothWorlds

5. 👨‍🍳 CHEFKOCH 👨‍🍳

I love to try new things and I constantly stalk the web for new recipes. Lately a lot of Asian and Vegan stuff. Chefkoch is the app to go where i also write down my own recipes to have them with me all the time. Great thing here is, i share this account with all my family members (currently 13, including my mom, aunts, other relatives). Great way to share the secret family recipes at any time!

(Cant recommend the recipe in the img, tho!)

6.🏐 ADDIDAS TRAINING🏐

Unlike all my sporty friends that used to hit the gym before covid and not got lazy, I started to use Training Apps like Addidas Training with its free Workout plans. I use it regularly and am happy i finally found a way to stay sporty.

7. ⌨️ VS CODE ⌨️

Its either Visual Studio Code, where I would code on my current project, or gaming. As mentioned above, I would get most of the inspiration from tutorials or using dev tools on different platforms.

8. 🎤 DISCORD 🎮

I´ll use Discord as a general term for Gaming since I play a lot but many different games, tho, always use discord to communicate with my freinds while gaming.

A great place to share random BS with friends and talk about anything that comes to my mind. I spent most of the evenings on Discord with my friends. Always did, in fact. Maybe the reason why I don't really feel so affected by the pandemic. I am used to being separated from my friends since they live all over Germany or the world in general. I always enjoy Online Live Events WITH my friends.

For me the web as always been a "with" not an "alone", which is why I never understand why so may struggle with feeling "alone" on live events online. JUST GRAB A FRIEND AND DISCOVER IT ✨TOGETHER✨!

9. 📼 DISNEY+ / NETFLIX 📼

Since I use both the same amount there is not thos or that. I never Really let anybody recommend me anything, cuz ... trust me, I WON'T watch it. IDK why that is, but I need a specific mood for each show. And nobody but myself can provide that. Probably why most ove the algorithms (esp Netflix) do not have an effect on me. I'm not in the mood for your ****, sorry!

Never the less, i periodically Binge a Series and then feel empty after it ended. Then i need some time to face reality again.

Funny tho, I binged Starwars Rebels on Disney+ and after it ended i just decide to buy 4 books on amazon that expand the story to starwars (#nerd i know). I will spend the next few months reading and probably not watching anything on both Streaming services.

10. 🤤 TIKTOK 🌈

... YUP.... I grew up with vine ... but TikTok got me. And honestly I don't regret it. It's the perfect algorithm that constantly finds the best videos that feed my thirsty queer ass. I mean ...

LOOK AT THE IMG ABOVE. YES, give me more....!

Its prolly not good for my digital wellbeing or my mental health but do I care at the moment..? noooooo...

Just give me more of Starwars Parodies, Sleepwalkers, Best off's of streamers, Queer content (cuz its time this heteronormativity world is fed with it! and no i do not indentify as anyting, im just the + at the very far end!) and yeah, even some sexy content if the creator feels good about it.

AND DONT YOU GIVE ME THAT SIDE EYE OF JUDGEMENT HERE - WE ALL THIRST FROM TIME TO TIME!

TOODLES!

[findmeintheshalllows]

just in case anyone happens to see this, tw: assault, self harm, blood, drugs, self hatred, over all venting

hhhhhh I need to vent this out where no one can hear me.

I've been having really intense flashbacks again and it's triggering so many relapses.

I’ve been waking up with blood everywhere again. I just don’t care after a SH session, and I'm usually so tired I just pass out on the bathroom floor. I don’t clean the cuts or try and make them better. Everything that has happened to me is my own fault - it’s obvious. I deserve to do this to myself. I don’t deserve to be pain-free. I don’t deserve to eat or feel nourished. I deserve this reminder everyone my clothes brush against the cuts. I deserve it when a friend goes to lovingly touch my shoulder, but they unknowingly touch my cuts and cause pain. That's looping in my head 24/7.

I’ve been having flashbacks again.

I’m just now beginning to process it. It wasn’t fair. I was so fucking young when it started.

Neighbors, family friends, other kids - it was non-stop growing up and the adults in my life did nothing about it. Then when I started abusing pills and drugs at age 12, and when I started starving and cutting myself, they acted like everything was fine.

I’ve never had support, or help.

It hasn’t stopped happening. From child to teenager to adult people have been taking advantage or manipulating me in so many different ways.

I made the mistake of trusting someone recently.

Two days after hanging out with her in person, I wake up to a text that starts all of this. Sending you a text every two days?? When I've already told you I'm having trouble communicating? It wasn’t necessarily that request that made me see red. It was the audacity to ask for it WHEN I ALREADY SAID I COULDNT COMMUNICATE. It was the complete disregard for my feelings, it was the not listening to me at all. After all the long talks we had.

Worst part is that I was planning on responding to her messages that morning. I told them I was going to communicate with them that Saturday! I let her know I need even more space, and then they send apologies that aren't about what actually happened - they miss the point of everything.

Im finally in a space to be able to let them know I need a step back from the relationship, although still want to be friends. because I do! Because I can’t just give up on something so important. It hurts so much. I tell them I still need space, and things just...escalate.

They give me some space for a like two weeks, but yknow, that doesn’t work for THEIR time table, so they send me a text demanding I let them know where we stand. If they scrolled up a tiny bit and if they had actually read the first message I sent, they would have been able to see where we stand without crossing my boundary and doing the exact same thing that they had just sent apology after apology for. I was clear, I was direct, and it didn’t fucking matter. (Weird, it’s almost like those apologies didn’t really mean they were sorry!! As if, just saying “I’m sorry but actually here’s why all that was happening and excuse and excuse” doesn’t really reflect actual remorse and if you just keep doing the same thing those “apologies” mean nothing!!!)

And it just gets worse.

I get texts from their mother, messages from children on tumblr. I hear about some of the things she said to others. It's all so messy. She won't take responsibility. I don’t care what state of mind you were in when you did all these things - you did them. And they fucked me up.

I eventually stop getting texts - finally - but then notifications that they liked old Instagram posts pop up. I never truly get my boundary respected.

In one of the apology messages, she brings up something that I've been trying to process for years.

They created a situation in which I had to share a motel bed with them. I really didn’t want to - the last time we shared a bed I was way too drunk to be doing that (and when we wrestled when I was recovering from pneumonia, was that really a good idea? What were your intentions? I’m not sure if they matched mine, especially now that I have 0 trust in you), and I crossed my own boundaries - and I felt so wrong about it in the motel. I thought - desperately wanted to believe - that it was an honest mistake. I completely shut down when they brought it up years later, and admitted that it was in fact not a mistake.

They gave me every reason and excuse for them to have done something like that several times, but I couldn't really hear any of it.

This was the foundation of our relationship. I should have known.

So when they couldn’t respect my boundary ( “please give me space” ) everything just all came flooding back. If they can't respect my boundary when I'm being clear and direct, then I don't think they respect me at all.

It’s making it so hard to resolve this. Every time I go to message them I get a huge panic attack and it’s draining everything from me. I don’t want it to be over, I want to go back to when I thought they were my friend. I’m so fucking loyal, but I cannot allow myself to be treated this way. If I can’t trust you, I can’t be around you - I won’t feel safe around you, and I need to feel safe around the people I spend time with.

Anyone who thinks I can just simply end something as important as a relationship like that suddenly is dead wrong, and they don’t know a thing about me. I’ve never ended something suddenly or on a whim, but if that’s something you need to tell yourself to feel better then go for it I guess.

Because this has been building up for a little bit now. I remember the phone call when they showed me they were smoking again. It felt like a sick sense of pride too. It’s not my fucking job to tell you to quit - but I wanted to crawl out of my skin and leave the room in that moment. Something in the relationship died then. All I could think about was the smell of cigarette smoke coming from someone I care about and everything that smell brings up. I don’t think there’s a way for me to be in any kind of relationship with someone who smokes cigs. At least not until therapy. Until I can smell it without panicking.

We always talked about how we'd handle our first fight.

We'd say there'd be direct communication and respect.

But they're not treating me like they respect me.

This isn't even a fight -- its way beyond that.

If you try to tear down my boundary that's...that's gonna get a severe and sudden reaction from me.

Because ever since I was a child, people who are much bigger and much stronger than me have violently ripped away my boundaries.

Because even though I fucking hate myself, I need to enforce these boundaries.

I just want to close my eyes, go to sleep, and never wake up. I don't want to keep living with this. It hangs over me and seeps into everything in my life.

I was just a kid...

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Maze Trials: A Gally Fanfiction

Pairing: Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, first girl the Glade has seen. Tougher than she looks and more than ready to prove it. Since day one her and Gally have been at each other's throats. Fighting constantly and not just with their words.

(Gally fanfiction which will include smut. It also has an actual story line. Think of it as an AU to the original Maze Runner. It'll mostly follow the main story line with some changes. Mostly focusing on Emi and Gally and their relationship.)

Chapter Four

The next morning I was awakened by a thick accent speaking as I was being shaken.

"Greenie, wake up" Newt said giving me a good shake.

I groaned and rolled over on my back.

"You want breakfast or not love?" Newt asked quietly.

