#instead i got a panic attack and an overnight shift

[wiisagi-maiingan]

I think all Native people everywhere and forever should have Thanksgiving off for work regardless of whether we celebrate or not. We should make that part of all reparations demands. NO, I am not just saying that because I'm working overnight and part of the morning of Thanksgiving, shut up.

[delimeful]

taking the fall (3)

warnings: imprisonment, interrogation, injury, mild blood, panic and sensory overload, dehumanizing language, ambiguous motives, morally neutral/antagonistic janus, snakes mention

-

His guest wasn’t eating.

Janus cast an irritated glance over to the terrarium, where the only “life” that could be seen was a clump of thick foliage in one corner.

He’d left the old fake plants in there as a taunt, but as soon as the tiny creature had ascertained that there were no snakes in the grass, they’d immediately bundled every bit of shiny plastic greenery into a makeshift nest and hid within it. He supposed he should have expected it, from one as industrious as these tiny folk all seemed to be.

Regardless of his guest’s reticence, he’d been setting small dishes of food in there whenever he himself took his meals, giving them some time to adjust to the reality of their situation. It had been a couple of days, however, and every miniature entree looked entirely untouched.

His prisoner seemed to be on a hunger strike.

It added more evidence to his theory that he was being misled in regards to his guest’s identity. If they were actually a victim in all this, why bother keeping quiet and refusing to give the answers Janus needed? Why go so far as to not even eat, for people who allegedly wouldn’t care if he lived or died?

No, things made much more sense if this was a gambit on the tiny people’s part, one of them volunteering to stay and play sacrificial lamb, distracting him for as long as the others needed. Their terror, their injury, their tiny bitter laugh, it could all be part of a ploy for pity on his end. Get him too invested in a puzzling prisoner while the others escaped.

The thought made his stomach drop unpleasantly. His opponents were exceedingly small, and he was one of the few who knew they existed. If they got away, he’d never see them again.

He couldn’t afford that.

Pushing his chair back, he approached the terrarium, casting an assessing eye over the food set out in it. Some of it could sit out, and had been there overnight, the best time for his guest to eat without risking even seeing Janus. But no. Not a single crumb out of place to indicate that anything had been eaten.

“Still alive?” he asked dryly, rapping a knuckle on the glass once.

There was a long pause, and then one of the leafy stems sticking out from the nest twitched twice. This daily question and response was the only communication he’d had with his guest since that first afternoon, and even this small, silent answer had originally been prompted by a threat of Janus reaching in there and checking himself.

“I notice that you’ve been refusing any sustenance,” he continued idly, and got nothing for his efforts. “Planning to die before you can give up any secrets?”

No response. Janus sighed as though put upon, and slid the terrarium lid halfway off. There were still no meaningful movements from the nest, though it seemed to be subtly trembling. It was impressive that despite the dark clothing that his guest wore, he still couldn’t make out exactly where they were even this close.

With narrowed eyes, he reached in and grabbed a few of the plastic leaves, tugging to pull the construction apart bit by bit.

He only caught the faintest flicker of movement before there was a sudden sharp pain in his index finger, and he yanked his hand back on reflex.

A weight came up with it, putting even more pressure on his wound, and it dropped as soon as his hand was just above the terrarium lid.

Seeing the dark shape attempting to scramble away, his other hand smacked down on top of it automatically, pressing it into the mesh with a small, muffled cry.

He glanced at his hand. There was a plastic thorn hooked in his thumb, the broad end chewed off and the point of it sharpened. His guest had attacked and used him as a makeshift lift in their escape attempt.

“Oh,” he intoned, voice dark. “Seems like you have plenty of energy after all, hm?”

---

Virgil took in short, gasping breaths, barely able to hear whatever threatening thing the human was muttering as pain radiated through his leg.

It let up just slightly as the pressure of the hand on top of him eased, his face no longer pressed into the cold wire netting of the cage’s top. Before he could try and string two thoughts together, the fingers were curling around him like a hawk’s talons, lifting him up and sending another jolt of mind-numbing pain through him. He might have whimpered.

So much for that escape attempt. He’d known it was a long shot, but his options had been limited after realizing that he literally couldn’t stand on the injured leg any more. They’d dwindled further with every day he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to any food or water. Living outside, he’d survived on very little before, but it was a gamble every time.

He was flipped to face the light, the human’s head in silhouette above him. He couldn't make out it’s words. Everything felt overwhelming, made incomprehensible by the pain and the dark spots in his vision. His face felt hot. Was he bleeding?

Things went blissfully quiet above him, and then he was being moved. He wondered if the human was about to kill him, and the thought sent a much weaker pulse of panic down his spine than usual. He hoped it killed borrowers before feeding them to it’s snakes.

Something soft and dark dropped over him, and he thrashed for a moment before his leg reminded him how awful an idea that was. So he laid still instead, letting his terror shake through him in waves, until he wasn’t completely lost to it anymore.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, feeling at what was draped over him. Cloth, soft in texture and tightly-knit enough that not much light got through. Below him… a warm, living surface.

“Awake?” the human said, voice both closer and quieter than he’d ever heard it.

Another shudder worked through him, and he reached up to press his hands over his face, wishing none of this was real. His eye pigment had run, drying in tracks down his cheeks.

He wouldn’t be able to reapply it. The locket he stored it in was left behind with the rest of his stuff, tucked away into his oversized pack and left at the opening into the human’s home. It had probably already been torn through and picked apart by Mari and the other insiders.

The thought stung, somehow more personal than the nightmare of the situation he was already in.

“I believe I see now why you haven’t eaten,” the human continued with a surprising lack of snark. It must have seen his leg. He felt a little sick just thinking about it.

What had felt like a low-grade fracture through the adrenaline had ended up growing worse and worse without treatment, until the injury was a solid lump of swollen flesh and ugly bruising that twanged with agony at even the slightest shifts. He wondered if the human was going to use it against him. It would make torture exceedingly easy on its part.

“Continue with the silent treatment, and you won’t get any actual treatment,” it said, now sounding exasperated.

After another stretch of silence, the hand beneath him moved and tilted, sliding him off onto a flat surface. Suddenly desperate to know what was going on, Virgil yanked at the cloth, dragging handfuls of it down until he reached an edge and could pull it clear of his eyes.

The light in this room was dimmer, but it still took him a moment to adjust. He wasn’t in a snake tank, but on top of a low table in what looked like a sitting room, if he remembered the human terms right. The human was seated on the couch nearby, looking down at him.

“There you are.”

---

The tiny person shot him a furious glare, rendered mostly ineffective by the dark tear streaks that were still smudged along their face.

Janus wished his earlier reflexes had been a little gentler. He’d had a quite embarrassing moment of panic where he’d thought the grotesque worsening of their leg injury had been caused by his grasp, rather than simple neglect and lack of treatment.

Despite his patience, they didn’t reply, continuing to just stare at him. He stood, ignoring the way it instantly made them begin trembling again.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Feel free to move around and make your injury worse,” he instructed dryly, before turning and going to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

His thumb was still sensitive, the injury messily scabbed over with dried blood. He’d pried the thorn out with his teeth easily enough, but with his other hand occupied by a prone tiny person and their hyperventilation fit, he couldn’t properly treat it.

Upon his return, he saw his guest had abandoned his handkerchief and was halfway to the edge of the table. He rolled his eyes, and set the kit down before grabbing them by the shoulders and sliding them back over to the handkerchief.

“I was being sarcastic, you know,” he told them, and opened the kit to start cleaning his undersized injury. “I’ll be very unhappy if my only source of information dies a completely avoidable death for no reason.”

“Yeah, because I sure wouldn’t want to make you unhappy,” his guest bit out, and then looked as though they were deeply and immediately regretting opening their mouth. Janus didn’t know why; he personally took much better to sass than being stabbed.

“So you do know how sarcasm works. Color me impressed.”

The tiny person actually hissed at him, like the world’s most emo kitten.

“Yes, yes, I feel very threatened,” Janus retaliated by prodding them with the edge of an open tube of arnica gel. “Here. For the bruising.”

After another long glare, his guest spoke. “What do you want for it?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t it be argued that I owe it to you, for allowing the injury to fester while you’re in my care?”

“Your care--!” his guest cut themself off, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth. “Terrible hosting etiquette aside, you weren’t the one who gave me the injury. Not your concern. So, what do you want?”

Janus wondered absently how tiny people qualified their hosts’ manners. He had certainly already failed by human standards, immediately imprisoning his guest and all, so perhaps it didn’t really matter either way. He wasn’t above taking advantage of a tiny person’s bartering honor system. “Answer three questions.”

“I get to pass on questions I don’t want to answer,” his guest countered quickly, apparently having expected this.

“You get five passes,” Janus allowed. Seeing what they refused to answer would be informative in itself.

“... Fine.” With another glance at their injury, they grabbed the tube sharply enough that they almost overbalanced. “Ask.”

“Where are the others living?” Janus asked, just to set the stakes high.

“Pass,” his guest answered, not even looking up from their task. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Why are you defending them?” he tried.

“I’m not defending them,” they shot back, vitriol thick in their voice. “I just don’t want you to get what you want. That’s one question.”

“Ouch. I’m hurt, really.” Janus tapped his nails along the table idly. “What’s your name and pronouns?”

This did prompt them to look up, face pinching up in confusion. After a moment, they returned to their baseline expression of scowl and retorted, “That’s two questions.”

“It’s one sentence, it counts as one question,” Janus lied smugly. They still looked close to passing, so he gave them a nudge. “Unless you want me to make something up? I’m very creative, I assure you.”

“I use he,” he finally grit out, “and you can call me V.”

“For Vendetta?” Janus mused, and received an utterly baffled look for his wit. “I suppose your movie repertoire isn’t that expansive.”

“Two questions,” V said flatly. “One left.”

“Yes, I can count.” Janus glanced at V’s gel-covered leg. “You have to rub that in for it to work.”

V’s expression flickered to one of despair, but he bit his lip and started to slowly massage the gel in. Janus wondered at how easily he’d believed him.

“What do you call yourselves?”

“Pass.”

“Where did you live?”

“Pass.”

“How do I bait the others out?”

“Pass.”

“Why do you hate me more than the ones who allegedly put you here?”

V’s hand slipped, and he winced and paused for a moment. “... Pass.”

There was certainly a grudge there. Too bad Janus had no idea what it could be about. Oh well.

He set a hand on the table, leaning over V. “When do the others plan to leave? As specific as you can get, please.”

“Pa--,” V cut himself off, and Janus could see the moment he realized he had used up all his get-out-of-questioning-free cards. He patiently waited out the tiny person’s fit of frustration.

“... I don’t know.” Janus’s smug grin dropped, but V continued after a speculative pause. “I don’t think they’ll leave before the season's turning. The spring thaw has been slow this year, and they’re-- not suited for it.”

Janus felt some of the tension drop from his shoulders. The start of summer. He had time, and the advantage of a weather forecast app. That was good news, even if he’d had to wrangle it out of his guest. He had time.

“How interesting,” he said lightly, and capped the gel to put it back in the box. V’s hands were clutching the edge of his coat tightly, as though guilty or angry. Or perhaps just stressed. “Let’s get some food in actual range of you, then, shall we?”

[redhairedwolfwitch]

The Hidden Schnee - RWBY x Fem!Reader - Part 2 - Volume 4 - 5

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

The campfire crackled out a amber glow, the warmth enshrouding you as you took a breath, grimacing as Qrow downed more alcohol from his flask.

"Really? No questions?" Qrow slurred, leaving you to grimace even more and avoid his eyes as Jaune glared.

"Of course we have questions. This is just, a lot to take in." Jaune admitted, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Sure, of course."

It was silent for a moment besides the crackling fire, until Ruby broke the silence.

"So, these maidens, they're powerful fighters, that don't need dust to use magic."

"Yup." Qrow replied quietly as his gaze shifted from Ruby to Nora.

"And there are four of them."

"Yup. Always."

"Which means that, whenever one of them dies, the power transfers to someone, a female, that they care about." Ren continued, leaving you to stare into the fire in thought.

"Whoever was in their thoughts last. Important distinction. Best option, it's someone we can trust, regardless, their souls become combined, in a way." Qrow explained, sipping from his flask.

"And that's what you were trying to do to Pyrrha. The night the tower fell."

"But it went to Cinder instead." You interrupted Jaune, your eyes locked onto the fire as you felt Jaune's eyes on you.

"You were trying to turn her into one of them."

"The previous Fall Maiden, Amber, had been attacked. She was young, inexperienced and her assailant, who we now know is Cinder, somehow managed to steal some of her power. But not all of it. We were afraid that if we didn't do something, the rest would go to her as well... like Y/n said, it did." You zoned out after realising Qrow knew your name.

Qrow's story about the relics and the Gods of Light and Darkness had your attention, recalling the stories your mother had told you growing up.

"Alright, so let's say we believe all of this. There really is some crazy evil being behind these attacks, not just some thugs trying to become powerful. Why doesn't the world know? Why isn't Atlas going after them? Or Mistral?"

"And why aren't we in more of a hurry to get to Haven?" Nora interrupted Jaune, leaving you to glance up at her from the fire, "should we be getting them a message? What if they're next?"

"The headmaster over there saw what happened at Beacon, he's not dumb, he'll be on his guard. Besides, it takes time to mobilise forces like that. Do you really think they planned out that attack on Beacon overnight? And to answer your question," Qrow explained, pointing at Jaune, "It's the same reason we keep quiet about the Maidens. If the whole world knew about the relics, about Salem, it would be chaos. We'd have another Great War on our hands, but this time, you'd have to fight."

Jaune turned away from Qrow's gaze, leaving you to meet the Huntsman's eyes.

"Look, I had the same questions too, but ol' Ozpin always put his foot down. 'We can't cause a panic.' Heh, I can't tell you how many times I've heard that." Qrow chuckled, smiling into his flask as you grimaced again.

"Salem's smart, she works from the shadows, using others to get what she wants, so when it comes time to place the blame, we can only point at each other. She's trying to divide us - humanity." Qrow let out a sigh as he looked up at the darkness.

"Alright, so what should we do?" Ruby asked, looking up from her hands.

"Ahaha, I don't really know. Ozpin has put a lot of trust in the headmasters, like I said, the schools are an important part of stopping Salem. Atlas is going to be on high alert after the last attack and Vacuo, is well, Vacuo. It'll be hard to hire thieves and scoundrels to fight against other thieves and scoundrels. Take that, add in the fact that Cinder and her crew claim to be from Haven, I think it's likely the next target. So, we're on our way to the headmaster, haven't heard from him for a while, even before the attack. I'm hoping he has the answers..." Qrow stood up with a wince.

"Alright, I think it's time you kids got some sleep."

"Uncle Qrow?"

"Yeah." Qrow turned to look at Ruby, who had also stood up.

"This is a lot to take in, and it all sounds crazy! But, I'm willing to do whatever I can to help, because I trust you, but why couldn't you trust me? Why couldn't you just travel with us, instead of all this secrecy and this, this-"

"Look, this has nothing to do with trust. I, it's a long story, okay?" Qrow brushed off, leaving Nora to frown.

"Seriously? Now you're tired of telling us stories?"

"It's your sembalance, isn't it?" You replied, leaving Qrow to look sadly into the fire.

"Do you know that crows are a sign of bad luck? Old superstition, but it's how I got my name. See, some people can absorb electricity, some people can burst into rose petals or cast glyphs, some people are just born unlucky. My sembalance, is unlike most, it's not exactly something I do, it's always there, whether I like it or not. I bring misfortune. I guess you could call me, a bad luck charm." Qrow chuckled, leaving you to tense as Qrow referenced the Schnee sembalance.

"Comes in real handy when I'm fighting an enemy, but it makes it a little hard on friends, and family."

Your eyes followed Qrow as he limped off into the forest, your gaze eventually landing on the flaming log as it fell from the fire.

"Huh..."

///

You woke up to hear Qrow coughing up his lungs.

"Well, that's unfortunate." He stated, looking at how he was coughing up a purple substance.

"Fuck... scorpions are venomous."

///

Ruby and Jaune had Qrow in a makeshift stretcher as the five of you continued on, Ren running over to the sign.

"Does it say we're close?" Ruby shouted as Nora pointed out Mistral.

"No, and it looks like the path takes us up through the mountains."

"Guys, I don't know if all of us can make that climb."

"Okay, what about this place, Kuroyuri? Can we get help there?"

Ren's fists clenched as he tried to remain calm.

"That village was destroyed years ago."

"Ren and I will go up through the mountains, you, Jaune and Y/n will go that way." Nora stated, leaving you to just nod.

Qrow's coughing caught your attention as you, Ruby and Jaune began the walk to Kuroyuri whilst Ren and Nora began the hike to Mistral.

///

"Oh man..." Jaune whispered, glancing around Kuroyuri as Ruby just whispered a "come on" in response.

Your hand reached for Resurgence as you walked besides Qrow's stretcher.

"Any of these places look like a pharmacy?" Ruby asked, leading you to glance around with a frown.

"It's honestly hard to tell." Jaune admitted, noticing your gaze on him as you shrugged.

"Ren really didn't wanna come here, did he?"

"Guessing it's like Y/n's sembalance. Doesn't want to talk about it." Jaune replied, leaving you to ignore him.

"Do you know why?" Ruby asked, glancing back to see Jaune's face.

"I think I have a pretty good idea." Jaune admitted, his eyes on the ground whilst yours were on the greying clouds in the sky.

///

You were tending to Qrow whilst Ruby spoke to Jaune.

"You didn't drag us along, you gave us the courage to follow you." Jaune affirmed, his hand going to Ruby's shoulder as the two of them smiled.

"You gave me the courage to stop hiding my ears, hiding a part of my self... the other parts, I'm not ready... but you'll know when I am, okay?" Ruby gave you a soft smile as you chewed your lip.

///

"Ren? What is it?" Ruby shouted, watching as Ren fell to his knees.

"Wait, do you guys hear that?" Jaune asked, resulting in you turning around to spot it.

"No... not again... no..." Ren kept mumbling before all five of you fell silent, hearing the screech of the Nuckelavee.

///

Jaune sprinted over to Qrow as soon as the cracking noises stopped, the screeching stopped as the Nuckelavee aimed for Qrow.

Nora started aiming at the Grimm, Ren using his sembalance to mask Jaune and Qrow whilst you and Ruby just exchanged looks.

"Guys! Keep moving! Go in a circle!" Jaune shouted before getting kicked flying.

"Holy f-" You were cut off as the Nuckelavee swung its arms around in a circle too, sending you, Ruby and Jaune flying to the sides.

The screeching and cracking of its bones didn't stop as you began to try place the dust crystal in the top of Resurgence, wincing at the pain in your ears.

"RUBY!" Nora shouted, nodding before running at Crescent Rose to intercept the second Grimm had that was about to end Ren.

"NORA!" You shouted, watching the Grimm throw her around, hitting her into the floor several times until it finally let go and Nora's aura was shattered.

"Ren! Knock it off!" Jaune shouted, leaving you to grimace before you placed the dust crystal in Resurgence, letting out a breath.

"Hold it still!" You shouted, leaving Jaune and Ruby to attack whilst you aimed the fire dust blast and the horse half of the Grimm.

"Ren, Jaune and I can take care of it's arms... Y/n-"

"I can hold it still for you to take out the horse and the rest of it." You replied, letting out a sigh, "I'll hold it down with my sembalance." You muttered to yourself as the others moved into action.

Ruby's eyes widened as she spotted the familar Glyph holding the Nuckelavee still before she shot at the thing, gaining the attention of one of it's arms.

Your eyes widened as you watched Ren cut off the arms of the Nuckelavee, slashing at its torso before he took a breath.

"For myself." Ren slashed off the head of the Grimm, watching the body fade into dust and shadows as it was defeated.

Nora tackled Ren into a hug whilst Ruby ran to check on her uncle.

"Was that-"

"Yeah... I'm a Schnee, it's, a long story." You replied before you fell silent, looking up at the sky.

"Guys! I think I hear something!" Jaune shouted before the two airships arrived.

"How did you find us?" Jaune asked, holding into the bar as you leaned against the wall of the airship.

"We were on patrol and saw the smoke. No-one's been out here for years, thought something might be wrong." One of the airship people explained, leaving you to let out a sigh of relief.

"What if we don't make it in time?" Ruby began, frowning as Jaune called her name.

Your eyes widened as Mistral came into view.

"Ugh, thank gods, I didn't fancy hiking the mountain." You chuckled, sighing as Jaune looked at you, your eyes were on your hand as you summoned a glyph.

"Weiss doesn't know I'm her cousin. I'd like to keep it that way. There's... a lot of drama there, even before I was born." You explained, leaving Jaune to just nod as the airships began to land in Mistral.

///

"Wow! This, is, awesome!" Ruby exclaimed as Qrow opened the doors on the way to Haven Academy.

"Stay away from the lower levels, but the higher up you go, the nicer it gets." Qrow explained, in reference to the mountains of Mistral.

"And we are going up!" Nora chimed in, gesturing upwards as you chuckled.

"Are we going to talk about the Goliath in the room, Y/n?" Jaune asked, leaving you to grumble as you avoided Qrow's gaze.

"I can't wait to see the look on Ice Queen's face when she finds out she's got a cousin she's never met."

"Weiss or Winter?" Ruby replied with a nervous look as you chuckled.

"Both. It's their father's doing that removed my mum from the Schnee family tree after all. He's a racist arse. He can say all he likes that Willow was an only child but Glyphs are hereditary. I'm his niece." You folded your arms as you walked, your wolf ears pressed against your head as you glared at the floor.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone here." Ren stated as Ruby called out to try find anyone.

"Well, it makes sense, school isn't really in session right now?"

"No, this isn't right! Come on!" Qrow stated, breaking out into a run after what Jaune said.

The five of you let out a yell as Qrow kicked the door down, falling on his butt as the Headmaster of Haven fainted.

