#in a lot of scenes we see him twist his neck violently

[thefirstpaleontologist]

Anatomy of Alastors demonic forms

[percheduphere]

I wanted to find and gather some lesser appreciated Mobius moments from S1, and some thoughts occurred to me.

When we see Mobius drill into Loki about his choices, his thought patterns, whether or not he enjoys hurting people, Mobius comes down on Loki HARD, cruelly, goading, and manipulating (Sound familiar? Just wait...). He does so in a way that's confident he will get the answers he expects from Loki, which he does.

When we cut to the scenes with Renslayer, Mobius's truer, gentler side appears. The side that is kind and soft and believes in second chances. Notice, also, the difference in lighting between these scenes.

And then it hit me:

Mobius was using a carefully constructed persona--an illusion--with Loki to control the situation and get Loki into the headspace of self-reflection. He uses the very same technique Loki uses regularly to get the outcome that is beneficial for both of them.

Genius, really.

As we move into S1E2 and E3, the power dynamics are decidedly uneven, but once they are out in the field, Mobius's actual power and control over Loki is quite limited and actually banks on a LOT of faith. A ridiculous amount of faith, to be honest. Despite logical misgivings, Mobius makes a POINT of giving Loki freedom and trust because he has analyzed Loki enough to know that lack of trust perpetuates a destructive self-fulfilling prophecy.

So when Loki chooses to escape with Sylvie, all those centuries of belief and good will Mobius invested in him were thrown in his face. He's understandably furious, but the interrogation scene after both Lokis are captured simply does not read as normal without the additional lens of jealousy. If Mobius were not emotionally compromised in some way, he would have handled the interrogation clinically, and he would have sent Loki to be pruned without a thought.

Mobius doesn't do either of those things. Rather than asking Loki objective questions, he focuses on Loki's attention on Sylvie and verbally twists the knife where he can. His punishment for Loki after the interrogation is shockingly personal:

A word about the Sif loop scene: I really, REALLY hated that Mobius did that. It honestly made my gut churn. I think the writers tried to play it off for laughs because Loki gets kicked in the balls repeatedly, but the emotional undercurrent of Sif's words and everything that it means is just awful.

That said, I understand that this scene reveals not only Loki's vulnerability but ALSO Mobius's. This is a "passionate diagreement" through proxy. Mobius knows what would hurt Loki the most psychologically. But why would Mobius choose to hurt him this severely with these specific words?

Remember, this might be a memory, but Mobius is choosing to speak his feelings to Loki through Sif.

I think the answer is 4-pronged: First, Mobius put his career, reputation, and friendship with Ravonna on the line for Loki. The stress of the potential repercussions (which were HIGH) should Loki betray him was a constant heat on his neck. Despite this, Mobius chooses the riskier route of believing Loki would not betray his trust. And yes, within the context of what Mobius has done to advocate for Loki and what's at stake for Mobius should he fail, Loki absolutely betrays him.

Second, Loki told Mobius everything he believed about the TVA and his place in the multiverse is a lie. When was the last time Mobius reacted so violently?

When Brad called him a "nowhere man".

Mind, there is guilt beneath this anger. Not only has everything Mobius believed in been revealed as a lie, it is revealed he was complicit in the genocide of multiple timelines for which there was never any ultimate good. YIKES. That's a lot to take in, and Mobius at his core is a deeply empathetic person. The guilt of this horror, at his hands, is probably why Mobius does not defend himself when Sylvie tears him a new one in S2E4.

Three, I think Mobius may have wished for a friendship with Loki long before his intervention. I've written elsewhere that his intervention appears to be premeditated. Mobius was only waiting for his chance to come along. Who knows how many centuries that took. I believe he may have rationalized away his emotional attachment as a means to help the TVA succeed. Mobius is adept at suppressing not only his emotions but his wants.

Four, by S1E3, Mobius came to love Loki to some degree, platonic or otherwise. I think it's very difficult to not develop love for someone or something you've been tasked to be an expert on. Having Loki actually beside him, engaging with him over lunch and work, no doubt added some much needed color in Mobius's life. It's hard not to become infatuated with someone fun and exciting.

The jealous rage that overwhelms Mobius doesn't last long. When it comes down to it, Mobius can't help but believe in Loki. Doubt in the TVA takes root once his immediate anger dissipates. So Mobius steals Ravonna's TemPad, verifies Loki's claims, and immediately self-corrects. Mobius could have dug his heels in with more denial, but he doesn't. Why? Because Mobius ultimately cares more about Loki than himself.

When Mobius returns to Loki, he asks a few other questions that I can't share images for because of the 10-image limit. Those other questions include but are not limited to:

Do you care about Sylvie?

Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?

I should point out these questions are not at all tied to the well-being of the TVA or the multiverse. They are specifically tied to Loki's well-being. Loki's happinness.

Why does Mobius ask these questions? Because, in my opinion, Mobius was preparing himself to let Loki go, be with who he wants to be with (Sylvie), and fight the battle he wants to fight. Mobius will not be the obstruction to Loki's path to personal success even if that means letting go of the TVA, letting go of Ravonna, letting go of Loki himself.

All of this is a selfless act of love. What kind of love that is is up to the viewer, but it is very much there. It's real and integral to the story.

Classic Loki points out that this is a high cost. In response, Mobius takes the crux of his belief in Loki and directs it to himself.

The beauty of the goodbye scene in S1S6 is that the emotional thrust of selfless love is echoed and amplified in Loki's own self-sacrifice in S2E6. Loki lets go of the TVA, lets go of Sylvie, lets go of Mobius himself. Ouroboros.

[laelior]

Was digging around in my old Dragon Age WIPs and I found this spicy scene I'd written for my Solavellan lovers-to-enemies longfic. It takes place near the end of the fic, and there's a lot of work to do between where I left off (in fucking 2017) and this scene which tbf I don't know if I'll get to anytime soon.

But this scene I liked. So I'm sharing it. It's spicy , has spoilers for the story, and has some mild dub-con elements, so consider yourself warned.

The Moth and the Flame

She was clearly in the Fade. It was formless, lacking any familiar features or landmarks except for the ever-present Black City that floated ominously in the distance. The only feature she could see nearby was a length of ancient, crumbling stone wall that stood alone among mists of the Fade. 

Wind howled around her, blowing her hair this way and that, tossing around cape of her tan traveling cloak. Her cloak whipped up over her shoulder with a particularly violent gust, the ties straining against her neck. She reached up with her left hand to pull it back down, but she grasped with nothing. Her left hand was gone, as it was in the waking world. A small, startled cry broke loose from her throat.

Ashes fell from nowhere, borne on the wind from an unseen fire. Disembodied voices whispered furiously, creating a cacophonic symphony of sound in the wind. The voices spokes in common, Tevene, Dwarvish, Qunlat, Elvhen. In the hissing tongues she had only heard uttered by Darkspawn. In languages she had never heard before.

“Harellan,” they whispered. Insults. Praises. Words that had no translation in the common tongue.

“Traitor.”

“Amgeforn.”

“Shokrakar.”

“Rebel.”

“Proditor.”

“Teldirthalelan.”

“Liberator.”

“Mexdax.”

“Nuva mar’edhis banafelas i miol’en av ra.”

“Katari.”

“Askatzaile.”

“Dread Wolf.”

Amidst the swirling whispers, he appeared. In the Fade, he was usually well defined, a perfect projection of himself. But now...now, he was frayed around the edges. Indefinite. Blurred. His eyes were rimmed with red and his face had taken on a sunken look. He was as tattered and threadbare as his clothes. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of desperation. This wasn’t the confident, calculating Wolf she knew. The whispers pecked at him, eating away at his borders.

“Solas?” She called, uncertain. Was it him, or some new nightmare?

“Vhenan!” He cried out, fighting through the whispering winds to get to her. He was staggering, trying to stay standing against the weight of some invisible force. An irrational stab of panic twisted deeply in her gut. She rushed over to him, fighting the violent gusts to be by his side. It was like trying to wade through the savage storms that battered the Hissing Wastes.

“What is this? I don’t recognize where we are.” She had to shout to make her voice heard over the din. He didn’t answer her. The instant she was close enough, he pulled her roughly by the shoulders and kissed her. No, not kissed, devoured. The Fade stormed around them and he clung to her desperately like she was the only piece of driftwood in this sea of drowning whispers. His mouth bore down on hers so savagely she felt their teeth clash. She pushed him away, sputtering for breath, for something to say. Something was wrong. This wasn’t like him at all.

“What has gotten into you?” He tried to kiss her again, but she pressed her palm against his chest, keeping him at bay. He was warm and real under her touch. More real than the Fade.

“Sathan,” he said in a strained voice. “Please.” He was bearing down on her again, mouth—hot, hungry, and seeking—slanting over hers, his tongue probing her lips with a wildness she had never felt in him before. Gone was the skilled and considerate lover she remembered. His arms wrapped around her and clung so hard the tips of his fingers dug into her flesh. Her knees started to buckle under the weight of his attentions. She backed up against the crumbled stone wall for support. The stones groaned and shifted under the stress.

He pressed her against the wall, hands roaming over her body. She brought her hand up to his face to cup his cheek and kissed him back, caught up in whatever frantic mood had taken him. For all his realness, he radiated sadness and a certain brittleness. The stray thought crossed her mind that if she reached out to touch him, really touch him, he might break. He tasted of salt and ashes. He tasted of fear.

This is a bad idea, something said far in the back of her head. Everything about this—whatever this was—was wrong. She thought of Morrigan, Cole, of Grim and Rylen, of Harding and Dorian. Of Loranil, who had given his life for her. The rage and despair she felt for them. But she wanted him. Creators help her, she’d never stopped wanting him, even as she hated what he’d done. He was here before her. He was hot and bright with need, his kisses raw and messy and real, and she responded in kind like a moth drawn to a flame.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be here.” The words tumbled out of her shakily, even as she grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up over his head. It blew away and dissipated into the aether of the Fade when she tugged it off him.

“I know,” he said, sounding so broken in those two words that she almost cried. He lined her jaw with kisses and pulled at the fabric of her shirt until it tore like so much tissue. It, too, dissolved, borne on the wild winds of the Fade. His hands trembled as he reached for her leggings. Fingers hooked into the waistband, he hesitated. She made up his mind for him and pushed them down until they, to disappeared. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist. He plied her with deep, fierce kisses on her face, neck, and shoulders that robbed her knees of strength and made her core quiver. 

One of his hands wound itself into her hair and grabbed on, pulling her head back so he could nip at the juncture of her neck and shoulders. The pulling on her scalp sent a shock of desire through her body. She parted her legs wide and hooked them behind the small of his back, inviting him in. He wasted little time in taking her, sinking into her in one smooth motion. It was so right, and so wrong all at the same time.

Once he was inside of her, some of the wildness subsided. The whispers began to quiet and the wind slowed down. He was gentle now, kissing her tenderly as he rocked against her, in her. But gentle was the last thing she wanted. She wanted, needed more. She nipped a trail down his jaw to his collarbone, teeth scraping along his skin, then sank her teeth into his shoulder. He shuddered and whispered her name, pushing harder and deeper inside her.

“Please,” she murmured to him, biting his other shoulder hard enough to mark his skin. 

“Ma nuven’in,” he rasped back at her in a voice she barely recognized as his. He didn’t hold back. He drove into her over and over, gripping her hips with such ferocity that her eyes watered with mingled pain and pleasure. She dug her fingers into his shoulders until she felt his flesh give way under her nails. The cold stone of the ancient wall scraped against her skin until she bled but she hardly cared. He pushed into her relentlessly and she pushed right back, meeting every thrust with her hips, until she felt like she was coming apart. The sheer want inside of her exploded and she came screaming into his shoulder. He wasn’t far behind her, crushing her up against the wall with the force of his need, her name a cry upon his lips.

He shuddered and held her against him, her face cradled against the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Gone were the wind and the whispers. The ashes fell straight down, settling in her hair and sticking to their sweat-slicked bodies. He was more real, no longer blurry around the edges, and murmuring things to her in Elvhen that she only half understood.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, cradled between his body and the cold stone wall in the wild Fade simply listening to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling him where their bodies remained joined. At last, she pulled herself away from his chest and looked up at him. He was ashen-faced and tired. In his eyes, she saw shadows of shame. Shame? No. It had to be the shadow of what she felt, reflected back at her.

“Come away with me,” she blurted out before she could fully think about it. “Leave all of this behind. We can start over. We can….” She trailed off, feeling the futility of her words fall like a weight between them.

“I cannot,” he said harshly. He wore a crown of sadness, even as he gently caressed her cheek. She leaned into the touch, the simple affection of the gesture catching her off guard. “I cannot,” he repeated, softly this time in a voice full of regret, like he actually wanted to leave everything behind. 

"I cannot stay here," she said, laying her one hand across his cheek.

"And I cannot leave." He placed a hand over hers and laced his fingers with her. “Please...please be careful, vhenan,” he pleaded, his voice shaking just the smallest amount.

“You know I cannot make that promise.”

And then she woke up.

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Ch. 14)

Chapter Summary: Hearts are broken.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: angst, “The Mandalorian” reference.

A/N: One more chapter after this and we’re done. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer for having my back. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.  

There’s that annoying little chilling feeling running down his spine while Bucky parks his bike on the nearest parking lot to your building and steps towards your place. Not the dreadful feeling he gets on missions when his life or others’ are in danger. No, not that one. Is that feeling he gets when he knows something’s up, something’s out of order, not necessarily bad, but something that he needs to put his focus on…

He’s been trying to hold himself from going to your place, he knows that it may sound like he’s imposing himself in your personal space, in your life, but he’s been trying to call you in the last few hours, sent a few messages but you haven’t answered  and then that annoying little feeling came to say hello.

And in his long ass life, he’s learned better than to ignore that feeling. He knows you’re not at work because it’s a Sunday and maybe you just went out somewhere without your phone and he’s just being paranoid or something… But he’ll just check if you’re ok, see those pretty eyes of yours and leave. That’s it.  He may seem like a fucking stalker, but if that is going to assure him you’re ok, then so be it.

And God knows how much he would appreciate a glimpse of you right now.

The little hairs on his neck stand in attention at the sight he catches from the corner of your street and brings him to a full stop. That short little asshole of your ex, dragging a big suitcase with one hand and holding a couple of boxes with the other.

Bucky’s heart races and he frowns, watching when that Eddie guy lets go of the suitcase and balances himself to not let the boxes fall while he types the code to open the front door, getting into your building right after, dragging the suitcase with him.

The air catches in Bucky’s throat before it comes out in short little breaths. His mind runs with all the possible scenarios that would explain that scene… he desperately searches for ones that don’t have to mean what his jumping heart is telling him it means.

He’s not thinking clearly through the mess that his mind has become, but he decides he needs to see it for himself, as dreadful as he is of what he’s going to see.

In a few long and quick steps he’s at the building’s door, typing the numbers he’s just registered the douchebag typing and in a second he’s in the elevator up to your floor.

Once he’s at your door, ready to knock on the wood, his hand stops midair, before it drops to his side while he sighs. Deeply. This is madness… he shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t need to see anything, he can wait and talk to you some other time, when he’s less… anguished… anxious… He knows what he’s thinking, but it doesn’t mean that’s the case. You and the guy had lived together for years… maybe he’s just returning some of your stuff… maybe… damn… he brushes his hand over his face, harshly. He should leave.

And he’s about to do exactly that when the door opens.

Bucky has been calling the guy a short little asshole all this time and, while he still may be an absolute jackass and Bucky surely and easily beats him in height, somehow he feels like the smallest person on earth standing in front of the man right now.

“Can I help you?” Eddie asks, hardening his face after an immeasurable moment of stunned silence between the two men.

“Ahm,” Bucky clears his throat and keeps his voice firm, “Can I talk to Y/N?”  

Eddie lets out a small puff and God knows how much Bucky needs to hold himself back from punching that stupid little face, “She’s not home, she had a call for something at work,” Eddie answers plainly.

Bucky feels when his jaw tightens painfully and his chest puffs, “Then what the hell are you doing here?”  His voice comes out dangerously low as his chin tips up.

A little and annoying smirk twists Eddie’s lips and… fuck, Bucky has a terrible feeling about that. “Not that I need to give you any explanation but I’m moving back. This is my home again.” He regards Bucky for a second after adding, “Our home.”

The words punch the air out of Bucky’s lungs and, looking behind Eddie’s shoulder he sees the numerous boxes… your place… where he had you in his arms so many times now filled with that guy’s stuff next to your things… His stomach churns violently.

“Are you… are you and Y/N...” he can’t even finish the question, the words getting stuck in his throat, choking him like a deadly poison.

“Listen, dude…” Eddie bursts out, “What Y/N and I have isn’t some kind of fling or deal or whatever one small time apart can destroy, we belong together.” He huffs and bites his cheek before continuing impatiently, while all Bucky can do is stare at him, frozen in place, ”I have no time for this. If you have questions you can ask her whenever you want, if she has anything to explain to you, she will. Now if you excuse me.” He gestures towards the elevator.

Bucky would rather die a thousand times before he would allow himself to continue showing a single more minute of vulnerability in front of that guy… so he sucks it all down his throat and, holding himself in the excruciating pain rushing up his chest like it’s an anchor, he puts on a hard face and just nods, stepping away while he meets, for the first time, the ache he knows is the feeling of his heart breaking.

~~~

 At the sight before her, Natasha sighs and remembers the time when she would find much different scenarios when she would burst into Bucky’s place. Where she would usually find different underwear tossed around the floor and small parties in his room, now she sees a metal armed dude sprawled on the sofa, face deep into not one, but two huge pints of Stark Raving Hazelnuts from Ben & Jerry’s, while Home Alone plays on the TV, and an Alpine lays comfortably on his lap.

Her little head perks up once Nat’s steps into the room. At least one of them acknowledges her presence.  

“Jesus, Bucky...”

He then moves his gaze to her direction, showing off his puffed eyes while shoving a huge spoon of ice-cream in his mouth, “What?” He speaks with a mouthful, “Breakfast?” He makes an offering gesture with the pint.

“I see you at least put on your uniform,” Nat ignores the offer, stepping towards him, kicking aside the many remains and open packages of junk food on her way. She slaps his leg off the sofa so she can sit beside him. As he grumpily adjusts his position to give her room, an equally grumpy Alpine jumps off his lap and aims a gaze of sheer contempt at Nat, before sauntering towards her plate of food in the kitchen.  

“Well… Show must go on, right?” Bucky answers while his saddened gaze fixes on the tv again.

Nat just stares at him for a moment, her heart twisting in sorrow at his miserable demeanor, “Listen…” she says, with a softer tone, “I checked, she really is on a mission.” At that, she spots the twitch on his jaw, but he doesn’t look back at her, “Apparently it was some last-minute thing about Thor and earthly technology.” Nat frowns and shrugs, “That’s probably the reason why she’s not picking up your calls or mine for the last couple of days. She’s just busy. You can talk to her when she comes back.”

“Why?” He puts the pints of ice cream aside as his face snaps at her.

Despite the initial harshness on his tone, there’s no trace of anger there on his expression. Just… sadness… and, honestly, Nat would deal better with the anger. She’s never seen Bucky like this… not after he came back from Wakanda.

Bucky breathes in a shuddering breath, like it’s painful for him to even do that before he continues speaking, “The guy is back to her place, Nat… all his fucking boxes and clothes and shit next to hers. They’re back together. That’s it. I honestly don’t wanna listen to her telling me how much that guy matters to her…” His voice cracks, but he goes on talking, “That she and I was fun, I was a good fuck and all but not good enough compared to ten years with that…” He huffs, “That douchebag. I don’t wanna hear her saying he’s the real deal and not me.” He bites on his cheek, looking at Nat with eyes becoming glossy, “I just don’t think I can.”

“Bucky…”

“Ugh, no, seriously Nat, fuck,” he growls while he narrows his eyes and his jaw tightens, “Seriously, that guy… if he only… shit… he doesn’t deserve her.” Indignance pours out of his voice, which comes out through his teeth while his hands clench into fists, “He doesn’t appreciate what he has… ugh…” He groans, and lets himself fall back into the sofa, “But…” He sighs, and nods, licking his lips, “If that’s what she wants… I’m not gonna try and take it away from her. I won’t.”  He shrugs.

Like she’s sensing the distress in her human, Alpine materializes on the sofa, between Nat and Bucky, and lets out a meow before curling herself against his thigh. Bucky absentmindedly starts petting her neck, staring up to the ceiling.

Nat could hear the pain of his heart shattering through his words. As for her… regret creeps up inside her. Regret for starting this between Bucky and you. She had a feeling that things could go south, but in all the scenarios she pictured for that, Bucky being the one heartbroken definitely wasn’t one of them. And yet, there he is. Devastated. Completely fucked. In a way she never thought she would see him for… love.

Damn… 

“Are you guys ready?”

The three of them turn towards the voice, spotting Steve there, in his full gear and his signature worried and yet soft look that belongs to Bucky.

“Yup,” Bucky taps on his thighs and grabs Alpine in one hand, who meows loudly, and two suitcases, one bigger and one smaller with the other one.

“Are you seriously taking her with us?” Nat checks, following him towards the door.

“Wherever I go, she goes,” he answers, his voice as down as his face.

“Buck,” Steve puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder, stopping him at the door, “Are you sure you’re ok to go on the mission, I can-“

“I’m fine, punk,” Bucky cuts him off, “I’m a grown ass man, I can handle my feelings.” 

As Bucky walks past his friend and moves to the elevator, Nat exchanges looks with Steve. She’s heard Bucky saying that exact sentence numerous times lately, after he acknowledged the way he feels for you.

The difference is that the usual confidence is just not there anymore.