My eyes popped open as my stomach growled at his words. I hadn't realized I was hungry until he mentioned food. Newt laughed as I quickly got myself out of bed. I smoothed my hair out the best I could as I followed him out of the homestead.

Next to the homestead was a decent sized shack with a few tables sitting out in front of it. A line had formed in front of the shack as each boy was given a tray of food.

"Hey Frypan" Newt greeted once it was our turn to get our food.

"This is our new greenie" Newt gestured back to me with his head.

"I'm Frypan, you can call me Fry though. I watched you kick Gally's ass last night. That was awesome." He beamed at me then handed me a tray of food.

"Thanks" I chuckled then followed Newt once again.

I sat next to him at the table. Clint and Jeff were sitting across from us. Just as I was about to take my first bite hands slammed down on the table next to me making me jump and drop my bite of food.

I snapped my head to the side to see Minho sitting down next to me. Once he was seated I pulled my arm back and punched his arm.

"Ow" he chuckled wrinkling his nose and rubbing his arm.

"Don't do that" I chided him then turned back to my food.

I don't know if it was due to me being so hungry or if Fry's cooking was really this good but I couldn't help myself from shoveling the food in my mouth as quickly as possible. The four boys sitting around me chuckled.

"After breakfast you're gonna go with Clint and Jeff. Try out the job of a Med-Jack for the day." Newt said between bites.

I looked up at the two boys across from me. They were smiling ear to ear. Both seemed pretty eager to have me working with them for the day. I already had a feeling I wouldn't be taking the job of a Med-Jack. I had a feeling I'd be more suited as a builder.

I glanced over to the table Gally was sitting at. He was on the side of the table that had him facing me. He glanced up from his food like he could feel my eyes on him. He saw me and gave me a tight lipped nod before going back to his food.

Breakfast was soon over which meant I had to get to work. I followed Clint and Jeff back to the homestead. We went upstairs where there was two different rooms. One for their supplies and the other for checking out patients. They informed me of a small hut on the other side of the homestead that was for people who got injured and had to stay there to rest and be looked after.

Their job was simple enough. They organized and listed all their supplies making sure they knew what they had and where it was. It wasn't until a little later in the afternoon that I got to bandage someone up.

Just as Newt had said it was a slicer. The guy had cut his arm up pretty good. I learned quickly that Jeff didn't do well with these kind of injuries. He was gagging as he tried to clean the wound. The deep cut exposing the slicer's bone.

"Jeff go have a seat I think I can manage this one." I told him softly.

He quickly stepped away and I stepped in. Clint brought over a few things we'd need to bandage the guy up.

"We don't get a lot of wounds this bad. Usually its minor things." Clint said quickly as he grabbed the slicer's arm.

I saw the thread and needle Clint had grabbed and knew this wasn't going to be easy. I looked around the room quickly finding some cut up fabric. I grabbed it rolling it together as I walked over to the slicer.

"You might want to bite down on this." I suggested handing it to the boy.

He did as I said placing the fabric in his mouth to bite on. Clint grabbed the needle and thread then moved to start stitching the boy's arm up.

"Go to that side of him. You'll probably need to hold him still when I start this." Clint said as he glanced between the wound and the boy's pale face.

I nodded jogging to the other side of the boy. I placed my hand on his cheek and gently moved his head to look at me. I wanted to try to distract him.

I knew the moment Clint started working because the boy howled and tried to jerk away. Without thinking I jumped onto the bed throwing my legs on each side of the boy and sat in his lap. I grabbed his free arm and tangled my fingers together with his. I put my head between the boy's head and his arm blocking him from seeing what Clint was doing.

"Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. Don't worry about hurting me." I whispered to him.

He nodded slightly and whimpered as Clint went back to working. The boy cried and squeezed my hand until my fingers were almost purple. I didn't complain. I knew my pain was far from what he was feeling right now.

Before I knew it Clint raised up and stepped away. He was back quickly to clean the wound once more.

"Alright I'm finished" he finally said stepping back from the bed.

The slicer slowly released his hold on my hand. His head fell back as he breathed deeply. I sat up taking the fabric from the boy's mouth.

"Thank you" he said in almost a whisper.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks. I patted his chest then climbed off of him and the bed. Clint was eyeing me with a smirk. He moved back to the boy then quickly wrapped his arm in a bandage.

"Come back this evening so I can clean it again and change the bandage." Clint told him sternly.

The boy nodded then slowly sat up. It took him a few minutes but he finally got up and left the room. Jeff came over and quickly got to work cleaning up the area.

"Thanks for that greenie. I get real queasy when I can see down to the bone." Jeff said with a shy smile.

"No problem" I chuckled.

"You did good greenie. I'm sure you made the poor guy's day jumping up on him like that." Clint laughed.

"I don't doubt that." Jeff laughed shaking his head.

"Even if you don't take this job I'll probably ask you to help out with the major cases like that." Clint smiled.

"Don't let the others know. They'll be cutting themselves up all the time." Jeff laughed as he got rid of the used tools.

"I don't think they'd go that far." I chuckled lightly as I took a seat on the bed.

Jeff and Clint both just looked at me.

"What?" I asked them clearly not getting their silent comments.

"Greenie, if the only way for me to get a girl like you to get on top of me like that was to gash myself open then believe me I shucking would." Jeff said seriously before laughing.

I shook my head. These boys are unbelievable. You'd think they'd never seen a girl in their entire lives. Which, if they all were like me, that could be true. If none of them remember anything but their name they wouldn't know if they've ever seen a girl before or been around one. At least they remembered their names. At least they had that much. All I had was the feeling that I'd met some of these boys before. Like Gally and Minho. I felt like I'd fought Gally like I had last night before. When Minho draped his arm around me it felt familiar. With all that I still couldn't remember my own name.

A loud bell tolled pulling me away from my thoughts. I looked to Clint and Jeff who were taking their aprons off.

"Lunch time greenie" Clint smiled then nodded for me to come with them.

Once we had our food we sat down at the same table we were at this morning. Newt was already there with his food. I sat next to Newt again while Clint and Jeff sat across from us again. This time Alby was here sitting on the other side of Newt. I expected Minho to come sit beside me but I never saw him.

"How's it going with the Med-Jacks love?" Newt asked as he ate.

"Oh man, you should have seen it!" Jeff shouted making Clint laugh.

I rolled my eyes at them.

"What happened?" Alby asked curiously.

"She made one of the slicer's day that's what happened." Jeff chuckled shaking his head then going back to his food.

Both Newt and Alby looked at me with confusion clear on their faces.

"I had to stitch up a pretty bad gash. When the guy tried to jerk away from me she jumped up on the bed and pretty mush laid on top of him and held his hand." Clint explained with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"I kept him calm didn't I?" I asked him trying not to laugh at the look on his face.

"That you did greenie" he chuckled.

"What do you think about the job?" Alby asked me.

"It's alright I still like to try the others though." I stated simply.

After lunch I went back to work with Clint and Jeff. The rest of the day was pretty quiet. Jeff had just said the dinner bell should be sounding soon when the slicer from earlier walked into the room.

"Winston let me go early so I could come back up here." He said simply glancing over to me.

Clint had the slicer sit back on the bed from earlier. He had explained how to clean wounds and bandage them to me so he let me try it this time. I slowly took the bandage off the slicer's arm noting the blood that had seeped threw the bandage. I cleaned it with water first to get rid of the now dried blood. Then I used the alcohol. The boy hissed but stayed still. After I was finished cleaning it I wrapped it up in a new bandage. As soon as I finished I heard the loud bell toll. That meant work was over and it was now time for dinner.

The four of us walked to get our food together. The slicer thanked me again then went off to sit with Winston and the other slicers. For my first day at work I think I did decent.

—

[scentedsongrebel]

Broken Pieces (1/3)

Pairings: Steve Rogers × female! Reader

Summary: Even after everything he has been through, Steve won't be suprised if his children are the ones that get him killed.

Warnings: Language (cursing), Little angst, fluff, dad Steve, Reader is not in this part.

Word Count: 4278

Happy Birthday Steve Rogers

Image not mine. Credit to the owner.

SERIES MASTERLIST    MAIN MASTERLIST

It started with a loud screech that set every set of nerves in his body alight with fear.

The sun had already set as he was laying in his bed, scrolling through the news article about the threat dismantled by the new Captain America with a huge grin on his lips and proud glint in his eyes. He always knew Sam had what it took.

That is when the offended screech had ignited a flame he had long let go.

In all the hundred something years of his life Steve had never had a reaction as fast as he did in the moment when he runs towards the source of the noise.

Thamp Thamp Thamp. His heart screams loudly and every inch of him can hear  the attack of his heart against his rib cage as if trying to escape itself to assure the kids’ safety clearly. The fear surrounding every cell, every piece that joins to make his body whole, grows and grows until he can't think, feel, or do anything other then run like his life depended on it. Which it did. He prays through the countless steps he takes in his run, he prays his kids were safe. That they remember what he had tought them for situations like these.

In all his years since he passed on the shield to Sam this is the first time he regrets it as he pulls out the gun from the secret safe on the hallway floor and the makeshift shield tony made for him in case of emergencies.