"So, is this not going at all like anyone thought it would?" Nora enquired, leaving you to grimace as Ruby just exchanged glances with Nora.

///

One fruitless visit to Professor Lionheart later, the five of you were sent back to the house by Qrow, who claimed he needed a drink.

You were leaning with your head against the couch when a knocking at the door had the four of you frowning. Ruby was in another room as you frowned at the child.

"Um, can I help you?" Jaune raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Nora and Ren.

"Uh, yeah. Is there a Ruby Rose here?"

You, Nora and Ren immediately stood up at that, frowning as Nora let out a sharp "why?"

"Well-" The boy was cut off by a drunken Qrow.

"I found him! Pffff!"

"I think her uncle could use some help." The boy replied, leaving you to roll your eyes at Ruby's drunken uncle.

"Can't a girl read her comic books in peace? Qrow, did you get drunk again?" Ruby asked, face-palming as Qrow giggled out a "maybe!"

"Oh, you have silver eyes." The boy realised, leaving Ruby to look at him.

"Who, are you?"

"Well, my name is Oscar Pine, but you probably know me as, Professor Ozpin."

Qrow's drunken celebration caught you offguard as you watched him flop off the couch.

"Gods." You retorted, face-palming as Oscar turned to you.

"You're a faunus... you stopped hiding your ears?"

"How do you-"

///

"Mind showing us your little parlour trick, kid?" Qrow asked, leaving Oscar to sigh.

"Yeah, okay. Just so you know, I'll still be here." Oscar explained, letting out a breath as a green light flooded him.

"It is so very good to see you again, students." Oscar's voice was warped as you realised it wasn't him talking. It was Ozpin.

"We start, by ensuring the safety of the relic of knowledge."

///

"What's step two?" Nora asked, resulting in Ozpin turning around with his cane in his hand.

"Getting you five into fighting shape."

"But, we already know how to fight!" Ruby replied, leaving you to grimace as she got Ozpin's cane pointed at her face.

"You can only fight so long as you have Crescent Rose, but you're still lacking in hand to hand combat."

"Well... yeah..." Ruby shrugged, leaving you to grimace.

"Y/n, your refusal to use your sembalance puts you at a great disadvantange in battle-" Ozpin began, leaving you to sigh.

"I'm not afraid anymore, but who I am doesn't leave this room either. I don't need Jacques Schnee sending people after my parents. But, yeah, I need to practice Glyphs more." you explained, leaving Ozpin to nod as the cane went over to Jaune.

"Mr Arc, I'm glad to hear you've improved, sorry to say, you've yet to unlock your sembalance." Jaune looked sadly at the floor as the cane moved to gesture at all five of you

"All of you still have a ways to go before you're able to pose any real threat again Salem and her enforcers. And though, Oscar can give me temporary control, he'll need to strengthen his body and his aura. He'll inherit my muscle memory in time, but practice will expedite the process."

"But if Qrow's out looking for Huntsman, who's going to teach us?" Ruby asked, leaving Ozpin to jump up onto the chair, twirling his cane around in circles.

"Well, I believe I was the Headmaster of Beacon Academy. We have approximately one month before classes resume at Haven-"

///

A glance to your right showed Ruby practicing hand to hand combat against Oscar.

Oscar had hit the ground with a thump whilst you worked on summoning the Boarbatusk that had attacked you and your father on the farm when you were a child.

"Sembalance?" Oscar's voice had your attention for a moment until you realised the summoning glyph was glitching out.

"Everyone's got it, look, look, Y/n's using hers right now!" Nora pointed out, leaving everyone to watch you before discussing their sembalances.

"Y/n, how did you unlock your sembalance?" Oscar asked, leaving you to look up as you allowed the Boarbatusk to disppear.

"Grimm attack. My dad got hurt protecting me and I freaked, unconsciously sending the Boarbatusks flying backwards with glyphs." You quickly explained before picking up Resurgence.

///

"Alright, the first batch is just about done!" Ren announced, stirring the pot of food.

"How much food are you making, anyway?" You enquired as you and Jaune set the table.

"Do you really think he's going to bring that many people, this is a lot of food!" Nora stated, eating a slice of carrot as she continued to cut them up.

"You're going to overcook that." Ren stated, leaving Ruby to retort "No, I'm not, shut up!" as Qrow began to call her.

The smashing of cups caught your attention as you dropped the tray on Jaune's head.

"Ow, hey!" Jaune exclaimed, resulting in Nora and Ren turning to look before the four of you walked over to where Ruby and Yang were hugging.

"Weiss!" Ruby's voice was soft as she beckoned her teammate to join the hug.

///

The seven of you were sat down as dinner began.

"How do you lose your map at a time like that?" Yang asked as Jaune laughed.

"By throwing it away as you run the opposite direction." You deadpanned, elbowing Jaune in the ribs.

"Ow! Anyway, believe me, I've asked myself the same thing ever since..."

"I mean, did you see Ren during that fight? Oh and Y/n finally used her se-"

"Sesame seeds in that recipe!" You interjected, throwing a piece of bread at Ruby's head as she realised what she was about to say.

You couldn't stop laughing as Weiss summoned a Boarbatusk to prove she could now summon, watching Nora freak out.

"And it's just as strong?" Ruby asked, dangling from Yang's prosthetic arm.

"Sure is." She smirked before you laughed, moving the bowls from the table as Nora slammed her elbow down.

"Wanna bet?"

///

"Ugh, we ate it all, ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick." Jaune complained as he began to pick up the rest of the bowls.

"Easy there, vomit boy. I believe in you." Yang smirked, leaving Jaune to roll his eyes.

"Oh, we're doing nickname throwbacks now... say, Mystery, come help with these, will you?" Jaune replied, leaving you to roll your eyes at him before getting up to hear Weiss laughing.

"I mean, the Ice Queen seems to like it." Nora replied, leaving Weiss to pause as Ruby burst into laughter.

"I so did not miss you people."

You were returning from the kitchen when you heard Weiss

"Hey! You make it sound like I used to be terrible!"

"At least Y/n stopped wearing that beanie, I thought it was glued to her head- wait... since when were you a faunus?" Yang realised, leaving you to stare at her.

"Since birth... also, how did you not notice my ears any time before now?" You retorted, sitting down and sipping your tea as Ren spoke.

"Yeah, turns out Ren gets real deep when he feels like talking!" Ruby grinned, leaving you to continue laughing.

///

"Oh! Raven! Qrow! They're birds! Cracked it!" Nora grinned, leaving you to roll your eyes and resist face-palming.

///

You continued to train your sembalance in secret, under the eye of Qrow who knew just about enough about Winter's glyphs to help.

Any other training sessions resulted in you not using your sembalance as you trained with Jaune. Crocea Mors vs Resurgence.

"So... Y/n got a new weapon?" Yang mentioned, leaving Weiss to nod.

"Resurgence or something, Jaune said Y/n broke her original, Surgence, during the fall of Beacon..."

"So that's what Y/n left sticking out of that scarecrow..." Yang concluded, laughing at the confusion on Weiss' face.

///

You stood with Ruby as the two of you looked up at the full moon. Haven Academy stood infront of you all, waiting.

"There seems to be more of you than last time." Professor Lionheart acknowledged, making you shiver as you reached for Resurgence.

"You know what they say, the more the merrier. So what's going on with the council?" Qrow asked, leaving you to slip your foot back into a fighting position.

"Y/n?" Jaune mumbled, noticing your stance.

"Something's wrong..."

"Why did you bring your weapons?" Professor Lionheart's stupid question had you glare at the floor, wondering how you could have been so stupid.

"Leo, we're huntsman."

"It's a trap." you stated at the same time that Yang spotted the raven on the bannister.

"Mom?"

///

"What is wrong with you? How can you be so broken inside? To take so many lives, and then come here rub it in our faces like it's something to be proud of! All with that damn smile on your face!" Jaune exclaimed, tears dripping down his face as he reached for Crocea Mors.

"Everyone stay calm!"

"Staying calm won't stop Haven from getting blown up." You warned Qrow, who gave you a warning glare until he saw you try to reach for Jaune.

"I'm going to make you pay for what you did, do you hear me!"

"Who are you again?" Cinder's voice was all it took for Jaune to snap, charging at her.

Your eyes widened as you watched everyone arrange themselves.

Jaune vs Cinder.

Ruby vs Emerald.

Yang vs Mercury.

Qrow vs Raven.

Weiss vs Vernal.

Ren and Nora vs Hazel.

Oscar/Ozpin vs Lionheart.

You were caught in the middle.

Until you saw Weiss struggling.

"Get the hell away from her!"

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

This is chapter two (Chapter one)

Nurse Namaari struggles with the idea of visiting her past patient Raya, but caves.

Warnings: Brief mentions of addiction, and survivor’s guilt. 

Word Count: 2533

--

Three days later

Namaari was sitting in her office writing reports when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," She said as the door slowly opened.

"Hello, It's Sisu; I'm a Psych nurse, we've seen each other multiple times around the ER, but you officially meet me while I was comforting Raya, a past patient of yours. Could I possibly speak with you?" Sisu confidently states while poking her head through the crack of the door.

Namaari raised an eyebrow, shocked to see Sisu at her door. Nevertheless, she nodded. How could she forget that day? Raya's pale body...Sisu's screams...

Snap out of it!

Because of Hippa, Namaari was not allowed to check on Raya. Once a patient leaves the ER, they are no longer her patients, and she has no say in their care, and nine times out of ten, she'll never know if they survived. "Of course. Come take a seat," She finally answers as she motions with her hands that Sisu sits across from her.

Sisu nervously walks over to the chair, sitting down. She looks at a Namaari whose eyes are locked on her purple ones. She chuckles. "This isn't me talking to a coworker, okay. This is me talking to my friend about another friend." Sisu states as she watches Namaari's eyebrows raise before she nods yes, "Raya is in the cardiovascular/pulmonary unit. She survived the emergency surgery! She's still recovering, but she has made it clear she wants the gorgeous nurse that saved her life to visit her."

Namaari was extremely relieved but also confused. "Wait, what? She isn't your girlfriend?" Namaari asked as Sisu's face turned bright red, and she burst out in laughter.

"Hahaha, no! We dated for like a week during nursing school, but we never clicked romantically; We've been best friends ever since tho." Sisu managed to say between her laughter. Once she was able to control herself, she continued talking, "Anyways, she is in the J6 unit in the room: J601," Sisu says with a smirk before standing up from the chair; walking to the door, before stopping to say, "If you visit her, don't do it as a nurse. She's not looking for another member of her health care team. She wants to get to know the YOU who isn't a nurse." With that said, Sisu walks out, closing the door behind her.

Namaari sits at her desk, even more confused. She leans into her chair, thinking for a moment. She really found this girl alluring in every sense, but how was she supposed to chase after a girl she talked to for two minutes before she practically died in her arms. Not practically! She did die!

Maybe that's the reason.

What a great love story would it be...

When Namaari finished her shift three days ago, she broke down: She hadn't cried like that in years! She does remember crying somewhat similarly when she lost her first patient five years ago, but it was a different kind of sadness.

The truth is death was something Namaari had grown accustomed to. Of course, she felt emotional distress when a patient died, but when Raya flatlined; It shattered her.

She often found herself running through the event over and over in her head, trying to pinpoint how she didn't realize the gasps for air between Raya's flirting, where she struggled to breathe.

She should have seen the signs.

She should have realized Raya's heart was straining itself to keep her alive; that's why her blood pressure and pulse skyrocketed before they plummeted.

No matter how many times she runs the scenario in her head, she always blames herself.

When in reality, Namaari is excellent at her job. She has ample experience and education.

Yes, Raya's smile ultimately left her defenseless, but Namaari stood her ground.

Yes, Namaari's heart was fluttering for her patient, but she still put those feelings aside to save her life. Maybe she should stop scolding herself and accept that life is unpredictable.

And one thing holds true: Namaari felt immense attraction for Raya, but she still acted professionally.

Namaari blinked a few times, trying to pull herself out of her thoughts before bringing her hands up to her face, gently rubbing circles into her temples. "What has she done to you?". She asked herself as she laughed and looked at the time; 4 PM, her shift will be over in three hours. After her shift finishes, she'll shower quickly in the staff showers and change into clean scrubs. She scoffs when she realizes she'll have to wear blueberry-colored scrubs; that's the only colored scrubs the hospital provides.

The hospital has their staff color-coded, adult nurses wear grey scrubs, child nurses wear pink, x-ray technicians wear black, pharmacists and phlebotomists wear light blue, nursing assistants wear burgundy, and surgical residents wear blueberry-colored scrubs. Actually, most residents wear blueberry scrubs, but most commonly, you'll see surgical residents marching around the hospital in their blueberry scrubs.

--

"OWW OWW OWWW," Raya screams as a surgical resident removes the chest tube that was once allowing the excess air pooled in her chest cavity to escape her body, caused by her collapsed lung. It was no longer needed as the punched lung was fixed during her emergency surgery; they should have taken it out before but hadn't, fearing her lung could collapse again.

Raya felt utterly stupid. She was an extraordinary nurse, and she knew the signs of a collapsed lung, pneumothorax, but she ignored them.

If she thinks back to that day in the ER, she can vividly remember her chest burning in pain; shortness of breath, lightheadedness, an elevated pulse, and finally, the icing on the cake, her left shoulder hurt: All tale signs that her broken rib punctured her lung. Yet, she chose to ignore the warnings.

At least now, she can fully understand the power of adrenaline on someone's mind and body. It can genuinely make you believe that severe pain is minimal and that you'll be okay.

"Sorry, Ms.Hart. Do you want me to press on your magic pain button" The resident stated, causing Raya to stare back at them with frowning eyebrows before nodding no.

Raya was given a medicine button she can press for narcotics every so often, but she was trying not to press the button unless she really needed to. She knows firsthand how quickly people can get addicted to those meds.

The resident chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot you're a nurse, and I don't need to call it a magic button." Raya faked a smile before chuckling. She wasn't trying to be mean at all, but she hated being on the other side. Raya loved being the nurse, and suddenly she's the patient.

The resident smiled once more before excusing themselves out.

"You can stop fake smiling now," Sisu said.

She was curled up on a couch against the window. She had her eyes closed as she was sleeping. "Ughhh, I'm going to be late to my shift," She said, opening her eyes, noticing the clock on the wall before standing up from the couch, where she stretched before smiling. "Nightshift is the bestttt" She joked as she folded the sheets she was using to sleep.

"You must be exhausted! You haven't left the hospital in three days because of your back and forth from your shifts to watching me!! Go home, sleep in your own bed, and shower with shampoo that actually cleans your hair because your hair looks a mess right now." Raya sighed as she sat up in the bed, looking at Sisu with pleading eyes.

"You're my best friend, Raya!" Sisu stated as she finished folding the sheets and turned to look at Raya with tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "You dead...I watched you die." She exhaled as solo tears escaped her eyes; she quickly wiped them away with her thumbs.

Raya was looking at Sisu with sorrow and regret. She knew getting into a fight with Tong was stupid, and they didn't mean to injure each other terribly, but somehow they did. However, she knew she couldn't keep this conversation going as Sisu had 10 minutes to get to the psych department for her shift. So instead, she smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Note to self! Never die again." This statement caused Sisu to chuckle as she picked up her overnight bag; that holds her clean scrubs.

Sisu quickly walks over to Raya, side hugging her gently to not hurt her before pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. "I got to go. If anything happens, please call my office, okay! I MEAN IT." She stated firmly before running out the door.

Raya sighed before she burst out in tears. She had been playing strong for Sisu, but she was in shock. She was sure her best friend knew, but Raya really wasn't ready to talk about it. Raya knew deep down that she was having survives guilt, an overpowering and almost dominating emotion.

Her tears soon became sobs, and she felt her body begin to shake. She knew it was a panic attack, so she began to take deep breaths to calm herself.

Eventually, the trembling stopped while her tears persisted; her body was weakened by the energy needed to cry. She was also physically distressed now as each sob caused a painful sting to travel up her spine.

So she finally pressed her medicine button.

As time went by, her tears lessened, and her pain was managed. Soon enough, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

--

"You're the girlfriend?" Some unknown voice asked.

"Yeah, sure." She heard Namaari's voice hesitantly answer. "I've been in here for an hour, and she just doesn't wake up. Is everything okay?"

The other voice hummed as the conversation amused her. "I'm looking at her patient chart, and it only says to release personal information to Sisudatu." The unknown voice said,  probably her night nurse. "HIPPA Man. I wanna help you, but--"

"Yea, I know. It was worth a try, though." Namaari answered, sighing.

"She's just tired. Look closely at her face; maybe you can figure out why she is so exhausted--ANYWAY, press on the call light if you need anything, or poke your head outside the door. Great to meet you...girlfriend Namaari." The nurse chuckled; it was clear she didn't believe that.

Raya so badly wanted to open her eyelids, but they felt so heavy. She tried to speak, but she was too tired to make words. So as she heard Namaari sit on the chair next to her bed, gently grabbing her call button (that's also a tv remote), turning it on. With the very little energy she had, she smiled as she drifted to sleep once again.

--

Nammari woke up curled up in a chair. She looked to her left, seeing a snoring Raya in her patient bed. She smiled, noticing the puffy eyes were gone.

When she came in yesterday around eight pm, she found Raya passed out with red puffy eyes. Tears had stained her cheeks, and her eyebrows frowned. Namaari knew she probably cried herself to sleep before she got there; she even tried to confirm it with her night nurse but to no avail. She yawned as she brought her left hand up to her eye level to look at her watch. 7:30 AM.

She lightly rubbed her tired eyes as someone burst into the room. She removed her hands from her eyes, spotting a very tired Sisu pulling the curtain open. Once Sisu noticed her, a wide smile spread on her face; she turned and noticed Raya was sleeping, so she whispered, "Hey, Namaari. Great to see you! Did you just get here?" She said excitedly as she yawned, placing her bag on the floor; Quickly shuffling to the couch that folds out to a bed.

"I came yesterday, but she was sleeping. It looked like she shouldn't be left alone, so I kinda fell asleep here," Namaari replied as she watched Sisu unfold some sheets, probably getting ready to sleep, she presumed. "I don't work today. I can stay with her..." She began to say as Sisu's eyes shot up from the couch to meet her's with a massive grin on her face.

"Are you completely sure?" Sisu asked, raising an eyebrow. Namaari noticed the eyebags and the apparent exhaustion. She nodded yes before opening her mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice. Raya's voice.

The voice Namaari's been repeatedly hearing in her mind. Precisely when Raya called her a 'godly woman.' Thinking back to that moment made her blush.

"She's... *yawn* ...giving you... *yawn* ..an out.. *yawn* ...take it," Raya stuttered as her eyelids fluttered open. She noticed Namaari first on her right and smiled but brought her gaze back to her best friend. "Go home. It's been four days now. I'm okay."

Sisu tilted her head to the side, looking at Raya with knowing eyes. She turned to look at Namaari. "Raya had a panic attack after I left. That's why she was so exhausted; I'm assuming it's survivor's guilt, but I'm her best friend, so I'm not allowed to evaluate her." Sisu said while crossing her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows before turning her gaze to Raya. "I'm scared to leave again," She admitted as her tone became soft.

"I'm very much capable of taking care of her," Namaari stated. She knew this current situation was unusual. Truthfully a part of her wanted to leave, believing she didn't deserve even a slimmer of a chance of happiness. However, something kept her there—the desire to TRY and get to know Raya.

Namaari was very self-aware that if she let the opportunity of getting to know Raya personally slip, she would always wonder, what if . Because the truth is, if it doesn't work out, then she can at least say she tried.

Sisu uncrossed her arms and looked over at Namaari. "As a friend?" Sisu questioned Namaari, "Or as a nurse?"

Namaari chuckled. "I'm not part of her medical staff," She stated as she raised her hands in defeat. "I'm here as a friend."

"I thought you said we were girlfriends tho? Or was I dreaming?" Raya randomly blurted, both the other girls looking at her. Sisu's face showing confusion, and Namaari's embarrassment.

"OKAYYY, that's my queue to leave! Tong should be here around 2 PM so you can go home, Namaari." Sisu said, winking at Raya before grabbing her bag and walking out of the room.

Namaari's heart was beating faster, realizing she was alone with Raya. Her cheeks burning as if they were on fire. She turned to look at her and found she was already staring and smiling at her. "Was it a dream?" Raya asked again as she slowly sat up, clutching her chest.

"No, it wasn't a dream," Namaari whispered as she brought her hands down, looking at them.

Namaari was unsure how the next few hours would unveil. All she was certain of was:

She is sitting in a past patient's room.

She agreed to stay for hours.

She's highly attracted to this patient.

She thinks she's lost her dam mind.

--

I’m already working on the next chapter. It should be up in the next coming days. But realistically once I finish it; I’ll post it.

[paisley-print]

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better.

About:  The two of you make your way home from the bar... 

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1635

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST I AM SO SORRY (no I’m not hehehe), Curse words, fluff, mentions of death, grief, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vom*t ,implied age gap. 

NOTE: Not me making myself cry....not that. Also I love country music y'all can square up on me if you like. I find it funny how I am turning this satire of a character into a Nicholas sparks protagonist. Wild.

MIDNIGHT MASTER LIST

3:00am : George Strait Sang It Better

“I’m not drunk.” 

Jack had you slung over his shoulder “I don’t believe that’s a correct statement.”

“Are you proud of me for beating all those guys at pool?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am sugar, you know…. I think the whole bar was lookin’ to take you home after that.”

Jack had spent most of the night sitting back and watching you interact with the other patrons. How you flitted about like a little fairy; all giddy and flushed from the alcohol.  He enjoyed seeing men and women ogle over you. The looks on their faces when he scooped you up to leave was priceless. 

“Wha?! No! Only you can take me home!”

He smirked “that is right babygirl- only me.”

You giggled and whispered to him, “Jack?”

He whispered back to you “what?”

“May I smack your ass please?”

You heard him chuckle “only cuz you asked so nicely.”