~~~

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses. 

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision.

 Your heart and mind are finally set together in what you now know you want. Hell… you think you know this for a while, but now… with Eddie bringing all those memories and telling you all of that, it did help you get through the split in your heart and mend it back into one. A whole new heart.

One that is all his.

His.

“Eddie,” your voice is soft, while he smiles up at you, “I remember all of that.” You smile, too, referring to the box of memories next you, “Every single memory… everything we shared… those ten years… they helped me mold me into what I am. There’s no me, there’s no what I am today without them,” you state, while, with your thumb, you caress his cheek.

Eddie nods, “There’s no me without you, either, that’s why I’m here.”

“But, Eddie…” you sigh and lick you lips, “Remember how you’ve told me a couple of times I seem different?”

The smile on Eddie's face slowly drops.

“That’s because I am… I’m not just… I’m not just that anymore.” You nod towards the box, “I found out there’s more in me, and honestly, I think there’s more in you, too, that just doesn’t fit to what we used to be anymore.”

He blinks repeated times, staring up at you, and you lean even closer and cup both sides of his face. 

“I’m sorry. This is all part of who I am. You’re part of who I am. But I can’t go back.” You shake your head, “I can’t.”  

He keeps his stare on you and, after a moment, like he’s been processing what you said to him, he lets out a huff, “Are you serious?” he harshly pulls your hands away from his face and gets up, “Are you fucking serious? Is this because you’re fucking that guy?” He raises his voice, gesturing away.

“Eddie…” You tilt your head as a warning sign.

“No, seriously, you’re trading me, you’re trading us for what?” He spits and points to his chest while his face contorts into something ugly you’ve never seen on him before, “A player who will throw you in the trash for the next nicer piece of ass he sees? For what? A good fuck? An eight pack? A few more inches of dick? Come on…”

“Hey,” you snap, rushing up from your seat to level him, “What the fuck, Eddie?” You curse, as he stares back at you defiantly, “First of all you don’t get to talk to me like that, you lower you goddamn tone.” You point a finger at him, “And, honestly? Bucky is not just “that guy” to me. He’s not a player. You don’t know him, and you don’t know who I am with him, you could never know.”

Through the anger bringing red blurs to your vision, you see when his Adam bone bobs, but he keeps an insolent chin lifted up and he has struck something in you by talking about Bucky and your feelings for him in such a belittling way.  

“I didn’t want things to end like that,” you continue, shaking your head, “I really didn’t, but if you’re talking shit you don’t know the first thing about… ugh… fuck that,” you let out a harsh breath, “In one month or so Bucky respected and appreciated me more than you did in ten years. With him I don’t have to pretend I like or don’t like things just not to upset him or whatever, I learned I can be fun and honest… and…  and he fucking eats my pussy, for God’s sake,” you burst out in a rush of spite.

Eddie takes a step back, completely stunned by your words and outburst, while a dead silence settles in the room.

“Wow,” he mumbles nodding his head and looking away from you.

You shut your eyes and breathe in deeply, letting your head drop for a moment, while reason starts to come back to your senses, “Shit… shit…” You curse under your breath, looking up at him again, “This is not about that, Eddie…” you say, being honest with him and yourself, “I loved you, I really did, you are so important… I appreciate our time together so much… but now…” You press your lips in a taut line and shrugs, “It’s over…And, yeah… Bucky may be in my life now, but-“

He snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There’s pure scorn in his gaze for you, but you decide to ignore that. Eddie really matters a lot to you and you don’t want to end it in such a bad note. You want closure for the two of you, so both of you can accept what you had is over and move on with your lives. 

“But this is not about him. Not completely, at least,” you continue, “It’s us Eddie.” You plead, taking a step closer to him, “Our relationship meant the world, but… but I think we outgrew it-”

“You speak for yourself,” he spits.

You sigh at the anger that is still there, spilling through his voice, but you nod, and speaks softly, “Ok, then… I outgrew our relationship, but even if you think you haven’t, that doesn’t mean it would be good for you to insist on something you realized at some point it wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You can’t deny that.”  

You gasp and try to keep your balance when he drops on his knees and latches himself at you, hugging your waist tightly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I caused all this, but please don’t leave me, don’t give up on us,” he begs, his voice breaking, pressing his cheek on you, “Please… please.”

“Eddie… Eddie…” You try catching his attention, as he keeps his chant of remorseful and begging words,  “Stop... stop, Eddie, come here.”

You reach down for his forearms, adding some force to pull him up, to which he lets you. 

When his weeping face levels yours, you gently wipe the tears falling down with your fingers, “You ended this because you weren’t happy, either, and it’s ok. It’s ok to let go,” you say, gently, before cupping his face and fixing your gaze on his, “Let go, Eddie. Let go.”

He exhales, his eyes shutting. While you keep gentle hands on his face, he brings his forehead to yours.

“We’re gonna be ok,” you whisper, wishing that he would understand that moving on is the best thing for the two of you.

At that, he harshly parts himself from you. Hurt and rejection plastered all over his face while he averts his gaze from you.

“Eddie… I don’t know what else to say,” you heave a sigh.   

Before he gives you the comeback he’s about to give you, which you know it wasn’t gonna be a nice one, your phone rings. Nick Fury’s ringtone.

“Shit,” you curse, “I’m sorry, I need to pick that.” You rush and reach out for your phone on the center table, “Yes, Sir… of course… absolutely. I’ll gather my team and will be there in one hour, tops. Alright.”

“It’s work…” you tell Eddie, looking down as you turn off your phone.

“On a fucking Saturday night?” Eddie scoffs, not looking at you.

“Thor is on a solo mission and needs assistance from my team. Fury asked me to lead it. I…” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back at you, “I need to go change,” you say, defeated by his refusal to engage with you or with what you’ve been trying to tell him so far.

Once you come back from your bedroom in a hurry and ready to leave, Eddie is there in the living room, now sitting on the sofa.

“Are you sure?” He asks once you walked over the sofa and met his dull gaze.

“Yes.”

He nods slowly, biting his cheek.

“I’m gonna need to go now, Eddie,” you tentatively say. You step closer to him, but he turns his face to the other side and you take the hint. Stopping on your track.

“What of this place?” He gestures around.

You look around the place you two got together and as from that moment, you don’t see yourself in it anymore. Satisfied with your decision, you walk towards the key hook on the wall and he watches as you come closer to him again and take his hand from his lap, putting the keys in his palm.

“This place is not mine anymore,” you give him a tight smile.

You hold his hand a little longer while his gaze lingers at where you’re touching him.

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you say.

When he doesn’t give you an answer or even spares a look your way, you sigh, deeply. If that’s how he wants it to go, so be it. Letting go of his hand you walk to the door.

As soon as you step aside from your now former home, you realize you’re also walking towards a new phase of your life and you take in a big and refreshing breath before a loose smile forms in your lips. There’s only one thing in your mind, now. Or better, one person.