Expecting a complete army of Hydra soldiers here for him and his family Steve prepares himself for a fight. Every moment of his life he has been afraid of the dreaded day. Even after all the security they had, he somehow always predicted this day would come. And even though he feels a little relieved you are not home and in safety he also finds himself wishing you were here so he could have some help saving his kids.

The emergency button to alert Bucky and Sam has been pressed, others were far away today. He would just have to stall until Bucky or Sam or both if they could find a safe place for their own children could come and help.

His first priority right now are his children.

And with that in mind, he rushes through the living room door, banging it open with a harsh kick, his gun raised high, eyes roaming around in search of the intruder

"Oh my god!!" His 13 year old daughter screams, horrified before she along with all three of her siblings raise their hands in surrender

Steve looks around the room in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed as he assess the situation.

His 15 year old son sits with his legs bent and hands raised on the edge of your favorite sofa that you had purchased from IKEA, besides him sit all three of his siblings, the other end of the couch is occupied by his 13- year old daughter while both the 6 year old boy and 3 girl year old girl are in the middle. All of them have their hands raised in surrender, looking fearfully at the gun.

"Dad?" his oldest cautiously asks and Steve realizes his gun is still raised and pointed at the kids and he moves it to point down, pulling the safety back on and looks around.

Pieces of glass, varying in their shapes and sizes decorate the entirety of his living room floor, from the looks of it and the center table laying on the floor. Steve has a fair idea where the glass may have come from.

He sighs but before he can say anything, the window behind the kids is shattered with a loud bang and then a screech of glass breaking and a figure breaks in.

Steve quickly raises his gun at the figure while the person does the same. Their long dark hair cover a portion of their face. The light of the chandelier above his head shines as its light is reflected back from the man's metal arm.

"Bucky?" Steve questions as he looks his friend over. His hair is completely disheveled and seem to be hastily tied together using a rubber band. A shirt that Steve is sure is inside out, awkwardly covers his chest and he still wears his pajama shorts. Several knives protrude out of his pocket which Steve is pretty sure he put in hastily.

Bucky nods his head, gun still raised, looking around for an intruder and completely prepared for a possible fight.

When he is done with his assessment and finds no one in sight, he turns back to Steve, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, the gun still raised now points at Steve

Steve closes his eyes for a second and faces his gun down again before sighing

"Max answer in yes or no, did someone break into our house?"

"Yes" the young boy answers, his arms still raised and Steve quickly regains his alert stance looking around as Bucky does the same

"Uncle Bucky did" the boy points at Bucky accusingly

With that Steve whips his head towards Bucky who gives Steve a look as if asking seriously? before Steve turns back to his 15 year old and sighs

"Except Bucky did anyone break in?"

"No"

With a sigh Steve drops his gun, making his way towards his kids, not caring about the glass pieces that pierce into the souls of his shoes he hastily put on. He goes on and takes all four of the hooligans in his arms and they hug him back in a big family hug before he pulls back and assess all their faces, looking for damage

"You all okay?" they collectively nod their heads as Bucky carefully makes his way towards the small party

"What the hell dude?" he says and Steve glares at him

"Bucky"

Bucky rolls his eyes

"What the Heck dude?" He puts extra emphasis on Heck

Steve just shakes his head and turns back to his children

"What happened here?"

Lana snifs a cry as she looks at her father

"Max was cleaning the center table when the glass fell off"

"The center table glass fell of while cleaning?" Bucky asks startled

"Anna spilled water on the table and Mom says wood gets bad if water stays on it so we were cleaning the water but it got under the glass so we slanted the table so the water could come out by gravity but instead the glass slid off due to it"

Steve sighs

"God, please tell me no one was around when it fell " Steve says worriedly looking at all four of his children

Lana shakes her head

"We made the little kids sit on the couch when Max and I slanted the table. The glass slid off towards the forward side while we were behind it and then we quickly climbed on the couch"

Steve sighs in relief and takes a look at both of his older children's feet just to make sure.

"Good good" he nods, still trying to calm himself from his initial shock as he examines their blood less, dirty but still blood less feet

Little Anna taps her tiny hand on his thigh to catch his attention and Steve looks at his 3 year old. She motions towards his feet and babbles before tears start to fall down her eyes. Outsiders may never understand what his non verbal baby often says but Steve knows clearly what she is asking and he quickly takes her in his arms, placing her in his lap and hugging her tight, running his hand up and down her back

"Daddy is fine sweaty" he coos "Daddy's shoes saved him"

She keeps crying trying to recover from her initial shock before Aiden follows the lead of his younger sister and starts crying as well and Steve pulls him in the hug too.

He tries to console the children as they keep crying, their older siblings trying to lighten the atmosphere by banging Anna and Aiden's toys together to catch their attention. Something that only increases Steve's boiling irritation.

Steve sighs, looking at the sky before he motions for a shocked Bucky to come close

"I pointed a gun at my children" Steve whispers in Bucky's ear

"Yeah man" Bucky says "Think you've traumatized them for life?"

Steve glares at his best friend before turning back to look at the kids

"Its fine, its fine" Steve pats their backs before pulling away to look at their faces. A jolt of guilt spreads through him as he looks at their faces, red with fear and he sighs before wiping off the tears on both their faces with the edge of his sleeve

"Dad" Max calls out from his side "We scared you didn't we?"

Steve turns to his oldest and nods his head

"Its fine. I'm just a little paranoid"

"A little?" Bucky snorts "You know how frightened I was when that alarm rang through? You ruined my dinner by the way. Now what am I gonna tell Sam?"

Steve just rolls his eyes and ignores his best friend

"I'm sorry dad" Max whispers and Lana nods her head besides him

"I'm sorry too Dad"

Steve just shakes his head

"No, no need to apologize. Its fine"

"We didn't think the glass would fall off" Lana shakes her head "Mom bought it so we thought it was glued in"

"Who even put it together?" Bucky asks crossing his arms and before Steve can turn to glare at him, little Anna starts to babble again

"Dadadadadada" She smiles at Steve, clapping her hands proudly. Steve gives her a smile back and Bucky lets out a laugh

"That explains so much"

"Just sh-" Steve shakes his head and stops himself from saying any bad words in front of his kids. He would have to find Bucky later to give him a piece of his mind.

"He was gonna say shut up right?" Lana turns to Max who just nods his head

"Yup"

Steve swallows at that and has to close his eyes for a second before he turns to glare at the two

"What? Dad we know what shut up means" Lana rolls her eyes

"Watch your tone with me young lady" Steve raises an eyebrow at her and then sighs "Just don't say it in front of the little kids"

"I will never understand one thing" Bucky says scratching his head "I mean why are we so careful in not saying any bad language words in front of the kids when they will eventually learn them in the future"

Max and Lana laugh at his comment, the little kids copy their older siblings as they too let out a series of laughs themselves and Steve finds himself smiling at the scene before Bucky's words really sink in.

Anna raises her hands forward asking Bucky to pick her up

"Buck Buck Buck" she babbles as Bucky takes her in his arms and turns back to the glaring Steve after shooting a wink at both the older kids' direction

"I mean my parents tried so hard not to curse in front of me and yet here I am" Bucky motions his hand in an up down gesture

"Yup and they are so proud" Steve rolls his eyes

"How come you are allowed to roll your eyes but I'm not" Lana asks crossing her arms

"Because I'm an adult" Steve sighs and raises a finger at her to stop her from saying any further. He was not in a mental state to have one of those daily debates with his daughter "Yes the moment you turn eighteen you can roll your eyes as much as you like"

Lana just sighs

"I'm gonna tell Mom" she sends him a look and he suddenly sees so much of his wife in his daughter that he has to hold back a smile. This one really is a handful.

But before Steve can say anything about it Max takes a deep breath in horror. Everyone in the room turn to look at him

"Mom" he says horrified "What are we gonna tell Mom?"

And the silence that follows is pin drop. They know it is because at that exact moment the hair pin Anna had taken out of Bucky's hair falls down on the floor and they can all clearly hear it.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh god" Lana screeches "no no no no no"

"Mom spent at-least 6 months looking for the perfect table" Max says as he pulls at his hair "We have to do something, Dad what do we do?"

"We?" Steve raises a single eyebrow at his son "What are you gonna do son and what it is is that you are gonna tell her the truth"

"Are you crazy?" Lana screams "She will kill us, do you know how close Ana and Aiden were to that thing?"

Steve narrows his eyes at her "How close were they exactly?"

Her eyes widen as she realizes her mistake and gives him the fakest laugh he has ever seen. A laugh that may as well qualify as a cry.

"What? Hahahaha What? They-they were really far- far away."

"Lana" he says sternly

"They were on the couch Dad" Max sighs "Promise"

Steve stares at his son for a second and then nods his head

"Lets just clean this up first" Steve sighs "Then you can tell Mom"

"No no no no no" Max whines as he takes hold of Steve's hand "You don't understand. Mom can't know"

Steve raises an eyebrow at his son

"She will find out eventually"

"Dad please" Lana whines and puts her arms around him and Aiden to take him in a hug. Max moves to join the hug to before he pulls away and motions for Bucky to give him Anna. With Anna in her brother’s arms all four children hug Steve

"Dad please" The two older ones whine together while Ana laughs as she is made part of the hug

"Dadadadada"

"Dad please please" Aiden is now begging too, helping out his siblings.