You gave his ass a light tap “boop”

“Excuse me mam I said smack not a boop. My ass is too incredible to have it booped.”

“Well, I booped you- watcha gonna do about it?”

“Might not help you take off your makeup when we get home.”

You gasped dramatically, “you wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me honey,” he shot back. 

You cleared your throat, “wait, put me down.”

His brows knit together, “you gotta throw up?” 

You hummed in response.

He took you by the waist and placed you down, keeping his hands there to make sure you didn’t take a header into the brick wall.

Before he could react you flashed him a bright grin, broke from his touch and proceeded to skip down the street. It took him a second to realize he had been conned; he had to jog a little to keep up with you. “Girl, where in the hell do you think you’re goin’?....... y/n?”

“Do you hear that?” You asked, rounding the corner onto a totally empty side street. This side of town was mostly strip malls and county buildings.  A record store was playing music from inside...it floated through the street and echoed lazily into the humid June night. “My father used to sing this song to me.”

The song was a cover of ‘Cross My Heart’ written by George Strait but sung by Dierks Bentley. “God I haven’t heard this song in years” you breathed, making your way into the street and laying down under the streetlamp.  You sang along, “I cross my heart And promise to, Give all I’ve got to give, To make all your dreams come true.”

Jack stood off to the side, getting more and more frustrated. “I’m not gonna scrape you off the sidewalk if you get hit.”

You laughed, unable to see that he was upset…. “hit by what? All the cars?” The street was completely deserted, most everybody was home in bed. “You will always be the miracle, That makes my life complete, And as long as there’s a breath in me, I’ll make yours just as sweet.” 

Jack shook his head, shifting uneasily on his feet. 

It was an absolutely beautiful night- full moon, warm, not a single cloud obstructing the sky. You gasped and sat up “Jack please dance with me!”

“I’m tired, put your shoes on- let’s go-”

You gave him the puppy dog eyes “but it’s perfect! The song is almost over anyway-” 

He snapped, losing his temper and shouting at you. “What part of I’m fucking tired do you not understand? Come get your shoes and stop acting like a goddamn child!”

You stared at him wide eyed while the music played on.  The two of you had little spats in the past….but you had never seen him do anything close to that.  Sobriety struck you in an instant. You held tears back and pulled yourself from the asphalt.  Silently, you took your shoes from him and placed them on your feet.

His tone was still a little harsh but not nearly as bad as before, “you want me to carry you?”

“No” you said quickly “I can walk - thank you.”

-

Jack pulled the car to a stop at an empty intersection and waited for the light to turn green.

You were the first one to speak “sometimes I get too excited and act stupid... I apologize for not listening to you when you said you wanted to go. I’ll listen better next time.”

He sighed and hesitated, “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.”

You shrugged, “it’s okay, you were tired...plus George Strait sang it better anyway.”

“No, it’s not that-” 

You could tell that he was fighting something, but you didn’t know what. His lack of verbal communication frustrated you at times, however it was something you had been learning to accept. Each day you noticed his tells and from those you would peace together how he was feeling. He would get boisterous when he was nervous, silent when he was focused, chatty when content...so on and so forth.

Although you would rather him tell you these things, you understood that he was a man raised in a way that forbade overly emotional declarations. He was getting better the safer he felt with you and it was okay that he wasn’t perfect with it just yet. Jack had spent years shutting people out, it was going to take time for him to break the habit.

“-that was my wedding song,” he confessed.

You nodded slowly, showing him that you were listening.

“You looked so fuckin’ beautiful and just - happy…….” he sighed again. “It’s uh- do you know that the two of you share the same birthday? I didn’t realize it until the other day when you mentioned yours …...three hundred and sixty five days in a year, what are the fuckin’ odds?” 

The light turned but he didn’t move, he was staring transfixed at the road - his mind somewhere far. You watched him remember her and a life that no longer existed. He always had a certain look about him when he was thinking of her. You couldn't really put it into words; he just seemed so at peace with the world….like the burden of loss wasn't weighing him down.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter “the birthday you have coming up will make you one year older than she ever got to be…. It’s like one day I woke up and twenty-four years have come and gone overnight.”

He started to choke up a little, but fought against it. “ I don’t know why it just hit me all of a sudden. I can go weeks, months, without feeling upset. Then one little thing just sets it off and everything comes rushing back at once…. and it hurts the same way it did then.”

His breathing hitched in his chest,  you could tell that he was probably on the verge of a panic attack.

You placed a hand on his leg “hey-”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That wasn’t right….. I’m not that person-”

“It’s alright-”

“No it’s not. I’m sorry if I scared you and I’m sorry that I’m talkin’ about this. I know you probably don’t want to hear it-”

“Jack” you spoke softly in an attempt to stop his spiraling. “I always want to hear about what you’re going through. No matter what it is…..your wife, she sounds amazing.”

He reached down to take your hand, squeezing it gently. 

You brushed your thumb across his knuckles. “If you ever need to talk about her you can, I hope you know that. And what you said about it all rushing back….grief is not linear. It's not something that has a start and end...instead it’s like a box with a little ball inside. Every time the ball hits the side of the box you feel upset. Like tonight-”

Your other hand reached up to tuck a little strand of hair behind his ear, while you went on… “At first the box is tiny and the ball hits the sides of it often. However as time goes on the box gets bigger. Meaning that the ball has much more space to travel until it hits the sides.”

You paused for a moment to let him follow along. “You grew up with her; she is literally woven into the fabric of your soul. You are allowed to miss her and miss her deeply. Even after all this time. It is okay.  In the same breath though, you are also allowed to be happy. I know you carry around guilt - I see it in you constantly…….  but there was nothing you could have done Jack.”

You placed a finger under his chin and turned his head to face you, “and you didn’t scare me. You just caught me off guard is all.”

“I wish I danced with you,” he said softly. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to dance, Jack.”

He looked so utterly exhausted; you dropped your hand to let him focus back on the road. “Yeah” he agreed, then lifted his foot off the break to continue on.

The open windows let wind rush through the cabin. He kept a tight hold on your hand, it was the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

An idea surfaced in your mind….  “I think we should include her this year. We can pick up some flowers - maybe a little toy for the baby, and have a picnic. I’ll make cupcakes and we can blow out a candle for her as well ….would that be something you want to do?”

He rubbed his eyes and nodded. 

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled softly “you don’t have to thank me Jack.”

[tamsin-moon]

Bottling

Notes: Bill Williamson x Male Reader Injury and blood mention, nightmares, small panic attack, cursing, excessive drinking mention. Starts tense but ends up fluffy I promise! Bill and reader have been together little over a year. Have been in Horseshoe Overlook a couple weeks now and reader knows Bill is getting close to a breakdown as he’s been bottling up everything he feels about the Blackwater mess. 

The last thing you expected or wanted to hear at 7am as you were coming off your shift of guard duty was Bill shouting, really shouting. “Get the hell away from me!” Being the words that reached your ears and you were breaking into a jog to get to the scene quickly. And indeed it was a scene that was unfolding quickly as you arrived, but what the hell had set it off? You would try to figure it out quickly, but all you could really tell was your man was getting ready to beat on Swanson who was on the ground and obviously drunk again.

Cursing under your breath you would see others gathering and a couple moving to intervene, but you were already much closer. Unfortunately your choice of action was not the best as you reached to grab his shoulder, speaking as you did, “Bill, take a breath” being what you said, but the man was taking a swing instead. All you could figure is he must not have seen you approach because in the next instant his fist would be connecting with your jaw and you would go stumbling back. Tripping instead of getting your balance you would land on your left shoulder with a grunt as a jolt of pain coursed through it.

Everything would just go silent and you could feel eyes on you as you pushed yourself to sit back up, your gaze looking up to the powerful man and feeling your heart clench. Not at the fact he had hit you, no that was a stupid move on your part, but at the look on his face. The color had drained from his features and he almost looked as if he had been shot by the pure shock and almost horror on his features. He almost couldn’t believe he had hit you, but as his knuckles throbbed and the color began to bloom on your jaw it was clear.

“Darlin’? I…no…I didn’t mean” He couldn’t get out a full sentence and everyone was just staring at the both of you. He felt sick at what he had done and when Charles moved to help you up he just had to get out of there. Pushing past anyone in his way he was nearly running for Brown Jack and mounting up. He just needed to get out of there, to try to breathe or hit something else, he wasn’t sure yet. How could you forgive him for this? He was certain you wouldn’t and it terrified him even more as he rode off.

Letting Charles pull you to your feet your hand immediately went to rub your throbbing shoulder as you thanked him. Normally landing like that wouldn’t hurt so much, but a still healing gunshot wound was a tender thing. Sure the wound was completely closed since it had occurred in the whole Blackwater mess, but the muscle was still tender and a sudden shock just had it pulsing. “You alright?” you would hear your friend ask and you found yourself just sighing as you got your feet moving towards your own horse, “I’ll live, but I gotta head after him”

You could tell several were surprised at that, Arthur even stopping you with a hand to your good shoulder, “You sure you shouldn’t let him cool off first? He’ll come back” he try to reason, but you were shaking your head. Patting his own shoulder in return before pulling away, “You didn’t see the look on his face, he shouldn’t be alone right now. I know where he went, up on Caliban’s Seat, if we aren’t back by tomorrow morning send a search party” And you were certain that you were right as you and Bill had been up there just a couple days ago on your way back from Valentine. Just taking a moment to yourselves and he had mentioned you should go back there soon, maybe overnight.

Getting to your horse you would pull yourself up into the saddle with a grimace, checking your weapons quick, before you were pushing your horse into a trot. Ignoring anymore calls after you, you were just focusing on Bill and praying that nothing happened before you got to him. You had been worrying about him for weeks now, honestly, he’d been drinking more. Especially at night and waking hungover nearly every morning, the only explanation being he couldn’t sleep otherwise, but he wouldn’t tell you what the problem was.

You had a good guess, though, it was a problem for most of you. Nightmares of Blackwater. While most of you had confided in others, you knew Bill hadn’t. If he was going to, you knew it would be to you and it had yet to happen, so you had slowly been watching him get more and more tense. His temper was shorter, the brawl in the Valentine saloon proved that, and at Sean’s welcome back party you hadn’t seen him without a bottle in his hand even if his other was around you. As much as you hated something like this had happened, you hoped it would actually help in the end.

Your mind focusing back in as you got close to your destination you would feel a bit of relief as you spot Brown Jack grazing near the base of the hill. If you had been wrong where he’d gone, well honestly you probably would have started to panic, but you pushed that thought away as you dismounted. The walk up to the top was a bit steep and you had to be careful, but the view at the top was worth it as you had found out the last time. That was not where you would be looking, no, you were casting your eyes about and feeling your heart clenching again as you spot him sitting at the base of one of the trees.

His head was leaned back against the bark, eyes closed and you could see his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his hands clenched at his sides He was trying to calm down, really, but his thoughts were spiraling out of control. He had nearly lost you to a bullet, but now he had definitely lost you to his own fist were the most prominent and he did not even notice you approaching or crouching in front of him.

This time you would be a bit smarter, just calling his name for the moment, “Bill? Bill can you hear me darling?” you call twice, the second time louder and you would see him jump. Eyes finding yours as his hand went to his gun for a moment before letting it relax again. You could see the fear in his eyes as he met your own and the tears that were on his cheeks, it broke your heart. “You followed me?” You would barely hear it, but the tone was complete shock, he didn’t think you would have.

Surprised as a small smile came to your lips you would move closer, shifting yourself to sit next to him against the tree and leaning your right shoulder to his, “Course I did, you know how much it scared me you takin’ off like that?” you ask, keeping your tone calm. You knew he thought you were mad, but you were far from that and didn’t miss how just you leaning against him had a little bit of tension leaving him. “You remember you can talk to me right? About anything, especially nightmares.” You say after a moment and hear him suck in a breath.

It was silent for a few minutes, you just watching him from the corner of your eye, seeing he was thinking and trying to figure out what to say. You would be patient, knowing rushing him never helped, and would just idly rub your still aching shoulder without thinking. The action seemed to finally be a tipping point, though, and he would speak quiet as he asked, “Even if they’re about….you?” That would almost surprise you, but after another moment you realized exactly what he kept dreaming about.

“Me getting shot.” You say simply, feeling him tense again before a shudder ran through him. It had you shifting, arm wrapping around him as your other hand came to his bearded cheek. Coaxing him to look at you and leaning in to press your lips to his slowly, grounding the both of you with the gentle action. “Of course you can talk to me about them, any time,” you assure him as you rest your forehead to his, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. Feeling him nod you let him take his time, of course, letting him lean back and almost shuddering yourself as his hand came up.

It would come to rest just a little to the right of where the scar of your wound actually lay, “I keep dreaming you get shot here….not here” he start, hand sliding just into the top of your slightly unbuttoned shirt to actually rest over the scar. “You’re bleeding bad…yellin’ for me…for anyone, but no matter what I do I can’t get to you” His voice was shaking as he spoke more and the next words were almost choking him, “When I finally do you’re….I wake up soon as I touch you and I just..” The sentence would break off as his strong arms would nearly shoot around you, pulling you tight to him and he buried his face into your chest.

You could feel the tears and how he shook with almost sobs, your arms coming around him in return and rubbing your hands up his back. Resting your head to the top of his own you just tried to keep your breathing even, “It’s alright darlin’, just let it out. I got you and I ain’t letting go. All this bottling it up and using a bottle to try to silence it isn’t good for you. You feel it starting to eat away you just find me, we can come up here or find somewhere else quiet, just the two of us” you murmur against his hair as you hold him tight.

In the end you would have no idea how long you sat like that and just let him get it out, but eventually he would pull back to look at you. His eyes falling to the bruise forming on your jaw and a new, deflated look would come to his eyes. Oddly it would just have you chuckling and you turn your head so he can see it better, “Yeah you laid me out real good, my own damn fault too for startling you” The smile on your face was wider now and you would feel your heart warm some as he chuckled, “Yeah, was meant for Swanson, but you just had to take it instead” he tease back lightly before dragging a sleeve across his face.

“How’d the reverend set you off anyways?” You finally ask after a moment as you both settle back against the tree, his arm slipping around your back to pull you against him again as he shook his head, “Honestly? I don’t think it was really anything, think he was just singing and stepped in front of me. I just…snapped” and you would nod understanding, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek before settling your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes, “Just next time you run off, can you wait till I’ve had a nap?”

[roseverdict]

More Than He Seems (Part 6)

yall ever get writer's block for a specific section of your story, but you can write all the stuff that comes right after it with ease? yeah that's been me this past month with the second part of this chapter. on the upside i have some more content ready to go! :D

i also tried something new with the chapter upload. i wanna see if i can schedule it to post to ao3 at a later date than when i hit the button, but so far i got nothing. :/

unrelated but i accidentally broke my cat-ear headphones i got for Christmas and yet somehow figured out a way to make them still usable using only duct tape and string, so i'm gonna be riding that high all day >:D

warnings: ford briefly remembers that one time the shapeshifter made him doubt his own identity and has the beginnings of a panic attack, and, of course, a bit more of the usual "stanley swears-a-lot" fare.

Masterpost

Stan blinked awake with a groan.

What time was it…?

He shifted to glance out the window and see if he could figure out how long the sun had been up-

-this wasn't his car.

He pushed himself up and warily glanced around wherever-he-was. It was lit dimly by the light from the window, but it was definitely not his car, if the complete mess of notes and whatsits was anything to go by. And…somehow he'd managed to get his hands on a real, actual mattress? How on earth had he managed that? The last he remembered-

-oh. Yeah. Right. He'd gotten to Ford's place and helped him ward the place against that "Bill" bastard. He'd had a weird nightmare of some kind after, but that was pretty par for the course.

Stan let himself relax against the bed and rubbed at his eyes. He'd have thought a good night's sleep would've helped him feel at least a little bit better.

Instead, his head was killing him.

It wasn't anything he hadn't pushed through before, though, so he just grit his teeth and rolled out of bed. He had to see if Ford had a plan for the way-too-empty fridge, and from what he'd seen over the past few days, he was pretty sure Ford's self-care skills were just as terrible as they'd been back in Jersey.

He slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and frowned. Usually he at least felt a bit warmer with it on. Even wearing the sweater Ford had loaned him over the rest of his clothes didn't help, but he tried it anyway.

Maybe Ford had been neglecting the heating bill or something.

Oh well. There was nothing he could do about it, at least not while he was still in the bedroom Ford was letting him use.

He shivered and picked his way through the mess to the door. Noise from the kitchen told him Ford was up and moving, so he didn't worry too much about being quiet as he poked his head into the room. "Morning, Stanford."

Ford jumped slightly in his seat, but quickly relaxed when he saw Stan. "Ah-! Oh, good morning, Stanley. You slept well, I presume?"

Something in the back of Stan's mind said no, not exactly, but it was overruled by the rest of him saying, "Like a baby. What about you? Bill didn't get in your head overnight, did he?"

"No, he didn't." Ford answered as though the words were still hard to believe. "I actually got multiple hours of restful sleep. Consecutively, even!"

"Good." Stan grinned and sat down at the table. "So, what's the plan now?"

Please say something about food or heating, please say something about food or heating.

"I'm torn, actually." Ford said. "On the one hand, now that the house is effectively cut off from Bill's influence, I have a couple projects that could advance our defenses against him further that really ought to be finished sometime soon. On the other hand, between the two of us, I doubt the meager food supplies in the house will last much longer than a day or two."

Stan frowned, then held up a finger in realization. "Wait, that's two things. There's two of us."

Ford blinked. "…you're right."

"Since I'm not the scientist, I'm thinking…I oughta head out for food?" Stan's suggestion came out as more of a question than he'd meant it to be. Whoops.

"That would probably be best." Ford agreed. "Besides, after the last time I went out, I'll admit, I am rather loathe to do so again."

"Why? What happened?"

"Bill, he…" A shudder ran up Ford's spine as he spoke, his eyes growing wider and wider. "…everyone in the truck stop, he had them all under his sway. The experience was unnerving, to say the least. All of their eyes, yellow and staring at me, watching, watching-!"

Stan gulped. Ford needed to snap out of it, fast.

"Whoa, 'kay, Stanford, look at me." Stan reached across the table, his hand hovering unsurely over Ford's arm. "Bill can't get to you in here, remember? You're safe."

Ford nodded frantically, clenching and unclenching his fists for a moment before taking a shaky breath. "Right. He can't get to me. I'm safe. I'm safe."

"Yeah, there you go." Stan tried to keep his voice soothing. "Alright, so you're definitely not on grocery duty. If Bill tries that on me, I can handle myself, but…this is just me spitballing here, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not sure he can."

Ford blinked and stared at him. "…we are still talking about the same Bill, right?"

Stan held his hands up placatingly. "Look, hear me out on this. He tricked you into trusting him, which led to him being able to possess you, which meant he couldn't possess you beforehand, yeah? What if he's able to screw with your mind, too? Make you see stuff that's not there, like, say, an entire truck stop full of possessed people? Seems more likely to me than him getting his weird little triangle fingers in every mind on the planet, or at least the ones around Gravity Falls."

Ford lifted a finger as though to correct him, but his words caught in his throat. "I…hm. That's…that's a sound hypothesis."

Stan beamed. "Hoped it was. When I go get food, that can be how we test it. Bill's gotta be pissed at both of us at this point, but he's only got access to your mind, not mine. Either he can sic the town on me or he can't, and I'm betting he can't."

Ford looked as though he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind at the last second. "In that case, to remove as many variables as possible…perhaps you ought to borrow my shape when you go. If I myself am vulnerable, but a look-alike is not…"

Stan held back a grimace. "You sure? From the sound of it, you haven't really had great luck with this sort of thing before." The way Ford had gone ballistic when he'd thought Stan was "Shifty" was proof of that.

"I'm sure." Ford nodded firmly.

"Well, uh, in that case…here goes."

Stan drummed his fingers on the table, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

(Hm. Was this actually the first time he'd purposefully done this in front of someone for more than a few seconds? What had been the odds his brother would be the first person to see him shift?)

The change was subtler than usual, but since Ford was his twin, it made sense. His chin split slightly to match Ford's own, and his mullet shrank back to mirror the way Ford's hair had only grown more fluffy since high school. His gut shrank a bit, as did his shoulders. Was that all? He was a bit scattered with the fact that he had an audience weighing on him, but that was probably all he had to-

Oh, wait. Duh. He still had to make a major change.

Stan focused harder. He'd been people with all kinds of unique facial features before, so adding an extra finger to each hand would be a piece of cake. The extra sensations along the sides of his hands nearly startled him out of the zone, but he managed to finish growing the extra fingers before opening his eyes.

Ford stared at him, caught somewhere between "pale as a ghost" and "full of burning curiousity and questions."

Still using his own voice, Stan did some little jazz hands. "Uh. Ta-da?"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, where Stan felt more like a specimen than a Stan and Ford looked more like a scientist than his brother.

And then it passed.

"Incredible." Ford breathed. "A completely different mechanism than that employed by Shifty, one that leaves your clothing intact and only alters your physical appearance. And your voice isn't necessarily required to match the form you take?"

"Not really." Stan shrugged. "Listen to this, though." He cleared his throat for effect, then, in Ford's voice, said, "Look at me, I'm a genius with a bajillion PhDs who can't remember to feed himself!"

Ford snorted, almost as though caught off-guard. "Ha, ha. I'm not that bad."

"You sure about that?" Stan grinned, dropping back out of Ford's voice. "You're down to peas, beans, and meat, and there's not much of any of it left."

"…I believe I will plead the fifth this time."

Stan snickered, though he faked a cough when Ford glanced at him.

"Let me get some spare clothes to further complete the 'transformation,' as it were." Ford continued, standing up from the table. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here." Stan shot off a sloppy salute and watched him head for the hall.

Once he was alone, he grimaced and rubbed at his eyes. Shifting while feeling shitty was apparently an even worse idea than he'd remembered. His body felt like it weighed twice what it should've. Hell, even though he'd just woken up, he felt like he'd probably fall right back asleep any second now.