Bucky.  

~~~

[writingsfromhome]

Bad Timing I

A/N: This is you and your ex, (Detective) Harry, winding up in each other’s lives again after a traumatic event in your life. I’ve had this idea in my notes app for like a year, and I just decided to go for it this week! It’s a little all over the place as I set it up but I think the next part will go a lot better if you can stick with it (and I appreciate you if you can <3).

Warnings: Violence (guns), PTSD?

Part 1 / (.5) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

I had booked Thursday and Friday off in advance. I made sure my e-mails were forwarded, my clients were told I wouldn't be in, and any internal matters were allocated to my assistant. It was going to be a relaxing long weekend where I could have a homemade meal for once and watch Netflix all day. I was my branch’s youngest director and even though it was a fulfilling job, I hadn't had a day off since I got the position four months ago.

This was probably why, at 9am, I get a call from my assistant. One of our bigger clients was refusing to discuss his loan terms with anyone and wanted to speak to me directly.

"Tell him I'm not in Adam, you shouldn't even be calling me-I have the bloody day off."

"Yess but he said he's coming in at 10 and if you're not here he's switching banks for his personal and business accounts." Adam stuttered. “If you lose this client H-”

"Jesus," I look at my outfit and the time-I barely had any time to make it to the bank; it took me 40 minutes just to get to work. "I'll be there-distract him if I'm late. Oh! Ask about his daughter's new private school!"

I rush to my room and apply minimal makeup, pull back my y/h/c hair and throw on my black cigarette pants and a blazer. I'm halfway down the lift when I realise I was still in my t-shirt. "Shite," I mutter. I button the blazer and put my scarf around my neck so it's covered. That was decent enough for my day off.

I arrive breathless and sweaty 5 minutes early to the bank despite the cool weather. Might have seemed like a win if that wasn’t when everything went downhill. Just as I walk up to the side door, waving at Adam who was walking out to greet me, a crash from the entrance startles me.

"Hands up!” A loud voice booms from behind me. “Don't touch a fucking thing!" I turn, seeing Adam’s shocked expression, just in time to be shoved to the floor by four people dressed all in black, and wearing celebrity masks. In all my time working here, I’d never been part of a bank heist and some part of me is frozen, mind blank. I wasn’t even supposed to be here!

"I said to put your hands up!" The one with a Brad Pitt face points the gun around the room as people scramble for cover. I inch backwards to the counter as I watch them manhandle the customers and pull our bankers to the floor. I release a breath, trying to snap out of the shock I seemed to be in. The base of a column digs into my back and I focus on that to ground myself, scanning each robber, and where my employees were. Adam has his hands on his head, the closest one to me. I try to catch his eye to reassure him but he’s squeezing them tight. I didn’t blame him, Brad Pitt stands over him menacingly. I look to the customers, they weren’t trying to be smart--that was good. I’d watched enough TV to know that was never a smart move.

Just as I think that, from the corner of my eye, I catch Cole, one of our guards reach for his gun. A loud shot echoes through the small space and I swivel my head trying to see what's happened while making sure everyone was okay. The thief wearing a Kanye West mask, manning the front entrance of the bank, had shot Cole in the arm and he was bleeding all over the floor. My first instinct is to help him but I'm yanked back down before I make it a step.

"We’re not missing the next person who moves a muscle. I want you all to drop your phones in the middle! No. Fucking. Funny business." The thief who shot Cole points his gun to all of us and it takes all of me to not hyperventilate. I hear a few people crying but I don't dare look. Instead, I watch on as David Beckham drags Cole to the side and ties his hands behind him. I can see by the wincing that they didn’t care whether they twisted his arms too hard. This wasn’t a petty robbery, they were hardcore.

"Who has the passcode to the vault?" Brad Pitt asks as one of his friends goes around zip tying everybody's hands behind them. When nobody answers he shoves the gun in Adam’s face and I let out a sob. What did we do to deserve this?

"Me," I choke out. “Don’t hurt him, I have the passcode. I know it.”

"You?" The man asks. "You better not be lying bitch or you'll be joining your friend there."

I nod as he pulls me up by the arm and uses my scarf to tie my hands. I try to stay calm, the only way I could get through this before the police arrived was to keep my calm. Everything in me is screaming to do something--fight, scream, swear, cry, but I keep my mouth shut and follow Brad Pitt and the joker to the back. I'm led at gunpoint to the vault and they untie me so I can put in the code and my thumbprint. The one in a Joker mask presses her gun into my back and I know the least of my worries was a bruise but that was the only thing I could focus on.

She shoves me forward when I pause, hovering my finger over the finger pad, in the distance I hear sirens. Please let us all be okay, I pray.

"Don’t be a fucking hero, let’s go!" The female behind me yells in my ear and I rush to press my thumb.

As soon as I finish the procedure, I feel an explosion like fireworks against the side of my head and everything goes dark.

H POV:

I walked into the station around 10, just having come back from a nearby escalated domestic call. It wasn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever been involved in at 10am on a Thursday morning.

"Harry, there seems to be some sort of commotion near Holborn, the director wants you in his office." Serena, the receptionist tells me gravely. I don’t even consider the street, assuming it would be another criminal to go after. But when I go into the office, we get the rundown: there was a robbery happening at the HSBC. That’s when I understand the gravity of the situation.

"We’ve sent a few men right now, they seemed to be armed so proceed with caution." He warns. I had been on the force for over four years; I moved rank fast and knew how to handle myself so the warning was mostly for the junior constables. But my heart thuds violently in my chest when I think about the possibility...no. I had to focus. But I can’t help but try her cell on our way to the scene. When it continues to ring, my thoughts go to the worse place possible. I know I hadn’t spoken to her in nearly a year, like she wanted, but if anything happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

When we arrive at the scene, the thieves are still inside. I make sure nobody makes any moves, following protocol, and trying to gauge the exact situation inside. But before I could give orders, a man holding up his zip-tied hands shuffles out of the building. I notice the terror on his face and the fact that he's not armed.

"Down!" I say. The restless energy building up inside of me makes every move feel frantic.

"They left out the back! They left!" The man's shaky voice reaches our ears. I gesture a few of the officers to head around back and radio in the update.

"Get his statement, be sensitive,” I snap at the closest officer before I take a few of my officers indoors. The scene inside only reminds me why I do what I do, there's glass on the floor, phones in a pile and bullets littering the floor. Everyone looks shocked, people are crying, and a man in the corner is bleeding profusely.I scan all their faces but I don’t see her. I pray that she might have taken the day off today or something, even though I knew she rarely every did. Where was she?

"Medical," I order. I face the crowd, "You're all alright, If everyone can slowly get up and follow Officer McGregor out, we'll see that your belongings are returned to you and collect statements later. You’re all alright now."

"Sir," a bloke off to the side steps forward from the group getting up. "Our manager was taken to the back...we're not sure how she is, she hasn't come out...”

I reassure the crowd she should be fine. I didn't want them to see me panic, not to mention if we had any casualty the press outside were going to bombard this crowd with insensitive questions and I really wanted to keep this on the low. I was considered young for a DCI and any screw up meant I took it twice as hard. And I didn’t know if I could behave normally if I didn’t find her in any way except breathing. I put on my brave face.

I get an officer to stand by and venture cautiously into the back, spotting an open vault. I hurry into the area when I spot her, laying motionless on the floor.

“Y/N,” I rush forward, skidding on my knees to check on her. “Pleasepleaseplease.” I put my fingers to her pulse and nearly shout in relief. She was alive! I send a thanks out into the universe, to whoever was watching over her. “Y/N! Y/N, can you hear me?”

Her eyes flutter under her lids. I turn her gently onto her back, she was wearing a Green Day t-shirt under a smart jacket and trousers--that was unlike her. She always dressed very smart. I gently remove her short strands off her face to reveal a nasty bruise on the side of her head. I try to stifle my heartbeat; it scared me seeing her like this. I’m about to call my officer but her long lashes flutter and suddenly she's looking at me, dazed.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" I inquire. She blinks, and then again, her eyebrows drawn together as she stares at me. I try again, “Y/N, answer me please! Are you alright?”

"I...do I...bloody look alright? Where did they go?" She snaps out of her daze and tries to sit up but her hand goes to her head which must be throbbing. I place a hand on her back so she doesn't fall back down.

"Oh thank god,” I sigh in relief, she could talk. She was alright. “Th-they’'ve managed to escape. We'll deal with that. You were knocked unconscious so we should get you checked-”

"Those bastards," she snarls. I bite back a chuckle as I help her up. She pushes me away as soon as she's on her feet. "I wasn't even supposed to bloody be here today you know that? It was my day off and....Jesus.” She clutches her forehead. “How's everyone else? Chris? Adam?"

"Everyone is fine, your guard’s being taken to hospital. Everyone else is untouched, we need to have you checked out though." I am mesmerized, as always, by her ability to talk about ten things at once.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s my case, I guess,” I tell her, expecting the question. She scowls. “I’ll have to ask you some questions later, but Y/N we need to have your head checked.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she mumbles.

“You’re proving by the second that you’re quite alright but we’ve got to get you to a medic anyway,” I gesture forward so she can walk ahead of me. I didn’t want her falling or anything. The constable at the door watches her walk out and eyes me warily.

"She need her statement taken chief?"

"I'll take her down to the station myself--she's hurt." I dismiss the officer and follow Y/N out. I wanted to keep an eye on her right now. “Can I help you walk?”

“My legs are working fine,” she snarls whilst clutching her forehead.

Your POV:

I could not believe today's turn of events. I was supposed to have a relaxing day off but instead, I’m rushed to work so I could be held up by thieves, forced to help them rob my branch, only to be mildly concussed. And the person on the case is none other than my ex-husband Harry Styles.

The only thing going for me is that I don't cry easily (or i would be a sniffling mess right now). And Harry was the last person I wanted to cry in front of although he’s seen me at much worse. I push aside those memories, ignoring his lingering eyes and try to walk ahead of him.

I cover up my shaking hands by stuffing them under the blanket I'm wrapped in when Harry leads me to the ambulance. He stays to the side while the medic goes through a questionnaire and informs me on what I need to know about being mildly concussed. All I could think about is the feeling of a gun pressed to the small of back, the chill of it through fabric. 

"Miss?" The medic asks.

"Sorry, I got it. Yes. Thank you."

"I asked how you got here?" The medic begins to look concerned. Shit. I did not want more attention.

"I...meant I got what you were saying. Sorry, I rode the tube in."

"Great. You can ride with me to the station," Harry says from the side. I avoid his gaze but I have to agree. There was no way I was taking the tube during a time like this. I had a concussion.

So I'm sat in the back whilst Harry drives with his partner. I catch Harry glancing in the rear-view more often than he should and when we make eye contact, he gives me a reassuring smile. But sitting in the back of the car, I feel like the metal tip of a gun still keeps my spine straight. My lungs feel like they're not expanding large enough for air and I clutch the seatbelt strapping me in. I try to name all the countries I could remember--a coping technique I’d used since I was a kid to try and distract myself.

"You alright miss?" The other officer sounds concerned.

"Yeah," I choke out. "Just a little stuffy back here."

"Oh ‘m sorry," Harry opens the back window and I greedily gulp the fresh air coming in. My panic subsides and I settle back into the seat.

*

"And that's all you remember?" Harry sits on the desk chair next to me even though his own seat remains empty behind the desk.

"Exactly as I've told you, like, 20 times Harry."

It was now two hours later; I'd sat waiting for an hour before receiving my phone only to find multiple calls from the bank’s higher-ups. After dealing with them, I had to wait another half hour before finally being interviewed. I proceeded to drink two cups of bad coffee while giving every detail of what I remember, their masks, and so on. Every time I said something that could help, Harry would backtrack and I would explain it three different ways. It was frustrating and the repetition kicked my anxiety up so that I was on the edge of a breakdown. I grip the arms of the chair and respond to Harry. "Listen, alright, why would I not be telling you the full story? Of course that's all I bloody remember! It's not like I had an out-of-body experience and I saw them leave through the back door.”

"I'm sorry Y/N, it's just routine." Harry keeps a straight face on.  "We have a few suspicions we're trying to corroborate by interviewing everyone involved. I promise I’m just being thorough-"

"Yeah yeah alright, you sound like you're reading from a bloody manual," I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh into the silence. When Harry doesn't say anything, I look up to see him watching me with an amused expression.

"What?" I ask, annoyed.

"It’s been a while...I forgot how charming you can be.”

“What can I say, you bring it out in me.”

"Very interesting outfit by the way," he takes my snark in stride, gesturing to my outfit with his pen instead. I cross my arms in front of me. He's still got the stupid expression on his face, it looks unchanged from the one he used to give me once upon a time. When he found something I did funny but in a loveable way; the feelings that surface are almost unbearable.

"Don’t judge my outfit, I had to rush to work for our client meet-oh shit." I pull out my phone and check my email but there's nothing from the client. Probably avoiding the shit show. I notice the time, with all the time I’d wasted today I may as well not have taken the day off at all.

"So you weren't meant to be at work today except for this client? Bad timing isn’t it." Harry reads to himself from his notes. I stare at him, wishing I could burn a hole into his skull to see if he really had a brain in there.

"I've told you this five times before, Harry. You're literally reading from your notes. If you're just going to ask the same questions over and over I’m sure you can find the answers in there and I can go home."

"Right but something doesn't add up, I just want to make sure I have all the details."

"Do I have to be here to watch you do your mental maths?" I wasn't very nice when anxiety and frustration became my base emotions. But Harry knew that.

He looks at me, eyebrows raised at my snark. "I'm sure that you want to get to the bottom of this just as much as I do-"

"But that's not my job," I remind him. "That's yours. I've done mine, and I'd really just like to go home." My voice cracks, and I feel a rush of embarrassment.

"How about I drop you off home? I can walk through the day with you once more during the drive?”

He looks at me expectantly, “I’d rather stab myself in the eye.”

"Best not to with the concussion,” Harry pushes my buttons, and I’m kind of surprised. The last time we saw each other he’d been accommodating to my anger but he was pushing back today. Like he used to when we were together when he riled me up simply because he found it amusing.

When I scowl though, he gets serious. “Y/N, just let me give you a ride home and we can talk more.”

I didn’t want to stand around arguing, I was tired, so I just agree. He smiles, his dimples making a pretty appearance. Damn him.

H POV:

I’m surprised she agrees to ride home with me. I knew Y/N had a stubborn streak and giving in to my offer was new. She’d made it clear last time we saw each other that she wanted nothing to do with me. I was also curious to know where she lived, I’d only been to her office once since we’d split. And that was usually to drop off papers.

She actually answers my questions on the drive, albeit they’re one word answers, but she gives me space to talk out some theories I had. But she also disagrees with most of them, pointing out their flaws. The comfortable back-and-forth between us is bittersweet. This was why we were married once upon a time. We worked well together; after all, we’d been friends for years before dating the other. It was the friendship I missed the most when I thought about us.

When we drive up to her address, it’s a townhome in a decent part of the city. Her promotion clearly had its perks.

I leap out of the car to open her door before she could but she beats me to it, scowling at me as she realises what I was trying to do.

“So you live here?” I try to ease into a conversation, get her to open up, ask her how she was doing. But she looks at me like I’d asked a stupid question, waving her keys.

“You’re kind of dense for a detective,” she says when I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t look so shocked.”

“Forget I asked,” getting personal was useless.

“Done.” She always manages to get the last word. She climbs her steps but I follow her up. She eyes me as she finds the correct one on her key ring. “What?”

“I just-have you got anyone living with you?”

“What’s that got to do with the case?” She asks, her defenses going up.

“You’re concussed, it’s best you have someone with you for the next 24 hours like the med-”

“I’ll be fine Harry,” her sharp edges soften but still, she only opens her door wide enough to step through. I can barely see anything behind her except for a hall.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” I try again.

“Nice of you to care,” the way she says it implies a deeper meaning, one that borders on a dangerous topic.

“I’m serious Y/N, this--a concussion’s no joke. And it was traumatic what you went through you really shouldn’t-”

“I’ve been on my own for a while now, I’ll be okay.” There she goes having the last word again. I raise my hands and back off.

“If you say so. I’ll...head back to the station but if you need anything, well, you know how to reach me.”

She nods, closing the door softly behind her. I sigh, it was a whirlwind last few hours but I was just grateful Y/N was going to be okay. I know she hated me, but I still cared about her. It was hard not to. We’d known each other for over a decade, and even though I hurt her in our past, and she might not agree with me, I cared. Caring about her didn’t have an on/off switch. I only wanted her to be okay. Maybe even happy.

Y POV:

I go through the motions for the rest of the afternoon, mostly I sit zoned out in front of the window while the morning plays like a loop in my head. Something about having your life hang in the balance of a stranger’s pointer finger made it feel so fragile. It unraveled me, and I can’t focus on anything. I just keep feeling the gun on my back, and smashing against the side of my head.

I keep my head iced, and avoid screens except to send out a couple emails and to call my sister after 8 voice messages that progresses from panic after hearing the news to annoyance as I don’t respond. When she finds out Harry’s on the case she swears.

“That bastard,” I can see her face in my mind, the one where she pursues her lips like mum used to. “You should report him, conflict of interest right? It’s traumatic enough what you’ve been through, you poor thing. I was just talking to Lewis and he said I should come down to stay with you this weekend-”

“That’s really alright,” I nip the idea in the bud. I loved my sister dearly but she was an overly anxious person and I don’t think that would be helpful for me right now. “It’s just a mild concussion, the medic said I should be cleared after 24 hours so it would only be a hassle for you to come down here.”

“Alright,” she says grudgingly. “But you say the word and I’m on the first train out. And I’ll give that ex of yours an earful if he’s anywhere near you again.”

I smile at my sister’s overprotective nature, “I appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage that fine on my own.”

“That you can,” she laughs.

But when I put down the phone, the silence creeps in again. And normally I loved the quiet but like a broken record player, the voices and sounds from this morning continue to play in a loop in the silence.

I give up after 7 and start preparing for bed. But a call interrupts my nightly routine.

“Y/N,” it’s Harry. “It’s me, Harry.”

“I do have call display,” I say dryly.

“Right, I...wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

“Is this about the case?” I was hoping he was calling to say the bastards were caught.

“Oh...not exactly. I was wondering if you’ve fed yourself. I’m in your area for work, it’s my last call. I thought I could bring you some takeout or...?”

“I was about to get ready for bed.” I reply.

“Oh. That’s early? Have you had dinner?”

I think about the pathetic cheese toast I’d managed to make. My stomach growls thinking about food, I didn’t seem to have an appetite until he’s said something. “Fine, only if you’re in my area.”

Surely, not even 10 minutes go by and by doorbell rings. Harry stands outside with a takeout bag, his pressed shirt from this morning is more rumpled with a few buttons undone.

“I parked on the street--is that alright?”

“I guess? You’re just here to drop this off.” I shrug.

“Actually I uh, I thought I’d keep you some company.”

“I...” I don’t know if I should be offended. “I don’t need company. I only agreed to the takeout.”

“I’m part of the package,” he hides the bag behind him, a smug smile on his face. I roll my eyes, it was too late to do this with him.

So I leave the door open and head inside, tightening my robe around me. Harry was part of my past and having him here, in the place I’d built myself back again, feels wrong. This was where I’d shed the identity of being a divorcee before 30, and here he was. When I turn to see why he was so quiet, I find him scanning my gallery wall and smiling at the pictures.

“Hey, I’m on here,” he points to a small group picture.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I walk back to him to get the food. “I just looked good there.”

It was a shot from my sister’s wedding, Harry and I with the newlyweds. It was taken a few weeks before we’d made us official actually--moving from friends to lovers was maybe one of the bigger mistake I’d made in life. Another was agreeing to marry him.

“I look pretty good too,” he leans in closer. I ignore him and take the cartons of Chinese out and grab cutlery. He joins me, I hand him a beer and take a sparkling water for myself. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Just sorting through it all. Trying to avoid screens, all that.”

“That’s good,” he steals a chicken from the container I’m dumping into my plate. I eye him but he just grins, chewed food between his cheeks. I let it slide. “So you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion or something?”

I sigh, “That’s not true, I only have a mild concussion!”

“Well I’m not a bloody doctor!”

“Thank god for that.”

“You’ll never stop doing that will you?” He rubs his chopsticks together and attempts to eat with him. “Always so snarky.”

“I can’t help it,” I continue to watch him fail with his chopsticks and pick up a fork. “It sustains me.”

“You should try being nice for once.”

“Tried it once, didn’t work out well for me. So...here I am.”

I was being passive, I knew that. He knew that with the way he eyes me over his food. He keeps quiet though, knowing there was nothing he could say in this moment to make a difference. We eat in silence until he receives a call and he leaves to take it. I clean up so by the time he gets back I’ve just loaded the dishwasher.

“I know the sleep thing’s not true for you,” Harry says as he approaches. “But I think I should stay here overnight. Just to make sure you’re-”

“No,” I cross my arms. “There’s no reason for you to stay the night Harry. I don’t need you here.”

“It’s for your peace of mind-”

“It’s for your peace of mind Harry. And frankly, I don’t care about your peace of mind. I don’t want you sleeping over, I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Y/N, c’mon! It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we didn’t sleep in the same bed for years--I’ll be sleeping on the couch! You’re not in your best shape and it’s just for a night, it’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something to go home to?” I ask. He shifts his gaze and shakes his head.

“Nope, my bachelor pad just me. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

I dry my hands and watch him, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I knew him well enough to recognise the wide stance, shoulders back, and jut of his chin. He wasn’t backing down.

“I don’t want to hear you, Not even a peep. I’ll make up the couch but this is the one and only time you’re wearing me down, you’re lucky I’m not in the mood to argue-”

“Promise,” he holds his hand up to his chest, a grin on his face knowing he won.

I leave him with a comfortable setup and head up to my own room. There was a spare upstairs but I don’t think I could handle him sleeping next door to me. It was weird how in just one day I’d seen more of him than I had in the last couple years and now he was sleeping in my living room like we were okay. Not like he wasn’t the man who’d broken my trust, and my heart.

As I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep as the day replays in my head, another set of memories infiltrates my mind and keeps me from sleeping. The story of Harry and I, the naive beginning, eventful middle, and heartbreaking end. My mind repeats its history and I don’t fall asleep for hours. When sleep finally comes, my dreams are haunted by the same memories.

[shadyteacup]

May I ask a scenario with ADA dazai who falls for an agency member and she's really strong both mentally and physically and is loved by everyone in the agency? She also used to be a soldier in that war so she has seen plenty of things and she's not afraid of dark thing etc... Hope I wasn't so demanding have a nice day (forgive me for my English)

Heyyyy :>

This was such a good ask, I went all out and wrote a bit too much. So I'll be posting it as two parts. :)

And don't worry, love, you're English is immaculate!

Do lemme know if you like this... I'll probably be posting part two tmrw or in some hours... I just need to do one final touch up :D

Partners (part 1)

Dazai x gn! Reader

Tw: Lots of action and fighting, a little blood, implied death.

If u can handle bsd fight scenes, then u can read this... dw, it's not gory or too violent..

"I have your back, go!", you say as you shoot at the enemy hiding behind the car.

"Got it!", Dazai says, as he jogs to the adjacent safe place.

You two were assigned a job, one that you had initially thought was a simple task: Find the missing girl.

You hadn't expected any foul play. Apparently, the girl in pursuit wasn't kidnapped. She had run away from her home. She had a record of disappearing out of the blue, so you had figured she was just taking some time away from her family, like she usually does. The parents approached the ada when the police were unable to find her. So you guys concluded that she was kidnapped. There had been no calls for any ransom, so you chalked up the possibility of her kidnapper being a sex offender, a sadist, or a cult member. You knew you had to act quick before he hurt her. You and Dazai had worked together to collect all the breadcrumbs, and had triangulated the location of a criminal who had just gotten out of prison. He had served 6 years for various sexual assaults and rapes. You had concluded that this must be his doing. It was too much of a coincidence for a girl to get kidnapped just one week after a criminal had been released.

You both had walked right into the enemie's trap.

The man, Ito Sōta, held the girl at gun point at the center of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse belonged to a small criminal group. He must have joined this group after being released.

The group, a small organization in need of monetary support, wanted to impress the mafia. They had arranged for this ploy to defeat a few members of the ada and hopefully get in the mafia's goodbooks.

They had used Ito's criminal record to lure the ada into the warehouse, and rain fire upon them, hoping to defeat them.

"That's the most logical explanation", Dazai had said, when you two had been ambushed by ten or so men and their many bullets.

Dazai hid behind a cargo container.

"We have to move fast. I manged to neutralize them, but I'm pretty sure there are more on the way, and some more protecting Ito.", you say, leaning against the box.

Dazai hummed.

"So, what's the plan?"

He thought for a second, then said,

"You are good at combat, so why don't you take them on, and clear a path for me.."

" I see.. I distract while you sneak an attack on Ito."

"Exactly."

You change the magazine of your glock,inserting a fresh one.

"Sounds good."

At your count, you began running towards the guards ahead. You had a shielding ability, allowing you to shield yourself from bullets, fire explosions, and prevent it from touching you. Ofcourse, you couldn't control heat, so if you were to be near an explosion, while the fire wouldn't burn your skin, the heat radiating from it would definitely hurt you.

Your ability only worked when you activated it. It wasn't always activated, and would take quite a lot of your energy if you kept it on at all times.

A few men had noticed you, and had started shooting you. The bullets bounced off your shield, falling to the ground. You continued charging towards the center, aiming at the men that were in Dazai's path. Taking them down was easy enough; they were just meat and bones that could shoot, and desperately lacked a brain. If bullets don't work, shouldn't they try hand to hand combat? But no. These idiots were so hopelessly dumb, that they kept shooting you, standing tall and proud, and presenting themselves as easy targets for your bullets.

'Well, it works for me... so keep being stupid, guys!' You thought as you shot a majority of them down.

Dazai hid behind the containers, jogging over to the center. He handled a few men that were in his way, as you cleared almost all of them for him.

Soon enough, you approached a man and two women, clad in suits, that charged at you with an assortment of weapons. They dodged your bullets, and tried to attack you.

'These guys are smart'

The first bulky guy swung his dagger at you. You dodged; the knife brushing past your cheek in the process. It was OK, you were a master in martial arts, afterall. Taking them down wouldn't be so difficult.

You grabbed his arm, jumping off the ground and twisting your torso midway to land behind him. His arm was now twisted, and you swiped at his legs, resulting in him falling to the ground. You swiped the dagger from his palm, stabbing him in the knees and his dominant arm. The spots you had targeted were sensitive points, that paralyzed his limbs.

Moving on to the woman charging at you with a club, you threw the dagger at her. She twisted to dodge it. The dagger plunged in her shoulder. She cried out in pain. You had tricked her by throwing your own dagger a split second later, aiming in the direction of her reflex duck.

The other woman had used her partners as a distraction to sneak up behind you. She held a thick metal chain, that she wound around your neck, choking you. You tried prying it off, but she was too powerful. So you slammed back into her, your head hitting her nose, pushing her back and effectively loosening her grip on the chain. Grabbing the front, you slipped your fingers between the chain and your neck, crating some space to breathe. You then yanked it forward, bruising your neck in the process. Slipping out from the chain, you wound it on your palm, halving it. You used it as a whip on the woman, drawing blood from her nose. She dodged your next swing, punching you in the gut. She was really strong, that's for sure. You spit out blood from the impact. You were about to stab her when a bullet hit her head.

"Thanks.", you say to Dazai, who had shot her from his position; very close to Ito.

He nodded, continuing his journey towards the girl.

Fighting your way through, you finally reached Ito. You stood right opposite him.

"Well done! You successfully defeated fifty of my men!"

He said, pressing the gun against the girl's temple. He wanted to play a game with you. He wanted to make you choose whom he should kill; the girl, or you.

"But, alas, you won't be able to save her."

Ito felt a cool sensation on his head, and heard a click of a gun right behind him.

You smirked.

"You sure about that?"

He grit his teeth, raising his arms in defeat.

Dazai pushed him on the ground, handcuffing him.

"It was quite a smart plan. It wasn't elaborate, though. Such a pitiful organization you have. No wonder you're desperate for the Mafia's attention."

Dazai said.

"Did you really believe you could trick the armed detective agency?"

He glared down at the man, his face adorning a menacing look.

"If the mafia hears about this, you will be dead before you can even think of the word 'escape'. Whoever breaks the peace between the Mafia and the A.D.A, will have hell to pay."

You scoffed.

"If you had half a brain, you would know to never mess with the two organizations. Did you really think you could use us?" You laughed.

"How naive!"

You heard a whimper.

You looked at the girl, noticing her fearful expression. You deactivated your ability, now that the job was done. The girl whimpered again, but it sounded abnormal. It sounded artificial. Something didn't feel right.

"Hey, it's alright now. You're safe."

You say to the girl. She looks at you with wide eyes.

"It's all under control. We're here to take you back home. This guy can't hurt you anymore."

You move closer to her, crouching down to her level.

"Tell me. Did he hurt you?"

You place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

She stared at you for a second, then grinned. All the fear had vanished from her eyes. They now held a malicious gleam.

"You fell right in!"

She cackled.

"Right in the rabbit hole!"

She giggled, snapping her fingers.

All you heard was a sharp sound. A ringing in your ears. And a scream. Was that Dazai? Or was it you? Who knows.

You look down to your torso, and notice a dark red stain on your shirt.

Suddenly, you felt it. The pain was overwhelming. You had been shot before; you were a part of a war, afterall. But it was always in the shoulder, or limbs. This was your first time getting hit on the torso. You had probably broken a rib or two. You could feel your lungs being filled with something. It felt heavy.

Blood? Yeah probably. You couldn't think straight. You remember feeling tired. You didn't even register your knees giving away, or the pair of strong arms that caught you right before you fell.

[autumnsart22]

You Promised pt. 4

Here’s part 4 everyone!! A lot of angst, one cute fluff scene at the end hehe. Let me know if you’re enjoying this so far :) 

This fucking picture dude.... SO HOT OHSOAHGOHGDOIDG

Art @kuroamme on twitter!! 

Shigaraki POV:

Things had happened too fast for me to keep up with. 

I had been standing for over an hour watching pathetic Midoriya wander around, fangirling over the All Might merchandise in one store, and almost making me throw up in my mouth. 

He had just returned to the bench to play on his phone when I heard Y/n scream. Scream for me. It was just enough warning for me to jump to the side, avoiding the crushing fist of a low class mutant villain. 

You fucking idiot! I wanted to scream at the villain, but I was already turning to try and find Y/n amongst the crowd. 

When I spotted her, I felt a level of terror I had never experienced before. Behind her, a man was ripping and expanding into a massive beast, ready to kill everything in its path. Y/n had been too focused on warning me that she hadn’t realized the danger right next to her. 

Something in my chest broke as the monster’s fist slammed into her, sending her flying into a pillar, and I heard an audible crack. 

“No!” I roared, lunging at the monster who smashed stores and civilians a few yards away. As my hand connected with his shoulder, he let out a high pitched shriek and crumpled to dust. 

I sprinted across the mall, aiming for the second monster, shoving screaming civilians out of the way. I would kill it, kill him for touching her. 

When I got close enough, I jumped as high as I could, aiming for his head. He was faster than his friend, spinning to avoid me, but I had been training with highly skilled fighters for months, and I easily twisted in the air to land on his shoulders. 

My hands closed around his face from behind, crushing him as he screamed. The people around me were all running for the exit or helping their injured, so no one noticed me or my quirk. 

The monster wasn’t even fully disintegrated before I lunged for Y/n. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor, her limbs bent awkwardly and eyes closed. Blood--so much blood--had pooled out around her, and her skin was sickly pale. 

“No, no, no…” I hissed, scrambled towards her, hands slipping in her blood. 

I reached for her, needing to stop the bleeding, get her to safety, save her somehow--but my hands…

“I can’t--I can’t touch her!!!” I screamed desperately looking for help. I didn’t care if I was arrested by a hero, I just needed them to save her. 

I pressed the button that hung for my waist band furiously, signalling to Kurogiri that we needed an escape portal, and I bent over Y/n to check her pulse. My hands shook violently, but I pressed down on her neck with two fingers, needing to feel something. 

Please, please, please. 

There was a weak, slow pulse beneath my fingers, almost nothing. She was still alive. Relief hit me like a train, but I knew that it wouldn't last long. She was holding onto the last thread of life, but she had lost way too much blood. 

I heard heavy footsteps behind me, and whirled to see Toga and Dabi sprinting towards us. 

“Y/n! Oh god, no no nono…” Dabi slid on his knees, immediately reaching for her and scooping her limp body into his arms. “How did this happen?” He snarled at me. 

I could barely see past Y/n’s pale face, which rested against Dabi’s shoulder. I wanted to pull her away from him, hold her close to me instead. But I ran the risk of accidentally disintegrating her. 

“Two fucking villains,” I snapped, clutching my hair. 

“We’re villains !” Dabi yelled. 

At that moment, a shadow portal opened, leading to the bar. No one hesitated to run through, Dabi still carrying Y/n’s limp body in his arms. 

She wasn’t going to die. I wouldn’t let her. 

~~~~~~

The first night was the worst twelve hours of my life. I paced up and down Y/n’s room, unable to do anything but clutch my hair and scratch my neck until my skin bled. She was so unbelievably pale. 

Twice and Spinner had kidnapped a healer from a local hospital, and we forced her at literal gunpoint to do anything in her power to save Y/n. 

The entire League stayed up into the night waiting for news. Toga sobbed for hours, Dabi sat motionless, head buried in his hands, and I just couldn’t stop pacing. I felt like a wild animal, needing to kill something. 

By the time the sun started rising into the sky, the healer was half dead from exhaustion and the strain of using her quirk for so long. Y/n was still unconscious, barely breathing, and I just couldn’t focus. 

The healer turned to me, eyes wide and desperate. “I need rest, food, water, a break if I’m going to keep healing her. Please!” 

I felt my hands begin to shake, glaring at her in fury. “Will she live?”

“I don’t--”

“Will she live?”

“Five of her ribs were crushed, a lung was punctured, a small piece of her spine fractured, and her skull was cracked. That’s not even including the damage done to her muscles, skin, and nerves. The damage is extremely extensive, and I’ve done my best, but I need fuel if I’m going to save her!” 

My whole body was shaking now, and I slammed the woman against the wall by her throat, careful not to put down all five fingers. “You will eat, and then sleep for an hour. If she dies, I will kill you slowly.” 

The woman choked, face paling as she blubbered out a reply. 

I released her, calling for Kurogiri to get everything and watch over her to make sure she didn’t escape. 

When the room emptied except for Toga, Dabi, and I, Dabi finally lifted his head. 

“This is your fault,” he growled. Even though I knew he hated me, I was shocked at the venom in his voice. “If she dies, I--” His fingers curled in his hair, glaring a desperate hole in the floor. 

I knew it was my fault. I was supposed to be watching her back, protecting her, and she had been the one protecting me. What would I do if she died? I hadn’t let my mind consider it. 