"Mom and I are on the same team"

"There is no team in family Dad. We are all together" Max says resolutely "And just think about how heart broken Mom would be when she finds out what happened to her favorite table that she spent 6 months looking for, not to mention the fact that she warned you against putting it together yourself"

Steve whips his head to look at his son in the eyes who shoots Steve a knowing look and in this exact moment he decides Bucky is not coming anywhere near any of his children ever again

“Not to mention how you were boasting nothing can go wrong in the house in your presence when Mom was leaving.

He will agree that had him

"Fine"

"Yeah" Bucky claps his hands and Ana joins him

"Mission: Replace the table"

Steve lets out a breath but before he can say anything Aiden points towards the floor.

"That is a gun" he says, his eyes directed towards the gun Steve had dropped on the floor along side his makeshift shield 

Steve's eyes widen in fear and he shots Bucky a horrified look who just shrugs and discreetly pushes his own gun under the sofa with his boot clad feet. Not even trying to protect the gun from the little glass pieces.

"A real gun" Aiden is now impressed and tries to get off the couch to reach the object of his fascination

"What?" Steve laughs loudly taking hold of his son from the waist and bringing him to his lap,he laughs again, a laugh that surely contests his daughter's in the best horrible fake laugh contest "That's not a gun"

"No that is gun" Aiden states excitedly "I have same gun"

The moment stops right there and he can feel several eyes him. Bucky behind him chokes on his own spit and Steve's heart seemed to have stopped beating.

How the fuck did his kid even have excess to any of his or your guns? He was pretty sure you had them in high tech password protected safes all over the house that were impossible for children to access. Then how? Were they careless in one of the hiding spots and the little boy has now procured a gun.

His little boy had a gun.

What the hell was he gonna do now. This surely is parenting low right? Oh god. What was he gonna tell you?

His mind is fighting with itself trying to find the right words or actions for a situation like this and when it turns up blank, he tells himself that saying anything would be a step. But anything does not seem to leave his mouth and so he sits there, looking at his son with his mouth open and a low pitched noise the only voice coming out of it.

This was more than what he was trained for

If it were some other day, Max may have had enjoyed his father's predicament and the expression on his face. But today it feels the old man has had enough of these mind blowing problems for his age and so he decides to pull his father out of his misery

"Yes Aiden" He says and Steve shoots him a warning look which he promptly ignores "This is exactly like your nerf gun. Dad and I had a gun war today but because of the broken table we had to cancel it"

Aiden furrows his eyebrows "I wanna gun fight"

"Yes" Max nods his head "we were all gonna participate even Lana and Anna, but maybe tomorrow"

Aiden stares at his brother for a second before shrugging "Okay"

A surge of relief is all Steve can feel at the moment and he shoots a thankful look at his son who just gives him a teasing smile

"Nerf gun is this toy gun dad" Lana whispers in his ear as she comes closer "I know you have a hard time understanding modern things"

Bucky lets out a laugh from behind him as Steve closes his eyes

His kids are gonna be the death of him.

----------

"Okay I called Sam and he'll be here soon" Bucky re-enters the room careful not to step on any glass pieces

All the kids sit on the sofa with their feet up as they watch Steve carefully swipe off the pieces

"What is Uncle Sam gonna do?"

"Take care of you guys while Steve distracts your mother and I get a new glass"

"Wait wait hold on" Steve stops his work "Why am I the distraction?"

"You are her husband" Bucky says matter of factly

Steve shakes his head

"Me crashing her girls' night is suspicious especially when I specifically told her to take time away from the family" Steve says "Why can't Sam do it?"

"He's tired dude" Bucky says crossing his arms "Being Captain America is exhausting"

Steve rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms. How would he know anything about that right?

"And taking care of six kids is relaxing"

"Well two of them would be put to sleep, two would be too guilty and would take care of the remaining two"

Steve shakes his head

"Okay fine then you go distract her"

"She's your wife"

"And your friend"

Bucky crosses his arms before he huffs a sigh

"Fine I will distract her"

Steve nods his head and turns to his children who all sit obediently on the sofa. Even little Ana and Aiden stay silent and Steve can't help but smile at them

"Its fine" he sighs as he sits down in front of them after having cleaned the floor and wiping it out with flour dough to make sure no pieces were left "Its just a piece of furniture"

He moves both his hands to his eldest son and daughter's cheek who he knows would he extremely scared

"I am not angry" he smiles at them and Lana nods as tears stream down her face

"Thank you" she says and Steve's heart breaks too much for his daughter who has been through so much in her life "One time I broke this glass cup and Max took the blame and he hit Max and he broke his hand"

She starts crying and the little kids stare at their sister in concern and shift towards her as Max puts his arm around her. Aiden wraps his short arms around her arm and hugs her as Ana offers her her Peppa pig stuffed toy

"Its okay sweety" Steve says softly taking his daughter in a hug and trying to control the extreme rage he feels towards her previous adoptive father.

Max and Alahna were both in the system since they were born having no knowledge of their respective biological families. They were both separately adopted in the same family and became siblings through the adoption. But as cruel as life was, their adoptive father turned out to be extremely abusive while the mother turned a blind eye to it.

The abuse was generally targeted towards Max and he always took the beating for Lana too. It was not until the father decided to attack Lana one day that Max decided enough was enough and contacted DCS.

They were separated despite their pleas to be put together even if it were a group home and were finally reunited when You had fallen in love with Lana 5 years ago during a visit to her group home and when she told you about her lost brother, you decided you would adopt them both.

Steve had just needed to meet them once before tearfully declaring they were his kids.

"If someone" he says patting her back "anyone touches anyone of you guys, I will make sure they are punished"

And he means it. With everything in him he means it. He knows they think by punish he means put them in jail like he made sure had been done to the abusive man. But he also knows they don't know the revenge he took for every single ounce of pain that man put his son and daughter through, his personal justice.

"I love you dad" she says and he pulls back, smiling at her and repeating the words back before patting Max on the shoulder who tries to hold back his tears, He pulls Max in for a hug too patting his back before pulling away and pulling both Ana and Aiden in each of his arms.

"I love you guys more than you can think of" he kisses the heads of both the kids in his arms who still look at their older sister with concern. His heart feels full with how much all his kids loved each other and cared for one another.

Steve sighs, shooting a look at Bucky. Time to lighten the mood.

Bucky jumps up from where he was sitting cross legged on the floor, watching the happy family scene.

"Okay, now that we are proceeding towards the next step of our plan, I need to ask you a question"

He turns to Max in all seriousness and Max looks back, seriously listening to whatever his uncle has to say

"Can you cook?" Max furrows his eyebrows before shaking his head

"No, I-I"

"What the heck kid?"

"Bucky!"

"I was supposed to cook the food while Sam took the kids to the store before your alert sounded. Now what am I gonna do?"

"So you were gonna make my 15 year old son cook dinner for you?"

"For all of us"

Steve rolls his eyes, shooting a glare at Bucky as Aiden and Ana let out little laughs as he tickles them.

"Just order pizza, Sam would understand"

Bucky rolls his eyes

"Fine" he says crossing his arms "But you better learn how to cook kid, we can't just order pizza all the time"

Max laughs at that and shakes his head

"We can order pizza anytime"

"Nice point"

"I will never understand how Sam agreed to have children with you"

"My children love me and so do yours" Bucky winks at Lana and Max and they nod their head, laughing

"That's because you spoil them"

"Kids like it when you spoil them"

"Of-course they do-" Steve shakes his head "You know what? I'm gonna put these two to bed while you order pizza and then we can wait for Sam after which we'll get a new glass"

"Dad" Max calls out and Steve turns back to look at him "Can I come with you"

"You wanna put these two to bed?"

"No no" He looks exasperated "To find the new table"

"No" It doesn't even takes him a second to reply

"Please" Max whines and Lana decides to join him

"Please dad" She makes perfect use of the remnant tears that still remain on her face as her eyes sparkle and Steve feels his resolve breaking "It was our fault. We wanna help"

Steve tires to shake his head but that resolve takes no time to break as a fresh tear slides down his daughter's face

"Fine" he sighs before begrudgingly leaving the room

The kids he carries in his arms loudly giggle as Bucky makes faces to them behind his back before he shuts the door to the living room, he just knows Bucky is imitating him with the way his kids laugh.

Well at-least they were laughing.

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

Part 2

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

Tags: @kayteewritessteve @anjali750

[archadianskies]

you're writing captain allen fic! can i um, request a nines/allen fic??? not sure if you're taking requests but it's a rarepair fo mine i'm desperate for more content /sweats no pressure though absolutely understand if you say no!!

→ on Ao3

While Markus and his merry band were busy demanding equal rights for the bots of America, a neat little plot was uncovered when the CEO of CyberLife was stood down. Part of their agreed terms was to halt the production of androids immediately, and release all those in storage as awakened deviants. What they didn’t count on was the discovery of confidential emails, staunchly denied by the government, placing an order of 200,000 RK900 units for the purpose of crushing the android revolution under heel and restoring the power balance back into the hands of humans. 