He slapped his cheeks in an effort to stay awake.

Oh well.

There was nothing he could do about it, at least not until after he got back with food.

〜〜〜〜〜〜

Stanford draped one of his trenchcoats over his arm alongside a pair of slacks. Since Stanley still had the sweater from the day before, he would just have to switch out his pants for Stanford's and throw the trenchcoat on over the sweater.

…Stanford tried not to think too hard about how Stanley had essentially volunteered to paint a target on his back to get their food supplies and put Stanford's mind at ease.

With his free hand, he rummaged through Master Bedroom Miscellany Pile #1 for a moment and dug out one of his spare pairs of glasses. Once Stanley put them on, he would effectively become Stanford to the untrained eye. Possibly even to the trained eye!

Stanford wasn't exactly sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it had been years since they'd successfully pulled off a twin-switch on anyone, let alone a whole town. On the other, the circumstances of this particular switch were…well, Stanford wished he didn't have to think about the circumstances.

Evidence suggested that over the past decade, Stanley hadn't changed as much as been changed, and not just in the obvious way.

…that was a thought for a later date.

Stanford took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning on his heel and heading back out to the kitchen. With any luck, Stanley would be able to quickly switch into Stanford's clothes and buy the food they would-

A thought struck him.

Stanley had mentioned some of the things he'd had to do to survive the past ten years during their fight in the basement. At the time, Stanford had been, how could he put it…

(Stanford shoved the memory of his brother's scream into the darkest recesses of his mind.)

…not entirely rational, so he hadn't really paid much attention, but now he wished he had. If he'd paid closer attention, perhaps he'd have an answer to the question of "what had Stanley been through," and by extension, "whether Stanley had left his home or driven it up to Oregon."

Well, it was possible he didn't have to make a big deal of it.

He would simply…put his wallet into the spare trenchcoat's pocket and try not to draw too much attention to the fact that Stanley may or may not be homeless and therefore short on money.

Yes. Perfect!

A plan in mind, Stanford did exactly that before re-entering the kitchen. For a moment, Stanley looked twice as tired as he had before, but then he perked right back up at Stanford's reappearance.

(If that was how Stanford had looked when Stanley first arrived, it was no wonder Stanley had insisted he go to sleep.)

It was probably just a trick of the light.

"Here we are." Stanford announced, handing the bundle of clothes over. "The bathroom is just down the hall."

"Gotcha." Stanley nodded and took the clothes as he headed to change.

Stanford spent the minutes before Stanley's exit from the bathroom preparing himself. Watching Stanley shapeshift in front of him was one thing. In that instance, Stanford could observe the entire process and squash the terror before it became a problem.

Knowing Stanley would walk out, looking well and truly identical to him, right down to the clothes on his back…

"What? I'm not Shifty, y-you are!"

Stanley wasn't the Shapeshifter he'd left in the bunker. Stanley had been a mischievious boy and grown into a criminal man, but he wasn't outright cruel.

"Maybe there's a silver lining? Huh? Treasure hunting?"

…he wasn't that cruel, at least. Besides, Stanley's behavior since arriving had been anything (and everything) but uncaring!

He was only Stanley!

The bathroom door swung open, and Stanley stepped out, looking for all the world like Stanford's doppelganger. He'd pulled the trenchcoat on over his sweater, and he was in the slacks Stanford had picked out, though he only put on the glasses once he shut the door behind him.

Stanford forced down a gasp.

In his own voice, Stanley snorted. "I look like a nerd."

The tension building in Stanford's head all fell away, and he couldn't help a small smile of his own. "Not just any nerd. This nerd, specifically."

Stanley rolled his eyes and dug his hands into the pockets of his borrowed trenchcoat, lifting something up. "Oh, by the way, I think you forgot this in here."

The wallet.

Stanford's mind raced for a moment, but then he came to the perfect excuse. "My memory is fine. It's there because I should be the one to take the financial hit, since we're currently dealing with my problems."

"Oh. Okay." Stanley seemed shaken, but before Stanford could press the matter, he shoved the wallet back into his pocket and gave a noncommittal shrug. "In that case, I think I'm pretty much set to go. Unless you have any last-minute warnings or something?"

"Not a warning, but…" Stanford conceded, "…if you happen across my old research assistant, Fiddleford, could you try to keep an eye on him? We parted on…less-than-ideal terms, and I'm rather worried about his state of mind."

"I'll keep an eye out." Stanley nodded.

"Then in that case, drive safe." Stanford mirrored him.

"Be back in a bit." Stanley flashed him a thumbs-up and shuffled out the front door, and Stanford watched him trek through the snow and down the path.

Wait.

Where had Stanley left the clothing he'd been wearing since he first showed up? He hadn't been holding it in his hands…he must have simply left it in the bathroom.

Stanford poked his head into the bathroom to check, planning to perhaps get a load of laundry started for the first time in far too long before delving into his work-

-but all he saw in the bathroom were his own belongings.

…that was probably alright. Stanley must have simply been layering up in preparation for the winter chill. It was quite understandable, frankly. After dealing with Oregonian snow all day yesterday, spending a sizable chunk of it in a threadbare hoodie, Stanford wouldn't want to repeat the experience either.

Having come to that sensible conclusion, Stanford turned and headed for the basement.

He might get Project Mentem working yet. With a night's sleep under his belt and the promise of unexpired food on the way, he was positive he could figure out whatever had him so stumped.

[harvestleaves]

Out of Breath

Summary: TK has an asthma attack in the middle of the night, cue worried dad Owen and gentle, soothing Carlos to the rescue.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,300

TK woke up groggily at midnight in the firehouse during their overnight shift. Confused as to what could have possibly woken him up, he was immediately reminded of it when he tried to take a deep breath and felt the catch in his chest, trying to stifle a wheeze as he pushed himself out of the bed. Sneaking a glance back to where his dad was fast asleep, he thought briefly about waking the other man up before he shook his head and headed downstairs to the locker room, hoping he remembered to pack his inhaler in his bag. Once he thought he was far enough out of hearing range, TK finally let out the bought of chesty coughs, his wheezing breaths picking up as he felt himself start to panic.

Getting to the locker room, TK threw his bag onto one of the benches and started to dig through it for his inhaler. Coming up empty-handed after a few minutes of hurried searching didn’t help TK to relax at all. Moving to sit on the bench next to his open bag, TK took a shaky breath through his nose and set his forearms on his thighs, trying to catch his breath enough to go wake his dad up.

“TK? You alright?”

TK picked his head up and shakily turned to where Judd was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed TK. He may not have been a trained paramedic, but he’d been on enough calls to know an asthma attack when he saw one.

“Do you need me to grab Marjan or Blake? Maybe just your dad? Don’t talk, just nod your head for me. Once for a paramedic, twice for your dad,” Judd said, keeping his voice calm but authoritative when TK opened his mouth to speak and just started coughing again.

TK bit his bottom lip hard as he tried to inhale steadily through his nose before he shakily gave two nods, relaxing a little when Judd patted him on the shoulder before saying he’d be back with Owen. Watching the other man leave made the panic finally set in however as TK blinked back a few tears, his breaths slowly getting more labored.

————

“Hey, Cap? Wake up, your kid needs you,” Judd sighed as he firmly shook Owen on the shoulder to wake him up.

Blinking groggily, Owen slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes before raising an eyebrow curiously up at the other.

“Why, may I ask, are you waking me up at...12:10 in the morning when there is no call?” Owen asked with a yawn after he checked his watch for the time.

“It’s TK. The kid’s down in the locker room having an asthma attack, can’t seem to find his inhaler. He told me to wake you instead of one of the paramedics. I don’t suppose you’ve got an extra one of his inhalers laying around, do you?”

“His asthma? He hasn’t had a bad attack in a few years. I might have one of his spares in my bag. In the meantime, can you wake Blake up? She can assess if he needs the ER,” Owen explained as he got out of bed quickly to rush down to TK.

Entering the locker room, his eyes widened in concern at the state his son was in; face pale and lightly sweaty as he struggled for breaths that just didn’t seem to be coming. His heart immediately broke at the panic that filled TK’s eyes, the same panicked look that he was given when TK had his first asthma attack at 6 years old.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Owen grabbed his own bag out of his locker before setting it down next to TK, squeezing his son's hand before starting to rummage through his own bag. “Hey kiddo, I’m here. Dad’s here. Just keep breathing. Slow deep breaths, you know the drill.” Trying to keep his voice soothing, he swore under his breath when he couldn’t find TK’s spare either and looked up in relief when the door opened. He raised an eyebrow curiously when he saw Carlos instead of Michelle, though realization hit him when he saw the telltale blue inhaler in Carlos’ hand.

“Captain Strand, hi. TK left this at my place earlier today, I found it when I was on my way back in from my shift and figured I should bring it over. Is he okay? Michelle said she was gonna grab her stethoscope and some oxygen, but also said he should try this first. Can I?” Carlos explained as he stepped towards TK before dropping to his knees in front of the other man, gently taking his hand to press the inhaler against TK’s palm after shaking it briefly.

“Hey Tiger, just me. Do you need my help? Or can you take a puff of that on your own for me?” Carlos said gently as he slowly tilted TK’s chin up to get a better look at him, wiping away a stray tear that slid down the other man's cheek.

TK didn’t give a verbal response as he shakily brought the inhaler up to his lips and gasped in a breath of the medicine before coughing a few times and trying the medication once more. The panic had started to ebb away with Carlos’ soothing voice and he slowly drew in a ragged breath once he felt the tightness in his chest ease up. Choking on another shaky sob, he leaned into Carlos for a hug as the adrenaline from his heart racing finally kicked in and he started to fully cry, still shaken up from his attack.

“Hey, easy there Tiger. Breathe for me, I don’t want you having another attack. You’re okay, I know that was scary. I’ve got you,” Carlos whispered softly against TK’s hair as he held the other in a firm hug, not planning on letting go until the other was calmed down.

After a few quiet minutes, TK’s breathing had slowed to just a few wheezes and he pulled back from Carlos to quickly rub at his teary face. He could feel his face start to flush in embarrassment however when he finally noticed his dad, Michelle, and Judd watching from the corner of the room.

“H-hey. I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t mean to wake anyone up,” TK immediately started to apologize and Michelle just put her hand up with a shake of her head.

“The exact opposite actually. You should have immediately woken someone up when you couldn’t find your inhaler sweetheart. What if Carlos hadn’t come by with it? I don’t ever want to see you without that, I will glue it to you if I have to. Carlos, do you mind driving him to the ER and staying with him? Captain Strand would, but he has to stay here with the team in case there’s a call,” Michelle said as she listened to TK’s chest, frowning at the deep wheezes that were still audible in his chest.

“Of course I can take him over. Captain Strand? I promise I will call you the second we get there and I’ll keep you updated. C’mon Tiger, let’s get you to a doctor,” Carlos said, whispering the last part to TK as he helped him up and out of the locker room to head to his car.

Owen just watched from the side and turned to Judd with a confused look. “Is it just me, or did they seem surprisingly close for what I’m pretty sure TK told me was just a hookup?”

“I’m not sure Cap, it’s too early in the morning for me to think about, let’s just get some more sleep,” Judd grumbled as he nodded towards the door.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] Also on AO3

Chapter 6: Jon

Jon grumbles to himself as he drives back through the streets of London. Stupid. Stupid of him to have left his notes behind and stupid to be going back for them now. He could easily wait until morning. There’s no real urgency in the matter. What can he possibly do in the next—he glances at the dashboard clock on his car—nine hours that can’t wait until business hours?

But after realizing he left them in his office, he was out the door and in his car before he thought about it. Even now, he can’t convince himself to just turn around and go back. There is an odd sense of urgency propelling him, hence why he’s driving instead of submitting to the capricious whims of the late-night London Transit schedule. He needs to get to the Archives, needs to get those notes. And, all right, maybe he’ll check on Martin while he’s at it.

Really, he might as well stay overnight himself. No point in driving back and forth more than necessary. He can get whatever work he wants done just as easily in the office, and it might be useful to have another pair of hands or eyes or ears or whatever he needs, even if—

Jon terminates that line of thought ruthlessly. Martin isn’t incompetent. He just doesn’t have the training the rest of them do. If Jon thinks about it too hard, he actually feels a bit of a heel for having been so harsh on the man without troubling to ask questions. He did what he could with what he had, and now that he’s come out and admitted it, Sasha has been more than willing to help him out. He is getting better. A lot better. And it’s only been a few days.

So...yes. If he stays at the office to work, Martin can help. And probably will, if he’s still awake. It is, after all, a bit late. Jon will have to be quiet, at least at first, because if Martin is asleep he doesn’t want to wake him. He needs rest. They all do, really, but Jon is an anxious mess at the best of times and this whole...situation isn’t helping, so his sleep is ofttimes restless at best and intermittent at worst. He’ll likely end up pacing the Archives for most of the night. Maybe he’ll check to make sure that CO2 system he talked Elias into having installed is working properly. Or maybe he’ll go through the statements. Martin found one that seemed to be from Jane Prentiss; Jon meant to read it the night before, but hadn’t got around to it. Yes, that will likely be what he does.

He turns a corner and slams on his brakes. There is a veritable wall of emergency lights before him—police, fire, even an ambulance. And it all seems to be centered around...

No.

Jon isn’t one hundred percent certain the car is even all the way off, let alone pulled over to the curb, before he’s out the door and moving towards the crowd. Something is happening, and it’s happening at the Magnus Institute.

Jon scans the people clustered on the sidewalk. There aren’t many, not that he expected there to be. It is, after all, well into the evening. Most people leave at five, or close to it. In fact, most of the people on the sidewalk seem to be from nearby buildings, mere curious onlookers gawking at the spectacle. Jon doesn’t see anyone he recognizes, and he slowly begins to relax.

Then panic strikes him like an almost physical force. Martin. Martin should be easy to spot. He’s big—not fat, exactly, just big—and one of the taller employees. He ought to be standing on the edge of the crowd, a bundle of anxiety and attempted helpfulness, talking to a police officer or an onlooker or looking around to make sure he isn’t going to get in trouble for something that almost certainly isn’t his fault.

He’s not there. Jon spins frantically, but Martin is nowhere to be seen. He could be on the far side of the crowd, or he could have stepped out for something, or—

Or he could still be in the Archives.

Jon runs towards the door, hardly aware he’s doing it. Something slams into him, holding him back, and he struggles, his panic rising. Something is holding him, he’s trapped, he’s in danger, but Martin is still in there—

“Hold on, sir, you can’t go in there!”

“No, you don’t understand, I have to—my friend is in there—” Jon fights to get free.

“Crews are inside, sir, they’ll find anyone who’s in there, but you need to stay out here. We can’t have you running into danger.”

The fireman—as it proves to be—deposits Jon behind a barricade. He grips it in both hands, staring desperately at the door to the Archives. There doesn’t seem to be any smoke pouring out of the door, which is...maybe promising, but maybe not. Maybe still too late.

There was a fire in the Archives, somehow. Martin was down there. If he didn’t wake in time...or if he wasn’t able to get out, if the CO2 suppressant system triggered and he breathed in too much of the stuff...

A chasm seems to open up before Jon as he suddenly, unexpectedly faces down the idea of a world devoid of Martin Blackwood. His mind conjures up thoughts of Martin’s not-too-chipper morning, Jon every day, of his quiet determination to do his job even when he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, of the earnest way he makes his reports. Of him appearing in Jon’s office with a cup of tea, made exactly the way Jon likes it, at the exact moment he needs it the most.

In that moment, Jon understands with crystal clarity exactly how important Martin is to him, and how much it will devastate him if he is gone. His grip on the barricade tightens and he begins to wonder if he can escape the notice of the firefighters in order to—

“Jon?”

Only one person—one living person, anyway—ever addresses Jon in that slightly disapproving tone. Jon turns to find Elias standing a few feet away, one eyebrow raised and his mouth set in a flat line. “Elias. What—what’s going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Elias’s disapproval is almost palpable. “I don’t see the others. I must say, I never would have expected you to run and leave them behind.”

“Leave—what do you mean?”

Elias’s lips tighten. “You think I wasn’t aware of what was going on? I did hear Tim talking about this ‘sleepover in the Archives’.”

Jon stares at Elias for a second, comprehension eluding him. Then, suddenly, ice floods his veins as he realizes what Elias is implying.

Not just Martin. Tim and Sasha doubled back to spend the night, too.

“Oh, God,” he manages to choke out.

Elias’s expression shifts. “You weren’t aware?”

“No!” Jon turns desperately back towards the Institute, towards the Archives, frantically scanning for any sign of...anything. “No, I thought—they both should have gone home by now, I—oh, God. No.”

He starts to dodge around the barricade, but Elias has his shoulder in an iron grip. “Steady, Jon. The ECDC said not to—”

“The what?” Jon jerks his head around to face Elias. Realization hits him, yet again, and while he would have sworn there isn’t enough blood left in his face for it to drain any further, he is apparently wrong about that. “Jane Prentiss is here?”

“Jon, you’re getting hysterical. Calm down.”

“Calm down? You’ve just informed me that my entire staff was in the Archives, which apparently were not only on fire but invaded by a woman completely riddled with dangerous worms, and you want me to calm down?”

“The fire was apparently small, and, I suspect, set mostly with the intention of triggering the CO2 suppressant system—”

“If that is supposed to make me feel better, Elias, it is failing.” Jon turns back to the Archives and contemplates making a break for it. It’s fifty-fifty whether Elias will stop him, or just wait to see if he survives and then fire him, but the emergency staff are—

There’s a lot of activity around one of the doors. Jon lets out a ragged gasp as two paramedics come out, wheeling a stretcher between them with a body on it. He doesn’t—can’t—know for sure who is on it, not from that distance, not in the dark and with his eyesight, but he does. He knows, with a certainty that he can almost taste, that it’s Martin on that stretcher.

And he isn’t moving.

“Jon!” Elias shouts, but Jon is past hearing him, too preoccupied with rushing across the lawn. He has to get to him, has to see—

“Stand back!” A figure in a hazmat suit suddenly looms up, barring his progress. “You can’t come in this area!”

“Damn you, that is someone I care about, I need to know he’s okay!” Jon cries, his voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this area is off-limits until we’re sure we’ve contained the infestation,” the figure in the hazmat suit says. “You should be able to see him once he’s out of quarantine.”

“But—” Jon’s eyes desperately track the stretcher as they wheel it past, the two attendants tossing terms and orders back and forth. It is Martin, he was right, lying very still. There’s an oxygen mask clamped over his face, and he’s—oh, God, he’s covered in blood—he was attacked—the worms, or Jane Prentiss, or both, they attacked Martin, he is hurt, he might be dying, he could already be dead and the oxygen mask could just be for form’s sake and nobody will tell him because they have to control the damage and cover up what’s happening and Jon can’t even be at his side because he might still be infested with the parasites that riddled Prentiss’s body and oh, God, what will he do if Martin survives only to be like that, this is all his fault, why in the name of God’s green earth did he think the Archives would be safe, why was it only Martin he suggested stay, why hadn’t he either had all of them stay, or had all of them stay somewhere else—

The slam of the ambulance doors jolts him out of his thoughts, and he draws in a great gasp of air, which he realizes he’s been forgetting to do somewhat. It would start calming him if not for the fact that he suddenly realizes where his thoughts are trending and starts panicking all over again. “Tim and Sasha! Where are they?”

The figure hesitates, then waves at someone. Another hazmat-suited figure comes over to them, and Jon can see the scowl behind the clear plastic mask, even over the breathing apparatus. “Get back behind the barricades! This area is under quarantine, and unless you want to be quarantined too, I suggest you stay clear.”

It crosses Jon’s mind, for a fleeting second, to ask if he’d be quarantined with Martin, but the thought is gone before he can speak it, fortunately. The figure that still holds him is already speaking, though. “Mack, how many people have we found so far?”

“Two, the man they just brought out and...well, what’s left of a woman,” the second figure says. “I’m told everyone should have been gone for the day.”

“My assistants decided to spend the night,” Jon says. He can hear the hysterical quality in his own voice but is helpless to stop it. “There should be two more, a man and a woman—he’s got, ah—and she’s—” He flounders as he tries desperately to conjure up a description of either Tim or Sasha. The only face his brain seems willing to contemplate just then is Martin’s, bright and eager, pale and scared, still and bleeding.

“We haven’t found them, sir, but we’ll keep looking.” The second figure’s tone changes—concern, maybe? Still, he waves at the first figure, who shoves Jon easily back behind the barricade.

Someone, probably Elias, is talking. Jon honestly isn’t listening. He’s torn between proceeding immediately to the hospital to stalk the lobby until someone lets him see Martin—he assumes they’re taking him to the hospital, anyway—or staying here to make sure Tim and Sasha are all right. He should probably be concerned about the Archives, about what caught on fire, on whether or not any important statements got burnt and how big the fire was, and he’s not going to lie, a part of him is. But he’s willing to let that concern lie until later. Right now, he just needs everyone to be okay.

“Jon,” Elias says loudly, directly in his ear, and Jon about jumps out of his skin. He turns to see his boss looking at him with something that might be concern and might just be annoyance. “The worms are dead. ECDC is about to go in and remove Jane Prentiss’s body. I’m going in to supervise. Do you want to come?”

He really doesn’t. Quite apart from the fact that he’s been sufficiently upset by the few worms he has seen around the Institute and really doesn’t want to see how many are still in the Archives, even dead, he’s just about decided that he needs to be at the hospital. Martin doesn’t have anybody, as far as Jon knows, and anyway he needs to see for himself that Martin is all right. But he also knows that this is part of his job, and a part of him does need to see the Archives for himself as well, before...before whatever cleanup will happen.

Besides. Tim and Sasha are still down there.

“All right,” he manages. “Lead the way.”