I would continue like always to kill All Might, I told myself, but somehow I knew it wasn’t true. How could I continue on as if she hadn’t existed?

~~~~~~

Dabi POV:

It took three days for Y/n to open her eyes. Three days of utter hell, when I could barely sleep or eat. The rest of the League was restless, unsettled without the familiar sound of her music echoing through the halls, or her sarcastic insults following them. 

I couldn’t believe how much I missed her. I had known her for a single month of my life, and yet I missed teasing her, watching the way her mouth flattened in annoyance, or how her cheeks would redden even as she rolled her eyes at my compliments. I always spoke sarcastically when flirting with her, too afraid of her rejection to actually be serious. But now...I wished I had told her how her smile quite literally took my breath away, or how I looked forward to our practice fights just to be able to be close to her. 

I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I clicked through my phone. It was almost 5pm, and the rest of the League were busy with dinner. I could hear their muted voices echoing through the walls of the building, unusually sober like they had been for the past three days. 

Toga was asleep in the room over, exhausted from staying up all night watching over Y/n and the healer. I had finally forced her to rest after noticing her swaying on her feet, eyes drooping. Like everyone else, she looked like she was falling apart. 

My eyes moved across the room to the only other person who might have slept less than me. Shigaraki’s shoulders were hunched, his blue hair veiling his face as his head hung low. He looked thinner, but the energy radiating off him warned everyone to stay the fuck away unless they wanted to be turned to dust. He had barely left Y/n’s bedside. 

I wondered if he loved her, and I wondered why it bothered me so fucking much. 

“You should eat,” I grunted, glaring at him. 

Shigaraki’s head shifted slightly, his dead gaze meeting mine. Dark circles under his eyes made him look like a skeleton. 

I tried again. “When she wakes up, she won’t want you to look like you’re about to drop dead yourself.” 

Shigaraki made a low noise of anger in his throat, telling me to go fuck myself without actually speaking. 

I stood up. “If you don’t fucking go get something to eat right now, I swear to god I’ll burn this whole place to the ground.” I felt the familiar rush of power blazing to my fingertips, and blue fire sparked in my palm. 

I watched the blue haired villain’s eyes blaze dangerously with fury, and his fists clenched. At least he was showing some emotion. It was better than blank deadness. 

“You wouldn’t hurt her,” he growled, eyes flickering to Y/n’s pale face. Her skin had regained some color over the course of a few days, with the help of the healer’s constant support. Her most serious injuries had been fully healed, as well as some of the nerve damage, but apparently her body had reflexively entered a coma to try and save strength. Whether or not she ever woke up was out of our control. 

When Shigaraki had heard that, I thought he was going to tear the building to bits. He had almost killed the healer on the spot, but I managed to stop him before he ruined our only source of information. Not that she was much use anymore. The constant use of her quirk, the exhaustion, lack of food and water, and the threat of a dozen villains ready to tear her apart had worn on her mind, and had reduced her to a blubbering mess. She sat dazedly in a chair in the corner now, her wrist chained to the leg. 

I crossed my arms as I answered Shigaraki. “Wanna risk it?”

He slowly uncurled his fists, clearly trying to stop himself from leaping at me. “Fine,” He snarled. “Watch her, I’ll be right back.” 

I rolled my eyes. As if I would leave her alone. “Take a shower while you’re at it!” I shouted after him. 

The door slammed shut behind him, and I sighed. My eyes found Y/n’s face, and I gently brushed a bit of hair away from her forehead. “Please wake up soon. I can’t handle him acting like this anymore.” 

I felt every muscle in my body clench as her eyelids fluttered slightly. Was it possible...

“Y/n...Y/n--” I said desperately, clutching her arm. Please be awake. 

Her eyelids fluttered again, and she let out a soft breath. “Wha…” Her voice was so weak, I could barely hear it. But--

“Holy fuck,” I covered my mouth with my hand to stop a sob of relief. She was awake. 

“Dabi?” Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked wearily at me. “What…” “This is going to take a bit of explaining, gorgeous, but you’ve been asleep for 3 days.” I murmured, my eyes scanning her face. I would give it to her straight; there was no point honeying my words. 

“I what?” Y/n lurched up, eyes wide. Before I could tell her to lay the fuck back down, she clutched her stomach and her face turned slightly green. “Oh god…” 

I lunged for the trashcan, barely managing to get it to her before she puked the feeble contents of her stomach up. She hadn’t eaten in three days, so the vomit was a strange, semi hard mix. I gagged at the sight of it. 

Y/n wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “What the hell happened? Where is everyone? How did we get back here?”

“Take a deep breath,” I ordered, shoving the trash can into a corner. “You were attacked in the mall, and got some pretty critical injuries. We managed to get you back here in time, but…”

Y/n crossed her arms, awake for two minutes and already looking annoyed. “Just spit it out.”

I paused. “You were minutes away from death. We got a healer to work on you for the last three days, but you’ve been in a coma this whole time. We weren’t sure you were going to wake up.” 

Y/n let out a breath, leaning back on the pillows. “Well damn.” 

I gaped at her. “That’s all you have to say?” 

“I’m alive, aren’t I? What more is there to say?”

I ran a hand through my hair. She had no idea how hard it had been watching her edge the line of death, being unable to do anything about it. Before she could stop me, I jolted forward and crushed her into my chest, hugging her tightly. 

She patted my back gently, looking a bit confused when I pulled away. “I’m happy you’re awake,” I murmured, and she blinked. 

Before she could respond, I got to my feet. “You’re probably starving. I’m going to go get you food and water--stay put, ok?”

She laughed a little at my serious expression, but nodded. “I won’t go wandering off.” 

I practically ran down the hall, bursting into the bar where a few of the League sat. “She’s awake!” I yelled.

Mustard and Muscular jumped up, eyes wide, while Mr. Compress gasped. “Can we see her?”

I paused at that. Shigaraki wasn’t in the room like I had expected, and I was pretty sure he’d want to see her first. “You can see her in like an hour. I want her to recover a bit before everyone swamps her.” 

The villains looked disappointed but sat back down. 

“Do you have any extra food?” I asked. 

Mustard nodded, quickly getting up and scooping some chili Magne had made into a bowl. I filled up a pitcher of water and balanced everything in my arms before striding back down the hall.

When I reached the door to her room, I paused, hearing voices from within. The door was cracked a bit, and I leaned closer to see who was already there. My stomach dropped slightly as I recognized Shigaraki’s blue hair. 

The villain clutched Y/n’s face in a gentle grip, his fingers wrapped so he didn’t hurt her as he spoke in a low voice. Her eyes were intent on his face, one of her hands wrapped around his as she listened to him. As I watched, he circled his arms around her and clutched her tightly, burying his face in her neck as if she was the only thing that mattered. Her skin flushed red, but she hugged him back tightly, hands curling in his shirt. 

My fingers tightened around the bowl I held, but I slowly backed away. I had seen enough to know when I wasn’t wanted.

Y/n POV: 

I felt like Toga hadn’t let go of my hand since I had woken up, and that had been two days ago. She held it tightly as if afraid I was going to disappear, no matter the number of times I told her I wasn’t going anywhere. Even now, at our meeting, her fingers were clamped tightly around mine under the table. 

I sighed. I felt enormously better from when I first woke up, after I ate and drank. My body felt sore, aching, but I didn’t have any major issues. My injuries had been almost fully repaired by the healer. Unfortunately for her, the woman had seen too much and Shigaraki didn’t hesitate to dissolve her now that I was awake. 

Shigaraki stood up and faced the League.  “Our plan to attack the Quirk Training Camp is still in motion. Does everyone still feel ready to do it?”

We all nodded, but Shigaraki’s eyes fell on me. “You’re not going,” he said flatly. 

I blinked in shock, jaw clenching. “What do you mean? Of course I am.” 

“You almost died two days ago. There’s no way I’m letting you go on that mission.” I gaped at him, eyes wide. “You’re kidding right? I’m alive and I won’t be the only one left behind here. What’s the point of me staying here when I can help?” 

Shigaraki’s fists clenched. “Why do you always want to throw yourself into danger?”

“I can take care of myself. And I’m not going to be in any more danger than everyone else! We’re all risking it for the League. That’s our job!”

He glared at me, not speaking because he couldn’t argue. 

He turned, looking at Dabi. “If she goes, you protect her, got it?” 

Dabi nodded, eyes more serious than I had seen. “Yeah, I will.” 

I opened my mouth, wanting to punch both of these overbearing villains in their stupid faces, but I felt Toga’s hand tighten on mine. 

“Don’t argue, Y/n. We all just want you to be safe,” she murmured in my ear, and I felt some of the anger drain out of me. I wasn’t used to people caring. 

I nodded slowly, and Shigaraki sat back down. “Ok then.” 

        ~~~~~~

The next week and a half passed faster than I could have imagined. I worked on regaining my strength, training every day for at least two hours with whoever was available. I didn’t go on any more outside missions, leaving that to the other villains. I didn’t want to push Shigaraki any more than I already was. 

The blue haired villain seemed to be avoiding me. The first few days after I had woken up he had been almost unbearably sweet, staring at me all the time as if he couldn’t get enough. 

But ever since I had convinced him to let me help invade the training camp, he had barely spoken or looked at me at all. Was he upset that I was going? What else could it be? 

I found him sitting cross legged in the living room, the only light coming from the large television that he stared at. I was expecting to see the white fuzzy screen and hear the cold voice of his Master, but instead, it was a basic video game. He wiggled the controller expertly in his hands, making his avatar within the screen jump off a large building and shoot someone in the air. 

“What are you playing?” 

Shigaraki almost jumped out of his skin. “Jesus fuck!”

“Oh sorry.” I covered my mouth with my hand. 

“Ugh, you made me lose my kill streak,” he said, not looking at me. I narrowed my eyes. I knew directly confronting him about what was going on wouldn’t lead to anything; he’d just shut down and refuse to speak. 

Instead, I sat myself next to him on the floor, gazing at the screen. “What game is this?”

Shigaraki was more into video games than anyone else I had ever met, playing them constantly in his free time when he wasn’t busy planning the downfall of the heroes. I had watched him spend hundreds of dollars on different power ups, skins, weapons, and gear within his games using League money, not caring when we all complained that we were going to starve without it. 

He gritted his teeth, clearly fighting with himself on whether or not he should keep ignoring me. I pressed my lips together to contain a triumphant whoop as he told me the title of the game and started going in depth about the lore and the good and bad things about it, as if he couldn’t help himself. I listened happily, glad to have him talking again. 

He paused during a particularly tense moment when three different gunmen came at him at once, and I gasped as I watched his avatar duck and roll, shooting them one after the other in quick succession before sprinting towards the nearest building to get out of view of any snipers. 

“Can I try?!” I cried, excited after the intense display. 

Shigaraki glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. “Hm...let me finish this round.” 

He ended up winning with almost three thousand points, which made my jaw drop when he told me the average score. 

“Ok, give it to me,” I said, and Shigaraki handed over the controller a bit reluctantly. He showed me what each of the buttons meant, but as the game started, I continuously slammed into a wall, unable to get my avatar to move around it. “What the fuck!!! No no, AHHH--” A shooter came up from behind me and shot me in the head. 

Game Over: 0 points. 

“WHAT,” I practically yelled, outraged. Shigaraki was shaking with silent laughter, and I glared at him. “It was my first try, ok?” 

I ended up playing three more rounds, all of them ending in under five minutes. The most points I got was 120, but I still bragged about it endlessly, dancing around the room in excitement. 

“A literal child could have done better than you,” he snapped, but his lips were twitching. 

“No one asked your opinion.” I stuck out my tongue. 

“Do you want me to show you how it’s done?” He stuck out his hand for the controller, and I took the perfect opportunity. 

“Yes actually,” I smirked, marching over and plopping myself directly in his lap. I heard him make a noise of surprise and shock, and I looked over my shoulder up at him. “Can you show me how?”

I grinned in satisfaction as I saw his face flushed red, his eyes wide, but after a long moment, he relaxed as his long arms slid around my waist. His hands (which were wrapped in my shirt) were gigantic compared to mine, and easily enveloped my fingers as he held the controller with me. I leaned back against his chest, and I felt him shudder slightly. 

“Um. You just--” he cleared his throat, and I tried not to laugh. 

We ended up winning with significantly less points than his first round, but it was still ten times the amount I had gotten on my own. 

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” I grinned, leaning my face back to find him only an inch away. 

“Yeah you—you’re improving.” His eyes flickered to my lips, and I felt my heart stutter.

Before I could catch my breath, he jolted to his feet, making me flinch back. 

“I-I have to go…” he muttered, practically stumbling away, out of the room. I stared after him, mouth open. What was that?

Chapter 5

Chapter 3

[holykillercake]

Heavenly Demons

paring: Doflamingo x Reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: How far down would you go to rise with the person who makes your heart beat stronger?

highlight:  ¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

warnings: implied smut, Doffy himself is already a warning, right?

notes: Hey guys! So, I have read a lot of stories where the main character contrasts with Doffy, but I wanted to write one where the reader kinda shares his ideologies. I really hope you like it!! <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the salty fresh air cooled your body down. The waves crashed violently, and thunderings cut across the skies, shouting to all eight seas to prepare themselves. You were coming for the throne. You were coming for the golden seat above the great serpent soaked in blood. 

Large hands caressed your belly, fingers flirting with the soft skin of your breasts. You felt Doflamingo's naked and burning skin brush against your back, salty splashes of seawater blending with the salt of your sweat bodies. 

¨Do you remember what you told me that day?¨ his voice was low and deep, masking the ferocity of a roaring predator.

¨Every word.¨ 

¨Can you repeat it?¨ you smirked, words already engraved on the tip of your sharp tongue.

He gazed at the ocean with thirst, recollecting all the sacrifices he made, all the breaths he took and raised a glass for all the blood he was yet to shed.  

¨One day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ His grip tightened on your waist, nails slightly craving into your skin. 

¨I´m ready.¨

¨You have always been, Doffy.¨

¨Y/N.¨ he called you after a moment of silence.

¨Hm?¨ You hummed in response. 

The man behind you struggled, brain fighting the words from coming out of his mouth. He pulled you away from the window, lifting you up while your legs wrapped around his hips. The ship rocked aggressively, rolls of maps and unlit candles rolling across the tapestry.

Doflamingo pressed you against the wall, tongue gliding furiously with yours. You felt his body growing stiff again, moans masked as grunts being muffled by your intoxicating kiss. 

Whines came out with each heavy breath, your chest rising and falling when he finally parted the kiss, a single strand of saliva connecting both sinful lips. 

You took that moment to look him in the eyes. This time, instead of the glasses adorning his beautiful features, the flashes of lightning from the storm illuminated what he was constantly trying to hide.

The eyes of a monster. A monster for whom you would kill, for whom you would slaughter. The eyes of the man for whom you descended from the Holy Land and got your hands dirty to help him rise above the so-called Gods.

You remembered your words as a child. 

¨Those are not the true Gods.¨ he spoke in your ear. 

Shivers ran down your spine, and your core twisted when you felt the tip of his manhood touch your sensitive and sore skin. 

¨We are the true Gods.¨ a deafening thunder echoed through the structures of the Numancia Flamingo the moment he slipped inside you, covering your cries of lust and pleasure.

                                                               <~>

It was difficult to keep up with the man you followed. After all, he was tall and had incredibly long legs. At no time did he help you when you tripped over a piece of garbage and fell or when your legs gave up on exhaustion.  On the contrary, he just kept walking.

¨May I ask for your name?¨ 

That's what came out of your mouth. You knew that shouting and imposing things would not work, not here. This was the territory of humans, and you would have to deal with it if you wanted to get to the boy.

¨May I ask...¨ he mocked you. 

Your small hands, balled into fists, clenched while you snorted with hatred.

¨Calm down, brat. It´s over there.¨ 

Standing on the toes of your expensive shoes, you saw a well-known figure among sheds and piles of metal, with blond hair and dark glasses.

¨DOFFY!¨ 

¨Y/N!?¨ he sounded surprised to see you in such a filthy place. 

Your steps hurried to get to him, ignoring the other people on the scene who looked at you with suspicion.

The ruffles of the skirt were now dirty from the trip, and your hair, always so neat, flew loose with the breeze and even got entangled.

¨What are you doing here?¨

¨Just making sure you got home safe.¨

¨Nyeh, nyeh, who is this, Doffy?¨ a disgusting old man with snot running down his nose asked.

¨She is the girl I told you about. She helped me escape.¨

¨Do not come closer!¨ you exclaimed to the man when he turned to you. The gooey thing swaying with every movement.

Doffy invited you into what he called home and offered you a shabby wooden stool so you could rest from the trip.

Even so young to understand the meaning of love, your heart ached when you saw the precarious situation in which he found himself. No, he was much greater than that.

Your families were neighbors in the Holy Land, so you constantly spent your free afternoons in the company of the Donquixote brothers. It fascinated you how different they were, like two opposite poles of a globe.

At some point, you noticed Rosinante's absence and assumed he had died like their parents. He too was not like you. He would never last.

¨What will you do? You can not accept this, Doffy.¨ you walked over to the boy in front of a window, eyes locked on the piles of scrap metal. 

¨I know, Y/N. I am just thinking.¨ He hesitated to ask for your help, even though he knew how much more clever you could be.

The others just watched the interaction between the two children, the boy chosen by the heavens and the girl who spoke to him as an equal.

¨Claim what is yours, Doffy.¨

¨I tried.¨ his fingertips turned white from squeezing the window sill ¨I served my father´s head in a tray for them to feast, but-¨

¨That is not what I meant.¨ He searched your eyes for the first time, knowing that you were planning something. ¨You are a rightful king, the real deity, not them. Those are not the true Gods, Doffy. We are the true Gods.¨

The slimy man got up from the pest-infested couch, squinting at you. The brilliant idea he hadn't had before coming out of your mouth like a prophecy.

¨Dressrosa, the World Nobles, from the depts of the ocean to the six moons... one day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ 

Electricity ran through your bodies, and tears of excitement filled your eyes.

¨Nyeh, your name is Y/N, right? ¨ the miry man asked, keeping a respectful distance from you. His voice annoyed you just as much. ¨It looks like you have a plan, behehehe. Tell us more about it.¨

You looked at him with contempt and mistrust.

¨It´s ok, Y/N. They are my family now.¨

That day you shared the plan that would shape the course of the Donquixote Pirates' operations, and everyone listened in silence, bewildered by the strategic mind of such a young child.

¨I will be your eyes and ears up there.¨

¨I´ll be quick, Y/N. I promise.¨ You shook your head.

¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

That same night you returned to wealth and abundance, but your heart remained between the scraps and the boy, the Heavenly Yaksha.

For the next two decades, you focused on studies, following like a mantra the striking appearances of the Donquixote Pirates in the newspapers.

The World Nobles feared Doflamingo for his knowledge regarding matters that should be kept secret. Secrets you provided, tearing down the wall of the puny Gods, brick per brick.

Over time, your periodic visits to the world below the Red Line have become more intimate, going from an affectionate gesture to a dinner for two and the satiation of carnal desires. 

But maybe there was love. Among the sins and horrors committed, there was a lull after a nightmare. When your fingers ran through his blond hair, and he took off his glasses before pulling you to his chest.

When you laughed at childhood memories or projected a future together. 

Maybe it was love. But how could two beasts like you know for sure?

Perhaps it was not necessary to know the real meaning. When the sun came up again, you would be there together, ready to conquer, rule, and destroy.

When traitors raised their weapons and the weak perished, they would see the true face of God. Majestic and merciless.

When the weak rulers gave in to pressure, you would take the dirty hands of hopeless people and raise them up. And they would kiss the ground where you walked, freely and willingly.

¨Do you like our new home?¨ he asked, bringing you inside the feathery pink coat. 

You stood in front of the window, watching the country over which you would make prosperity reign.

¨It´s amazing, Doffy.¨ 

¨Are you staying for good now?¨

A smile grew on your lips ¨I am, Doffy. I´m staying for good.¨

His laughter filled the room. He took your hand and guided you to the armchair, where you sat on his lap, already opening the zipper of your dress.

¨Twenty years, Y/N...¨ he put a lock of hair behind your ear ¨I have waited for twenty years, and now that we accomplished this, I am not letting you go again.¨ 

You leaned slowly and torturously, flirting with his mouth, teasing him. You wanted to feel each moment, each touch, and each spasm making your body squirm with pleasure.

¨We have all the time in the world...¨ you whispered, placing a kiss on his lips ¨I want to make this very slow and very pleasurable.¨ 

This time when the sun comes up, you would not have to leave.

He laughed again, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling enough to make a moan escape your mouth. 

¨I can´t promise slow...¨ his voice was low in your ear, weakening your entire body ¨but I will give you pleasure.¨

The trail of kisses on your neck made your guts twist, and your hips move against him, seeking relief. 

¨I´m gonna take you right here and right now...¨ he pulled your hair a little harder ¨and I´m gonna make you my Queen.¨  

Hey @vemuabhi! Here I go again hahaha

[spinchip]

writing prompt: zane not always being comf with repairs due to repeat trauma, and how the various ninja comfort him and help him thru it

This got out of hand, not exactrly what you asked for waughkjhm. 3000 words, post s12 ;; Mountainshipping/polyninja

Warning: Panic attacks, trauma, PTSD