Never happened, of course, and the RK900 never went into production. Only one was fabricated, and was in its final stage of its testing phase when the revolution ended. It then became a reluctant olive branch offered to the DPD, a ‘sorry we tried to make killing machines behind your back but you can have this one and keep the prototype too’.

There’s no reason to double up, Fowler says, and this model has military upgrades so it will suit your unit better. That’s all the warning he gets before there’s an android standing in his office at 9:00am sharp on Monday.

“Captain Allen, I am the RK900. I have been assigned to SWAT unit 32, under your command.” He says, in a voice deeper than Connor’s and a little more polished. He seems to loom over him, filling out the space of his office like a large shadow, like a Terminator from those movies one of his mothers always liked.

“Do you have a name?”

“No, I was not assigned one.”

“You’re Connor’s little brother aren’t you?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard you were called Nines or 900 or something.”

“No.” Firm refusal. “I do not wish to be associated with a number.” A pause, a frown. “It feels demeaning.” Feels , he says, because apparently androids can do that now.  

“We’re going to have to call you something.” He cocks a brow, and the android averts his gaze, unsure. “Well. You’re the newest guy to the team so that makes you the rookie.”

“Rookie?” The android echoes curiously.

“You’re the rookie until the next recruit shows up.” He shrugs. “That’s the rule. We’ll call you rookie until either you give us a name, with which we will occasionally call you while still referring to you as rookie, or until there is another recruit; whichever comes first.”

“Understood.”

*~*

Connor’s baby brother is 6’5” and if looks could kill everyone would certainly be dead. Terminator’s got the worst case of Resting Murder Face he’s ever seen; it’s as if the psychos at CyberLife used nothing but rulers to design him, as if they took Connor’s model and took away everything that could possibly allude to friendliness. They even gave him startling grey eyes, as if the brown of Connor’s eyes was too warm to keep. What he learns quickly, though, is that even if CyberLife made him look like a cold blooded killing machine, they failed to scrub away the almost puppy-like demeanour so integral to Connor’s personality.

He walks in on his team in the training hall enthusiastically trying to beat the android at every obstacle course, using their years of teamwork to try and pool their skills in order to beat CyberLife’s latest and greatest. They fail spectacularly, to no one’s surprise, but the rookie’s grinning in that slightly lopsided goofy way Connor grins and the team muss his hair like one would pat a dog and he lights up just the same. He’s just as eager, as desperate to please, to integrate, to gain the approval of his human peers and there’s something both endearing and a little sad about it.

*~*

Everyone’s lives depend on trust and teamwork and that means figuring out where the rookie will fit in best. He runs them through endless simulations and the android bests them all; he can be placed anywhere, given any role, and adapts to each situation perfectly. It’s not enough- a simulation is hypothetical, a simulation is safe and is nothing like the chaos of a real mission with very real lives at stake.

“Will that be all for tonight, Captain?” He knocks his reading glasses up briefly to rub at his tired eyes, looking up from his reports to find the android standing dutifully at parade rest in front of his desk.

“Weapons cleaned, locked and logged?”

“Yessir.” A nod.

“You’ve been here a week now.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What do you think of Fowler’s choice, assigning you to my team?”

“I believe I am where I ought to be.” The rookie says slowly. “This is the department where my skills prove most useful. Connor is built to assist with detective work, and has the social programming to build strong social bonds. I lack such programming, and have been built with military modifications instead.”

“The team like you plenty.” He shrugs, and the android’s LED spins yellow as he looks away almost self-consciously. “I am glad.” He says quietly. “I find their company enjoyable.”

“Good. Their lives depend on how well you work with them, you understand that right?” Another nod, and he spares him one last glance before returning to his reports. “Alright. Dismissed.”

“Do you?” It’s said so quietly he almost misses it. When he looks up, he catches the briefest flicker of red before the android’s LED swirls yellow.

“Do I what?”

“Like me?” Another brief flicker of red. “You command this team, Captain Allen. You are the most integral part of it. I wish to get along with you too.”

He thinks back on the week that just passed, on the drug busts, on the anti-android protest that turned ugly, on the black market CyberLife raid. He thinks back on the stunned horror on everyone’s faces when the RK900 snapped a rifle in half, picked up a grown man and tossed him aside like a ragdoll in order to protect a fallen teammate. 

He thinks back on that afternoon when he ran a segment of the baton relay race, of both the SWAT unit and Android Crimes Division combined up against Connor and the rookie. He remembers how easily the brothers had beaten them and how his team had so melodramatically displayed their fake disappointment at losing by trying to tackle the RK900 and piling on him ineffectively. He remembers hearing him laugh and seeing him smile that slightly lopsided smile.

A killing machine with the personality of a puppy; loyal to a fault.

“We get along just fine, rookie.”

“I am glad, sir.” He says again, softer this time. “Good night.”

*~*

He turns 44 on the job, and they’re filthy from chasing perps through the slush, teeth chattering from the cold as they huddle in the van headed back to the precinct. He expects to die on the job, so a birthday holds no special weight. He bargains with himself that if he makes it to 50 then he’ll make a big deal out of it. Maybe.

He likes to think he’s still in his prime, and this job demands the best from him both physically and mentally. Careful with what he eats, diligent with his exercise and strict with his training he refuses to let himself slip up; he knows better than anyone what this job requires. Still, though, on missions like these he reluctantly admits to himself he’s not 20 and spry anymore.

The showers cloud with steam as they all scrub off and it’s heaven on his sore muscles and cold skin. Wrapping a towel around his waist he heads back to his locker to grab a fresh set of clean clothes, lost in his thoughts as he goes over the mission in his head. A success, though a messy one. Another slightly amusing, slightly horrifying moment when the rookie snapped a perp’s arm simply by squeezing a little too hard. Jesus he’s glad they’ve got him on their side.

Fingers ghost along his ribs and he instinctively grabs the hand and twists.

“Captain I-”

“What-”

“Sorry! You-” Red LED as he drops his hand, and the RK900 steps back to put distance between them. “Your scar- it’s- you have-”

He stares at him and the android fidgets under his gaze. Looking down at himself, he turns slightly and lifts his arm to touch the long jagged scar along his ribs. “Serrated hunting knife.” He taps a puckered scar below his collarbone. “Gunshot.” Another skimming his hip bone. “Gunshot.” Another on his shoulder. “Gunshot.”

The rookie steps closer hesitantly, reaching out slowly to give him every opportunity to knock his hand away. He remains still, and lets him touch a faint scar on his forehead. “And this one?”

“Courtesy of my cousin swashbuckling with sticks when I was five.” A small smile spreads on the android’s lips, and he takes the opportunity to look him over. God it isn’t fair the android literally hasn’t put in a day’s work to have a body in peak, perfect shape. He’s plated in kevlar too, and he raps his knuckles on the hard chest plate. “You’re brand spanking new, rookie. Not a scratch on you.”

“Shiny and chrome.” One of the men pipes up. “Don’t worry rookie, you’ll earn your battle scars too someday.”

“Then you’ll really be one of us.” He grins, and the android grins in return and something catches in his throat and he thinks oh no.

*~*

“Will that be all for tonight, Captain?” Every evening, the same question, the same earnest expression on his face.

“Weapons cleaned, locked and logged?”

“Yessir.” A nod. “I-” he steps forward hesitantly and thinks the better of it, stepping back. “Happy birthday, Captain Allen. Good night.”

“Thanks rookie.” He manages a tired chuckle. “See you in the morning.”

*~*

Not every mission is a success. Sometimes the intel is bad, sometimes the raid is premature, sometimes the weather fucks them up. Sometimes things just go wrong, horribly, horrifically wrong and all they can manage is damage control.

“No, not like this. Not like this rookie, not on my watch.” He skids over to his side and drops to his knees, the RK900 lying on his back with his chest blown open by an explosive. By a fucking grenade he caught to protect the team. The android is shaking uncontrollably, LED blood red and he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. 

“I- I don’t know what to do. Rookie, I don’t-” there’s nothing to press down on, there’s no human anatomy here, he has no fucking clue. There’s just blue everywhere, and some distant part of him thinks Hank Anderson will literally kill him with his bare hands for getting one of his sons killed. And he wouldn’t blame him, he wouldn’t fight him on that either. “Not like this, c’mon rookie, please god not like this-” the call’s already been made, and a medtech van is being sent with the EMTs but he knows he won’t last that long. This is the worst part of the job and though he’d give anything not to be in this position, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone else.

The android weakly grasps his wrist, clumsily pulling his hand to touch an erratically pulsing circle just below his sternum. The blast has indented whatever it is, pushing it in a skewed angle.

“You want me to pull it out? Get it back in properly?” A weak nod, and he scrambles for his knife. “Okay, okay uh-” He wedges the tip of the knife under the edge of the glowing circle, and it takes a few tries for him to get it to catch properly, the blood making the surface so slippery the blade ends up sliding out of place. It pops up just an inch and then he has to reach in sideways through a missing chunk of plating to push it awkwardly back into an upright position, only then can he pull it out completely. It detaches with a wet click, and then he’s carefully lowering it back in until it latches into place. He’s trying not to focus too much on the fact he can see the rookie’s insides, at all the broken tubes and wires and the sparks, and the blood just pouring out.