He’s tense and distracted. Far from the mad rush that drove him a few moments before, he follows Elias at a more sedate pace, and he’s only half-aware of the fact that he’s balling the cuffs of his cardigan into his hand. Damn it, he bought this one brand-new when he got appointed Head Archivist and he’s already worried snags and stresses into the cuffs. He can’t help it, he’s got a compulsion to fiddle with the ends of his sleeves when he’s nervous or distracted—among other things—and this is hardly the first sweater he’s ruined like this, but it’s still been less than eight months and he’d sort of hoped he would be over this by now. He forces himself to uncurl his fists and shake his sleeves back into some semblance of order before entering the Archives.

They instantly go back into his curled fists when he sees the state of the Archives. There are worms everywhere. He cannot, for the life of him, figure out where they all came from. They’ve seen a few scattered around outside the Institute, one or two making their way inside, but this many? God, they must have been breeding in the damned walls...

The thought sends another sticky spiral of panic and guilt through him. If the worms were breeding in the walls of the Institute—of the Archives—and Martin’s been sleeping here this whole time—then this is entirely Jon’s fault. This could have happened at any time and he never would have known. He doesn’t doubt for a minute that Martin was awake when all this happened, but if Tim and Sasha hadn’t been there, he might have been asleep when the worms attacked.

He might not ever have woken up.

Jon looks desperately around, trying to keep his mind on the present and not on hypotheticals. There are files that have been pulled out and...are probably ruined, to be quite honest, as there’s some sort of...substance on them. There’s a great deal of activity surrounding what appears to have once been the body of a woman, in what appears to have once been a red dress, and Jon’s stomach turns uncomfortably as he thinks about Timothy Hodge’s statement...and Martin’s. The remnants of suppressant foam still linger, and while the gas seems to have mostly dissipated, the smell is...unpleasant. The smell of worms, and earth, and rot.

Then Jon’s eyes fall on a blank space, a curved-out negative in the sea of silver-white, and his heart lurches as he realizes he’s staring at the spot where Martin lay before the attendants took him out. He steps closer, not even consciously aware he’s doing it, and stares at the space, a perversion of a snow angel on the Archives floor. There’s blood on the wood, still tacky, and Jon wonders how much there is, whether it’s too much for a normal human to survive.

“Were you here when they...?” Jon addresses the nearest person, indicating the spot where Martin’s body obviously was retrieved from.

“Was the one who found him,” the figure confirms. It sounds like a woman. “Not a reporter, are you?”

“No, I’m—I-I work here.” Jon should probably point out that he is, in fact, in charge here, or at least in this portion of “here”, in theory anyway, but he’s too preoccupied with finding out everything he can. “How was—what was the situation when you found him?”

“A bloody mess.” The woman waves a hand at the area. “Worms were all dead, thankfully, but there was still a bit of gas in the place. We knew we were looking for Jane Prentiss—Mr. Bouchard called us in as soon as he knew what was what—but we didn’t know there was anyone else here. I almost stepped on him before I saw him. Thought he was another dead body at first.”

Jon’s heart nearly stops in his chest. “But then?”

“He moved. Thought it might’ve been the worms at first. They were all through him. Looked like bloody Swiss cheese. But they were all as dead as the ones out here. No, it was him, struggling to breathe. I started pulling the worms out best I could and shouted for help. The paramedics showed up and helped out. He was starting to come round at that point, but...well. People aren’t meant to breathe carbon dioxide. They gave him oxygen and wheeled him out. He’ll need to be quarantined a bit until they’re sure he’s not infested, and they’ll be checking his lungs, but really, I think he’ll be fine.”

Jon exhales heavily. He really shouldn’t be relieved. Honestly, one look around the Archives should be enough to convince him that things are...bad. They are bad. God, so many worms, and some of them were in Martin’s body. There is also a human corpse on the floor. And there’s still no sign of Tim or Sasha. But those five words give him more of a sense of relief than he’s felt since he saw the first emergency light. I think he’ll be fine. Martin will be fine.

It’s enough to relax Jon to the point that he can wade carefully through the worm corpses to check the damage to his Archives, while Elias supervises the ECDC people in preparing to remove Jane Prentiss’s body, or what’s left of it anyway. Not far from where Martin lost consciousness—not died, thank God—is another odd clearing—not so much a clearing as a slight thinning in the concentration of worms. Jon eyes it, decides it’s a concern for later, and concentrates on trying to figure out where the hell the worms came from in the first place.

He finds the answer when he wanders into his office and finds the cheap shelving unit shoved to one side, twisted and askew, and a hole in the wall behind it. It should have been an exterior wall, but no, it looks like someone put a piece of drywall over an entrance. Curious, Jon touches the hole lightly. It’s person-sized, as though someone burst through the wall. At first, he’s inclined to assume it was made by Jane Prentiss, forcing her way into the Archives, but a second glance proves otherwise. The break in the plaster indicates that it came from his office, not into, meaning that someone was in his office and, somehow, knew this tunnel was there.

That should be worrying. It is worrying. Jon wonders who did it...who would break into his office, let alone push through this wall...who would put Martin in danger, because almost certainly this is how the worms got in and attacked him. He’d suspect Tim or Sasha or both, since they’re clearly not here, but he knows in his heart of hearts neither of them would deliberately put Martin at risk. They’re a family, the four of them, even if Jon’s been trying not to admit that, and they both care about him. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

But if they didn’t know...

There’s a commotion from behind him, and Jon jumps. The thought passes through his mind that Jane Prentiss might not be all that dead after all, or worse—that she’s not alone, that she brought another of her victims along with her. He grabs at the first object he sees that could reasonably be considered a weapon—a paper knife he found in one of the drawers when he first took the job—and steps out into the Archives proper, not at all confident that he can do anything but at least willing to make the attempt.

He drops the knife instantly when he sees the two figures in the middle of the Archives, both looking panicky and quite out of breath. “Tim! Sasha!”

He rushes towards them, heedless of the worms popping and squishing under his feet. Tim looks up at him and waves at something on the floor—a hole. Jon realizes all of a sudden that they’re standing next to an open trapdoor in the middle of the Archives, something he had no idea existed before this moment.

“Call...police,” he manages to gasp out between heaving breaths.

“They’re outside,” Elias says, sounding somehow both worried and annoyed. “Tim, what is going on? What is the urgency?”

Sasha meets Jon’s eyes, and he’s genuinely never seen her so scared. “There’s a body in those tunnels. It’s Gertrude Robinson and she’s dead.”

[always-anxious612]

Overworked and Overwhelmed CH 3

Description: Roman wakes up and can’t help but let his thoughts take over. Luckily, Virgil is there to help.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, platonic LAMP

Warnings: self deprecation, panic attack mention, food mention, headache mention, medicine mention (nothing stronger than Advil)  (let me know if I missed anything or if you need me to tag anything!)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Final Chapter

Roman’s POV

Everything was so warm. Warm and dark. Nothing hurt anymore, and the voice had stopped. The voice screaming in my head that I was failing, that my work was worthless, that I wasn’t good enough be called a prince much less creativity. My own voice. In fact, it was so peaceful that when I felt consciousness try to edge its way in, I desperately tried to push it away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop it, and I slowly became aware that the warmth I felt wasn’t all in my head.

 I was laying on something soft and plush and both my right side and feet felt oddly warmer than the rest of me. Before I could enjoy the coziness too much, however, the pounding headache that had plagued me for the past two days returned full force. With a soft groan, I managed to pry my eyes open and look around. Now I could see that I was in my own bed and that the mysterious warmth at my side and feet were Virgil, Patton, and Logan all fast asleep. Logan and Patton were both in awkward positions at the end of my bed, though they still found a way to cling to each other in their sleep. I wish they would just confess to each other already. It was obvious they liked one another. What surprised me was Virgil cuddled up to my side. He was clinging to my arm as he slept, face pressed into my shoulder and earbuds (most likely once actually in his ears) tangled in the blankets beside him. He looked so calm. So different than usual. He deserved to be this peaceful all the time. Honestly he deserved so much. I wished—I wished that I could be the one to give that to him, but all I ever did was worry and stress him even more. He probably still hates me deep down. A soft sigh from Virgil brought me back to the present as he shifted in his sleep. Wait, how did I get to bed anyway? The last thing I remembered was stumbling downstairs to grab a drink. The others had been called to help Thomas with something and I took the opportunity to finally sneak out of my room to find some Advil and get a glass of water for my ever-growing headache. But after I actually left my room, things got a little blurry. My head had been pounding more than ever and simply moving had made the world spin. I’m fairly sure I made it to the kitchen at least. Suddenly I sucked in a breath as pain shot through my temple. I really needed some Advil, since I don’t remember actually getting any.

“Ro?” a groggy voice spoke up next to me. I could only hum softly in response.

“Oh gosh, Roman. You’re awake. A-Are you ok?” Virgil gasped quickly sitting up. I winced at how loud his voice sounded next to my ear, but immediately felt guilty seeing his face twist with even more worry.

“H-Headache.” I managed to croak out. Virgil’s face softened in understanding, and he slowly eased out of the bed.

“I’ll get you some medicine.” He offered, voice considerably more quiet. I nodded my thanks as he carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake the other two. Ignoring the dizziness I felt, I lifted my head to get a closer look at Patton and Logan. Despite the small smile that rested on his face in his sleep, Patton’s eyes were red and puffy, and Logan held him so protectively against his chest that it was clear something had happened that I couldn’t remember. Plus, Virgil had looked much more distressed than usual and the way he reacted when he saw that I was awake was definitely concerning. That also brought up the question of why they were all in my room. They had to have a good reason for camping out here. With another soft groan, I let my head fall back onto my pillow, wincing as pain coursed through it.

“Hey, Ro. I brought some food too. Logan said that it’d help, so please try to eat it, k?” Virgil said, still making sure to be quiet as he walked back in. he came over with a glass of water, the medicine he promised, and an armful of various snacks, mostly energy bars, fruit, and chips.

“Um, I couldn’t find any other food that you’d like and I didn’t know what you’d feel up to eating, so, um…here you go.” He explained, dumping the food onto the bed. My stomach turned at the thought of eating something, but the look on Virgil’s face was enough to make me at least pick up the energy bar.

“Thanks.” I whispered, offering a tired smile. Virgil just nodded and helped me sit up against the headboard, handing me the medicine. Silence fell as I took the medicine and tried to get through the energy bar.

“So…Do you, um, wanna talk about what happened in the kitchen?” Virgil asked quietly after he saw I had finished the bar.

“What happened in the kitchen?” I questioned, head pounding with hazy memories. Virgil gave me an incredulous look.

“What do you mean ‘What happened in the kitchen?’ You—You don’t remember?”

“Well—I remember going to get a drink but—”

“But you ran into me instead.”

“I did?... Oh. Oh no. I did.” My voice dropped to a whisper as I realized what had happened. Everything was still fuzzy, but I broke down in front of him. In front of Virgil. He knows now. He knows that I’m a pathetic excuse of a prince. I ruined everything. Now they’ll all realize how worthless I really am. They’ll see the truth. They’ll see that I’m not good enough to be Thomas’s creativity. What if—What if they all hated me already?

“—oman? Hey, calm down, Princey.” Virgil’s voice cut through the thoughts and I turned towards the sound.

“None of those things are true, Roman. We love you, Ro. It’s gonna be ok.” He comforted. However, my breath only caught in my throat as I learned that I had spoken my thoughts.

“Hey, breath, Ro. You’re gonna be ok.”

At his words, I sucked in a shaky breath, vaguely realizing that I was crying…pathetic. Virgil continued to whisper comforting words and coach my breathing until I got control of my breathing and dissolved into sobs instead.

“’M sorry, Virge.” I choked out, trying to hide my face in my hands.

“Roman, don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel bad.”

“B-But it’s so stupid. I’m so st—”

“No.” Virgil cut in sharply. “Don’t finish that thought. You’re not worthless. You’re not stupid. You’re loud, and dramatic, and passionate, and amazing. You come up with brilliant ideas every week…every day actually, and without you, Thomas wouldn’t be Thomas, and we wouldn’t be complete.”

All I could manage to do is sob harder at his words. That couldn’t all be true, could it? Virgil hated me, didn’t he? But the sincerity in his voice made something spark in my chest that I thought was long burned out. Hope. Saying nothing else, Virgil gently wrapped his arms around me, and I collapsed into his chest.

“Listen, Ro. I, more than anyone, know that these thoughts that you have about yourself aren’t going to go away overnight. But I’ll do everything I can to help quiet them down. Pat and Lo too. You don’t have to face everything alone. You’ll always be our Prince; but even Princes have bad days. Don’t be ashamed to come to us, m’k?” Virgil assured once my sobs had died down. I shakily nodded as I burrowed further into Virgil’s chest. His jacket was so comfortable; and my head was still throbbing, the crying not helping at all. As Virgil chuckled, I could feel it vibrate in his chest, making a fuzzy feeling grow in my stomach. Maybe things could be ok again.

“I love you, Virge.” I mumbled out as I drifted in and out of sleep. Beneath me, Virgil tensed then relaxed soon after.

“I love you too.” Was the last things I heard before the world faded out and darkness took hold once again. This time, my heart feeling much lighter.

tag list @catolicabuena

[the-biggest-hoe-for-bts]

Best Friend’s Annoying Brother (M)

Your best friend’s brother is the most frustrating human you’ve ever met but perhaps there’s more to him than meets the eye.

College AU, enemies to lovers, Tae is actually the sweetest.

Warnings: Angst (if you wanna call it that), Smut, unprotected sex, anxiety and panic attacks

“Are you still coming over today to study?” Jenny asks pulling your attention away from your half-eaten bowl of manduguk. You automatically nod before taking another bite. Friday study dates with your best friend we’re a weekly tradition since you started college and you weren’t planning on skipping out. “Great!” She beamed at you briefly before asking her next question. “Actually, I was thinking you should stay the night. We haven’t done that in forever. What do you say?” She was right. You have both been so busy lately with classes and getting prepared for finals that you hadn’t gotten to spend much time together lately aside from the study sessions which honestly didn’t leave much down time. “Yeah! I’ll have to stop off at home and take a shower and pack a bag but after that I’ll be there.” She giggles excitedly showing off her boxy grin before taking a bite of her noodles. “We should do a hot chocolate and movie night! We can even make cookies.” Jenny chirped excitedly. You always enjoyed how much the simplest things excited her. “Sounds like a plan.” You smile softly before checking the time. “Oh- I’ve got to be at class in 20 minutes but I’ll let you know when I’m on my way over.”, you say as you begin to gather your things. Jenny pouts briefly but then her bright smile returns. “Okay! I’ll see you at the house. Bye Y/N!” She waves excitedly as you begin to walk towards your next class. “Bye Jen!” You shout back as you adjust your scarf that had been squished by your backpack as you hurry off to the Science building.

The wind picks up about half way through your walk to class and you tuck your head down slightly to shield your face from the cold when you make direct contact with something firm. You stumble back bracing yourself for the fall that never comes. When your eyes open you realize there is a hand secured around your wrist. “Oh my god I’m so sorry about tha- oh it’s you...“ you stop mid apology when you realize just who it is you slammed into. The ever annoying Kim Taehyung, Jenny’s brother. Taehyung has been a pain in your ass since the day you met him. He was loud and rude and though he was the universe’s gift to women. Not only that but it seemed that annoying you was his favorite pass time in the world. “I see you’re still just as clumsy as ever.” He grunts as you regain your footing and pull your arm from his grasp. “And I see you’re still just as obnoxious.” You huff rolling your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “Oh thanks for not letting me bust my ass Tae.” He mocks you. You glare at him. “I said I was sorry- do you always have to be such a dick?” He smirks “A dick would have let you fall.” You readjust the straps on you backpack and grit your teeth. “Yeah because god forbid you ever do anything kind. You know what- never mind. I have a class to get to.” You grumble as you push past him and continue walking. “See you around, brat!” He calls from behind you as he laughs obnoxiously. You decide to ignore him and get to the lecture hall as quickly as possible. It was cold and you were already irritated beyond belief.

After an hour of Trigonometry your brain is fried and you’re just ready to get home and have a nice hot shower. You quickly make your way to your car and drive home, sighing in relief as your house comes into view. You quickly unlock the door before making your way to your room. First order of business: pick out something to wear. Given the current weather, you opt for a pair of black leggings, your oversized sweater and your long pair of black boots. Feeling satisfied with your choice you strip down and go turn on the shower. The water is scorching but that’s just what you need right now. After spending a few moments too many just relaxing under the hot stream of water you begin to wash up. Once you feel adequately clean you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your body. After drying off and getting dressed you examine yourself in the mirror. You decide that minimal makeup and a side braid should do the trick. You put on a bit of natural makeup just to feel human before going to pack your overnight bag. You decide on an oversized white tee and toss it in your bag along with your makeup wipes and your thigh high socks. It generally stayed pretty warm in the Kim’s house so you didn’t feel the need to pack any real pajamas. You rarely slept in those anyway. Once you had gathered everything you needed you shot your mom a quick text letting her know you would be at Jenny’s tonight and quickly made your way to your car. You turned it on before texting Jenny to let her know you were on your way and she responded quickly with “Great! Drive safe!”

It was about a fifteen minute drive to her house and you smiled as you pulled up seeing their usual excessive Christmas decorations. Mrs. Kim always loved decorating for the holidays and it showed. You grab your backpack and your overnight bag before making your way to the door. Seconds after you rang the bell, the door swung open and you were met with a shirtless, wet haired Taehyung. He was wearing only black sweatpants that hung low on his hips and you almost stumbled back in surprise. When you looked up you were greeted by his obnoxious smirk. “Do you not know what a shirt is?” you huff. He quirks an eyebrow up before responding coolly. “It’s my house so I can wear what I want.” He chuckles as he leans against the doorframe. “Besides it looks like you were enjoying the view.” Rolling your eyes you shift your weight. “In your dreams asshole. Can you move? It’s cold.” He smirks one last time before turning on his heel and walking back inside. You follow behind him and shut the door. It’s then that you hear Jenny pattering towards you. “Y/N! You’re here!” She giggles in delight throwing her arms around you. “Please tell me he’s not going to be here all night.” You groan as she pulls away. “Oh Tae? No he’s getting ready to go out with Jimin and Jungkook for a boys night at the bar.” That causes you to perk up a bit. At least he will be gone most of the night and not be there to interrupt your much needed movie night with your best friend. You follow her back up the stair to get studying out of the way so you can get around to the best part of the night: hot chocolate and Christmas movies.

Study time had long passed and you were three movies and several glasses of cocoa in when Jenny started to yawn. Seeing this you stood up off the couch. “You ready to turn in for the night?” You ask and Jenny nods sleepily. She gets up as well and heads up the stairs back to her room with you following close behind. You both change into your pjs and clamber into bed. “Goodnight.” She hums sleepily. “Night.” You reply with a content sigh but Jenny was already fast asleep and snoring lightly. You curl up under the warm covers and drift off yourself.

You wake up and look at the clock. It’s 2:00 in the morning. You groan softly. You feel nauseous, probably due to the excessive amounts of sugar you had consumed that night. You quietly climb out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. A glass of water should help. You round the corner and quietly grab a glass from the cabinet before filling it half up. You stall for a second when you vision clouds and you feel your hands starting to shake. You try to calm yourself as you bring the cup to your lips but your breathing refuses to even out. When you try to swallow you suddenly feel your lungs restrict. You can’t breathe. Logically you know this isn’t true. You’re having a panic attack. This isn’t your first one but it’s been almost a year since the last and this one was seemingly going to be rough. Your mind swirls as you try to calm yourself and in your panicked state you loose your grip of the cup in your hand. Water drenches your front and the plastic cup bounces at your feet before rolling to a stop. You look around frantically trying to clear your vision but it’s proving to be difficult. Distantly you hear the front door shutting but you don’t completely register it. You stay frozen in place shaking and struggling to catch your breath. “Hey looser- what the fuck?” You hear his voice as he stalls at the entrance of the kitchen. You turn slightly towards Taehyung as you start to cry. “Y/N?..” his voice is lowered and he speaks softly. He takes a step forward just as your knees give out. He catches you in his arms before you can hit the ground. You expect for him to make some crude remark or call you a baby for crying but instead he holds you to his chest keeping you upright. “What’s wrong?” He whispers. “Ca-can’t... b-br-breathe.” You manage to get out as you grip onto his jacket for dear life. It’s then that he realizes what’s happening. “Tell me five things you can see.” He requests gently, keeping his voice calm and steady. You look up at him confused but you do as he asks. You look around again. “C-cu-cup... ove-oven.. j-jacket... cabinets.. a-and rags.” You stumble through your words but he is patient and keeps his eyes trained on you. “Good.” He praises softly. “Now I need you to find four things you can touch. Can you do that?” You nod still trembling slight and breathing uneven. You reach out and touch the rag on the counter as Tae keeps a gentle grip on your waist. “Rag” You mutter as you take it in your hand. You then grasp your own earring between your fingers “Earrings” you repeat to yourself. “Your eyes then focus on the rings adorning Taehyung’s fingers and you reach out to touch them lightly shaking less than before. “Rings” you say sniffling. He smiles softly at you for reassurance. You grab his jacket again and repeat the word to him. “You’re doing good. What are three things you can hear?” You focus yourself for a moment “Rain, the clock, and.. your breathing.” He smiles sweetly at you and you notice that you have stopped shaking entirely. “Tell me two things you can smell?” He asks and you nod. “Chocolate and whiskey.” He chuckles softly at that. “Sorry” he murmurs and you shake your head. “It’s okay.” He smiles softly. “Now what’s one thing you can taste?” You hesitate briefly before looking to the few cookies that remained on the tray from before. You grab one and take a small bite and swallow before you say chocolate once again. He pauses briefly before he speaks. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?” You swallow gently before nodding. “I’m a lot better... thank you.” He smiles almost shyly. “Don’t worry about it.” He says before he begins to clean up the water from the floor. “Oh shit- let me get it. I’m the one that made the mess.” You go to grab the towel but he stops you gently. “It’s fine. I can get it.” He assures you and you shiver slightly realize how cold you are in your wet shirt and you wrap your arms around yourself trying to warm up. Tae seems to notice and quickly stands up. “Fuck you must be freezing. Wait here.” He says before he’s rushing off.