In the Aftermath of Unagami, the city rejoices. People gather in the streets to reunite with those they lost, children and parents embrace, tears and laughter ring out across ninjago city like bells far into the night. Pixals own friends cheer and holler, the adrenaline riding high still, and Zane throws his arm around her shoulder and draws her close. She laughs, wrapping an arm around his back as Jay chatters on and on about what happened after the others were cubed, filling them in on every detail.

Halfway through the story she realizes Zane is much heavier than he was a moment before.

She stands a little straighter, hauling him into more of a standing position before turning to face him- worry freezes her joints. He’s not smiling like he was earlier, his face blank and vaguely confused, his eyes hazy and glazed as he slumps more and more, and now that she’s paying attention she can feel him trembling around her. Her mouth works but no sound comes out before she gets her feelings under control, reaching out to set a palm on his chest to steady him.

“Zane?” She asks quietly, paying no mind to how the conversation died at the fear in her tone.

He blinks sluggishly, turning towards her voice but his eyes are too distant to focus on her. He opens his mouth to say something, shaking his head as if he were trying to force himself to stay awake before his knees give out and he collapses, nearly taking her down with the sudden weight. She cries out his name in alarm and Wu jumps to take his other arm, lifting him up with Pixal. The others rush forward, hovering their hands uncertainly, worry sharp across their face.

Pixal pats his cheek a few times, “Zane? Can you hear me?” She can barely keep her voice level and she bites her lip when he doesn’t respond, his eyes closed and head lolling listlessly.

Jay leans down and presses the side of his face to Zanes chest, eyes searching empty air for a tense moment, “His mechanics are still running.” he confirms, hearing his internal parts working. He winces openly at a sound the others aren’t close enough to hear, “Something’s wrong. We need to get him back to the monastery.”

“What happened out here?” Cole asks, hands fluttering nervously at his side.

Pixal fills them in while they wait for the Bounty to make it to their location- Autopilot was a blessing. There’s no room for the Bounty to land in the crowded streets, so when it arrives Kai scrambles up the chain from the anchor and drops the gurney for them. In a scene almost too familiar to stomach Pixal helps Wu and Cole load Zanes unconscious form onto it, taking the same route Kai took to get on deck afterwards. Nya and Jay have already taken him into the back room and Pixal sheds her Samurai X armor without pause, sweeping her bangs off her forehead as she strides into the room.

They’ve already got his chest panel open, Nyas sleeves are rolled up to her elbows as she pushes aside wires and inspects the damage. Jay is running a diagnostic through their central computer, a thick cable plugged into Zanes head. Lloyd lingers at the door nervously, watching them work with worried eyes.

“What’s the problem?” Pixal asks, resting her hands along the bed and peering down at his chest.

Nya face looks grim, “His core’s been overloaded, it’s fried a majority of his main power lines to near ruin- but even with something like this, they should have been able to work. The Mechanics adapter shouldn’t have caused this much damage.”

“What do you mean?” Pixal finds her mouth is running dry, looking down at the scorch marks across his arms where the violent electricity had burned lines across his metal.

Jay leans over, pointing out several twisted wires, torn and broken and out of place, “His wires were already messed up.” his voice is grave, “The effect of the Mechanics portal combined with these damages? It made everything so much worse.”

“Already…?” She shakes her head, “The Never Realm.”

“We think so too. Something must have happened that he didn’t tell us about.” Nya pulls back and glances at the monitor, “He’s stable for now, his body forced him into low power mode to stop the spread of the damage. We have a lot of work to do when we get to the lab.”

She nods, turning to look at him. His face is slack in sleep, his lips slightly parted, and she realizes with a jolt this is the first time she’s actually seen him rest since he came back. He wont talk about it, about any of it, she didn’t realize he was hiding something so serious.

Jay sighs deeply, leaning onto the table with an exhausted slump to his shoulders, the excitement catching up to him all at once. Nya leans her back against the table and runs her hand over his shoulders soothingly, “Why don’t you go rest? Pixal and I can handle this.”

He nods his head slowly like he’s considering it but Pixal watched him still suddenly, his eyes narrowing. He sits up and leans over Zane’s chest, searching his wiring with increasing fervor, “We need Kai.” He says, looking up at Nya with wide eyes, “He’s- He’s freezing over.”

Pixal lunges forward, nearly knocking into Jay headfirst to look, and sure enough ice is crawling across Zanes' parts slowly, encasing each of his damaged wires in a protective layer of frozen water. If she had blood, it would have drained from her face. Nya practically jumps the table, calling her brother's name and Lloyd scrambles out of her way, each of them splitting up to pin down the fire user.

Frost spreads from his fingers where they are resting against the table, his lips are turning blue with ice, Pixal doesn’t know what to do.

“What is this?” Jay asks breathlessly, “It’s… conducting.”

She can see visible arcs of electricity flickering through the ice as it grows stronger, each chunk connecting broken wires and damaged pieces to make him whole. Their elements never responded like this, not normally, but something happened in the Never Realm and this- it must be second nature to him, to protect himself, to keep himself going.

Kai appears in the doorway half a second before Zane snaps awake.

He comes back in a blind panic, twisting on the cot and hyperventilating, crashing to the floor in his chaotic thrashing. Pixal jumps back to avoid him bowling her over, stumbling in shock. He digs blunted fingernails into his head, scratching and clawing desperately at the cable above the back of his neck until he rips it out, scrabbling against his own skin for a few hysterical seconds before he realizes that the cable is gone.

He scrambles to his hands and knees, shoving himself back until he’s squished into a corner,  “Where am i? Where am i? Where am I?” He repeats in a hysterical mantra, chest heaving, his eyes wide and unseeing. Broken ice litters the ground in little chunks, handprints from where he’d crawled away turning to slick ice across the floor, frost crawling out from where he’s huddled against the wall. He clasps his hands over his head in distress, pulling at his ears and squeezing his eyes shut tightly as if willing them to work again, whining in fear.

“Zane!” Pixal cries, hovering and unsure, “Zane, please- can you hear me?”

Jay is by her side in an instant and he puts a reassuring hand on her arm, guiding her to crouch down on his level. He turns around and waves the others off so Zane won’t be so overwhelmed, Nya herding them back, “Zane, hey, it’s Jay.” He says soothingly, “You’re in the Destiny's bounty.” He repeats this a few more times and on one of the repetitions, Zane’s eyes slowly bleed into focus.

“See? Pixal is here, you’re safe.” He tells him gently, making sure not to touch him unless Zane asks.

Zane gasps loosely, a shuddering intake of air, “What did I do?” his eyes fill with tears as he looks at Jay miserably, “What did I do?” he asks desperately, moving both hands to grasp at the cable port in his head, tugging at it hard.

Pixal connects the dots, she knew enough about the violence in the Never realm to put his fears to rest, “Nothing, Zane. You haven’t hurt anyone.” She reassured him firmly, “You were hurt, we were running a diagnostic. You’re okay.” She sneaks a glance at Jay who nods at her minutely.

“Is this the first time this has happened?” Jay prods as respectfully as he can.

Zane shakes his head, “a couple of times.” He rasps, struggling to keep his voice even, trembling all over.

“What do you need?”

It goes on like this for almost twenty minutes with Jay and Pixal talking soothingly with him, at this point the Bounty has docked at the Monastery but Zane isn’t stable enough to move without panicking. Slowly, he calms down, until he’s sitting slumped and exhausted on the infirmary floor, uncurling himself from the clenched ball he’d forced himself into. Ice still insists on clinging to his skin and crawling around the floor without his permission, but he’s not in a blind panic anymore.

The tension in Jay's shoulders has begun to relax, “Hey, you back with us?” he asks gently.

Zane looks at him through bleary, but focused, eyes, “Yes.” He says quietly, “Thank you.”

Pixal chooses to avoid the elephant in the room, glancing at Jay with an appraising eye, “You handled that well.”

He shrugs, “I get them too, Panic attacks. After Nad- after everything. Nya does the same thing for me.”

“Do you think you can get inside?” Pixal turns back to Zane.

He takes a moment to think before he nods slowly, “I-” His face pinches and he swallows roughly, “I will need help.”

He holds his hands out and she takes them, pulling him slowly to his feet. He stumbles and she finds herself catching him for the second time that day, taking his full weight as his legs refuse to hold, until he can get his feet under him again. He whines, low and almost too quiet to hear, pressing his palm against his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

Jay takes his other arm and wraps it over his shoulder, “We just have to make it inside and you can rest again, okay?”

“Keep talking.” Zane says, opening his eyes just barely enough to see where they’re going, and Jay obliges. He runs his mouth nearly non stop as they help him get to the repair center of the garage, and with each word Zane seems to be edging back from another panic attack. He talks about nothing, but Zane nods along like he’s explaining the meaning of life.

Nya is there already, replacement wiring, tools, everything laid out in preparation for Zanes injuries. She’s got her hair pulled into a tight bun, a headband she only breaks out in emergency repairs keeping her bangs out of her face, the soldering iron warming up on the table. Jay and Pixal help Zane collapse onto the bed they have there, and Pixal helps adjust it so he’s sitting upright.

Kai appears at his side and hoists himself up to sit at his waist, the bed dipping at his presence, “Hey,” He says gently as the air is flooded with warmth, reaching over to cup Zanes cheek. He runs his thumb over Zanes cheek, ice flaking off at his gentle touch.

Zane tries to smile reassuringly, but it comes out thin and reedy, “Hello, Kai.” he leans into his boyfriend's touch, exhausted.

Jay goes to help Nya but she stops him, cupping his shaking hands, “You’ve done great, but you need to rest.” She squeezes his trembling fingers to prove her point. He wouldn’t be able to be steady.

He hesitates, but concedes her point, stepping back but hesitant to leave. Cole and Lloyd linger in the doorway before Cole nods to himself and quietly slips inside, speaking softly to Jay until the smaller man concedes and herds Lloyd out of the garage, both of them disappearing inside.

Nya motions to Pixal and the nindroid jumps into action, rounding to the other side of the bed to give Nya a hand.

“Hand me that?” She asks, motioning to a bucket in the back corner of their work station. Pixal holds it out as Nya turns to Zane, “I’m going to open up your chest panel, is that alright?”

Zane squeezes his eyes shut and Kai takes his hand reassuringly as he summons the bravery, “Do it.” He nods, and Nya unlatches it quickly.

Kai grimaces, looking at the frozen over electronics. Pixal can’t look away. It’s smart, in a pinch- it kept him running, it kept him awake and aware and alive. It does not look like a kind way to live.

Nya’s expression matches her brothers, “In order to do the repairs, I'll need to clear out the ice, Zane. I can turn you off-”

His whole body tenses, his breathing coming fast, and she acknowledges the reaction silently, “-Or I can do my best to do it while you’re awake. can you pull your powers back?”

“I don’t know.” Zane’s hands shake, his hard-won composure cracking, “I’ve been doing it for so long.”

“It’s okay, I can help.” Kai reassures him, stroking his hand soothingly, “I’m going to melt the ice now, and Nya is going to pull out the water before anything is damaged.”

“Alright.” Zane says, bracing himself.

Kai keeps one hand intertwined with Zanes and the other he holds out over his chest, pushing heat and warmth. Pixal ends up holding the bucket as Nya carefully and delicately draws the melted dropplest from his chest. Exposed wires spark and Zane jerks, his fingers digging into the sheet over the bed, gritting his teeth loud enough for pixal to hear.

He whines and Nya glances at his face with a wince, “You’re doing really well. You’re doing great, Zane.”

Cole approaches from where he’d been trying to stay out of the way, leaning over the bed and looking down at zane, “Hey, hey,” He coaxes Zane to open his eyes, blue laser-focused on Cole's face, “You’re alright, I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” he promises, and Zane lets out a shaky breath, blinking away tears.

“Sorry.” Zane pushes out past his teeth, “I am stronger than this.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Cole tries to hide the heartbreak on his face, “You’ve been through a lot. You’re tired, you’re in pain, it’s okay if you take off your mask. We’ll be here to help you.”

Reaching out to cup his cheek and strategically angle him away from the others ministrations, Cole keeps his boyfriend's eyes on him, “I will keep you safe.” With each reassurance, Zane seems to relax more. He knows that the others wont hurt him, but the fear response is so engrained he can’t calm down. The words help.

Raw wiring greets Pixal when Nya finally sits back, the bucket sloshing and full, and Kai has to blink away tears at the usually neat mechanics looking so mangled.

Nya takes a fortifying breath and picks up the soldering iron and starts in on the thick of it. She explains each of her actions to Zane in perfect detail before she does them, each time she has to touch him she announces it, each time she has to unplug a ruined wire she warns him. He braces and flinches and whines each time, and there’s several moments Nya has to turn away to try and compose herself.

Hours of grueling work pass before Pixal realizes they’ve run out of repairs to make.

Nya leans back, and swallows deeply, rubbing at her tired eyes. She takes another moment to double check her work before she carefully closes Zanes chest panel. There’s a little cosmetic damage from the mechanics chains across his skin, but that can wait until another day, “Okay. I- I think we’re done.”

Zane exhales as if he’s been holding his breath the whole time, closing his eyes and sitting up fully, his shoulder slumped. Kai and Cole move back to give him space as he runs his hands over his face, exhausted, “Thank you.” His voice wavers. He swings his legs over the side and allows Cole to take his hand. His feet are firm when he stands on them, and he raises a hand to his chest automatically, his shoulders relaxing when there’s no aching pain.

“Zane?” Pixal says, and he turns to face her, “Why didn’t you tell us?” she prods gently, and Zanes face tightens.

“I…” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend none of it ever happened.” he gathers his courage, “When I was sent to the Never Realm, it hurt. I’ve been protecting myself ever since.”

His eyes skate over the mess of broken wires and miscellaneous gear from the repair session, “I didn't realize it was so bad.”

She thinks maybe he’s talking about more than just the physical aspect, his panic attack still at the forefront of her mind. She takes a step forward, the bed a frustrating obstacle between them, “We love you, Zane. we don’t want to see you hurt. If you ever need to talk to someone, i’m always here- or we can help you find someone else together.”

He blinks hard, staring at the floor. Kai moves closer and cups his cheek, murmuring soft words. Zane nods, “Thank you.” He says to Pixal, “I will think about it.” It’s the most promising thing they’ve gotten out of him yet. Baby steps.

The door opens, and Lloyd pops his head in cautiously. He brightens at the sight of Zane up and about, “Um,” He says, smiling, “If you guys are finished, Jay and I made dinner.”

“You did?” Zane blinks, clutching Cole's hand as they begin the trek over to the door, “I’m impressed.”

“It’s nothing fancy.” Lloyd ducks his head, and Zane assures him anything they made will be just perfect.

Pixal watches him leave and dares to hope that things will get better.

[fabdante]

Ok, last one. The Kat and Artemisia post. Incase you missed them, this is part of a trio of posts on Baroque art and the DmC reboot trio and a separate post on the DmC reboot and the Baroque as an art movement.

The other posts if you want to check them out: Dante and Caravaggio, Vergil and Benini, DmC and the Baroque

Today for the final installment in this little mini series, we’ll be discussing the artist who won the Baroque, Artemisia Gentileschi, and her painting Judith Slaying Holofernes, featured below. 

Analysis of this painting, why it’s such a bop, Kat, and the devil may cry reboot below the cut!

Content Warning: discussion of abuse as it relates to Kat.

I guess we start with the beginning and the beginning is who Judith is. 

Judith is a biblical character. Upon impending invasion, she is unsatisfied with the response of her people and decides to infiltrate the enemy camp with her maid, intent to stop the enemy army. After gaining the trust of the people there, she eventually seduces general Holofernes and is invited to his tent. Then she beheads him with what I am left to assume is his sword. I suppose given the painting that part’s a little spoiled. 

A lot of paintings focus on the beheading or Judith posing with the decapitated head in victory. But a lot of them don’t have the impact of Artemisias, as seen above. 

Judith, as painted by Artemisia, is full of rage. She is not serene or delicate. She is not posing or unsure. She is angry, certain, and out for blood. Everything in her expression and her movements is full of force and intent. It’s the little details like his hair between her knuckles from where she’s gripping it and the forceful twist of her wrist on his sword that she’s taken. To her rolled sleeves in her incredibly fancy dress. And it’s not afraid to be gory to. Perhaps this is tame by modern standards of blood and gore but for the time it’s very bloody and violent. Supposedly the violence was too much for the first owner who kept it hidden for some time (allegedly). I think it’s important that while the focus is Judith doing the act, her maid is not passive in the violence. She’s holding him down with just as much force as Judith. And unwavering to, despite how we can see how Holofernes was trying to throw her off before he died, his hands still limply in the air. The maids full of as much determination as Judith is. Judith’s dressed up for this to, in a fine gown with her hair done up. This is likely part of the ruse Judith set up before she got Holofernes alone, but I like the detail none the less. That she’s dressed up for this murder.

The key to why this painting fits Kat so much to me is how it is not only full of anger and femininity and violence but how in Artemisias hands, the image feels like a bloody catharsis. There’s something personal in Judith's glare, in her rage. Something kind of interesting to in how she’s forced Holofernes to look away from her, like he hasn’t earned the right to see her victory even if by this point he is surely dead (I mean, the sword is nearly through his neck). Or like she doesn’t want to look at him at all, like he’s not worth looking at.

Likewise, for Kat, hunting demons is personal. The Order is personal. Why she’s here doing this is personal.

It’s personal because Kat killed her abusive foster father. I don’t think how impressive this is truly gets conveyed. It’s almost a throw away statement. It’s just that one line, ‘I killed the bastard’, and that’s that. Like it was easy or something. In the reboot universe, though, she’s not even in the same dimension as her foster father. We don’t get a lot of information about how much a demons human form impacts their demon form. We are told Mundus is fused to his human form, but we’re also told this is because he’s been in it so long and also there’s the matter of his relationship to the hell gate. We’re not even told how long he’s been in this form. Has it been years, decades, centuries? How long is so long that it led to this fusion? So, I don’t think we can base the average demon to this. As far as we know in canon, it’s Kat against a being in another dimension. A dimension she cannot engage with physically and to which he can escape to at any time. 

And yet she kills him anyway.

She is the only human we know of in canon who’s done this, to. To be fair, she is the only human mentioned at all in the reboot canon but by how Dante positions himself as human savior and by how certain Vergil seems to be that humans cannot take care of themselves, this must be rare.

I cannot express enough how important it is that Kat is the one who kills him to. It’s not Vergil. She doesn’t say it was Vergil. It’s also not her and Vergil, she doesn’t say that either, she doesn’t say ‘we killed the bastard’. Kat says explicitly that she killed him, ‘I killed the bastard’. It’s Kats kill. No matter how much Vergil helped her, she did it. She killed her abuser despite the odds against her. 

I can’t imagine the sort of catharsis Kat must have felt in that moment. We don’t know how she killed him, she never says. The greatest crime of the comics, in my opinion, are how they take this kill away from Kat and give it to Vergil instead. Which means no further elaboration there on what went down. But I can imagine her in that moment after, unsure how to feel with the rush of adrenaline and power and newfound safety. She’s done it. She’s done something she must have thought was impossible. And she tells us in game how this made her feel emboldened to handle the rest of demon kind. She doesn’t tell us in that many words, I suppose, but she says that she wants to deal with them all because she killed her foster father.

To Kat, this is personal. To Kat, mankind is something worth saving that she is willing to do everything to save. We don’t see her violence in game, but we know she’s willing to kill for this freedom. We know she’s willing to die for it to, given the aftermath of the Orders fall. It’s personal. And Kat sees it as something far bigger then her.

Often Kat I think is written off as someone who is naïve and weak and in need of saving. I’ve complained at length how I feel about her being called naïve. In game we see a very interesting, complex person in Kat I think. I’ve said before that it’s kind of fun to just watch her in scenes. Like really watch her. She has very deliberate body language that often betrays this calm she’s fighting to display, particularly around Dante for the first half of the game or so. It’s little things like how she physically contains herself after the ‘I like it rough’ comment, shutting her eyes and taking in a deep breath, but things that are there. She’s someone who, despite everything, is fighting to be a softer, kinder person even if she’s still got a lot of anger (Vergil does compare her and Dante, after all).

And being soft and kind does not make someone weak. Existing in a world where you are at a disadvantage to the things that aim to hurt you is not weak. Entering into your enemies tent armed with nothing but an elaborate gown and your anger, waiting until you spot a sword and an opportunity is not weak either.

I think something about Kat that is so often forgotten in the drama of the twins and everything else (because lets face it, no matter the media, female characters tend to get side lined for...everything else really), is without her the twins would have failed. It’s Kat who gets Dante and safely brings him to the Order. It’s Kat’s spells that bridge the human world to Limbo. It’s Kat who saves Vergil in the server room by way of bringing Dante to him. It’s Kat who ultimately gives the twins the final plan to get to Mundus. It was her. Dante says so at the end, to. The game recognizes that without Kat, the boys have nothing. And it's still Kat at the end who saves Vergil, and saves Dante from the guilt of killing him.

With Kat taking so much into her own hands despite her disadvantage, despite just being human, despite her softness, despite this rage boiling under her skin (or perhaps because of it), she is so much of why the world is free from demons. 