“Stay with me rookie, what’s next? What do you need me to do?” The android pulls insistently on his hands, guiding them towards an open segment on his chest. “Here? I don’t- ugh!” he’s unable to stop the sound of disgust that leaves his mouth as the android pushes his hands inside of his chest until he touches some sort of glass component. It has thick tubes connected to it, and the blast has fractured it in several places. He shifts a little so he’s nearly straddling him in order to keep his hands securely on the biocomponent. It thrums in his hold, warm to the touch. Whatever it is, it’s stabilising him and the rookie looks less frenzied than before, taking slow, measured breaths most likely to ventilate his overheating systems.

It feels like an eternity before the medtechs arrive with their fancy equipment and then they’re very gently extracting his hands from the rookie’s chest and before swarming the android and whisking him away for surgery.

Somehow he makes it home. He’s not sure of anything, really, but somehow he’s showered and all the blue blood is gone and he’s in his favourite old hoodie from his academy days. His hands shake when he tries to pour himself a drink so he settles for a bottle of water from the fridge. When he looks at his hands they’re clean and then they’re not, they’re drenched in blue, and then they’re clean and they’re blue again and so he takes some advil and goes to bed.

*~*

He goes to Jericho in the morning, to see the rookie and he doesn’t know if he’s there to pick up a body or is there to visit as a guest. It’s the latter, thankfully.

“So he’s alright?” He asks one of the android doctors, and she nods with a smile.

“Yes, you saved his life.” She leads him down a hallway. “His heart was damaged by the explosion but you held it together and allowed it to keep pumping blood around his body.”

“I had-” he swallows thickly and thinks about the warm glass against his palm, “I held his heart in my hands?”

“And saved his life.” She gestures at a door. “He’s running a diagnostic cycle, but he’ll be ready for discharge in an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you .” She laughs softly, before taking her leave.

The rookie is propped up by a couple of pillows, looking down at his chest.

“Hey.”

“Look, I have scars now.” The android says quietly, tracing a few jagged lines on the black kevlar plating around the glowing blue circle beneath his sternum.

“In my defence,” he takes a seat by the bed, “there was blood everywhere and I couldn’t wedge my knife under it in one go.”

“I like them.” He smiles tiredly, touching one of the thin jagged lines. “They remind me you saved my life, Captain.”

“I was way out of my depths there rookie, I’m glad you were awake enough to guide me.”

They sit there quietly and he listens to the machines beep and whirr and tries not to focus on how exhausted he feels, how raw and exposed he feels because of all that’s transpired.

“I have been alive for exactly one month today.” The rookie says quietly.

“This is a pretty lousy way to start off the day, sorry.”

“I’m starting it off alive, so I would consider that far from lousy, sir.”

“Oh so you’ve got no social programming, but you’ve got sass is that it?” He rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smile on his lips. The android regards him with those striking grey eyes and he knows the only cold thing about them is the colour. Reaching for his hands, just like yesterday, he guides them to rest on his chest.

“You held my heart in your hands and you saved my life.” He murmurs, LED flickering yellow and holding. “Would it be alright if I entrusted it to you for safekeeping?”

He knows what he means, he knows what he’s asking of him and it terrifies him. He knows this job is hell, he never wanted a partner to get caught up wondering, waiting for him to come home and the one inevitable time he won’t. He’s kept everyone at arm’s length, he’s given his mind, body and soul to this job in place of his heart. Maybe this way they’ll keep each other safe. Maybe this way it’s better; they both know the risks, they both know what the job demands of them.

Leaning in, he presses their lips together and gives his heart in return.  

[everestv-themuse]

Heat of Her Breath in My Mouth (I'm Alive)

Thanks so much for this prompt and for the first ficlet I’m posting with its title! I figured it deserved it since it totally ran away from me and became longer than I was originally planning. Shaelin Cadash x Sera for @honestly-wilde​ @talesfromthefade​ @dadrunkwriting​

“Are you quite sure?” Dorian asks again as the group of them race across the Storm Coast shore, weapons drawn and poised for battle.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Shaelin scoffs from her position on Iron Bull’s head, hands gripping his horns for balance, but ready to draw her dual daggers once closer to their targets. “I’m the one with the best vantage point right now,”

“Yes, as you mention often enough,” Dorian says through controlled breaths, careful not to pant or seem even in the slightest out of breath, before rolling his eyes. Sera sniggers from Iron Bull’s other side. “It’s just...darkspawn? So far out in the open? I simply question what they’re doing in the middle of nowhere on the beach, that’s all.”

“He’s got a point,” Sera speaks up, pausing briefly to send an arrow into one of the hurlocks they were getting closer to, before catching up with the group again. “Darkspawn being around always equals some hole nearby they had to crawl out from,”

“Heads up!” Iron Bull yells at the darkspawn slowly becoming aware of the approaching enemies, just in time to be met with a dwarf armed to the teeth being thrown up over the qunari’s head and straight at them.

The four Inquisition members easily slip into battle positions as they’ve done countless times before — Sera on top of an upended boat at the edge of the fighting, sending arrows ripping through any enemy seemingly gaining the upper hand; Dorian positioning himself directly opposite her at the other edge of the battle, maintaining barriers for each member of the party while casting a volley of lightning strikes here and there; which left Iron Bull and Shaelin at the center of it all, slashing their way through enemies with blades that quickly soaked through in black blood.

Even so, the fighting did nothing to halt their conversation.

“‘Heads up?’ That’s seriously all you got for a battle cry?” Shaelin gives Iron Bull a look as she cuts a hurlock down to its knees, before aiming another clean swing to slash its throat.

“I won’t lie, amatus,” Dorian pipes up above the din of battle. “I was disappointed as well,”

“I was distracted, alright?” Iron Bull just groans as he raises his two-handed axe high above his head, ready to send it crashing back down to slice a hurlock clean in two. But the next second, the same hurlock is crumpling to the ground with two arrows straight through its helmet. Bull looks up to meet Sera’s playful gaze and tongue sticking out at him with a grimace. “Stealing my kill again? Not appreciated, thanks!”

“Oh, just admit you love m—” Comes the cut-off reply.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iron Bull grumbles with his back already turned away from Sera. “Anyway,” Spinning around, he downs two darkspawn with one blow and finishes them both just as quickly. “I would’ve thought of something better, but I was trying to listen to what you guys were saying—”

“Excuses, excuses!” Shaelin laughs as she tackles a darkspawn coming at Iron Bull from behind.

“—and I was trying to think of the cave system nearby and if we had explored it yet—”

Dorian scoffs and swings his staff out once he realizes that Sera’s barrier has been on the weaker side for a bit now. “You say that as if you’ve already memorized the new map Scout Harding sent us this morning. Are we really meant to believe that, love?”

“Oh, sure, doubt the professional spy!” Iron Bull throws back without a hint of real bitterness to his voice. Shaelin chuckles as she cuts down one of the few remaining hurlocks, before turning to Sera’s position to share an amused look with the elf. Instead, she’s met with empty air where the archer used to be. “All I’m saying is we could stand to check out the area.”

“Sera?” Shaelin calls out, sheathing her daggers and leaving the last darkspawn to the two still bickering, stepping carefully over the bodies to closer inspect the upended boat.

“Yes, yes, it’s a perfectly fine idea,” Dorian muses, lightning crackling at the edge of his voice as a sudden storm rages down on the last enemy standing. “But we don’t depend on you for plans, we depend on you for the pizzazz! The showmanship of battle! And to be perfectly honest, you’ve left us all wanting.”

“Sera, where—”

“I’m fine, I’m good!” The elf exclaims as she pops her head out from behind the boat. “Was just thrown backward during the fight, is all,”

“Pizzazz, huh? Is that what you call adrenaline-fueled sexiness?”

Following a lowly murmured string of flirty Tevene, Shaelin quickly tunes out the two lovebirds and focuses on Sera as she attempts to shake out the gravel from her armor. “Are you sure? It looks like you’re—”

“I said I’m good, Tadwinks,” Sera insists with a smile, gently shoving away Shaelin’s advances. “Seriously. Now, what was all that about a cave?”

“Right, yeah,” Shaelin nods and heads back towards her friends. “Wrap it up, you saps, let’s head towards that cave. Where did you say it was again?”

Iron Bull tears his suggestive smirk away from the mage and turns toward the dwarf instead. “Oh, uh, due west. Down the coast. Lots of spiders, deepstalk— I mean, the little cuddly lizard guys that you’re totally not afraid of, you know. Typical cave. Except maybe with more darkspawn this time.”

Dorian represses a chuckle and Shaelin glares at him. “Right, great, no problem. Lead the way.”

“You sure you don’t want to climb back up on my horns, Boss? That way you’re farther from the ground? And, you know, the occasional deep—”

“No, thank you!” Shaelin growls and barely dodges Dorian’s attempt at ruffling her hair. “I can handle the worms with teeth and legs this time, thanks! Just fucking walk already,”

“Yes, ma’am,” Iron Bull responds as seriously as he can manage and Shaelin just sighs as the group treks on.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, your fear of some vicious thing that’s so much smaller than you, it’s almost impressive,” Dorian points out as he stretches his arms above his head. “Everyone has some sort of embarrassing fear or two.”