You wait patiently for him and he returns a moment later with what appears to be one of his hoodies. He offers it to you and you smile softly. “Thanks. I’m gonna go change.” You mumble as you make your way to the bathroom. You quickly change out of your wet shirt and pull off your damp thigh high socks before tugging the dark grey hoodie onto your frame. It’s large on you and it comes down to just below mid thigh. It’s warm and it smells wonderfully like Taehyung. You flush slightly realizing how odd it is to be comforted by his scent but quickly push the thought away.

You make your way back into the kitchen to see him perched on the counter. He smiles softly when he sees you and hops down. He offers you a fresh glass of water, which you eagerly take. “Thanks.” You smile before taking a long drink. “I figured you might be a little thirsty.” He shrugs leaning against the counter. You hesitate momentarily before you speak. “Tae?” He perks up hearing the nickname. You never called him that. He was lucky to even hear you call him anything that wasn’t hateful but granted he knew he deserved most of it. “Yeah?” He responds, clearing his throat. “How did you.... how did you know what to do?” You look at him quizzically. He rubs the back of his neck nervously before speaking. “That’s what helps me the most with my panic attacks.” He says quietly. “Oh-“ you’re shocked. He always seemed so confident and put together. You never would have guessed he struggled with something like that. “I had no idea...” He runs a hand through his hair and swallows . “Most people don’t. I’ve gotten a lot better at dealing with it.” He sighs and you reach out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry.” You say softly. He tenses slightly under your hand but shakes his head. “It’s alright. I never told you... I never told anybody.” Sadness flashes across your features for a moment. “I never cared to ask either.” You look down almost disappointed with yourself. He half smiles at you before he speaks again. “I didn’t exactly present myself as approachable so it’s okay.” You laugh softly. “You’re not wrong but still...” you trail off as you put your cup back on the counter. You look up at him and for the first time you take in how beautiful he really is. It’s impossible not to notice that he’s an attractive guy but in this setting he is almost breathtaking. You blush slightly when you realize that you were ogling at him.

He pushes himself up off the counter and steps towards you. “You alright?” He asks seeming genuinely concerned. “Yeah I just- sorry.” You mumble looking down. You feel his fingers gently curl under your chin and he tilts your face up. When your eyes meet you swallow hard, suddenly nervous being so close. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispers. He’s so close that you can almost taste the whiskey on his breath. You nod slowly glancing at his lips as he darts his tongue out to wet them. His jaw clenched slightly as you hold your breath. “Can I kiss you Y/N?” He asks in a hushed tone and before you even realize what your doing you nod. One hand grips your hip gently as the other cups you cheek before your lips meet. His lips are soft and full and warm against your own and you gasp softly at the sensation. He takes this opportunity to let his tongue gently explore your mouth as your arms snake around his neck playing with the soft black locks. He groans softly into your mouth when you thread your fingers into his hair. You pull back slightly and look up at him almost in a daze. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses quietly, his lips mere inches from yours. “What?” You question slightly taken aback by this information. He nods “I’ve always liked you but Jenny is your best friend and I didn’t want to make things awkward if you didn’t feel the same way. You’re too important to her for me to fuck that up, you know?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Is that why you were always so mean to me?” You ask tilting your head slightly. “It was either make you hate me or avoid you at all costs and that just seemed to be the easier option.” He shrugs. You giggle softly. “You’re an idiot. You know that?” You tease as you continue to play with his hair. He hums softly as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well can this idiot kiss you again?” You smile as you brush your lips against his own. “Stop asking and just do it.” You mumble before you feel his lips connect with yours again. This time he kisses you deeper almost in a longing manner and you match his fervor as he pulls you flush against his body. You gasp against his lips as he grips your hips firmly, backing you up against the wall. “Jump” He murmurs against your lips as his hands slip down your thighs. You obey and wrap your legs around his toned waist, never breaking the kiss.

He walks you up the stairs gracefully being as quiet as possible. When he reaches his room he pushes the door open while keeping you braced against him with a strong arm. Tae kicks the door closed and continues walking, all the while maintaining the searing kiss. When he reaches his bed he drops you down gently before tugging off his denim jacket, leaving him in his fitted black tee and his tight black jeans and combat boots. You admire his figure as he kicks his shoes off before making his way over to you. “Get up in the bed baby.” He orders gently and you quickly comply. He crawls up the bed to you, hovering over you. His lips meet yours again and you instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders. He groans lowly into your mouth as he gently bites down on your lower lip. You whine softly as he releases it. You tug gently on his shirt and he swiftly sits up to tug the material off of his body. His abs and arms flex as he tosses the shirt somewhere into the floor before his lips find purchase on yours again. Your hands run down his chest tracing the muscles of his abdomen. His hands slip up under the hem of his hoodie that pools at your hips. “May I?” He breathes out as he kisses along your jaw. You nod quickly, sitting up to help him remove it from you. What he is met with is the sight of your bare chest and his eyes grow wide. “Fuck baby. You’re so beautiful.” He almost growls as he attaches his mouth to your right nipple, sucking and nibbling gently. His large hand gropes the other lavishing them both with attention. You moan softly as your head lolls back against the pillows. His lips begin to leave heated kisses down your stomach, stopping at the band of your underwear. He looks up at you for permission and as soon as you nod he is tugging them down your legs. He leaves hot, open mouth kisses back up the inside of your thighs before he settles himself just in front of your aching heat. “Tae please.” You whine and immediately he is licking a stripe up your already soaking lips. Your back arches and your hands grip the sheets. “Fuck” you pant from above him and he smirks before he wraps his lips around you bundle of nerves. He sucks gently as his tongue swirls around your clit making you whine in pleasure. Your head is spinning and you nearly cry out when one of his long fingers slips slowly into you. The cold of his rings causes you to shiver in delight as he hums against your clit pumping his finger slowly. Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging gently as your hips rock, chasing your high. His strong arm pins your hips down, leaving you at his mercy. “Baby please- more.” You beg and he happily obliges. He laps gently at your clit while adding a second finger. The burn from the stretch of his fingers is delicious and you bite down on you lip to keep from screaming. When he crooks his fingers inside you, finding that spongy spot, your back arches off the bed and he chuckles against you. “Found it.” He hums in delight as he begins to speed up the thrusts of his fingers. “I’m so close Tae.” You whine above him. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening and when he bites down gently on your bundle of nerves, it snaps. You moan as your walls clench repeatedly around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you. He helps you ride it out until you begin to shake slightly from overstimulation. He removes his fingers from your core before putting them in his unholy mouth to suck them clean. The sight has you clenching around nothing. You reach out for him, chest heaving as you recover from your high. Tae kisses you deeply and you can taste yourself on his lips. Your head is still spinning but you focus yourself and begin to unbutton his pants. You can already see his length straining uncomfortably against the fabric and you bite your lip in anticipation. You make quick work of his pants and he pushes them down his toned thighs quickly before discarding them to the floor. You move so that you are sitting up before pushing him gently onto his back as you straddle his hips.

His hands find purchase on your waist as he looks up at you through hooded eyes. You lean down and connect your lips as you roll your hips against him. He hisses at the contact as he ruts his hips up into yours to get some relief. He’s incredibly hard against your core and you know he can feel how wet you still are. You begin to kiss down his neck, biting gently from time to time and he groans above you when you make your way down his chest. As you reach his lower abdomen your fingers curl around the band of his tight boxers before peeling them off of him. His member smacks against his lower stomach and you lick your lips in anticipation. He’s big. He’s just slightly above average in length but he’s so thick and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You finish pulling off his last article of clothing and before he can say anything, your lips are wrapped around his swollen tip. “Fuck Y/N!” He grunts as you look up at him. The sight alone is almost enough to end him right there but he collects himself as you take more of him in your mouth humming in delight at the heady taste of his pre cum coating your tongue. He wraps your braid around his wrist gasping as you start to bob your head. When he tugs you off of his length you look up slightly confused, a pout adorning your face. “Later baby.” He coos. “Right now I need to be in you.” You nod as he leans up kissing you firmly as he moves you onto your back. The kiss is slow but deep as he positions his member at your dripping entrance. He looks up at you once more for permission. When you nods he pecks your lips again before slowly pushing into your heat. You gasp at the burn from him stretching out your walls, and his head falls to your shoulder as he pants, trying to give you time to adjust. Your arms are laced around his shoulders and your legs hug his hips. You kiss his head letting him know it’s okay to continue. He slowly pushes the rest of the way in until he’s fully seated in your throbbing heat. “So tight.” He groans into your neck, forcing himself to stay still until you’re ready. He kisses you gently until he feels you roll your hips, signaling that you’re ready for him to keep going. He pulls out almost all the way before he’s sliding back into you. You both groan at the sensation. He repeats this movement a few times before he begins thrusting into you with a bit more force. Your walls hug him tightly and your hands grip desperately onto his shoulders. “Tae- more.” You plead and he immediately begins to thrust quicker. His hips are rolling into you at a brutal pace. The only sounds to be heard are your labored breaths and skin slapping against skin. He grabs one of your legs hoisting it higher onto his back and the new angle is heavenly. In this position he brushes your most sensitive spot with every thrust. You moan in his ear as your nails rake down his back. This only spurs him on. His thrusts begin to come faster and he bites down gently on your shoulder to keep from being too loud. He feels your walls beginning to clench around him and he knows you’re close. “Tae I’m gonna-“ you cut yourself off moaning as he gives a particularly forceful thrust. “Give it to me baby.” He groans against your neck. That’s all it takes to break you and you spasm around his length as your reach your second high. “Fuck-Y/N” he moans as he spills into your throbbing heat. He stills and collapses onto your chest, both of you sweaty and panting. You absentmindedly run your fingers through his damp locks as you try to regain your breathing. After a moment he collects himself and rolls off of you. Grabbing his towel from his shower earlier that day to clean you both up. Once he’s finished he flops down beside you and pulls you to his chest before pulling the covers over you both. You smile lazily at him as he kisses your nose. “Am I still an idiot?” He asks as he rubs small circles into your hip. “Yes... but you’re my idiot.” You whisper kissing his lips. You feel him smile into the kiss. “Your idiot it is then” he hums happily as he hugs you close before dozing off to sleep.

The next morning when you woke, after several minutes of cuddling and kissing, you both got dressed. He gave you a pair of his sweat pants and you put back on his hoodie that he had given you the night before. He wore a pair of sweats as well and a plain white tee shirt. Once he was dressed he pulled you to him and kissed you gently. When he pulled away you were both smiling. “Hungry?” He asked looking down at you. You nod and follow him downstairs. You’re halfway through your meal when Jenny makes her way into the kitchen. “Oh there you are!” She grins at you before pausing. She eyes your clothing and her eyes go wide. “You!- You and Tae?!” She nearly shouts. You blush covering your face until you hear her laugh. You look up confused as she plops down beside you. “I always knew you had a big fat crush on each other.” You nearly choke when she says this. “What?” You and Taehyung both say at once. “Duh! There’s no way you could go that long being assholes to each other if something wasn’t up. Plus I have eyes you know.. I could see you staring at Y/N all the time when she wasn’t looking. I just wanted to see how long it would take you to own up to it.” She shrugs stealing a piece of your toast. “Just don’t be super gross with the PDA. That’s still my best friend you know.” She eyes Tae with a playful glare. He laughs loudly as you hide in his chest. “No promises.” He says smiling down at you. Maybe your best friend’s annoying brother wasn’t so bad after all.

[solautumn]

7. [ Hunger ]

“Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.”                             ―      Jelaluddin Rumi

The world was shifting once again. Scourge hordes began to attack territories in the south-central regions of the Eastern Kingdoms, and north-central regions of Kalimdor, but it seemed as though overnight, they spread more on a global scale. Silvermoon City was no exception, and it felt as though old, repressed fears of another Scourge invasion were coming back full force. The city’s guard numbers seemed ill prepared for the droves that came, and many citizens were bolstering their efforts. A call of arms came forward from the Argent Tournament grounds in Ice Crown, and Solarian knew something big was happening. As the fears mounted all around him, he tried his best to keep his wits about him. It wouldn’t do to feed the shadows that lurked inside.

Solarian was thankful for having come across Toadie and the priestess Emilia in the forest days ago. Perhaps the loa did funnily enough have an eye on the elf-- enough that not only had Toadie crossed his path for a fourth time, but this time brought the company of someone else. Someone who could sense the shadow magic that gripped the young priest as he slept curled against the gnarled roots of an evergold tree in the woods near Sunstrider Isle. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep then, but having avoided sleep for days, weariness caught up to him, and his nightmares came back with a vengeance.

Emilia had a commanding presence, and a firm grip on the type of powers that were at play. Were it not for her, Solarian wouldn’t have a physical visual of the thing-- a rider, she called it-- that latched on to his soul, feeding off of the energy between his strong emotions of fear and panic. The priestess’s timely intervention awoke him, and chastised the creature, allowing Solarian to get a grip on it where before, he’d only speculated that he was hearing some kind of calling to the grave.

Days later, in the shade of the Tirisfal forest where the veil between the realm of the living and the shadows seemed thin, she showed him again. It was a descent into the shadows he’d never explored before, like learning how to paddle-swim when all he’d ever known before was how to fly. Under her guidance, he commanded the shadow to once again spill from him and coalesce into the shadow fiend that he knew wanted to prey on him. Facing it, he banished some of that fear of the unknown, and gave it much less control over him.

The Light is always in my heart, but the shadows are in my mind. It’s okay for them to work together, just as it is okay for them to work separately.

It was difficult leaving his heart behind to focus on the mind, when his whole existence was tied so intrinsically to his emotions. What did he actually know about the mind? What could someone like him possibly know about mental fortitude.

But once again, his last meeting with Toadie echoed in his mind.

The only thing stopping me is me.

He was firm and commanding, shoulders and back straight as he took command of the shadow creature that sought to feed on him. It would do so no longer, but to banish it was to risk the delicate balance he held with the Light, too. He had to master this force and use it to protect. Light and Shadow were not absolute good and absolute evil. Those were labels given to them by those who understood little.

“What will you do instead?”

Emilia pulled the answers from him like weeds from a garden. They were answers he knew deep down inside but had never really given himself the freedom to think about. When the shadows hunger, so must he for something. Some who gave themselves to the shadows walked in the path of the Void so deeply that they themselves became Void. That was not what he wanted. To hold the delicate balance, he would feed those shadows the energy between the emotions of the wicked as their judge-- he would inflict  terror upon them, and when necessary, he would be the executioner to send their souls to the other side. To aspire to be Justice itself was a heavy burden and a tall order considering his inexperience, but Solarian was not without knowledge, in spite of everything else.

︵‿︵‿୨0୧‿︵‿︵

When Toadie sent Solarian a letter, he knew this would be an excellent opportunity for him to learn something. He eagerly prepared himself for the journey to the humid swamps of Nazmir, bringing only the bare necessities to travel lightly. Dressed in dark green light leathers and a black cowl to hide his golden curls, he arrived ready for almost anything, although that did little to mentally prepare him for what was coming.

“If joo gotta problem wit blood, den maybe dis not be da test for ya... Or maybe it be da most important test." Toadie clicked his tongue and let out a soft huff through his nose. "Joo not be a child, so I'm not gonna be one ta treat joo like one."

Solarian had long ago tired of being treated like a child, and hearing that from the Zandalari was important. He was being taken seriously, and he appreciated it more than he could say. He watched as the earth moved around Toadie’s hands, giving him the answers he sought. It demanded retribution, and that was exactly what the Zandalari came here to do.

It wasn’t blood that made Solarian nervous. He was a trained medic, after all. Death was familiar to him, having on occasion had life slip away between his fingers after doing all he could to heal someone. Some battles couldn’t be won, no matter how hard one tried to mend a body, but the effort on wings of hope still had to be made.

But what was wrong, and what was right? When a life was devoted to defiling, destruction, cutting down innocents and boasting about it, of killing nature herself, when it warranted the killing of loa and gave way to madness that fed on the land like a cancer, was it not the duty of the righteous to cull them? Was it not the duty of a mender to remove a necrotic limb so that the body may properly heal? It was the shadow that would give him the power to hunt the wicked. It was a dangerous path, but one he would temper with his heart.

The Light is with you.

It all happened quickly. When Solarian gave in to it, when he really let it stretch its tendrils, he calculated a strategy that was ruthless and fast. A part of him feared where it came from, how he’d known it, why he hadn’t faltered as he froze his enemies in place with terrorizing fear before sending their souls to Bwonsamdi. He wasn’t alone. Toadie lurked at the edges of his peripheral vision, prowling and jumping in to shred through their enemies. His form was something truly to behold, looking more natural and true to him than the body of a troll. He lashed, teeth gnashing into flesh, tearing through sinew and cracking bone. The druid was a fearsome predator, a true hunter, and these swamp rats would pay in blood for what they’d done. Meanwhile, Solarian called down the Light, smiting his enemies as well as draining them with shadow magic, resisting the urging whispers to steal from the alchemy of the blood trolls.

    It could be useful.              That is not why we are here.     Who would know?              I would know. The loa would know.     And which loa do you serve, little elf?             I ... don’t. But you serve ME.

It was a test. Questions, temptations to trip him up. Solarian knew it was a test and that the creature would try to get away from him in the heat of battle, or see to what extent it could pull. There were two battles happening. One without, and one within. Outside, he let the shadow fiend feast, gorging on the terror cultivated from the lives being culled in the process, but within, he tugged at the reins of control. It was gluttonous, seeking to go beyond the boundaries of that village, and in the moment he was distracted, trying to reel the creature back to him.

That was all the distraction that lurking trolls needed to pounce like swamp crawgs on a lost rabbit. His roar only served to pull more, and Solarian froze momentarily, dread filling him. One winded him, striking him across the back with a spear and sailing into the mud face first. When he realized that Toadie wasn’t jumping in to save him, he gathered his wits, scrambling back up to his feet. He ducked down from their attacks and pushed back, clubbing with his staff and making calculated stabs right in the liver of his nearest attacker, eliciting a spray of blood as he moved to the next target. He felt feverish, his pounding heart like a wardrum in his ears as he moved. Muddy and bloodied, he wasn’t ready to die yet.

Solarian was nauseous when it was all over, huffing for breath and lamenting his broken staff, but he was alive and it felt... good. Once he pulled the shadow fiend back into himself, there was an unsettling sense of satisfaction he couldn’t quite name. Toadie got them out of there, though, and once they were safe, he ruminated on Solarian’s hiccup. Slipping back into his natural troll form-- a form that somehow seemed less natural to him than that of a voracious raptor, at least if you asked Sol-- he drew closer. Uncomfortably close, as if peering into his soul through those eyes that nearly crossed from staying focused on the raptor skull mask the druid wore. Solarian glanced at the carved and painted tusks, then back toward the dark sockets of the raptor’s mask. Was he truly prepared to become a hunter, to do this time and again-- a culling that barely scratched the surface of the sickness that plagued the world? Would this go against his nature, or was this a part of his true nature all along?

The priest believed himself to be ready. He stood as tall as his short frame would allow and declared his intent to continue, if nothing he felt emboldened by their endeavors that evening. Solarian knew he would fuck up eventually. There was no such thing as a perfect scholar. He knew that at some point or another, he would misstep, but he was ready to do his best to avoid said mistakes, to remember the feeling just before that one step that went too far, and to hold on to it for dear life. He was eager to learn more, hungry for it in the same way his rider hungered. He was walking forward into this and never looking back.

“Good... Joo be knowin' the weight of what joo do. Remembah dat weight... Joo be makin' mistakes, but from what I know dere be a price ta pay for de folks what lose concentration. Remembah dis lesson, little hunter. Joo be losin' perspective an de hunter becomes de hunted. Joo could'a died."

There was a real warning that Solarian heeded lurking beneath the smiling veneer. He certainly could have died-- and would have without Toadie’s guidance.

"An if joo did... Joo would'a been jus anotha body in da swamp. A failed huntah... De strong be arrogant an make mistakes. Don' be maki' dem mistakes, cause nobody gonna save joo. An if joo be losin' ta dat hunger what gonna be burnin' in ya belly? Den a bigger hunter gonna be takin' joo down. Dats how it works."

Arrogance could be his undoing if he didn’t watch himself. Sin’dorei were susceptible to pride after all, and he needed to learn his limits. Solarian was much more powerful than he believed himself to be, as evidenced by their hunt that night, but neither was he invincible. He needed to learn many things, and much of that training would come with time and experience. One thing was certain, however. He wanted to keep that hunger. Solarian refused to be the hunted. He was not the rabbit others believed him to be, and he would prove it.

                                                                 🌱🌱🌱

(Toadaluk written by @myymsie​!)

[chwrpg]

Suck my fat one, you cheap dime store hood. -- Greg Lachance

A NOTE FROM ADMIN B: Of all the times for you to actually pay attention to me nagging you.................. Cam's packing his bags as we speak 💀

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE: Ally/She/Her/25

DESIRED CHARACTER: Greg Lachance HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE? 7/10 sounds about right

SECONDARY CHOICE: Bryson Lahey

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER: 

Greg is about as average as they come. Average grades, average hobbies, maybe a little below average when it comes to a social life but he’s totally fine with that. His life has never felt like it was missing something just because he wasn’t the person people gawked at or swooned over. He’s fine with not sticking out in a crowd, though he does wish sometimes people saw him instead of seeming to look right through him but that’s something he resigned himself to years before. Honestly, he’s never felt the need to have a huge circle with how tight knit his circle of friends are. But lately he hasn’t been able to shake the sense that something is wrong with him. It’s something he hasn’t managed to put a name on, and his parents are still as clueless as ever so his only hope is pushing through whatever issue he’s having until he’s over it. The only person who would’ve pushed him to get any sort of help is currently 6 feet under. But the longer things go on the worse things seem to get. The nightmares, the panic attacks, it’s all bringing him closer and closer to his breaking point.