I mean Artemisia herself got that treatment, largely left out of artistic canon until very recently despite her success during her time. I also debated for a very, very long time across the many, many iteration of this essay on how much I talk about Artemisia’s personal life. I suppose if you made it this far you’ve seen that I’ve chosen not to, despite how it could be relevant to this discussion. But I think her work stands on it’s own without me having to justify the anger Artemisia may have personally felt and conveyed here without bringing up her personal life in depth. Though, if you want to know, I assure you that pretty much any information you look up on Artemisia will go into detail on her personal traumas and how that might impact her work. And it could definitely be relevant angle in discussing Kat and Artemisia, I just felt it overall did not add to this essay.

I often wonder, if she was in a different game or a different medium or a different story, if Kat might get more love. So often she’s called weak for the crime of not having a big weapon and a trail of dead demons behind her. So often she’s reduced to a love interest or a damsel despite how she is really the thing that saved the day, despite the fact her relationship with both twins is much more then ‘potential love interest’. And how many times have you  guys seen a post on your dash about wishing a character picked to enact revenge on an abuser? How they fought to be soft despite their trauma and pain? But I suppose, as is often the case with women in any story, she might have gotten this treatment anyway.

So, here’s to Kat. The brain cell, the Nephilim baby sitter, the girl who wanted to throw Vergil off a cliff, the hero Limbo city got who will never get enough credit, and forever the girl who deserved more. 

Those of us who love you will love you enough for the whole fandom, it’s alright.

[skellebonez]

Stop Lying To Me (Monkie Kid Cursed AU fanfic)

I was super inspired by @winterpower98 's Cursed AU and the fanart @kitkat1003 did for it soooo... I kinda wrote my own interpretation of this revelatory scene in an anon and now I am rewriting it here as a fic. I'm going off all the info in the masterpost and the hints in tags combined with my own flair so I'm probably off in places, but hey I had fun writing it and I hope you all have fun reading it and that's what counts! (also I have never posted fanfic to Tumblr before so if the formatting is off I apologize.)

Warnings: mild but vague depictions of some nasty injuries. And angst.

EDIT: I forgot to add the Read More! I fixed that!

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

"You LIED to us."

Macaque looked up, eyes wide at the amount of venom that should not have been held in that voice. "Kid I-"

"You LIED TO US!" MK yelled, words tapering off with a disbelieving laugh as his tail swiped the air violently behind him. "You lied to Monkey King, to- to ME! You used me! Again! ... you used me again..."

Oh. He didn't realize his chest could hurt as much as it did when he heard that. That second again, soft but somehow like breaking porcelain against a hard surface. Macaque didn't realize he could hurt like that. He watched as MK slid down to sit on the ground, turning away from him to check on the still resting Monkey King. "Kid..."

"Was this your plan the whole time?" MK refused to turn, busying himself with checking on his mentor's injuries, injuries he was now fully aware were caused by his own claws thanks to Macaque's confession. "Pull a harmless 'prank', come up with an excuse to get us all away from everyone, pretend to start coming around, make me think you actually liked me this time?" He turned, teeth bared in a half smile half grimace. "Wait for me to start losing control so I could do the dirty work of getting revenge against Sun Wukong for you? What did you tell me last time? 'You are the weapon'? Is this what you wanted? A weapon!?"

There it was again, that pain in his chest. Macaque looked away, unable to keep eye contact with the kid. Not when he could see the shimmer of moisture starting at the corner of his eyes. Heaven, he was going soft! When had he started going soft? "It... I wanted..." Why were the words so hard now? Words were never hard before, he could let them flow like sweet honey at any time he pleased but now they stuck on his tongue like tar. "... yes."

A confirmation. The silence between them was thick, and from the edge of his vision he could see the tears as they finally started to roll down MK's face. "I thought you could change, Macaque."

"I am changing!" Macaque insisted, turning back to look at the younger with what he hoped with a gentle smile. "Yes, I had a plan originally, but it's changed! I don't want that anymore!" He took a step forward, not missing the flinch back and the way the kid curled into himself. When MK said nothing he took another step forward, slower this time, and another. "I'm going to stop this, WE are going to stop this, you won't be a weap-"

"Stop lying to me!" He had messed up. Gotten too close, too fast, pushed too far. When he reached for MK the kid swiped instinctively and his claws made contact, just barely, slicing into the side of Macaque's neck as he made to dodge just a bit too late in shock. Everything froze for a moment.

"I..." MK's eyes widened in horror as he looked at Mac's neck, then his hand. "No, I. I didn't. I didn't mean to. To hurt. I." His eyes flooded more red and as he looked to Macaque his breathing grew faster. He let out a sob. Then a yell. Then a scream.

"Shit!" Macaque took a quick few steps backward before stopping and going forward again, holding his hands up in front of him. "MK, MK listen to me please. You have to calm down ok? You just recovered from the last time, your body cannot handle another transformation without you being hurt!"

A step forward, a step back, scream growing strained and more red but this time from the lengthening claws digging into MK's own arms. The kid was trying to fight it, he could tell, but Macaque had messed up too much. He knew about the plan, that he had hurt Wukong, that he had been manipulated. He didn't know everything but he knew enough. And Mac knew MK wouldn't be able to stop it, even as tempered by exhaustion as it was.

So he did the only thing he could think of that wouldn't hurt him. He leapt forward and held MK. Knelt on the ground and wrapped the kid in his arms as tight as he could. The kid fought harder, both at the transformation and at the hold, grabbing Macaque's arms to pull them away and slicing his sleeves to ribbons and grabbing at his back when he failed.

Macaque did not let go. Not when those claws ripped through his clothes and drew more and more blood, not when MK smashed his forehead into his mouth and split his lip, not when the kid twisted and grabbed his arm and widened his own mouth and BIT, hard and furious and tearing into his bicep down to the bone. Not when the power radiating off the kid scared him more than he would ever admit. Macaque did not let go. 

"I'm not lying kid," he whispered. "Not anymore."

Eventually, too long for comfort, MK stopped fighting. It was like a switch was flipped. One second he was fighting and then next he just. Stopped. Had he not been breathing so hard Macaque would have sworn he has simply ceased entirely. 

They stayed like that for a moment, Macaque getting his own unsteady breathing under control before he gently maneuvered the kid to pick him up. He walked them back to where Wukong was fitfully resting, no doubt disturbed by the recent events, ignoring how his back was rapidly growing warm (but somehow cold) and wet and how one arm shook with effort it should not have needed. "You're gonna be ok Kid. You're gonna be ok. I promise."

"N.." So he wasn't completely drained. Yet. "No more... lying...?"

"Yeah. Yeah, no lying," Macaque said as he laid MK down, wincing as he turned in such a way that the worst of his injuries would be hidden away, if the kid was aware enough to see them that is. "Not about this, not anymore. I promise. Get some rest kid, you're gonna need it."

MK let out a halfhearted chuckle, nodding his head. "K. I... I won't. Give up on you yet." And with that he finally passed out.

Mac sat and watched, afraid to move lest the kid just suddenly transform. But he didn't. He rested and Macaque knew he had a lot to fix. He had gotten attached. Damn it all but he got attached to the kid.

That was the last thought he had as his body finally gave out, sending him sideways into the dirt. He thought he heard a yell, a voice more familiar to him than MK's, angry and scared sounding. Why was it scared? He was the Six Eared Macaque. He would be fine, he always was.

Even if that was potentially another lie.

[jinxxedwammys]

Ok hear me out. I’ve listened to “Sway with me (slowed)” by Cytus II and I have this whole imagine of the reader at a masquerade ball as an undercover agent, and as The Wammy Bois (preferably L or Near) S/O or crush. Well the situation turns for the worst and L (or near) rushes out into the party (he was originally watching on cams) to get a hold of the situation to either like confront the Bad Guy or just protect the reader. Idk I think about it when I listen to the song. Love your writing btw

Aww thanks anon, I'm glad you like my writing! And damn, I like this one a lot! This calls for a fic. Thanks for requesting! (Not me accidentally making this somewhat like that ball scene in Black Butler.. oof)

For this I chose L and decided not to do Near, I hope that's okay.

Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking, Main antagonist being a creep, daggers.

(Image from some wallpaper site and very lightly and badly edited with befunky)

The night was young, the sun had only just set below the horizon plunging the city into darkness. At 8PM this night there was a masquerade ball at a very wealthy businessman's mansion. As all the high society guests exited their limousines and luxury cars escorted by servants you stood staring at the lavish mansion.

"I feel so out of place here... Do I really blend in enough?" You quietly asked Watari who stood beside you as your "servant". You shifted uncomfortably and looked to him for an answer.

"Yes, of course you do. You fit in very well. Please do not worry, I'm sure you will be alright in there." He bowed before reentering the drivers seat of the vehicle you'd arrived in. You took a deep breath before carefully ascending the marble stairs leading to he door. Before you could be noticed by anyone in particular, you placed the earpiece you had been provided in your ear disguising it with your hair.

Unlike the other guests, tonight wasn't about enjoyment or entertainment for you. You were assisting with an investigation into one of the high class men attending this party known as Daniel Grant. He had been suspected of human trafficking, though it seems he had been doing more than just that. A recent investigation by the private investigator known only to the public as L suggested that he may potentially be behind multiple murders in the area. As it happens, you were the lynchpin in solving this case and getting the evidence needed to put Daniel Grant and all involved behind bars.

He seemed to target young people between the ages of 18 and 25. As it happens, you were perfect for that role. You were also a police officer. So only two weeks ago, you had been asked to assist the one and only L. Of course, when he contacted you, you were overjoyed. Finally, something more interesting than petty crime! But now, as you entered the lavish mansion you were far less confident than you were when you initially joined.

You knew L was watching the camera feeds from the CCTV system, but it still didn't calm your nerves. You nervously approached the table where the guest sign in book was placed, carefully signing your alias. Then you made your way to the ballroom where the party was held. You took a deep breath and adjusted your mask before entering into the room.

Inside, everyone was chatting amongst themselves every single person dressed very formally, women in beautiful ballgowns, men in fancy suits. Every single one wore a masquerade mask, some plain and simple, some adorned with gemstones, lace and other ornate designs. Everyone went silent when one man tapped his glass with a fork.

"Hello everyone, I'd like to thank you for attending tonight. Thank you all for celebrating my niece's 20th birthday with us" He motioned to a young girl blonde girl wearing a dark pink dress with a black lace mask. Everyone gave a short applause in response. "Please enjoy yourselves" He bowed slightly. You hadn't known this was a birthday party beforehand. You wondered what Daniel Grant had to do with this girl. About 20 minutes into the party, you decided to check in with L as you hadn't heard a thing from him since you arrived. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

"L are you listening?" You asked quietly and waited for a response.

"Yes, I am, is anything wrong?" He asked. You shook your head before you realized he couldn't see you right now, there were no cameras in the bathroom.

"N..No, I haven't seen Daniel yet either... I was just making sure you were there." you hurriedly replied.

"Mmh, I'll guide you to him if you would like, I can see him on the cameras." He replied clearly eating something.

"Okay, please do!" You left the bathroom and reentered the ballroom doing your best to hide the fact that you were scanning the room for the suspect. L's voice came over the earpiece again, this time instructing you to look for a woman in an emerald green dress near the center of the room. You entered the crowd of guests. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw the woman L had been talking about. She was in fact talking to Daniel Grant. They seemed to know each other. You stayed back, waiting for L to say something.

"Seems like you found them, stay back for a little while, I'll tell you when to approach" He said. You of course didn't respond since you were surrounded by others in earshot. You casually checked your pockets and approached another guest making small talk to kill time. You had taken your eyes off of him for a second, and the moment you looked back, the niece was talking to him. L seemed to notice as well.

"Daniel is currently talking to an important innocent. Please intervene now." You looked around the room before casually approaching the two.

"Hello, I came to wish you a happy birthday!" You said, sort of putting yourself between them. She nodded, thanking you and went back to talking with Daniel. You sighed in annoyance, but persisted.

"Hey, could you by any chance show me to the washroom? I've been looking for it and I just can't find it" You asked. She looked at Daniel, excusing herself from their conversation before leading you to said washroom.

"I'm sorry for inconveniencing you... Oh.. and I think it would be best if you stayed away from that man." She gave you a quizzical look.

"Why is that? He's one of my mother's friends." She asked. You were kind of shocked. Another detail L had left out. You questioned if he trusted you before ultimately banishing the thought. Of course he trusted you. You wouldn't be the one confronting the guy if he didn't.

"Just trust me, he's no good" You warned. It was clear that she didn't take your words seriously whatsoever. She scoffed and left. Now what? You wondered. And just like that, L's voice came through again.

"I want you to talk to him, try your best to get him away from her." Immediately you left the bathroom and made your way back to the ballroom again. By now, there were a few people dancing. Unfortunately Daniel seemed to be one of them, but you had a plan. Dance your way to him! You started off with a tall man with a purple tie, then to an average height lady in a light blue dress, then a lady with a fuchsia pink dress, and so on until finally, you were dancing with Daniel.

"You're the person who rudely interrupted my lovely conversation with the guest of honor" He observed. His voice was cold, though there was a tinge of intrigue.

"And what of it?" You sort of snapped. He smirked, it sent chills up your spine. You backed away slightly, but he closed the distance.

"Oooh, I like them feisty" He growled into your ear. You couldn't help your face twisting in disgust at that.

"Why don't we go... somewhere more private" He suggested. It was then that L's voice came on through your earpiece.

"Go with him, I want to see what he'll do" You gulped. You really didn't want to go anywhere with that creep. But L's orders... You nodded and Daniel led you upstairs. You both stood in front of a bedroom door. He opened it, directing you to go inside. As you did, his eyes seemed to undress you. It was then that he took out a dagger holding it to your neck.

Meanwhile, L sat in his temporary investigation headquarters observing your actions. He had just stuck a piece of cake in his mouth when you had been attacked. He had not expected Daniel to be armed. You were in grave danger and he knew it. He immediately stood up, the fork clattered to the ground and the plate the cake had been on shattered as it hit the floor. He didn't care.

"Y/N, hang in there, I'll be there soon" he quickly said to you before rushing to get Watari and speed off to the party. The car ride seemed to take forever. Every second of it, he watched and listened. Daniel seemed to be just threatening you for the time being, but at any second, he might just kill you. The very second they arrived, L clumsily jumped out of the car and rushed up the stairs to the manor, past the guards outside and up another flight of stairs to where you were.

L had for the first time in his life, brought a gun in case things got even more ugly, but he doubted he'd need it. Daniel didn't seem like the type to be bold enough to kill in front of another person. Even so, he gripped the gun before entering.

"Let them go!" L commanded. Daniel's head snapped in his direction.

"Get out, this is none of your business" Daniel said, turning back to you.

"It is my business, that happens to by my significant other you have there." You blinked. Significant other? Is he acting? You thought before mentally reprimanding yourself for thinking that now. L moved a little closer.

"Oh.... She is... I'm sorry" Daniel backed away. It was kind of comical how he looked like a scolded dog. You stood up and walked towards L, glancing back a few times at Daniel to ensure he wasn't going to get violent again. And without another word, L led you out of the manor to safety. Though there was one question burning in your chest. When you were safely in the car you decided to voice it.

"L... Do you actually like me?" L turned to you, his expression was completely unreadable.

"Yes" He said almost monotonously. But that was good enough for you.

[soulwillower]

tozier • ben hanscom

(ben hanscom x tozier!reader smut)

requested: okay so once regular requests open, here's my idea. so the reader and richie are siblings and they absolutely hate each other and to get under his sisters skin, he fucks her best friend. so in sheer anger she decides to fuck all of his

warnings: swearing, smut, unedited bc im a lazy asshole 

ok guys here’s part one of the new series! i’ll probably have to go back in and edit some stuff n probably change the name but lmk what u guys think and what u wanna see for the next parts :) 

[losers and reader are in college in this.]

2.8k words

♡

you know richie pretty well, if you say so yourself. hell, you grew up with him - you've known him your whole entire life and even now, as 19 and 20 year olds, you're still at each other’s throats constantly. 

naturally, growing up with richie as your brother was full of ups and downs - like the time that you were still a baby in your crib and he'd curiously wandered into your nursery and twisted your finger, causing it to break. or, that time when you two got into a fight over who took the last of the ice cream in the freezer and didn't speak to each other for almost three whole days.

but there were really good times, too - like when richie picked you up after your disastrous senior prom night and drank vodka with you in the back of his pickup truck while you threw rocks at the creepy house on neibolt street. or the time where you bought him a new pair of glasses so your parents wouldn't kill him for breaking them and he bought you ice cream for a month as a thank you. 

richie was the most frustrating, annoying, rude, arrogant older brother, and yet even when you were away at separate colleges, you talked on the phone almost every night.

you share one of those really, really competitive relationships - a lot of it, you’ve realized, stems from your parents constantly pitting you two against each other to vie for their attention and praise. but no matter, you still hated richie most of the time and he hated you just as much. 

but right now, you might fucking murder him.

you have so much hatred for him as you storm down your stairs, phone clutched violently in your palm as you stalk into the basement, hollering, "richard!" at the top of your lungs. it's a hot august afternoon and you've just come back from the pool with your best friend, now filled to the brim with white hot rage for your brother. 

when you'd been at the pool, cecily, your best friend, had stretched her neck and you'd noticed a hickey (naturally, you'd teased her about it). but when you pried, she got secretive and defensive until it finally slipped out that the boy she'd been with was none other than your gangly, stupid older brother, richie.

you were completely disgusted and beyond addled as to why she'd choose richie, of all people, but more than that you were extremely pissed and stormed off, driving home with knuckles tight against the steering wheel.

and now, as you make it down to the last step of the basement, you're aware that you're still in your bathing suit with shorts thrown haphazardly on top as you storm towards your fuckwit brother.

he and all of the losers he hung out with are down here, sprawled on the large sofas and on the floor in front of the tv. you don't dare break your eye contact with richie as you glare, face heated with anger.

"well hey there, little sis. what's got your knickers in a knot?" he says with a lopsided grin that you just want to punch clean off his face. he's sitting between ben and bill and you turn a little pink as you notice both boys’ eyes on your body. yet you barely think for a second before slapping richie straight across his cheek, hard. 

the slap is a sickening sound as it quiets the whole room - you can feel bev's eyes on you, hear eddie's short gasp, and see out of the corner of your eyes as stan turns his head to watch the scene. richie stares at you, hand on his cheek. "what the hell, y/n?" he asks with a glare as he stands up, rising to his full height above you. but you’re not afraid. 

"you talk to cecily today?" you ask with feigned sweetness, a sick smile on your face as you cross your arms. richie just blinks at you, mouth opening and closing like the dumbass he is. "how long have you been fucking her?" you ask when he says nothing.

the room bursts in exclamations after your words - from mike's "you didn't." to bill's "what the f-fuck is wrong with you, m-man?" and ben's, "oh my god, dude."

richie just shakes his head, looking way too casual as he places a hand on your shoulder with a grin, "y/n/n, can we talk about this later? we’re trying to watch jeopardy." he smirks, but you immediately shake his arm off, recoiling in frustration as you glare at him. "no, richie! you’ve been fucking my best friend! my ONLY friend!" you ask, shaking your head. “you’re such a shitty person, i fucking hate you. why did you do it?” 

 as you make eye contact, he sighs almost forlornly, as if he’s about to apologize. but this is richie, so of course he doesn’t. "....she's just so fuckin’ hot." he says with a grin. 

you take a sharp breath, rubbing your face with your hands as you back away towards the stairs.

"c'mon, sis! don't be so sensitive." he calls to your back and you can practically hear the nasty grin in his voice. you hear eddie hiss, "quit being a fucking asshole." to your brother and you want to scream. "don't fucking talk to me, richie." you snap as you make it up the stairs, ignoring richie as he laughs his stupid hyena laughter. 

you're finally changed out of your suit and into a shirt and shorts by the time you've calmed down enough to take a few deep breaths. a knock makes you jump, though, and you glare at the closed door. as you're about to yell for whoever it is to go away, you're stopped by a voice.

"hey, y/n." ben's voice sounds through the door, and it's almost shocking how quickly your shoulders relax. you smile shyly as you open the door, your heart beating wildly, this time not from anger but out of your proximity to ben.

ben hanscom had been your brother’s friend for a while, and you simply did not understand. all of them are jackasses, richie being the king of the pack, but ben really does seem to be so fucking genuine. maybe it’s because you’ve always had a small thing for him, but then again it may just be because you’re furious with richie. 

"hi, ben. sorry i was.... sorry about that." you say awkwardly as he walks into your room and shuts the door gently. he laughs quietly as he leans against your wall, looking down at you knowingly. "it's richie's fault. you have every right to be mad. he’s a dick sometimes"