“Right, yeah, like Dorian’s fear of running out of color-coded clothes one day!” Iron Bull smiles and to his credit, Dorian just nods solemnly.

“Quite right. A dreadful thought,” the mage says. “But not to count out Bull’s fear of running out of different ways to swing a weapon.”

“Exactly! Who would I be without my violently creative tendencies?”

“Sera, you’re really gonna let them gang up on me?” Shaelin huffs as she glances between her two bullies. She’s met with no reply. “Come on, say you have my— Sera!”

The dwarf, glancing behind her to meet eyes with the elf trailing behind, cries out at the sight of a crumpled figure a little ways back down the beach. Immediately, she sprints across the gravelly shore, barely aware of her companions racing after her.

She skids to her knees once she’s close enough, scrambling to cradle Sera’s head in her lap and check for signs of serious injuries. She kneels in a quickly growing puddle of blood and Sera’s eyes struggle to flutter open and Shaelin’s heartbeat thrums so loudly in her ears it drowns out the waves crashing to shore, and it’s hard to focus on anything else in the moment.. Her hands shake as she pokes and prods until the elf finally grimaces in response.

“Ah, sh-shit, easy there,”

Shaelin tries to ignore the trembling in Sera’s voice before turning towards Dorian who’s already there, kneeling and pressing comfortingly against her side. “It’s her shoulder, it’s— I-I can’t see with the armor, it’s just all covered in—”

“I got it, I see it,” Dorian says in his calmest voice before waving towards Iron Bull who’s pacing nervously at his side. “Bandages, elfoot, regeneration potion. Hurry.”

“Right. Sorry.” Bull mumbles before dropping to his knees and rummaging through his pack.

“Shaelin, keep her steady,” Dorian instructs as he delicately begins to unbuckle and peel away at the shoulder piece and fabric beneath the armor, trying to ignore the way his patient groans and squirms in her barely conscious state. Finally, his hands now covered in blood, he gets a clear look at the wound. “Bull, clean water and that potion, now.”

“D-Dorian...that’s a hole...straight through...” Shaelin says, her voice barely above a whisper, as she stares at the wound. “It’s...she’s...there’s so much—”

“I know, salroka, she’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll be— oh, thank you,” Dorian says as Iron Bull shoves a canteen and vial into his hands. The mage works quickly to flush the wound with water, watching as the gushing blood slowly begins to dilute. “Shaelin, Bull, the potion is going to sting. I need you to hold her down just in case. Keep her from thrashing. Ready?” The two nod, holding onto trembling limbs as firmly as needed. Dorian takes a small breath and pours small amounts of the potion onto the wound. Immediately, Sera cries out in pain and jerks against her constraints, but the two hold fast and she only manages to resist for a moment before falling completely limp.

“S-Sera?! Dorian, she’s—”

“That’s a good thing, Boss. If she’s passed out, she can’t feel any of it,”

“Bandages, please?” Dorian nods at Iron Bull’s murmured comment and reaches out his hand to receive his request. “ He’s right. I can’t focus on magically keeping her unconscious while I’m closing the wound at the same time. This is for the better, trust me.” He says and focuses on pouring the rest of the regeneration potion on two separate strips of bandages, using them to wipe both sides of Sera’s shoulder and then pressing them firmly against the wound. He looks up at Shaelin. “I need you to keep pressure on her shoulder, alright? Press hard,”

“R-Right, okay,”

Dorian watches the young dwarf do as she’s told while he stretches out his crimson-stained hands to hover over Sera’s shoulder, willing light blue wisps to spring from his fingers and seep through to the elf’s skin beneath the mess of blood. He closes his eyes as he works, mentally directing the magic to weave and sew the wound closed, fingers waving and writhing as if conducting a symphony of so many moving parts. It’s all Dorian can do not to slump against Iron Bull’s side as he works with such minute magic and as he can feel the mana seeping out of him with each second that passes, having so little left after the battle.

“There,” the mage says with effort. “It’s closed. Now I just have to...I just...”

“Whoa there,” Iron Bull presses closer with a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, all but supporting the staggering mage’s weight. “I can take it from here. Just gotta bandage her up, right? Go take a breather, collect yourself. Shaelin, keep your hands there while I wrap it, okay?”

***

Shaelin lays on her side on the padded bedroll, curled up and focusing on her breathing, just like Iron Bull taught her. She’s trying to keep calm, trying to keep sane, even as she stares at the motionless elf next to her, waiting and watching intently. Catching herself gnawing at her lip, she sighs in frustration and the words Cassandra has drilled so many times before, come to mind: You’re all wound up. Find where you’re holding tension in your body and focus on—

Then, a flutter of eyelashes and Shaelin cranes her neck closer, waiting for— there. Sera’s eyes blink open.

“Wha...where...we back at camp already? Ah, fuck, that hurts...”

“Stop moving, idiot!” Shaelin exclaims before throwing herself onto the elf, straddling her middle and leaning in close, careful to support her weight against the bedroll and not her victim’s shoulders. The dwarf blinks furiously against emerging tears. “Just what the fuck were you thinking?”

“Me? Just now?” Sera responds sluggishly, finding it hard to meet the watery gaze hovering only inches above her own face. “Was thinking this is the first time my arm’s been in a sling. Not fun, ‘case you were wondering.”

“Dumbass!” Shaelin growls and swallows hard, angrily willing her throat to stop tightening up on her. “I’m talking about back there on the beach! I asked you! I asked you if you were okay and you said you were fine! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I was fine, it was just a little—”

“You passed out! Twice! First from blood loss and then from the pain when Dorian was stitching you up. Sera, I can’t believe you—”

“Well, shit, maybe if the healer wasn’t being so rough, I would’ve—”

“You think this is funny?!” Shaelin’s voice grows a steel to it and Sera winces at the tone. “He saved your life! You were bleeding out! We were—”

“Yeah, look, I get it!” Sera interrupts, biting at her lip and turning her head to the side to avoid the dwarf’s gaze. “It was bad this time, I just...I wanted to...”

“Why didn’t you say exactly how bad it was? When I asked you, let alone when it first happened, you should’ve just been honest! Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you?! I mean, what the fuck were you—”

“I couldn’t let things just stop, alright?!” The elf’s words come out in a jumbled mess as she rushes to explain. “We were on a roll — tons of fights earlier but no messes or mistakes, things were good. And then the darkspawn. And then Bull mentions the cave. I knew we had to check it out ‘soon as they were all dead, no time to lose. Darkspawn were spilling out some hole somewhere, we couldn’t just sit on our asses while I downed a healing potion and caught my breath. We didn’t have time. I figured after the cave, then I could take a break. It was my fault the arrow caught me the way it did, anyway, I was being stupid, not focusing...” Sera’s eyes grow big as she all but pleads for Shaelin to meet her gaze, but it’s the dwarf’s turn to look away with a shake of her head. “But...that doesn’t matter. You did clear out the cave, yeah?”

Shaelin lets out a noise that’s halfway between a scoff and a cough trying to work its way out of her throat. “Ironically enough, there was no time.”

“There was no...you’re saying you just left it?!”

“What part of bleeding out are you not getting?” Shaelin says through clenched teeth. “We had to rush you back to camp. It wasn’t a choice, no one had to make the call, there was just no other option.”

“But what about the fucking—”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Shaelin interrupts, leaning back to rest against her haunches and as far from Sera as she could be while still straddling her middle. The dwarf runs a tired hand through her hair. “You shouldn’t even be talking right now, let alone arguing about this shit. You need to rest. I’ll come back to check on you in a bit.”

“Wait, Shaelin, I—”

“No, I’m not asking, alright? You need to—”

With her good hand, Sera darts up to clench Shaelin’s shirt in her fist, pulling her down and crashing their lips together. She tries not to focus too much on the dwarf’s full weight pressing against her chest, making her shoulder ache in protest. Sera can only focus on kissing her, all teeth and rush, until Shaelin can slow the kiss down and deepen it, softening lips and relaxing the embrace. Soon, the two taste salt on their tongues, unsure of whose tears they were tasting.

Sera pulls away slowly, reluctantly, keeping her eyes closed and her breathing steady against the tremor in her voice. “Don’t leave angry, alright? Please? I’m sorry, just...just stay here for a bit longer. ‘Till I fall asleep. Just sleep with me. Please, I’m sorry...”

Wordlessly, taking a deep, shaky breath, Shaelin presses closer until their foreheads touch. The elf below her lets out a breath of her own. The two lay like that in silence, listening to the wind murmuring against the outside of their tent, listening to the familiar chatter of the camp all around them, their chests slowly rising and falling in unison.

Eventually, Shaelin moves away and off of Sera, resuming her previous position of curling into the elf’s uninjured side. This time, though, Sera moves to entwine their fingers together, squeezing Shaelin’s hand once in apology, and once more in a promise. Without hesitation, Shaelin squeezes back.

[a-town-called-hometown]

for the prompts, kris exploring castle town?