SAMPLE WRITING:

The night they found the body Greg was sure he was on the cusp of finally turning things around. PTSD didn’t disappear overnight but spending time with his friends made him feel more like himself than he had since Danny died. He felt alive again. Things wouldn’t be perfect when he got back home but he actually felt like he’d made a step in the right direction. The direction that involved him coming back from the shell of a person that he’d felt like over the past few months as he slowly slipped more and more away from his friends and the land of the living into the ghost version of himself. The version that most people seemed to look through instead of actually at, not that he could blame them. Danny had the athlete thing going for him making the boy a standout among the crowd but the most athletic thing Greg had done was managing not to puke on the small cross country run he’d tried to complete with Dev a few summers back. As he was, he was average. He couldn’t be annoyed with the fact that he was easily overlooked, especially considering he often seemed to watch things happen around him instead of actively taking part in things lately. He was there physically, but mentally he was miles away. But those days in the woods pulled him back from the dangerous edge he’d been looming closer and closer to and at the time that felt like enough. It had been enough until he’d seen the body.

The others were clearly shaken on the journey back into town but Greg could hear the underlying excitement in their tones. They’d found it. They got exactly what they wanted, even if Ace and his friends had managed to screw up the ending a bit, but even that earned him a few pats on the back and an awestruck look from one of the guys. Not just anyone stood up to Ace Claymore, and the reenactment Trevor pulled off should have been enough to make him smile, but as it was Greg had to shove his hands inside the pockets of his jacket to stop them from visibly shaking. The body- the guy had been a person. Maybe he’d been someone’s brother. Maybe he died pushing someone else out of the way of the speeding train and died a hero. 

Maybe he was just like Danny. 

The thought was enough to silence him the entire trek home, despite Trevor and Dev keeping up a steady stream of rapid conversation. Honestly, Greg couldn’t keep up. Their words hardly even sounded like words anymore, coming off as more of a buzz in the back of his mind than any pattern of speech he could recognize. At the moment it was hard enough focusing on just breathing evenly. Whatever hole he’d managed to dig himself out over the past few days was slowly sucking him back in. The only thing holding him in place at the moment was the feel of the newly warmed metal against his skin as he ran his thumb along the barrel of the gun that was still in his hand. 

It was still there in case Ace came back and raised the knife to Cam’s throat again. Or if one of the other boys tried following through on their threats to beat the brakes off Dev. He’d lost enough with Danny. He wouldn’t lose Trevor or Dev or Cam. He couldn’t. 

The feel of someone’s hand covering his own would’ve been enough to cause him to jump if he wasn’t frozen in place. His panic attack had rendered him a walking chunk of ice that only time could thaw out. Whether it took minutes or a half hour was up in the air. It wasn’t something he could control anymore than he could control his parents blind eye, or the weather. But the warmth of the hand, the steadiness and familiarity of it as it gently pried his fingers loose to take the weapon eased some of the chill from his bones. It made it easier to let go, even if his empty hands shook as a result. Greg’s eyes slowly shifted up until they landed on Cam.

Of course it was Cam. No matter how hard he tried to keep it together in front of his friends, Cam always managed to see through the cracks. He could see into him in a way no one else ever had because he was the first person who actually paid attention. The voices drifting back from the front seat made it clear Dev and Trevor hadn’t witnessed his momentary slip. They were still engrossed in conversation, though the subject had shifted to what the hell Ace had planned for the body and whether or not the train had actually been an accident as Greg inhaled again, filling his burning lungs with the air he’d deprived them of for the past few minutes. 

“Thanks, man.” His voice was soft, the corner of his mouth curving up in what he could only hope came off as a reassuring smile instead of the shaky one it felt like. Everything about his life at the moment felt shaky and unstable. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” He instinctively shook his head. Talking was supposed to feel better. Maybe it would make him feel better if he actually had someone to listen instead of writing it all down, and there was no doubt in his mind that Cam would be that person for him. He would listen until Greg poured out every last emotion he had, and wouldn’t make him feel any less for it. But after the night they’d had he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of him being wrong and Cam looking at him like he was damaged goods wasn’t something he could risk at the moment. “Not yet. But maybe some other time.”

“Oh does that mean you’re not gonna go ghost on us again? Count us all relieved.” Trevor teased, earning a swift smack from Cam. Even Greg, despite his guilt at pushing his friends away, found himself smiling once more. A genuine smile.

“Nah, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I figure it’s not responsible for me to leave you assholes on your own.”

ANYTHING ELSE? 1985 (if yall ever change the password it’s on sight)

[queerhargreeves]

De-aged Luther whump fic pls !! Where the family finds out that Reginald treated him much, much worse than they think (ex. Gaslighting, sexual abuse, pain, water and food endurance training), but Luther still thinks it's love?

wowie this is the second longest fic ive ever written?? i hope you enjoy anon and thank you for your kindness and patience!

TW: child sexual abuse and child abuse discussed

(gif by tuagifs)

The Hargreeves have had to put up with a lot of things that would drive most people to absolute madness throughout their lives. From the second each of them were born, their definition of what “normal” is would rival that of pretty much anyone. The seven of them were trained to be obedient soldiers in a goddamn science experiment by a man with too much power. This man wasn’t capable of love or compassion, no. Quite the opposite.

He treated them like they were shiny toys. Sir Reginald Hargreeves wanted them to reach impossibly high standards and would stop at absolutely nothing to make sure they got there.

They only had 30 minutes of designated “free time” a week growing up. The only time they could do as they please, within “reason”. Granted that didn’t stop them from sneaking out to get donuts after hours, Pogo keeping their secret safe.

“You all deserve to be children, Master Luther. All I ask of you is to not be too careless. We can’t have your father finding out, now can we?”

Daily rigorous training ranged anywhere from running five miles before breakfast to memorizing every pressure point in the human body and how they worked/functioned. Individual training, specialized by Sir Hargreeves himself, was another story in of itself. Water tanks, mausoleums, broken and straining limbs, tearing animals apart, throats so coarse and raw you couldn’t speak for a week, spatial jumps for four consistent hours, constant exclusion from activities …it was all the norm for these kids. Nothing out of the ordinary.

They have all gone through experiences that any average bystander wouldn’t even be able to begin to wrap their heads around. The Hargreeves have powers, yes. Their time traveling brother who left them 17 years ago came back, is nearly 60 years old, and was reverted back to the 13 year old body he disappeared in, yes. Their dysfunctional family may have caused the end of the world, yes. They avoided the end of the world, yes.

But this? Their big brother, their gallant leader, an actual child again? Now that is a lot to process, yes. Even for the ex-superheros.

It happened a few months after the family successfully didn’t cause life itself to end. They all had been making an attempt to start over with one another. The way they treated each other is what almost caused the end of the world after all.

It wasn’t easy, of course. Undoing a lifetime of trauma and repressed emotions wasn’t a simple equation or an overnight fix. It’s something that takes uncomfortable, late night hash sessions where every party involved opens up about things they don’t want to. It takes withdrawal symptoms and panic attacks. It takes realizing and acknowledging trauma and addressing it head on.

It wasn’t all tears and tension though. There were plenty of family outings, movie nights and, 2 AM impromptu baking sessions filled with nothing but laughter and comfort. They were getting better communicating with one another - they were getting better at simply existing together as an actual family instead of constantly working against their own.

The seven were out at dinner one night, Korean food per Allison’s request. The dinner went on without a hitch as they usually did nowadays, the siblings just enjoying one another’s company. However, it was after dinner when it happened.

Five noticed a man following them a bit too close for comfort as they were making their way back to the 10 seater van. It happened within seconds: an instant flash that rivals Five’s very own. One second Luther was trailing at the end of the group, listening to Ben tell a Klaus story. The next second there was a man sticking a syringe into his neck. And the next second he was on the ground, unconscious. Klaus, Ben, and Vanya rushed to his side, carrying him the rest of the way to the van. Allison, Five, and Diego stayed behind, going after the man who they didn’t even get a proper look at.

They all eventually regrouped at the house after having little luck finding the said culprit.

They were all clearly shaken after the attack. Five was, to put it quite simply, absolutely livid. He was infuriated at not only the situation itself but at himself for dismissing his instincts. Diego was also feeling quite a bit of guilt himself, but he’s been working on channeling those emotions in healthier ways. AKA no longer lashing out and hurting himself/others. Instead, he sulked silently. He played through the events that happened over and over again.

Allison was probably the most visibly distraught about the whole thing. Klaus and Ben had to quite literally drag her out of the infirmary after she refused to leave his side. She slept with her two brothers that night, wedged in between them. She couldn’t be alone. They all needed sleep and they knew Luther was in good hands.

Grace had assured them all that Luther would be fine, insisting that she would run tests on him as he got some rest. They were comforted knowing that their brother was out of the woods in terms of immediate danger of whatever substance was forcefully injected into his body. Luther would never leave Grace or Pogo’s sight for the night, the two of them adamant on making sure the six of them got some sleep that night.

None of them were prepared for what they found the next morning, however.

The six of them were all piled in the infirmary and there lied a Luther Hargreeves. A 12 year old Luther Hargreeves.

He looked so small in the bed; he was hooked up to monitors and his oversized sleeping clothes didn’t help either. His breathing was even. His chest was rising and falling in a slow, calm rhythm. His lips were slightly pursed open and he was snoring lightly.

“Holy shit.” Klaus was the first to speak up, staring in a mixture of awe and bewilderment at the small boy in the bed. “You’re no longer the babiest bro, Five.”

The statement hung in the air, thick and heavy. No one knew what to say or where to even start. Is his body just young? Or his brain too? Is it permanent? What does he remember?

“Oh, good morning children! I wasn’t expecting you all to be awake so early!” Six heads whipped towards the sound of their Mother’s heels against the hardwood floor as she walked into the infirmary.

“M-mom,” Diego’s voice shook, his eyes still glued at the young sleeping boy, “wh-what happened? Is Luther o…okay?”

“Yes dear, Luther is alright.” She said softly, resting her hand on Diego’s shoulder as she walked past him. She walked to the bed getting closer to the bed and removed one of the monitors from his chest.

“Your brother is going to be okay. It seems that he was injected with an age regression agent last night. I’m not sure how long it will last, but I’m hoping the bloodwork will give us some answers. What I can definitely say is that it will stop at this age. Luther is around 12 years old.” She explained, running a gentle hand through Luther’s hair.

“It isn’t causing him any physical harm. He was regressing quite quickly throughout the night but it stopped at 5:37 AM.”

Allison silently walked to the other side of the bed. She ran the back of her hand down Luther’s cheek, her expression soft. He looked so peaceful like this. The most peaceful she’s seen in ages.

“We…we have to be there for him when he wakes up. Luther, he was there for me after…” She paused, meeting Vanya’s eyes with a sad smile. She gave her a small nod to which Vanya reciprocated, signing “it’s okay” to her sister. They were both on good terms with what happened now. They talked it out, thousands of apologies and tears falling from both of the sister’s lips.

Allison’s voice was getting stronger every day but it was still important for everyone to be silent when she spoke so she didn’t have to strain more than necessary.

“He said he knew the comfortable dark place I was in. He didn’t want me to wake up to someone who wasn’t me anymore alone. We can’t let him go through this alone, we just can’t.” She took his hand and gave it a light squeeze, turning her gaze back to her siblings.

“Of course we’ll be there for him, Al.” Ben agreed.

And so they waited. They decided to take turns watching over him throughout the day. Diego and Five helped change Luther into the old academy pajamas before Allison and Vanya took on the first shift. Klaus and Ben went to the kitchen to make Alfredo pasta with extra chicken, Luther’s favorite dish. They remembered how insistent he was on the extra chicken when they were young.

“I need all the protein I can get! You all do too. But Five, you especially. You use up too much energy during training. This is far more nutritious and better for you than your peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. We don’t need anymore nose bleeds. Go ahead and grab an extra chicken breast, yeah?”

Luther was always good at watching over his siblings, whether they liked it or not. Half the time it annoyed them all to no end - especially Diego. But Luther took his role as not just their leader, but as their big brother, very seriously. It was a responsibility he did not take lightly.

The pasta didn’t turn out as picture perfect as it could have if the two let Grace do all the work, but with her guidance they were able to scrap up a delicious dish between the three of them.

“Damn Ben, Olive Garden better watch out! We’re gonna steal their jobs!” Allison and Vanya could hear Klaus exclaim all the way from the kitchen, a small smile appearing on both of their faces.

“If nothing else, it’s comforting that Klaus will always be just…”

“Klaus?” Allison finishes.

“Klaus.” Vanya agrees, her gaze falling back to the boy in the bed. He was still sleeping soundly, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

She doesn’t remember him being a deep sleeper - in fact, he was the lightest one of the seven. If Diego did so much as drop a book in his room or Klaus tumbled over his own feet, Luther would be in their room within a few moments to make sure they weren’t in danger. He lost a lot of sleep that way, but it never occurred to her until just now the extent of how much Luther did for them as children. Seeing him so young, so vulnerable looking was overwhelming. It was as if they were slapped in the face by past memories, repressed or otherwise.

“Mmmm…” Both women stood up at the mumbling, hovering over Luther as he started to stir in the bed. His eyes slowly started to flutter open after a few moments. You could see the realization of where he was wash over his face as he took in his surroundings. It was almost as if he was seeing right past his sisters.

“Luther?” Allison asked in a small, gentle voice. His eyes finally met hers and she placed her hand on top of his.

“M’am?” He looked down at their hands and back at her, then back down and back again. He blinked furiously, opening his mouth and closing it once more. He then whipped his head to Vanya as she tried her best to put on a gentle smile.

“Hey Lu.” She said softly.

“Vanya? Allison?” His voice went up an octave as he looked between both of his sisters. “What’s going on? Did I fail the last mission? Are you two hurt? I-I need to go back to the training room, find dad and explain! Maybe then I can -”

Allison and Vanya locked eyes as this answered a few questions. Luther definitely was mentally and 13 again, not just physically like Five. Allison’s mind reeled as she processed this, trying to think of how to even begin explaining what’s happening. Explain what has happened. Not only to Luther, but to them all.

Luther started to sit up, rambling on as he attempted to swing his legs over the bed before Allison and Vanya stopped him. Allison placed herself in front of Luther, legs shoulder width apart and hands braced on both of his shoulders. Vanya stayed at his side as she placed a firm hand on his upper arm.

“Woah, woah, woah not so fast there, Luther!” Allison knew his strength, even at this age, rivaled hers tenfold. He would only have to raise his pinky to push them both off him, but he didn’t. He let his sisters push him back in bed, but he stayed upright.

“Lu,” Vanya started, her hand still on his arm. “I can’t even imagine how overwhelming this all must be. Before I get the others I just need you to know that-”

“You’re all old.” Luther said simply.

Allison let out a small chuckle at the transparent comment and threw her head back ever so slightly. Luther had always been Mr. Obvious.

“You could say that, yeah.” Vanya scoffed, “I’ll go get the others if you’re ready?”

Luther drew his lips in a thin line, “What about Dad?” He asked cautiously, sounding all too much like the 12 year old he was.

“Dad…” Vanya looked up at Allison, wordlessly asking for help here.

“We’ll talk about it when Van and the other boys are here, yeah?” Allison reassured, trying to keep her best ‘mom’ voice on in an attempt to ease some of her brother’s evident nerves.

Luther just nodded at that answer as it was found satisfactory enough for him. Vanya gave his arm one last squeeze before disappearing down the hall. Within 30 seconds the rest of the Hargreeves came in the room, single file line. Luther watched every single one of them as they walked inside, his eyes wide and mouth pursed open.

Diego was always rough around the edges, but seeing him in all black, bearded, and scarred was certainly a bit unnerving. Klaus made him smile ever so slightly. It made Luther happy that Klaus was still oh so very much Klaus, even with a plate of pasta in his lanky arms. Eyeliner, skirt, and messy curls. Ben was a bit odd to see - blue around the edges and younger than the other two brothers before him. But Five. God that certainly put his head through a loop as if he hadn’t had enough of that already. He looked…just like he remembered. Small frame with a sharp jaw and the most intense blue eyes.

“Guten morgen, dear Luther.” Klaus said singsongly, placing the plate of pasta on the wheeled tray and wheeling it next to the bed.

“Vanya told us you woke up! Welcome back.” He sat down in one of the chairs in the room, the rest of the siblings also taking a seat.

“Thanks…” Luther drew the word out, “The pasta smells good. Thank you for that too.”

“Nonsense.” Klaus waved his hand in the air, “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” He said honestly, crossing his legs and leaning down to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I-” Luther stopped for a moment, “I think I understand what’s happening. You’re all..older. But,” He turned to where Five was seated next to Ben. “Five?”

“It’s a bit of a long story, as this whole situation is. But I time traveled, managed to get stuck for quite a while, then came back in this body. I’m actually older than all of you, but that’s besides the point.” Five explained flippantly, “How are you doing, Luther?”

Luther gave a shaky nod as Five explained, “I’m um.” He gulped and looked back up at Allison who still stood over the bed.  “When can I see Dad?”

All of the siblings tensed at the question, sharing looks with one another. Surprising to everyone it was Diego who spoke up first.

“Lu, Dad isn’t here.” He explained. “You don’t have to w-wor-worry about him anymore. It’s okay.”

Luther shook his head and a few dry chuckles fell from his lips. “Yeah, uh huh. And two times two equals three.” He spat.

“Luther…” Allison said calmly, “Diego is telling the truth. Dad is dead.” She watched as his blue eyes start to brim with tears. But Luther immediately threw his hand up to wipe them away. He shook his head again, this time more violently.

“No, no he can’t be… I-I didn’t report the last mission! I need to, I-” He started to try to get up once more, this time Diego and Ben rushing to the bed to attempt to keep him from getting up any further.

“Luther, it’s okay, please! Calm down.” Vanya said, voice shaking as Luther struggled against his brothers.

“No! No I need to get back to training! I need to go to the weight room! I-I can lift 2,000 pounds now! I need to show Dad! He’ll take me to the tree again if I don’t show him! Just LET ME GO!” Luther shouted, furiously pounding his fists against Diego’s chest. Diego and Ben held him in place best they could, letting their brother dispel the pent up frustration into their bodies. They could take it, for now. And it was evident he was running out of steam.

Vanya wordlessly sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffened at the touch, his incessant pounding coming to an abrupt stop.

“Luther, it’s alright. You don’t have to train.” She gently pulled Luther into her lap. It wasn’t too uncomfortable as he was about an inch taller than her at this point. It seemed to do the trick. Luther let himself be held from behind, something she knew never happened to them as kids. They were all so touch deprived and it pains her remembering how much Luther would avoid any touch at all a few months back.

Vanya rested her head on his shoulder and he found himself leaning into the touch, finding comfort in her firm embrace. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this.

“Your body has been through a lot, Lu. You can’t go up and lash out like that, okay? At least not right now, not until we get more answers.” Allison sad next to the pair on the bed, running a hand through Luther’s soft, golden hair. He nodded, feeling his eyes begin to sting yet again with tears. He closed them shut as the tears silently fell down his face.

“This is a lot to process, Luther. You’re doing a really good job so far. We just want to protect you. You know that, right?” Five spoke up softly. It hurt him seeing his brother so panicked, so afraid. Five remembers Diego and Luther saying something similar to him when he was in need.

“I’m sorry,” Luther choked out. “I-I didn’t mean to.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Diego and Ben. Ben looked fairly untouched. His hair was a bit disheveled at worst. Diego, however, was another story. He had a split lip and red marks along his neck and whatever skin was visible. He didn’t look angry or upset though. His brows were furrowed in concern.

The brown eyed man shook his head, “I know that, Lu. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I’m okay, bro.” He knew Luther must be thinking there is going to be some sort of punishment. There always was when Luther and Diego would brawl as kids. Well, when they weren’t asked to brawl anyway. But that wasn’t the case anymore.

“Luther,” Klaus finally spoke up after a few moments of silence, “What did you mean by the tree?” He remembers Luther mentioning Reginald’s ‘favorite place’ at his funeral, but he never thought to ask him anything more about it.

Luther tensed, his gaze falling to his lap. He clenched his hands tightly, adamant on not crying anymore. Crying was weakness and Luther absolutely had no room for weakness. He had hit that quota enough today for a lifetime. And he can’t talk about the tree. Dad said so.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luther mumbled.

Vanya’s stomach dropped. Whatever this is, whatever Luther isn’t saying, is something they don’t know about and there’s a reason for that. They all had experiences with their father they didn’t want to share. But eventually they all did. Or so she thought.

“Dad isn’t…he can’t hurt you anymore. I promise.” Vanya reassured from behind.

Luther’s grip tightened and he felt the moon shape imprints go deeper into his palms, finding the pain grounding. He deserved pain when he acted out of line.

Allison swiftly uncurled one of his fists and wrapped her hand in his. She knew that old habit of his from when they were children. She’s watched Luther dig at his palms until they were bleeding during post mission briefing sessions on more than one occasion. And she isn’t about to let her brother do that to himself again.

“This is a safe space, bro.” Klaus pressed gently, giving him an encouraging nod.

Luther sighed, glancing up and at the faces around the room. They were all watching him with a look concern. But there was more to it. He saw it in the way Klaus’ lips curled up ever so slightly, he saw it in Five’s dimple and Diego’s eyes. They weren’t going to judge him or punish him.

“Whenever I did something wrong, Dad would, he just liked that tree. And when I-I messed up he would take me there.” Luther focused on the arms around his waist and the hand in his, “At first it was a time out thing. He would exclude me from activities, which he knows I don’t like. I wanna be involved.”

“That wasn’t enough anymore I guess. I kept messing up. So he would make me fast for days on end after missions. Or Dad wanted me to throw things until my shoulders dislocated. But that wasn’t enough anymore either,” He continued, “I deserved more than that. He started to make me…help him. A-and if I did it well enough, he insisted on ‘helping me too’.” Luther’s voice was barely above a whisper once he finished. The rest of the room was silent, Luther’s IV drip being the only thing audible in the room. No one, absolutely no one, was expecting that.