you nod thoughtfully, touched that ben came to check in on you. "i know he is. you know, i'm not even mad that they had sex, honestly, i’m just mad because i know he did it to piss me off." you say, biting your lip as you stare up at ben, his hair glinting under the soft light of your lamp. 

ben nods as he reaches out to rub your shoulder, making your stomach flutter as you look up at him. "if i can be honest, you two have the weirdest relationship i've ever seen, y/n. i'm sorry he did that and didn’t tell you, that's really unfair."

you smile lightly at the floor where your feet point towards his. "well now i have, like, nobody to hang out with this summer." you mumble, thinking about how cecily is really your only friend from derry, and how all your college friends live hundreds of miles away.

you shrug, leaning into ben's touch. "you have me to keep me company, though." he says with a shy grin, cheeks heating up at your smile.

"oh, just you? i like the sound of that." you ask, lifting a brow playfully. he chuckles a bit at your look and it makes your chest flutter.

"yeah, of course you do, y/n." he says as he pulls you into a hug. he's warm and smells like cinnamon cologne and it makes your chest glow sweetly. you pull back only slightly, hands sliding up to his chest as you look into his golden eyes. "ben..." you whisper softly, eyes going down to his lips and then bouncing back up, not wanting to make a move if he's not comfortable with it.

he clearly is thinking the same thing, because you're both moving closer and closer, his hands lightly squeezing your hips as he stares at you with hooded eyes. "yeah?" he asks, just as quietly. you swallow, wanting nothing more than to just close the gap just to see what it'd be like. to have one of richie's friends, for a change.

you don't know how to initiate it, though. "do you want to-"

"yes." he rushes out quickly, apprehension only flashing across his face just after he'd rushed out the answer, in fear that you'd been overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. but it's enough for you, and you grin slightly before pulling him into a kiss.

his lips are hot on yours, your hair still drying from the chlorine at the pool as his fingers tangle in the strands. you moan a bit out of shock, having not kissed anyone in a while and feeling touch starved. his hands are strong and soft in all the best ways and you try not to smirk as you think about your stupid brother sitting in the basement, currently unaware of what you’re about to do with one of his best friends upstairs. 

but then, just as your hand slips to the hem of ben’s jeans, he pulls back a bit. “is this a bad idea?” he asks.

you sigh, looking away. “yes.” you say with barely any hesitation. “but i don’t fucking care.” you say honestly, and ben grins, “well, me neither. you’re...” he looks you up and down before smiling. “so fucking pretty.” he ends with and your stomach flutters, face growing hot at the compliment. 

"but i don't want to, like.... t-take advantage of this situation, or-" ben starts, but you shake your head, biting your lip as you stare at him. he's so fucking amazing, so caring. he's always been like this - respectful, considerate, and interested in your well being, which really just makes you want him even more.

"no, ben, i... i really want this. if-if you do too." you say honestly, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him through your lashes. he grins as he nods. "you sure?"

you giggle, pulling him towards you by his neck. "yes. are you, ben?" you ask as he leans down closer. "definitely." he whispers against your lips, his breath coming out in a short huff. and then his lips are on yours, pressing strongly and fully as you stumble a bit, grasping him tightly as you kiss back.

he presses you against him, hand at the small of your back as he moves his tongue deftly against your lip, exploring your mouth as you suppress a moan. one moment later, you pull back a bit.

"you're not..." you trail off, and he shakes his head. "no, are you?" he asks, and you also shake your head as you cup his cheek and pull him back in for a kiss. "me neither." you mutter, falling back down onto the mattress, hand blindly fumbling around inside your bedside drawer for your box of condoms.

he's kissing down your neck, his hands palming your breasts softly as you finally pull one out and set it beside you, wrapping your arms back around his neck.

he grinds slowly against you and you let out an embarrassedly loud moan at the friction against your clothed clit. he's already pretty hard and your mind flickers to the basement, how chilly it had been against your skin and how your swimsuit top probably didn't leave much to the imagination as you'd stood right in front of him. it makes you giddy at the thought of ben's eyes on you, his mind drifting to what you'd look like underneath him.

which is where you are right now, as he rolls the condom onto himself and pumps slowly. you kick your shorts and underwear off, aching and dripping with need as he slides between your legs, bracing himself with one arm above you.

"ready?" he asks softly and you let out a strangled whimper as you feel him line up at your entrance, teasing your folds a bit and making your hips buck. "yes." you say, staring deep into his eyes.

ben grasps your hand then, steading both you and him as he eases into you, sinking slowly and letting out a shuddering breath. you let out a small whine at the feeling of ben stretching you out, having been too antsy and not having enough time or patience for foreplay. once he's fully inside you, he kisses your cheek and gives you a few moments to adjust as you breathe into his neck.

and then he starts to move, his hips rolling slowly as he fills you up and hits a perfect spot inside you, your toes curling almost immediately. "oh god, ben." you moan out and that makes his hips move fluidly as he thrusts into you, kissing your neck softly as you whimper in pleasure.

the hand that isn't steadying himself above you holding your hand dances around you; exploring your curves, fingers lightly tracing over the stretch marks on your hips and then his palm sliding to caress your sides, his touch making your skin feel on fire.

after a few more minutes, he picks up the pace, hips angled slightly deeper and making your toes curl. he starts to moan every few thrusts, right into the shell of your ear, and it pushes you closer and closer to that feeling growing in your abdomen.

"shit, y/n, i'm already close." he mutters, eyes closed in bliss as he leans his head back slightly, the sight heavenly to your eyes. and you don't even blame him because he's probably just as pent-up as you are and you know this has to be quick or else richie will come up, wondering why ben was taking so long to ask if you're okay.

so you lean up a bit as he thrusts into you and you attach your lips to his neck, sucking lightly enough that it won't mark. "so am i." you say breathlessly as you move your hips, chasing the high that's building deep inside you.

you press your hands to his chest, stopping his motions momentarily. "let me ride you." you say breathlessly and his eyes widen with something akin to hunger as he pulls out of you, rolling onto his back with a shocked look. you smirk as you climb back onto him, straddling him as you pump him a few times. he bites his lip as you sink yourself onto him, moaning and covering your mouth so as not to carry the sound all the way to the basement.

as you start to bounce, you smile, realizing that you're not at all insecure in front of ben - his hands are all over your body, running over and gripping the plush skin as you sink onto him, taking him perfectly. he's groaning and moving his hips with yours as you mouth wet kisses over his chest and neck.

ben lets out a moan that pushes you near the edge as you pick up the pace, his cock hitting a new spot inside you that has you whimpering. as his hands fall to move your hips with his, squeezing your soft thighs tightly, you hit your high.

you tremble as the feeling of him inside you makes you clench hard, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss as you moan out, "ben!"

your hips stop moving as you ride out your high, only making small movements as you clench around him in complete pleasure. he groans below you, eyes still shut as he juts his hips upwards, taking over to chase his own orgasm.

and his hips start to stutter a few thrusts after as you slump on his chest, one hand on your tits and the other on your hips to move you with his thrusts. he cums a few moments later with a moan that is muffled by your hair, his hands sliding down to your ass, your lips on his collarbone.

after a few moments, you roll off of him and sigh, shocked and unsure as to if that really just happened. you're embarrassed at how quickly he made you cum - you want to blame it all on the fact that it has been quite some time since you'd had sex, but it really was the thrill of hooking up with him, especially because your brother was just downstairs.

ben's cheeks are red as he sits up quickly, pulling on his boxers and then his pants, only looking at you after he tugs the hem of his shirt down. "um, i would totally stay, but-"

you shake your head with a grin, "no, i get it. this was... just a spur of the moment thing."

he beams at you, seemingly relieved that he wasn't hurting your feelings - that was amazing and you're both glowing in your post-orgasm high, but you both know that this was a one-time thing. he pecks your cheek sweetly and as he turns to leave, you mutter, "wait!"

he lifts a brow as he turns to you and you run your fingers through his hair a few times to make it look the way it did before he came up here. "thanks." he says with a grin before he disappears, closing the door behind him and making you get dressed with red cheeks in silence.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @brxken-heartsclub

[yourfandomfriend]

Hazard: Chapter Two

Has this been driving anyone nuts for nearly thirty years?

For those unfamiliar with “Hazard,” in the early ‘90s, Richard Marx took a break from straight-forward love songs to spin us a murder mystery -- a beautiful girl ends up at the bottom of a river and everyone thinks it’s this weird guy with a wig-like mullet -- we’ll call him Spooky Richard -- that’s done her in.

Richard decides to start the story when he was a kid, having just moved to Hazard and everyone jumping to the conclusion that he’s a basket case. For some reason.

“Even then, the folks in town said with prejudiced eyes, ‘that’s boy’s not right’.“

There were apparently “rumors and lies” about Richard that only his close friend (lover? crush? hag?) Mary was able to see past, and the video ends with ADR of her saying people told her that she should be scared of him, but she wasn’t.

And the creeping feeling you get up your spine watching the video tells you, perhaps she should’ve been? See, Mary goes missing. They drag the river, find her corpse, and then the local cops are all over Richard because of, well...

The whole case hinges on this sketchy scene where Richard was walking through the fuck-part of the woods and saw Mary in a car, giving it with love to a guy who also had a wig-like mullet. 

Mary’s visibly upset to have Richard see her in flagrante delicto with hairy boy.

And right then, the cops drive up and scare Richard off -- he loses his white scarf in the bushes. Later, when Mary’s pulled out of the river, they find the same scarf tied around her neck. Clue?

Meanwhile, we see the local Sheriff had been taking pictures of Richard and Mary together, watching them, following Mary around, and when her body is found, he immediately assumes Richard killed her. 

The cops ultimately let him go, but while he’s in police custody, the locals burn his mobile home down anyway.

So he throws his mullet away and leaves Hazard for good!

But that’s not all. There’s all these flashbacks in the video with Richard as a child living with his mother. His dad left her for another woman and sometime later, Richard catches her with a... wig-squatch? 

Some guy with a lot of hair. A wig-fire breaks out at that same moment and Richard runs for it. There’s also shots of him crying, surrounded by men, who he seems to run away from.

But there’s also this symbolic transition, between the shot of him as a child running, sad and alone, to the moment he meets Mary as an adult.

With all the Mary scenes cutting between the scenes with Richard’s mother, it looks like Richard not only feels a strong connection between Mary and his mother, but that he might’ve killed them both out of some twisted feeling of betrayal. Is he really violent and unhinged? Did Richard really kill Mary?

No.

Or did he!?

He didn’t.

Okay, but what really happened, then? What was the nature of his relationship with Mary? And what was that creepy Sheriff up to? 

Something, right? Well, we never find out for sure, because Richard Marx can apparently keep a secret like a mother-fucker.

But the last time I checked, people in the YouTube comments section seem confident: Mary and Richard were lovers, the Sheriff was obsessed with Mary and he was jealous, so the Sheriff killed Mary and framed Richard.

But if the sheriff was framing him, then why let him go in the end? Was he just really bad at it? And if Mary loved Richard so much, why was she banging that hair-don’t in the woods. And why wasn’t the Sheriff targeting that guy instead of Richard? And what’s all that got to do with Richard's hot mom banging an improbably unrelated hair-don’t and (seemingly) dying in fire?

Comments section doesn’t care. They know it was the Sheriff, so none of that stuff is important. Hell, some people don’t even think that stuff happened. And since Richard sees dead women standing on the surface tension of the river like water striders, we don’t even know what’s real and what’s just symbolism, right?

Welp, what the comments section largely doesn’t know is that Marx put out two videos, the second chapter having different clips, different clues, and it paints a slightly different picture of both the suspects and the victim.

You can watch it here.

So... that’s a little different, isn’t it? Let’s compare both videos and comb over some clues: 1.)  Who really killed Mary?

You’d think I’d save this conclusion for the, well, conclusion, but it’s really the most obvious thing about the second chapter. Here are the clues:

a.)  Mary’s death was ultimately declared a suicide.

Uhhh. Okay, but-.

b.) According to the unnamed cop present for Richard’s interrogation, there was seemingly no evidence of foul play -- no fingerprints, no trauma, nothing found in the river, only a flimsy case being aggressively made by the Sheriff that wasn’t even enough to hold Richard with.

Right, but what if-.

c.) And there’s a shot of her walking into the river by herself that night.

Ah.

And over the cop’s VO of the word “suicide,” there’s a shot of something that happened sometime before Mary’s death: her sitting by the side of the river on a log, looking shell shocked, wrapped in a blanket or big towel, as Richard seems to be trying to console her. 

But come on, wasn’t Richard’s scarf tied around Mary’s neck when she died? That’s treated as significant, even if it wasn’t the murder weapon. Like, maybe the Sheriff planted it to frame Richard.

d.) There’s also shots in the video of Mary all alone, crying, with the scarf around her neck. She’s the one who had it before she died, so to the omniscient viewer, it doesn’t help us build a case against jack squat.

Dammit, Sheriff! I agree with Unnamed Cop, this is a bullshit clue.

e.) Finally, the video pointedly lays down new VO lines from Mary:

“You know... sometimes, I feel so confused. You’re like the only person that understands me." “I know this sounds weird,... but... I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you as a friend.“

Okay, fine, that sounds like a motive for suicide to me. But...

2.) What is the nature of their relationship?

a.) In chapter one, we see Richard and Mary are very close. They hang out at the river a lot. Mary is frequently pawing at Richard, holding his hand, tugging his clothes, or pulling him close. 

b.) The Sheriff accuses Richard of being jealous that Mary was with another man. Despite all this, Richard insisted to the Sheriff that they weren’t dating.

Now, the assumption by YouTube is that Mary was ashamed because Richard caught her cheating on him. But early in chapter two...

c.) He’s clearly already withholding physically, pulling his hand out of hers -- at no point in either video does he ever infer a romantic intention with Mary or make anything resembling a move on her. 

It’s almost as if she wants him as a boyfriend, and the whole town thinks they’re an item, but Richard only loves Mary as a friend. A kind, sympathetic friend who reminds him of his mother. Someone who understands what he’s been through and doesn’t listen to the gossip that been isolating him all these years. 

And seeing her with that wig guy might’ve brought back memories of the thing that happened with his mother, too. Maybe this is all a case of Richard looking for someone to fill the void his mother left when she died. But maybe that’s reaching. Oh, if only there was some clue in the song!

“No one understood what I felt for Mary.“ -- Richard

Get it? 'Cause how could the Sheriff assume Richard was in love with her if no one understood that he was in love with her? The lyric isn’t, “no one understood what I felt for Mary, except for the Sheriff, but that’s guy’s like crazy-good at reading body language, I guess that’s why he’s in law enforcement.”

Speaking of which...

3.) What was the Sheriff up to?

It’s really easy to assume this nosy, over-bearing small-town sheriff is up to something terrible. It’s a cliché for a reason. And like I said, it’s not Richard’s fault what happened to Mary, so the Sheriff is wrong to go after him, regardless. He assumes with no real evidence that Richard did it, just because he has a bad vibe and seems dangerous.

But how is that different than us assuming the Sheriff did it? There’s no clues that say he did, no concrete reason to suspect him that would hold up to the slightest scrutiny. Just bad vibes. And those could be explained by him being so prejudiced (and a cop). 

And after all, a bunch of locals burned down Richard's trailer while he was in custody, so clearly this isn’t just a case of a jealous man. While it’s not true, the Sheriff had plenty of not-personal reasons to follow Richard around and document his interactions with this girl.

4.) Messing with Sasquatch

Speaking of which, there’s a point I kinda-sorta raised earlier, that I’ve yet to discuss: if Mary loves Richard so much, why is she with this other dude? Well for one, if Richard’s not interested but she’s still wanting a guy in her life, bigfoot will do in a pinch. Kinda like Richard’s mother seeing that guy after her husband left.

But more than that, what we see of Mary’s guy makes him look a bit like Richard. In fact, I briefly wondered if the guy in the photo above was him until I checked it against a matching scene with Richard. They clearly buy their wigs at the same place, so Mary can’t be blamed for taking him for a ride.

5.) The Fire.

This one looks cut and dry. There were precarious candles, the flames we see rose up between he bed and the curtain, not between the curtain and Richard. Accidents happen.

I know, I should probably put more thought into this, but I just can’t seem to. It’s not like the kid was throwing lit matches at the bed.

6.) The Haircut? Really?

This is one I can’t believe is a mystery people were wondering about, but eh. Richard cuts his hair after Mary died. But why? Some article I read once theorized it was to change his appearance, that he was going on the run or laying low, as if he was still a suspect but was allowed, nay, encouraged to skip town at the end of the video.

No. This kind of haircut was an old tradition, a mourning ritual. We see him do it after his mother’s death, too.

Poor guy... he’s not getting back his deposit on that mullet.

I know it’s a weird thing to still be thinking about after all these years, but I can’t help it. Something about an unsolved mystery, it haunts the brain. And not knowing for sure who killed Mary gives me this weird, creeping feeling. Almost like... she’s still somehow in danger. Like something has to be done.

That’s very effective storytelling for the “Right Here Waiting” guy.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 13)

Title: Purple Haze Fills Your Vision (and questions fill your mind)

Summary: Purpled dreams of his past and delves too deep into something he was coded to never find.

!WARNING! mentions of blood, descriptions of blood, implied abuse

Part One

Part Fourteen

Masterlist

_____________

He’d had this nightmare before- he was sure of it. The empty stares, the rising panic. It was all too familiar, but he knew what to do differently this time. He didn’t bother checking on his brothers, he knew there was nothing to be done to save them because they were dead. Karl wasn’t.

Karl looked up like he always did in this recurring nightmare, with shock in his eyes. “How did you do this? You aren’t supposed to-”

“I know I’m not supposed to be able to change time!” Purpled snarled. “What am I?”

Karl just shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know, okay? You’re something different-”

The scene changed.

Purpled stood above a portal. There was a sense of yearning in him, reaching for a part of him that didn’t quite exist then. It reached for a part of him that was buried deep inside, and upon finding it burrowed in a place that couldn’t be uncovered yet, grasped to the next best thing, hidden deep in the chests of another dimension. He wasn’t aware of the feeling, but it pulled him to the portal that he knew caused such pain and hurt. The portal called to him, and alone, he wouldn’t have been able to resist it.

The scene changed as he ripped his gaze from the portal to the eyes of another hybrid that it called to.

He was in his cave, the one that he’d built so long ago, before everything. The skull on the outside called to the undead but he found himself alone inside. Just him, the darkness, and the echoes of his footsteps as he let the pitch black comfort him. If he listened, he could hear the sounds of thunder outside, and if he focused, he could see a soft glow coming from… somewhere. He wasn’t sure. 

The scene changed again, this time violent, leaving him with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Purpled stood in his childhood home, watching his past unfold. A littler him stood on the bottom step of a flight of stairs, clutching a large wad of purple fabric that he saw when he looked down. A sweatshirt, given to him by his brother.

His brother, who stood by the door, looking at his little brother. “I’m sorry, Purp, but I’ve gotta go.”

“Why?” was the response, murmured and tearful.

Punz crouched down. “Hey, don’t cry. I’ll be back. It’s just a job, okay? I’ll be back before dad notices I’m gone, and then I’ll come back. You’ll be okay.”

Purpled watched Punz leave through the front door, then could only watch as time sped up, as he grew up, sitting by the door that never opened. Then, all of a sudden, he saw himself get up to open it. He was holding a sword and the innocent look that had been in his eyes was gone. If he focused, he could hear angry yelling and a crash on the other side of the house that covered the creaking of the hinges. 

And, just like that, he was in the Bedwars arena.

He saw himself fighting, learning, watching. He saw himself search for any trace of his brother, just to throw away the paper clipping of a fast-as-a-blur mercenary that terrorized servers. He knew the clues, he knew the signs. He knew his brother.

A lurching feeling twisted in his chest as he was taken to another scene. 

Punz stood, a gold chain around his neck, not a speck of blood on his white sweatshirt. Purpled was staring at him, holding the tears at bay as his hands rested in his purple sweatshirt.

“Purp?”

“Why’d you leave?” He bit out. “What made you leave me alone with dad?”

Punz sighed. “Listen, it’s not personal, I just-”

“Not personal?” He yelled, “I waited everyday for you to get back, and you never did.”

“The job paid well, okay? I was going to find you eventually, I swear.”

“Bullshit.” Purpled spat out. “You like killing people.”

Punz shook his head. “I’m not dealing with this. You’re doing well with yourself, I see the headlines for Bedwars all the time. I gotta dip before this body’s discovered, I’d make yourself scarce.”

And like that, Punz took out a bottle of almost purple liquid and smashed it at his feet, hiding the body and all of himself but his eyes that seemed to glow.

Not a minute later, a man in green that he’d soon be acquainted with ran by. “Hey, kid, you see uh, you see a murder?”

Purpled didn’t bother trying to help his brother. Was there even anything left of him? “He went that way.” Purpled pointed, turning and missing how the masked man tilted his head in response to his broken voice.