If Kris asked Ralsei nicely, they know he would be more than happy to give them a tour. He's spent so long alone. It would make him overjoyed to have someone to talk to. He probably has a lot of interesting things to say about Castle Town and how it came to be. He might even answer some of their harder questions about the nature of the Dark World, even though he'd probably keep a few secrets from them. It would make him happy. More than happy.

But they don't trust that he wouldn't try to talk them into giving up their free will again.

And if he has an answer about how to stop the Player entirely, they know he won't give it to them outright.

So, with a prickle of guilt, Kris heads in alone.

It's the middle of the night. They don't know how day and night works for Darkners, but it does work, there's a good chance Ralsei's currently sleeping. Susie certainly is; she rarely, if ever, texts them this late. They're glad for it, in a guilty way. She'd be sure to notice that they're purposely avoiding Ralsei, and that's not a conversation they want to have with her, either. They don't like lying outright. It's easier to keep everything a secret and hope that things continue without blowing up.

And how well is that working out for you? a little voice in the back of their mind says as they slide down a waterfall. It's not the best long-term strategy you could have come up with.

They try to ignore it. They've gotten good at that.

It feels strange to be slipping through the shadows of Castle Town in the middle of the night. The deserted streets and buildings have always felt uncanny to them, but the knowledge that it's nighttime lends the location an extra layer of spookiness. It's as if they've been dropped into one of the ghost stories they loved as a child. It both invigorates them and unsettles them. They're fully alert as they begin to explore.

Shops, houses, inns, storehouses. All are unlocked. All are empty, swept clean of any identifying marks. They're built of solid stone and wood and mortar and tile, but if anyone ever lived here, any trace of it is long gone. Kris searches every single building in the small town, looking over every single room and every plot of land. The same result greets them every time. It is a faceless town, and there is nothing to scar the perfect stillness. There aren't even any loose stones on the ground. The only sign of comes from the fountain reaching up from Ralsei's castle, arcing endlessly into the blackness above. Eventually, once their search has ended with nothing, they stand in the courtyard, staring up at it.

For a moment, they hesitate. It already feels like a breach of privacy to be in this town at all. Entering Ralsei's castle would be another level of intrusion entirely. They don't think that he would mind very much, but even still…

I'll just look at the library he mentioned, they decide. It still feels wrong, but the decision mitigates that wrongness just enough for them to keep moving. I won't look at anything else. I'll see if he has any answers about this in there, and if he doesn't, I'll just go. I'll ask him for a real tour later to make up for it later. 

Their heart pounds a heavy rhythm in their chest. They open the door as quietly as they can. There's only darkness in the room beyond. Nobody there.

Kris can't exactly be silent, with the way their feet habitually shuffle. But they can be quiet. Quiet is good enough. They don't open any of the doors, since one of them could be Ralsei's bedroom, but they do look through any entrances that are open. The walls and floor are as eerily featureless as the rest of the town was. There's the occasional tapestry bearing the Delta Rune, and each of the rooms they see have some furniture, but it's all so clean that it feels like nobody actually lives here. The more they look, the more the absence of life unsettles them. Why aren't there more people here?

Another question for the library, they think. I should have gone earlier in the night. The way things are going, I won't be back by sunrise. There's so much I need to see before I leave.

As they're resigning themself to another school day fueled by excessive coffee, their eyes catch on something. Through a nearby archway, there's a courtyard, with one entrance from each direction. Unlike everything else, it's not featureless. The fountain is there. And in the area all around the fountain's stone base, tiny blue flowers peek up from tufts of black grass. It's the first non-Ralsei life that they've seen in the town in the time they've been here.

As carefully as they can, they step onto the grass. They half-expect alarm bells to ring out, but there's nothing. As forbidding as this place feels, it seems that there's nothing to protect the fountain. They're fine.

Still, they're cautious as they approach. The fountain -- so impossibly black, as if the world's darkest shadows were made liquid -- is humming with power. The closer they get, the more they can feel it. It doesn't seem to be sentient, but there's so much magic that they can feel it buzzing in their teeth. Kris can't decode what the magic is being used for. Is it just an inert energy source, or is it a conduit powering something they can't see?

They've touched a fountain before. It probably won't hurt them. Just as their possessed soul being thrown into the other fountain opened a portal home, touching this might have an interesting effect. They can just yank their hand away quickly if anything goes wrong. They raise their hand --

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Kris."

The hairs rise on the back of their neck. Slowly, fighting the urge to bolt, they turn around.

Ralsei's wearing the cloak they first saw them in. The hood is down, but even without shadows obscuring his face, they can't read his expression at all. "You don't have the Player to give you extra resilience. It would hurt you."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I couldn't sleep." The barest hint of a smile crosses his mouth. They still can't read it. "Fate works in mysterious ways."

They say nothing.

"Come with me. I have cake in the kitchen. It's not exactly polite to break into your friends' places of residence in the middle of the night, but it's okay if you didn't know that."

"I needed answers."

"You won't find them here."

They don't move.

After a long moment, he exhales. A tiny, weak smile spreads across his face. "I apologize. It's late, and I've had a difficult few days, but that's no reason for me to be rude. I promise I'm not angry with you, Kris. It makes sense that you would go looking for ways to escape what you see as a horrible fate. But you don't have to be afraid. Everything is fine."

Still, they don't move. The initial fear has worn away, giving way to guilt. Despite how complex things are with Ralsei, they do still consider him a friend. They aren't sure which fact makes them feel worse: the fact that they knew breaking in was morally questionable and they did it anyway, or the fact that he forgave them so easily for it. Their stomach is hurting.

They search for something to say. The only thing that comes up is "Why have things been difficult?"

"It's not something for you to worry about, but I appreciate that you care."

"I want to know."

"No. It's a personal issue. Really, I'll be fine. Sorry for worrying you."

"Ralsei, if you're not okay--"

He holds up a hand. "With all due respect, Kris, I'm supposed to be helping you, not the other way around. You'll be happier if you don't know this. I understand why you wouldn't trust me, but let me handle this on my own. Please."

They stare at him. He stares back. The tiredness that they've been ignoring hits them all at once, blunt as a brick thrown from a freeway overpass. They hadn't thought he would be a secret-keeper like them. It's… strangely upsetting to see that trait in him.

Finally, he looks away, dropping his hand. His cheeks turn slightly pink. "It's late. I'm… neither of ourselves are really ourselves at this hour. You should go and get some rest. We'll both feel better after a few hours of sleep."

They don't argue. Their hand rises to their collarbone, tapping out a self-soothing rhythm. Slowly, they nod.

"I'll walk you to the town gates. You can get home on your own, can't you?"

"I guess," they mumble. If they get too tired on the way back, they suppose they can just fall asleep in a bush or something. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Okay." He inhales, exhales again. "I'm sorry again."

"Yeah. Me too."

They follow him. As always, his strides are purposeful where theirs are not, his motions graceful where theirs are clumsy. He doesn't say anything more during the walk to the gates. They're grateful for it. They aren't sure how to make conversation with him right now. Or ever, if they're being honest.

The gate is open, as it always is. They step out onto the field. The air is fresher here, and it injects a little life into them. Their shoulders lift from the defensive hunch they'd taken on. They can breathe a little easier. 

"Wait," Ralsei says.

They turn back.

Before they can really process it, he's hugging them. They freeze instinctively, unprepared for the sudden contact. He doesn't hug them very tightly, but they can sense desperation in it.

Part of them wants to shove him away. They don't like being touched without permission, even when the person in question is someone they care about. The other part wants to soothe him. They don't know what's going on with him, but he's clearly more upset than he's letting on. He needs a friend right now.

Kris doesn't do either of those things. They simply stand where they are, waiting for him to let go. They don't have to wait long. It's only a handful of seconds later when he steps back. "Sorry. I should have… sh-should have asked permission."

"Please do that next time."

"I know. I know. I'm just-- I'm s-sorry."

They study him, the way he pointedly does not look at them, the way his expression looks like a jigsaw puzzle put together wrong. He looks like he's about to cry. It twists their heart. 

He was right when he said they're not meant to play emotional support. They don't know what to do with this. Whatever's plaguing him, it's obviously much deeper than they know how to handle. He looks like he's on the verge of tears. Like they're the last contact he'll have for a hundred years.

Carefully, they say, "Are you sure you'll be okay alone? I can send Lancer to stay with you."

He shakes his head. His voice is thick. "J-just go. Forget about it. The next time you see me…  the n-next time you see me, I'll be better. I promise I will."

They don't want to go. But a single look at his face tells them that this is something else they can't fix. If they were more like him, better at being what someone else needs, they could figure it out. Maybe they could fix it if they were the Player, even, but they're just Kris right now.

So they turn around. They obey his wishes, much as it bothers them. It's awful, but they know they can't do anything for him without knowing his secret.

They'll apologize to him tomorrow. They'll ask him for a proper tour, and let him feed them cake. If he's still upset, they'll send Lancer his way to cheer him up. It's not much. Simple, feeble gestures, temporary bandages for him. Not enough to make up for upsetting him.

It's been a weird night. They'll chalk their persistent dread up to that fact and put it out of their mind. They don't want to look at it any longer.