Reginald was an asshole, yes. They all knew that. It was common knowledge just like how water is wet. But Reginald being a pedophile? Not only was he emotionally manipulative, but also sexually? To his own goddamn child? That was a whole other level that they were not prepared to hear. There was no way to be prepared to hear something like that.

“Luther, you did not deserve a single second of that, do you understand me?” Diego demanded, tone soft but assertive. He had to learn about sex trafficking and sexual abuse victims during the Police Academy. And he remembers how that was the most heartbreaking lesson of them all.

He learned how, especially young boys, will dismiss and refuse to acknowledge their abuse. Even more so if it was from their guardian. “You are not a bad child. You do not deserve to be treated like that. We love you, okay? Did…did Dad make you keep it a secret?”

Luther gave a short, “He said if I told anyone h-he’d kill one of you and say I did it. He said I’d go to jail for murder. But I always did it! I couldn’t let you guys get hurt…Dad loves me. He punishes me because he wants me to learn.” He said as if it didn’t need explaining, looking around the room at his siblings. He wasn’t expecting to find every single one of their eyes to be filled with tears themselves.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I-I’m sorry if I did something to-”

“Goddammit Luther, you didn’t do anything wrong! You didn’t. You’re a good boy, okay? Such a good boy, fuck.” Vanya squeezed her brother tighter, dropping her head in the crook of his neck.

Luther froze for a moment at the outburst before feeling something within him burst open. He was…allowed to be upset. He was allowed to be angry, to be sad, to be ‘weak’. A watery sob escaped his lips and within a second he turned around to wrap his arms around Vanya. They were properly holding one another now and Vanya let her brother grab her sweater in tight fists and cry. And he did so; ugly, heart wrenching sobs came from the small boy as he was being cradled in the small woman’s arms. His shoulders shook violently with each one. The rest of the siblings watched as this intimate moment unfolded before them. They all felt their souls leave their body, their hearts crushed.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Luther was no longer shaking and his eyes were dry. No one said a word. Were there words to even say? Allison wrapped her arms around her two siblings and Klaus got up to do the same. Then Diego, Ben, and Five. All six siblings wrapped their arms around Luther. Diego kissed the top of his head and Luther simply let himself be held for a few moments before breaking up.

Luther isn’t sure what happened in the 15 years or so he’s missed nor is he even completely aware of the situation he’s in. But one thing he can say for certain is he’s grateful for his siblings. Whatever they all went through in those years he wasn’t there for, it must have been painful. It must’ve fucking hurt. Because the love he’s feeling? The pure, genuine warmth and care? He couldn’t even begin to fathom anything like it - not in his timeline anyway. And he’s so glad he’s been given the opportunity to feel even a fraction of it.

[kinfriday]

Wandering Hops: Hitting the Wall

I don’t really know how to stop. 

On its face, this seems like a super power. 

“You don’t know how to stop? Cool! So, how’s the progress on the novel coming?”

In short, it’s not. That and every project I’ve been working on for the last month has felt like it’s moving further towards the horizon, all the while, no matter how fast or hard I run, I look down to find myself on a treadmill, making no progress, save for keeping pace. 

That’s the way it feels, even if that feeling isn’t exactly fair to the facts. July, which seems to have lasted forever, has been a phenomenal month in a lot of ways. I’ve hit goals, and achieved things I never thought I’d achieve again, like driving independently. In addition, I’ve kept up with this blog, my training, and even gotten some solid writing done in Starfall. It might not be as much as I’d like, but progress is progress. 

Except for me, it’s not...I tell myself that progress is progress, all the while I feel like I’m dying inside because I’m not living up to the standards that I’ve set for myself. 

In short, as said, I don’t really know how to stop, and to quote  Yoda…  

Tuesday I arrived late on a flight from San Francisco, and immediately dived into catch up mode, handling things neglected while I traveled, all the while dealing with a tsunami of obligations, appointments and commitments that seemed to spring up like weeds after a rainstorm. 

Days just melted away, as I moved from thing to thing. While this was going on, a nagging guilt was building that personal goals like my writing, weren’t being met, and then suddenly it was Saturday, with a hike still to plan and a Wandering Hops left to write…

See the ship burning in the background? See the smoke in the air? Watch me juggle, watch me dance... 

Frantically, I dove into my apps, and began a desperate kind of trip planning, racing through, trying to check boxes.

This wasn’t about enjoyment any more, it was about work. It was about taking the next step, checking the next box so I could cross it off the list, meet the standard I had set myself and get it out of the way so that I could work on Starfall and everything else that was continually piling up like a Tsunami of Stress.

Oh, and did I mention I’m heading down to LA on the 5th of August?

Last minute plans complete, I got to bed forty-five minutes late, with an 0530 alarm scheduled. The night passed fitfully, the alarm went off and I dragged myself out of bed, got ready, went through my checklist, threw the gear in the truck and got on the road, not even allowing myself to stop for coffee on my way out, until I started feeling the tiredness get to me, as I pushed north for Olympia.

My whole focus wasn’t about a fun day on the trail, but my opening sentences, how I was going to write this up.

Check the box, keeping moving, one paw in front of the other… don’t stop… For the love of the Gods… Don’t stop.

Arriving at 9:30, late by my own set schedule, I arrived to disaster.

For one  there was no self pay kiosk to purchase for a discover pass, which would prevent my vehicle from being towed. This was the first problem.

The second was that I seemed to have found a very popular and active trail with the local motorized dirt biking crowd. There were close to thirty waiting in the parking lot, tuning up their bikes, getting ready to shred the trail that I was about to be hiking on. This included steep drop offs and narrow paths.

Shock, despair, frustration... and maybe even a tinge of anger followed, as I stood in front of my truck, with my hands on my hips internally cursing. Finally shrugging my shoulders, I hopped back in, and shifted towards damage control.

It was still Sunday, I could still make my deadline, but I had to find another hike. To do that, I had to get home.

My mind immediately jumped to a location I had hit upon the night before, but it was over three hours away, and 14.9 miles, but that was fine, I could plan, throw in an overnight.

Working out the math, I found that if I left by 0600, I could be on site a little after nine, hopefully score a campsite, and then be on the trail by eleven, then return the next day and write it up.

It would mean bumping Wandering Hops to Wednesday, but I had been considering that anyway. All the while, the chorus was ringing in my ears.

Don’t stop… Don’t  stop…  

I set out from the house to run errands and make a quick loop around Sacajawea park, with a strange and growing anxiety rising in my chest like an oncoming thunderstorm. Arriving at the camp store, I found my normal selection of vegan backpacking meals out of stock, and the anxiety built higher, as I tried to roll with it, and went for the Pro-Bars instead. Next, I headed to the park, because today was supposed to be a hike day…

Suddenly it all hit. The wave of pressure and anxiety slammed into me like a concrete wall, and I couldn’t calm down. My chest felt like it was fluttering, and my mind wouldn’t stop racing. If you’ve watched our livestreams as of late, you’ve heard me speak of my anxiety condition.

Well this was an anxiety and panic attack from stress, and one of the worst ones I had in awhile, but still… I kept walking around the park.

Don’t Stop… Don’t stop…

Amid the raging storm, there was a quiet whisper of revelation, that somehow drew my attention. It rose in the form of a question, shortly after I completed the second mile of the loop.

Why am I doing this to myself? Doesn’t this all seem a bit nuts?

Revelation broke the storm clouds of my panic like rays of sunshine as I slowed, finding a sudden and unexpected modicum of calm, and I realized that I had to stop. I had to give myself some room to breathe, and recover, or I was going to crash, and hard.

I’ve had experience with this, dear reader. It’s one of the reason’s Rise of the Forgotten took almost five years to write. \

Feeling guilty that I couldn’t keep up the pace I had set for myself, I went home and unloaded all of what was going on to my husband, and then my Dragon team, expecting them to be disappointed in me, because, I was disappointed in me.

Stopping is not something I do.

They told me, each one, that they were proud of me, because stopping, acknowledging that I needed to stop, was something that I needed to learn.

I sat there, shocked and bewildered, completely unprepared for that response, and began to work out a plan.

As I did, and settled down, I began working on this blog, writing out today’s experience, as a way of both processing and sharing it all with you.

Ultimately, I am going to slow myself down, try to keep up with the beats, but give myself some room to breath. We aren’t machines, and even if we were, they need maintenance sometimes too.

We romanticize pushing past our limits, extolling such behaviors as virtues of strength and maturity. Sometimes though it takes even more strength to acknowledge that you need to rest, and acknowledge that there’s a wall before you. After all, impacting into it only means you will shatter, but if you slow down, and accept where your limits are, you give yourself the room to climb over them.

[thisisthe-way]

Panic

Uraraka was confused.

She knew him. She knew his strength, his brashness, his sincere fighting spirit and his heart. She knew he was a hero. She knew he thought himself a hero above anyone else.

And he hated failure. But this was different.

“Katsuki?” She said with a careful, worried breath, reaching a hand out to her boyfriend, gently. Both were wearing their hero gear—having just finished a fight.

Someone had gotten hurt. A child. And Todoroki had had to step in to help them finish the fight. Uraraka shouldn’t have even been there. But she was freelance and in the area. And she and Bakugou worked well together.

Usually. It was different now. His attention had been split by trying to keep her safe while focusing on the hero work.

The paramedics had told them all that the child would be fine once the situation was under control. But they did need to be hospitalized.

Bakugou was quiet the whole way back to his apartment.

As soon as the door shut behind them, he began to breathe heavily, sparks flying off of his palms, his eyes wide, his whole expression and demeanor that of shame and confusion, similar to how he’d felt after losing to her and Deku that first time with the mock nuclear weapon.

He was getting pale now, his breathing coming in quickly, and when she tried to reach for him, he batted her hand away, explosive blasts whizzing right past her face and into the surface behind her as he stumbled back against the wall behind him, bracing himself.

He snapped from his stupor long enough to register how close the smoldering hole was to his girlfriend’s precious face, and his eyes widened further before he dragged himself into the back room, almost unable to breathe. There was a slam, and the click of a lock, and Uraraka knew her time there was done for now.

////////

All Might raised his head when he heard ginger knocking on his office door. Perhaps he wasn’t the muscled figure of strength he had once been, but he still enjoyed offering his knowledge and experience to new students at UA, even if the cameras he attracted pissed Aizawa off.

“Come in,” He offered to whatever student or teacher was coming to seek his advice or signature or agreement to fill in a class.

What he got instead was the light footsteps he’d except from someone who could defy gravity, and he tilted his head when Uraraka Ochako entered. “Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

“All Might-sensei,” She said, gently, and sat down in the chair across the desk from him, folding her hands in her lap. “I need your help. You mentored Deku-kun; everyone knows that. But I know you also mentored Katsu—ah, Bakugou-san a little nearing the end of high school, too.”

All Might chuckled. “You can call him Katsuki,” he said, and laid a newspaper in front of her. “Most of us already know. Congratulations. Though, Aizawa-sensei would have words with you about letting the press take your picture. Exposure of your personal lives is a dangerous weapon that villains can use against either of you now.”

“Thats just it...” Uraraka sighed, blinking back tears. “Katsuki—he’s not himself right now. He’s—he’s acting—“ She looked up at him, brows furrowed. “He’s always angry, always pushing himself; it’s normal but he knows it’s because he’s strong and depended on and he wants to keep moving forward!”

“Mm, that sounds like Bakugou-shounen.”

“But we were fighting a villain last week, and someone got hurt on his watch and now he’s really acting really insecure! Questioning his actions, missing days of work, and sometimes he just stops and...and...breaks down into these—these—“

All Might stopped her, and stood up, walking to the glass cabinet on the other end of his office, where pictures of class 1A and their accomplishments since graduating littered the interior. He slid his hands into the pockets of his signature yellow pinstriped pants, and bowed his head a little. “You don’t know, then? He hasn’t told you.”

“Told me?” Uraraka asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Bakugou-shounen has anxiety. It was diagnosed at the end of second year, when he first approached me to mentor him,” All Might murmured, angling his body a little so that he could tilt his head and look at the young woman. “Intense feelings of failure tend to trigger panic attacks in him. He’d gotten it mostly under a control once he started letting go of some of his hostility toward Midoriya-shounen but...”

Uraraka shifted, her folded hands wringing tighter in her lap.

“I noticed his breathing would increase to the point he’d give himself dizzy-spells early on in our training. Anytime he thought he wasn’t giving me the result I wanted or that I was favoring Midoriya-shounen over him. It was after that I realized that he disconnected so entirely from other people because he feels deeper than he lets on, which means failure affects him deeper.”

“And you—“ Uraraka began.

“—were his hero,” All Might finished. “Failing me was a big trigger back then. I think, though....” He crosses the room and picked up the newspaper, carrying it back to the cabinet and placing it inside with the picture of then facing out. “Failing you is the trigger now.”

“He didn’t though!” Uraraka cried, standing up. “He was protecting me when—“

“The child got hurt,” All Might replied, approaching her. “Tell me, Uraraka, how do you see him? As a hero, I mean?”

“I....” Uraraka frowned and looked down at her feet. “I always tell him that I see—more. More in him than what has ever been portrayed to people. More than the angry, wild, growling idiot he makes himself out to be. He really is a good man. A good hero. He cares about people, and pretends not to. We take care of each other. Personally and professionally. He talks a big game but he tries to treat me like an equal.”

“And he let a child get hurt. In front of you. Protecting you. He thinks he—“

“Let me down.”

“He let his guard down to protect you. He didn’t let you fight your own battle, and in the process, someone got hurt. In his mind, he went against everything you believe he is, and right now, he’s turning that around in his head over and over, and it’s making him insane.”

Uraraka presses the palms of her hands into her eye sockets, trying to process all of the new information. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he’s going to do everything he can not to look weak. Especially in front of you.” All Might sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Uraraka-shoujo, go to him. He needs to know your opinion of him hasn’t changed. And he needs you to help him through this. It isn’t something that can be gotten rid of overnight. He needs support.”

Uraraka nodded, and then offered him a weak smile. “You really are a good teacher, sensei. Thank you.”

All Might smiled widely, popping into his large form for just a moment with a thumbs up. “No problem!” He said, proudly, before shrinking again and patting the girls back, supportively. “Go get him.”

/////

Bakugou had been holed up in his room for a week. The child was okay now, and back home, and in the end, the family had thanked he and Uravity for doing their best until Todoroki had showed up.

But he still felt like a failure. A failure to be everything Uraraka hag asked him to be. Including treating her as an equal in the field. And his mistake had almost cost a child it’s life.

“Kuso,” he cursed at himself and punched the wall. It was then he smelled something burning just outside of his room and his eyes widened. He jumped up and pulled the door open to find his apartment filled with smoke. He coughed and tried to fan it away with his hands, walking through the hall until he reached the front room and kitchen.

He crossed that room to open the window and front door, watching as the smoke began to billow out, and he found his girlfriend standing in the kitchen, her pink cheeks covered in flour, soot and burned sauce. She was coughing and wiping at her eyes, and she looked up when she found him standing in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, staring at her.

“What the fuck, Ochako?!” He snapped, and approached her, checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt. “You tryna burn my damn apartment down?! Or catch your dumbass on fire?? You okay?”

“I—“ She sniffled. “I was trying to do something nice for you so you’d know I don’t think you’re a failure.”

He immediately took a step back, his eyes slanting downward coldly. “Why the fuck would you need to do that?” His voice was raspy and harsh, but the tone was low and even.

Uraraka glanced away, picking up a kitchen towel to wipe her face. “Because it’s my fault that you’re having panic attacks.”

“Panic—I don’t have fuckin’ panic attacks! I’m not some scared little shit hero who can’t keep from wetting his damn pants. I’m—!!”

“Stop it, Katsuki!” She cried, closing her eyes tightly. “It’s not weak to have anxiety! It’s not weak to be human!!”

Bakugou paused, his mouth falling open at her words, eyes wide and confused. “....how...who...”

“I went and talked to All Might,” she murmured, tears racing down her face, and then cried, “I was so worried about you!!”

Bakugou ‘tch’ed, his teeth gritted tightly at his weakest trait coming to light in front of the one person who mattered most to him. “Ochako—“

“Why couldn’t you tell me?!” She snapped, glaring up at him with tearful eyes. “I’m your fucking girlfriend!”

Bakugou’s eyes widened at her language, and he couldn’t help but smirk the tiniest bit. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“KATSUKI.” Uraraka shrieked, and pivoted, slamming her hands into the pots and pans, the cookware floating above their heads as she slamming her palms down on the counter and leaned heavily on her arms, sobbing, anger, worry, betrayal, all flooding her heart.

Bakugou wilted a little, brows furrowing. He glanced away, and then grit his teeth again. “How’m I....how’m I supposed to....make myself look so weak in front of...the only person I wanna be strong for the most....” He rolled his eyes. “That’s what I wanna say. But then I know that’s just letting you down, too. You asked me to believe in you and I fucked that up and you almost got hurt, and a kid did get hurt and how the fuck am I—an I supposed to—to be okay with—that?!”

His breathing was labored again and he collapsed to his knees, grabbing his forehead with his palm. Uraraka turned, immediately softening.

It isn’t something that can be gotten rid of overnight.

All Might’s words rang in her head, and she knelt, touching her boyfriend’s bicep carefully. “I know. But it’s okay. It doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make me love you less as Katsuki or respect you less as Ground Zerp. We’re human—we make mistakes, usually with the best of intentions. I’m always proud of you.”

Bakugou’s breathing continued to come in shallow growls, but he looked up at her, and then locked his arms around her shoulders. The embrace wasn’t soft or passionate but desperate. Desperate for something tangible to hold onto while his usually intelligent, strategic, heroic brain spiraled out of control, lost to his grasping, necessary sanity. He immediately started to cry, sob, even, yelling and barking around his tears about how he failed, sounding so like himself and so small at the same time.

Uraraka held him tightly against herself, her fingers curling in his shirt and raking gently through his spiky blonde hair, trying to soothe him. She didn’t say anything else, only held him, and allowed him to cry, and yell, and get it out, whispering only once in a while small reminders of how precious he was to her, and how special he was to their little heroic world. Japan’s Ground Zero. Her Katsuki. Human, first. Hero, second.

When he’d finally calmed, they were both on the kitchen floor, his head in her lap, his eyes all swollen and red, and feigning anger for showing her weakness, with her staring down at him, tracing shapes in his scalp through his hair.

After a pregnant silence, he finally looked up at her from his spot, watching her as her eyes searched the back of her mind for something, anything to make him see who he really was to her. And he saw it—the same look he got in his eyes when he thought he was going to fail. More subtle, less distinct, not fully formed. She thought she was letting him down now, unable to heal his mind, scarred from years of dealing with the mental disorder.

He reached up, touching her cheek and pulling her down for a reassuring kiss, which surprised her.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ spin yourself around like I do, beating yourself up for something that isn’t true, cheeks,” he whispered. “You make everything better. I’m a fuckin’ mess. I pretend not to be but...” He chuckled bitterly. “I am. You’re the thing that makes everything else better. So...you do, okay? You make it better. You can’t make it fuckin’ go away, but you always make it better.”

Uraraka’s eyes softened and she placed her hands on the sides of his cheeks upside down, before leaning down and pressing their foreheads together, squeezing her eyes closed as she cried, gently. “I love you so much. Please, don’t think you need to hide anything from me. I’ll always support you—that’s what you do for people you love.”

“Sorry, kao,” he replied, closing his own eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “But don’t your dare tell anyone else I actually know how to apologize. You’re the only one who ever gets to be right around me, got it?!”

“Katsuki.”

Her voice was gentle but chiding. This was not the moment for his pride.

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He reached up and clasped his hands around her back, holding her there, and they sat in silence.

He finally broke it. “I love you, too, you know.”

She nodded against his forehead, eyes still closed. “I do.”

“I didn’t know how to feel vulnerable before you.”

“I know.”

“....beat it out of me if you have to.”

Her eyes snapped open to find him staring directly into them with such earnest sincerity. This wasn’t a joke.

“I mean it,” Bakugou said. “I don’t know how to feel weak. I hate it. That’s why I jumped in to save you. I failed the first provisional licensing exam because of it. And this time I got a kid hurt. Don’t let me fuck up, Ochako. Not as a hero, and definitely not with you. Promise.”

“Katsu—“

“Promise.”

She lifted her head a little, finally, and nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

“Good,” Bakugou gruffed, and then pursed his lips and ‘tch’ed before settling comfortably against her lap. “I have anxiety. Finally diagnosed just before third year. Big failures give me panic attacks. I had one after I lost to you and Deku first year. Cried and screamed at him like a fuckin’ baby. I almost had one when I lost the first round of the sports festival to Deku. I kept people further and further at arms length to avoid havin’ anymore. But working directly under All Might triggered them bad. So does being with you. Guess it’s worse when I care about something.”

He looked back up st her. “So now you know everything. You still wanna be here?”

Uraraka smirked gently down st him, tears dripping out of her eyes and onto his cheeks. She twisted her head a little as she lowered her face, and let their lips mold together, the kiss warm, and full of love.

They parted a moment later, and she whispered, “Yes. I do. More than ever, Katsu. See, to me, you’re so much stronger now because you trusted me with the truth. You can protect me outwardly all our lives but real strength is you and I being able to protect the others’ heart. You just handed me the missing piece of yours and said ‘keep this safe’ and I sure as fucking hell will.”

His eyes widened, and then closed, and he started to chuckle. “You really do sound like me. Guess that means you trust me too.”

“Absolutely,” she affirmed strongly. “With all of my heart.”

“You trust me to protect it?” He asked, playing with her fingers on his cheek with his own.

“Yes.”

He smirked against her fingertips and kissed them. “Then,” he began, “I sure as hell fuckin’ will.”