His actual self, the one that was dreaming, fell in pain, a gut-wrenching feeling making him cry out as the scene changed again around him. Each change hurt more and more, but the pieces were connecting- where were the last ones? What was the point of all of this?

This time, he was in the memory. He remembered this well, entering the arena feeling confident, everyone warily watching him as he stood at his base for the starting bell. It had even started well, he was winning, until his foot got caught and twisted.

He fell down, gasping as he tried to get back to his bed. He could void and respawn, it’d be fine, he liked the feeling of the wind rustling through his hair as he fell. 

The message pinged that his bed had been destroyed.

His best bet now was to hide until everyone else had fought, but he didn’t make it far with his ankle stinging with every movement. 

He was stabbed in the back, literally, but it wasn’t a normal blade like all of his other losses. Something was different about this one- the wound hurt more, and he wasn’t respawning in the lobby. He coughed, and vaguely heard voices speaking.

“It was a fire aspect sword, do we know if he’s a hybrid? He didn’t have anything listed, but that could be why he’s not healing.”

“Even if he was, we have no clue which type. I was told he was a hybrid, but the person who sent me wouldn’t say-”

He passed out, but when he woke up, the memory was the same. He was in a medical bed, alone. Someone walked into the room, face covered by a red, multi-colored checkered mask. 

“Hello!” He said cheerily. “We’ll be getting out of here soon, and I’ve got a place that you can hang-”

“Who are you?” Purpled asked, “And why are you here? I don’t need a place to stay, thanks.”

“Oh, true.” The man mused. “They did send me to recruit all of the minors, I should probably be a little-”

“Recruit? I’m not interested in a gang, thanks.”

“Oh, no, it’s not a gang. Why don’t we start over? I’m Ponk. There’s a new server and we’d like you to be a part of it.”

Purpled looked at Ponk. He had nothing to lose, maybe this would be the escape from his past that he needed. “What the hell, why not.”

Purpled didn’t need the scene change to know how this ended up. He knew that Ponk was the brother to him that Punz never was. He knew that Ponk had been there when his own blood wasn’t, and he had readily accepted the person that he hoped would always be there. But, Ponk knew how skittish Purpled was, and didn’t search for him when he’d disappeared. Ponk thought it was a choice that he’d made.

The puzzle was almost done, in Purpled’s mind. There were two empty spots, though. A sharp sting in his chest like a wound brought him to his knees, and a voice in his mind seemed to ask if he really wanted to uncover what was coming. Seemed to ask if he really wanted what this digging would bring.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I want to see.”

It hurt, so bad, but maybe not as much as being forced to rewatch the scene in front of him.

Punz stood in front of him, like the day he’d left. This time though, Purpled wasn’t alone. 

“What are you doing here?” Purpled asked. “Why are you here?”

Punz scoffed. “I’ve been here for a while. Why? Can’t handle me around?”

Ponk stepped forward. “Leave him alone.”

“I already have!” Punz yelled. “And it keeps getting worse anyway.”

Purpled couldn’t help but take a step backwards. “What?”

Punz let out a sigh. “Listen, Purpled. You don’t understand what’s going on. There’s a lot that you aren’t aware of-”

“Then help me to understand!”

“We’re always going to be different, Purp.” Punz said coldly, but there was a hint of regret and loss in his voice. “You’ll realize it later, but you’re never going to have a normal life, because there’s a reason we never knew our mother. I had no choice but to make my own path and let you pave yours.” He left after that, leaving nothing but confusion in his wake.

“Ponk? What did he mean?”

But Ponk didn’t have an answer. No one did. Not even Dream, but that might have been because he was already too far gone when Purpled got the courage to approach him.

The pain started up again, this time a burning on his back that made him stagger at the sudden intensity of it. As he felt himself wake up, he was relieved, but he heard the echoes of a voice that wasn’t quite Dream’s that lingered, the person that he was speaking to not visible.

“I’ve never seen their kind before. It sure is a shame you want to hide it from Purpled, but I get it.. If you ban the mob, you gotta ban the hybrid. I have a feeling this is going to bite you later, though. He’s a strong one. He’ll find out eventually.” The voice laughed. “I’m excited to see how this turns out, and I haven’t been excited in a while.”

________________

Purpled lurched awake. He had hoped the pain that he’d felt would fade, but if anything, it’d increased. He clenched his teeth and rolled over onto his stomach.

“Another nightmare?” Sam asked, and Purpled jerked his head up and down in the only response that he could manage. “Purp? You okay?”

“No,” He said, feeling the tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “It all hurts.”

“What, you mean the nightmare was bad? You wanna talk about it?” There went Sam with his father-like worriness.

“No-” He choked. “My body. Hurts.”

Sam frowned. “Oh. I was hoping this would come up a little further down the line, but I guess you really don’t have control over when your hybrid part comes out.”

“My what?” 

“You’re a hybrid.” Sam sighed, moving slowly at first to move Purpled into his lap. “I wish Tommy’d stayed behind today- he’s the one with real experience with growing things.”

“Tubbo-” Purpled started, before getting cut off by a painful gasp.

Sam put a hand in his hair to try to comfort him. “He’s just got horns. You’re growing something… much bigger, I’d say. Of course, I’m not the expert.”

“It hurts like a bitch.” Purpled whimpered, clinging to Sam.

He didn’t hear the stressed laugh that Sam let out because he started to drift back to sleep, but it would be a slumber filled with pain and restless tossing. He wasn’t all the way asleep, but stuck in a hazy in-between that left his mind numb.

In one moment when he was slightly more awake, he could register someone mopping the sweat off of his forehead. “Ponk?” He slurred, because he couldn’t remember where he was. “Ponk, issat you?”

“No,” The voice said. “But he’s on his way. He heard your name and was already packing his bags.”

Oh, yeah. His brain managed. Sam and Ponk are dating.

“No hinky business,” Purpled said, raising a finger that trembled in the air. “This is about me, not you guys.”

“Good to know. Go back to sleep.”

He did. He couldn’t tell how much time was going by, but the pain made him gasp and shudder, so he was woken up periodically. He always fell asleep again from exhaustion or just passed out from pain though, so he wasn’t awake for long. During his snippets of consciousness, he got some words out. They didn’t all make sense, at least not to the people helping him.

“Punz?” Purpled mumbled, reaching out. “Where are you?”

Sam looked over to Ponk, who had arrived a while ago. “Why’s he asking for Punz? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them together.”

“Bad blood.” Ponk shrugged, taking one of Purpled hands. They were on the floor now, since Purpled’s squirming made having him on the couch difficult. “They’re brothers, but all I know is that Punz left home at some point and never came back. I think they were close before it, though. He never talked about it much. I think it hurts him to.”

“They’re brothers?” Sam whispered, then his eyes widened. “Is that why he wasn’t there to say goodbye to Tubbo and Tommy before they went to find Dream? Because he didn’t want to see Punz? Is their relationship that bad?”

Ponk shrugged again. “He never talked to me about it. I think he latched to me, instead, but I would like to see them make up. I just don’t know if it’s possible.”

“Punz?” Purpled’s eyes were glazed over. “I want Punz.”

“No you don’t,” Pink sighed. “You mentioned-”

“I want Punz,” Purpled sobbed. “It hurts so much.”

“Wait-” Sam said, “Are they biological brothers?”

“As far as I know. Does that make a difference?”

“He might know what kind of hybrid they are. It’d make this easier. And, y’know, I’ll ask if he can swing around to say hi. Maybe they’re both hurt but don’t want to admit it.”

Ponk smiled at Sam. “Look at you, you’re such a sweetheart. Helping your sons repair their relationships. DILF material, if you ask me.” He joked.

Sam only darted out of the room with a bright blush dusting his face.

________

Punz had been having an okay day. It was bright outside, so he’d stayed indoors. Sure, it was lonely, but he managed. He’d just barely let his thoughts slip to better times when his communicator rang. Someone was calling him. Who even still remembered he existed? He’d thought it’d been long enough all on his lonesome to be forgotten. Even by his brother, maybe.

No, he sighed. I lost the privilege of calling him my brother years ago. He hates you.

He picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Punz!” It was Awesamdude. What did he want? “I was just wondering-”

“I’m not taking jobs anymore,” Punz said, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for calling.”

“Wait! I just wanted to ask you some questions about you and Purpled, since you’re his brother.”

Punz froze. “Who told you that we were brothers?”

“Ponk did, but that’s not important. Purpled’s-”

“Is he okay?” Punz asked, ignoring how his heart rose into his throat. He didn’t know what would happen if Purpled wasn’t.

“Listen, it’s, he’ll be okay, but-”

Punz squinted into nothing. “I’ll be right there. Drop the coords.”

He hung up before Sam could say he’d lost the right to see Purpled, like he probably would have. He needed to make sure that Purpled was okay, even if it caused a respawn back to his house. Whatever happened would be deserved, anyway.

It wouldn’t take him long to get there, he was naturally fast, so he wasn’t concerned with time. He flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt to shield his face from the unyielding sun and sighed. He’d have to face his past eventually, why not now?

____________

The next time Purpled woke up, the pain had doubled. He could feel the stabbing sensation whenever he moved at all, but this time, there was a comforting weight keeping him off of the floor.

He already knew who it was. He’d been sick before, and there was only one person who did this. “Punz?” God, his voice sounded so broken. So weak. Vulnerable. Everything he’d trained himself to never show.

“Yeah, Purp. I’m here.”

“You can’t be.” Purpled murmured, still not completely sure he was awake. “You hate me.”

“No,” Came the hushed response. “God, no. I could never hate you.”

Purpled scrunched up his face. “But you left.”

“I wanted a better future for us.” It seemed like that was it, but then more words tumbled. “It was only supposed to be short jobs so that I could go back to you until I had enough to buy our way onto a server that’d take us.” The voice cracked, filled with emotion, “You didn’t deserve to be alone with dad. You didn’t deserve any of the bad things that’ve happened to you. Sam told me about the underground arena- God, Purpled. I’m a horrible brother. I was stressed, and needed more money, and then I had admins on my tail that I couldn’t lead to you… I’m an awful person.”

“A bitch, yeah,” Purpled sighed, sinking closer to sleep, or at least what he thought was sleep. The pain made it hard to tell. “But not a bad person. You tried your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.” Punz sniffled. “And now you’re here, and I never even bothered to mention to you before that we were hybrids. I just… I got so little features I figured you would, too.”

“You did tell me I was a hybrid, but not directly. When we first met here, remember?”

It was quiet as Punz pondered on it. “How do you remember that?”

“I’ve had lots of time to think.” Purpled mused, before hissing as another wave of pain rolled over him. “I’ve been alone a lot.”

“Me too.” Punz shifted uneasily. “I don’t like being alone.”

“Me either. It sucks.” Purpled said, and he almost continued before the pain came back worse than ever. “Punz? What’s happening? Why’s it hurt so much?”

“You’re growing wings, Purp.”

_____________

The actual emergence of the wings wasn’t as painful as Purpled had thought it would be. It hurt, yeah, but it was over pretty quickly, unlike before when they were stretching through his skin. He could tell there was a lot of blood, too, but not by looking. He made sure not to look. He could feel the warmness of the liquid as it spilled down his back, and he tried his hardest to stay awake, but the appeal of sleep pulled him back in.

He was woken up by Tommy’s voice. “Woah, those’re fuckin’ sick!”

Nothing could have convinced him to lift his head up. He was too tired. He’d just slept ages, he thought, but it wasn’t enough. “What?” He mumbled. “You’re too loud.” Purpled managed to turn his head a little, though, so as to look at who was speaking to him.

Tommy pulled a face. “Ugh, you look sick. And not in a good way. Your wings look epic, though.”

______________

Purpled didn’t find out what Tommy had meant until the afternoon, when the three men who’d been looking after him said he could get up. He went to the bathroom to look in the mirror, because he reasoned that it wasn’t fair that everyone got to see them and not him. They were his wings, for crying out loud.

“Fuck,” He muttered. “They do look sick.”

The wings were a weird material that he couldn’t quite place. They looked almost like a bat’s, structure wise, but the actual material looked more delicate. More fragile. It was cool to the touch, and soft, but not feathery. 

He moved them as much as he could in the relatively small bathroom, and peered at his reflection.

His face was a little more sunken than usual. Not so noticeably, but if you looked close enough, you could see hints of purple bags under his eyes. Was his skin a little more grey than it had been? He leaned in towards the glass to look again. 

What was wrong with his eyes? They didn’t look super different, but- he turned off the lights and stayed in the dark for a moment, then turned them back on. Yup. His eyes were glowing. He had wings, he looked like he constantly had one foot in the grave, and his eyes glowed. What was he?

He meandered back out to where everyone was waiting in the living room. “Well?” He asked, spinning around and looking at Punz.

“Well, what?”

“What are we? My eyes are all glowy, and they weren’t yesterday, so clearly something’s up.”

Punz laughed uneasily. “I am… not sure. I’m pretty sure it’s a mob that Dream banned when he made the server. This is the only server I’ve been on, though, so don’t quote me on that. I guess I just never bothered to find out.”

Tommy looked up from the other side of the room, where he sat with Fundy, who was preening his wings. “As reluctant as I am to say it, Phil might know. He’s got his hardcore worlds that he used to always escape to. Sometimes still does.”

“So all the families are getting past issues, huh?” Purpled mused, wandering into the kitchen because fuck, he was hungry.

Tommy squawked. Almost literally. “We don’t have issues, we just… aren’t on the best of terms.”

Purpled laughed. “Yeah, your family hasn’t got any trauma. Shall we expect a christmas card this year?” His laughing turned into a screech as he saw a cat on the counter. “Get that thing out of here!”

Ranboo popped his head in. “What, the cat? I just brought her in. She was hungry. You’re usually fine with the strays I bring in.”

He frantically shook his head as he sped back to the living room to huddle next to Pu- his brother. “Not today. Not cats.”

“So, that’s another trait that you got and I didn’t.” Punz grinned. “I’m fine with cats.”

“Dogs are so much better though,” Purpled argued. “What’s odd about you, then?”

Punz considered that for a moment. “Well, if I’m in the sun too much I get a headache. My eyes glow, too, and I’m real fast.”

“Like the flash?” Tommy asked, and Punz shrugged.

“Oh, I remember that your eyes still show when you splash an invis pot.” Purpled mentioned, mind going back to the memory- dream- flashback? thing he’d had before his wings started growing in. 

“Aw, wait,” Tommy complained. “Your wings can’t be preened. They just sit there looking badass and mine need all this care.”

“At least you don’t look like you need a week of sleep all the time,” Purpled shot back, and it was silent after that. 

No one expected anything to happen, no one expected the night would linger as Purpled gazed out of the window and into the stars as the twinkled their approval. Certainly, then, no one expected a harsh banging at the door as they got ready for bed.

Sam got up slowly, holding his sword loosely as he walked towards the door. The knocking got more desperate, so he turned the handle.

No one expected Technoblade to be the one outside.

“Techno?” Sam asked, gripping his sword a little more.

“Please,” Techno panted, “You have to help him. We were too far from our home, this was the closest place, please,”

It was then that Sam noticed Phil, leaning on Techno. It was then that Sam looked closer and realized that Techno hadn’t gotten a new red cloak. His old one was just soaked with Phil’s blood.

“Geez,” Sam hissed, stepping aside to let Techno in. He wasn’t cruel enough to deny the men a place to stay, but there was a small corner of his mind that spoke of everything that could go wrong. “Come on in, I’ll… Well, I’ll do my best.”

Sam had to help hold Phil up, because he could tell that Techno was near ready to collapse. In fact, he did, as soon as the weight of his oldest friend had been removed from his shoulders.

He had no choice but to leave Techno on the ground as he turned his attention to Phil, whose chest rose so slightly after each breath that he feared Techno was too late.

It was a long night, with no sleep, but those sorts of nights were no stranger to Sam. He hadn’t slept the previous night, either. It was probably an issue, but he kept dreaming of his past and his mistakes, so it was better to stay awake.

Had he slept the night before that? Sam wasn’t sure.

The night was still dark as Sam hovered over his patient. He had been able to stop a bit ago, but he still bit his lip. If Phil died in his care, Techno would kill him. Maybe his boys, too. That was something he needed to avoid at all cost.

Sam was about to tackle the massive feat of getting Techno into a bed of his own when there was a soft knock on the door. When he opened it, he looked down to see Purpled.

“You should be asleep,” He scolded softly. “You had a big day today.”

Purpled glared at him and leaned against his side. “I can’t. You’re up.”

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Sam smiled, “Go to bed.”

“No,” Purpled mumbled. “I can’t. I can’t fall asleep while you’re awake. I don’t know why, but I can tell you’re awake and I can’t fall asleep.”

Sam frowned. “It might be a hybrid thing. Phil’s here, so he can answer once he’s awake. I’ll be up for a while longer, but if you want to help, you can.”

And that, my friends, is how a seven foot tall creeper and a six foot tall winged guy tried to lift a large piglin hybrid off of the floor as if their limbs weren’t like sticks. It was comical, but the only one who could have witnessed it had been bleeding out a few hours ago.

Purpled managed to get Sam asleep in one of the other beds before curling up next to him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t fall asleep while others were up, but he knew it’d be tough. They all struggled with nightmares, even him, so he figured that many nights would be spent restless.

The next morning, Techno was the one that woke Sam and Purpled up. 

“Hello?” Sam asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” Techno responded. “Is Phil gonna be okay?”

For a second, Sam had forgotten the two new guests in his house. “Oh,” he mumbled, and let his head fall back onto the pillow. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Are you alright, though?”

Techno scoffed. “Of course I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked again, raising an eyebrow. “You collapsed on the floor as soon as Phil-”

“Okay, fine.” He relented. “I haven’t been great recently.”

“...Why?” Purpled asked, looking at Techno the way a little kid might look at Santa. Sam realized, Purpled played Bedwars, he’d probably grown up on stories of the piglin hybrid. This was probably exciting, even if his opinion on Techno had been clouded by Tommy and Ranboo.

“Been feeling a little guilty, is all. It’s nothing.” Techno said, but Sam could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“Guilty about what?”

“Everything,” Techno answered simply. “What is there to not be guilty about?”

Purpled squinted at him. “You know, if you apologized, I’m sure they’d accept it. They miss you, even if they don’t want to admit it.”

“You don’t get it,” Techno sighed, sitting back down on the bed he had slept in. “I need to keep my distance.”

“Why?” Sam interrupted, getting up to check on Phil and the rest of his boys.

“Because I meant what I said back then. I meant it all, and there’s no way to apologise for something I never felt sorry for.”

“But you do now, don’t you?” Purpled asked, staring. He could tell that his eyes were a little unnerving, but he let them stay that way. “Right?”

“Of course I do. Phil and I spent days talking about what we did, why it was wrong, and eventually, it just kind of… it just hit us, I guess, how many lives we’d ruined.” Techno looked at Phil. “He’s lived so long, he doesn’t register it anymore, and the voices don’t care enough to stop me. It’s so easy to lose control, but I don’t want to, anymore.” Techno put his face into his hands as if to hide how vulnerable he was being to someone much younger than himself. “I just want the family we used to be.”

“You’re never going to get there.” Purpled said, and it hurt him to, but it was the truth. “You can’t just escape the past, but you can make a better future.”

“And what would you have me do?” Techno shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you can’t help me, kid.”

“I can, if you’d listen to me. I think you should apologise to Tommy and Ranboo. They’re hurt, and the first step to repairing your relationship is to acknowledge what you did. Then, I don’t know, maybe you could move closer, if it goes well.”

Techno’s voice was muffled. “And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then you live with the consequences of your actions,” Purpled shrugged, “but they get closure and you know that there was nothing else you could do.”

Sam had left a while ago, leaving the pair to their silence. Punz came in a bit later to find Purpled, and paused when he saw Techno.

“Relax,” Techno grumbled. “He’s actually been pretty helpful. I’m not gonna hurt him.”

“You better not,” Punz snapped, but stopped when Purpled gave him a look.

Purpled mentioned the ‘knowing when people are awake’ bit to Punz, who hummed, and sat down. The younger of the two brothers was deep in his thought, before something struck him. “Hey, Technoblade, do you have something in your inventory that you’re hiding?”

Punz frowned. “Hey, you’re right. I feel a little… pull, almost.”

“I’ve got something,” Techno said warily, “but Ranboo wasn’t a fan of it last time, so I took it off before I got here.” He took out a bundle of silky material that almost resembled the wings that sat on Purpled’s back under his sweatshirt.

“What is it?” He asked, leaning forward a little to look at it.

“Elytra.” Came another voice. Phil’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he tried to sit up.

“Take it easy, Phil. You’re still recovering.”

Phil chuckled. “It takes more than that to kill me, Techno, I’m fine. Anyway, those are Elytra. You guys are hybrids, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” Purpled wondered, and he didn’t have to wait long for an answer. 

“You hold yourself differently, like I do.” Phil said simply, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Wings are heavy, and affect posture even when you’ve gotten used to them.” After a moment, he shrugged. “Well? Are we going to see them? I assume you don’t know what you are if you’re part of a mob that has something to do with elytra.”

Purpled took off his sweatshirt, revealing another purple shirt that had a hole cut in the back. His wings unfurled, and he relaxed as they stretched.

“Hm,” Phil mumbled. “And do you have any other characteristics?”

Between the two brothers, they had quite a list, and by the end of it, Phil was just nodding along. 

“So?” Punz asked. “What are we?”

Phil looked into Purpled’s eyes, which were glowing slightly more, surrounded by dark circles and a hopeless look. He knew that the younger man had been through more than he deserved, and if this was the start of being better, than he’d take it. 

“Well, as I see it, the wings leave two options, but the list leaves only one possibility. The simplest reason that I can explain is that Elytra are made of, or at least repaired by, a material called phantom membrane, which you get from-”

“Phantoms.” Purpled breathed, and suddenly, everything clicked.