#it also doesn't help that people shit on my good mood in the winter

[sagehaubitze]

dealing with the shitty guilt of not having done any photography recently like it's supposed to be a job or something instead of just the joy of creating/capturing/sharing. blugh.

If I may bitch for a second; I have a lot of friends who deal with SAD in the winter but my depression gets notably worse in the summer. Longer days and heat are not my friend. It's Alabama, it's nearly 100f out there right now (which is not out of the ordinary, heat wave or not), and in THAT level of heat and humidity my asthma gets destroyed, I walk outside and can't breathe. So I can't spend time outside. I can't hike. Feel like shit inside. It's especially rough in June because everyone wants to have pride events in the middle of the damn day (in the AL heat). I feel like I can't *exist*. I'm just stuck. it blows.

[resident-wof-expert]

Unsorted WOF thoughts part 126:

Qibli appreciation post, because I don't see a LOT of hate for him, but I see enough hate that I feel it's my duty to help him out.

I reblogged a post a few months ago, agreeing that it was EXTREMELY shitty for Qibli to imply that he liked Winter better when he was under Darkstalker's spell, and for Moon to agree.

The reason I don't like it is mainly because of the disrespect toward Winter, but also because Qibli and Moon just... don't feel like those kinds of characters?

I don't think it makes sense for Moon to have said that at all, so I have no explanation. Qibli, though, I think I have something for.

I actually think it's more interesting to think that Qibli just says awful shit sometimes because he doesn't have the emotional maturity to deal with serious situations outside ofcracking jokes, and he isn't very good with boundaries. Not because it's excusable, but because we all have moments where we say or do something that goes against our usual sense of right and wrong, and we can't really take it back.

It's an important detail that Qibli is simultaneously a criminal mastermind, an abuse victim, an experienced soldier, AND a huge momma's boy. I made a post about Qibli being the relatively "normal" one out of all the protags, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Qibli has a myriad of traits and experiences under his belt, none of which mesh well together, leading into him being a control freak, a people-pleaser, a class clown, a loose canon, and a master strategist all at the same time.

Qibli tends to care more about how others perceive him than most other things in his life, which does make him selfish in a lot of ways.

Qibli makes jokes at entirely the wrong times, making him annoying at times.

Qibli is a stupid, moody teenager who likes to think that he has everything figured out and sometimes makes others uncomfortable with his ill attempts at lightening the mood.

That describes more of us as teenagers than we would ever willingly admit.

[pocket-jack]

If I don't get more Penguin and Shachi characterisation in OP, than just "they love ladies, they're childhood friends, they were bullies in their childhood, both are good swimmers, and Shachi apparently can spit so hard it may feel like a bullet", then I do my personal hc about their personality based on the orcas and penguins.

Shachi

•Shachi is the third strongest member of Heart Pirates (Law is on the first place and Bepo's on the second)

•Shachi adapts to the weather and a temperature really quick. Even tho he's from North Blue - the coldest sea in the world, he's dealing with hot islands like a champion.

•Shachi is a social butterfly. He finds friends anywhere anytime. He's a man who knows a guy who knows another guy who is also know a guy. Want to gather information? Shachi will find it. Wanna form an alliance with the local gang? No prob, Shachi played poker with one guy!

•Shachi's favorite food is salmon.

•Shachi was raised in matriarchy. His mother was pretty dominant woman, and she was the only person he was afraid of during his bully childhood. He's still loves her, but feels really guilty and scared to come back. He followed Law to become more than a mommy's boy, but he just became captain's boy instead.

•Shachi has good metabolism and get really upset on an empty stomach. He's pretty much a cook on the ship so he's fine (he's good at it and gets mad when people dislike his food).

•Shachi's pretty smart. He knows math and physic. His favorite school subject was mathematics. He was visiting school only for math, and he would ran off when it's was over. He also knows how to hunt.

•His family was pretty big, so he often felt himself unseen and unimportant. Heart Pirates is like his family to him, but he actually feels himself like an important part of it.

•Shachi is a little shit. He usually do pranks and get punished quite a lot for this.

•He's actually really protective over his friends and he's not afraid to pick a fight if someone seems hostile towards them. He picks a lot of fights which he can't win, so he usually ends up in medbay.

•In the real world Shachi would be Norwegian

Penguin

•Unlike Shachi Penguin can't deal with hot weather. But he has a great tolerance to a cold winter islands during its winter season. One day he safed his crewmates, by giving them his warm clothes and carrying them to the town on his back.

•He can hold his breath to 20 minutes. That's terrifying, but really useful.

•He came from the big tribal commune, but decided to follow Law to explore the sea world.

•He's a fan of the sea and especially it's undersea life. He's a sucker for penguins and his favorite fish are squids

•If Shachi is momma's boy, Penguin is a mom friend. He usually babysits people around him and that's one of the reasons why Shachi is his friend. In his childhood many could say that he was too mature for his age, but he allowed himself to be just a kid around Shachi. He also likes kids company a lot, many could say he would be a great father.

•He has a good sense of smell, being able to feel the thinnest of smells people have. It sometimes messes with his sleep, because smells can be nauseating sometimes.

•If Penguin existed in the real world he would be from New Zealand.

•Penguin has a really high eyesight. Law runned some tests and found out that his senses are pretty sharp. Hearing, smelling, eyesight, touch, and taste. The main reason why test's were needed is because he often experienced nausea because everything was just to much. That's exactly why he wears his hat (it helps to protects his eyes and ears) and sometimes he plugs his nose to not smell things and he looks ridiculous like that.

•Penguin loves to sing

•Penguin is this type of guy, who shaves his hair by the mood

•His love language is gift giving

•Penguin doesn't like sweets

•Penguin is pretty loyal to his close ones. He will die for them and will remain silent under any torture. One day he was injured really bad because of his loyalty. Heart Pirates got a really bad trauma after that, and many of them still checks on Peng, because there should be something more than "It was bad! I was scared! But I held like a man! I've told them nothing, captain! And i'm not crying, it's just blood got in my eyes!".

[teardropwolf]

Drops my self insert

Health: 150 , Hunger: 100 , "Stress": 200

-Animal person -doesn't like being alone (stress is always increasing if no other people in world) -Starvation doesn't hurt right away -mental health is different (stress/anxiety). -hates touching gross/slimey things

"Favorite" food: fruit medley

Info below: (it may be lengthy, oops)

Feels better around animals. Their stress lowers when near them. Tames beefalo a bit faster. Can tame tallbirds that they raise. Animals that usually run away from the survivors don't run away from them unless they hit them. Critters in their inventory lower their stress. Because they are an animal person, killing animals increases their stress (regardless who kills them.) They just don't like seeing animals die even if it's necessary.

When their hunger runs out, there's a small amount of time  before it starts to drain their health. It takes about 15 seconds.

When it comes to "stress."(I know what sanity is in dst, I just wanted something different for them.) They take damage if it's too high. Their stomach is also "full" when it's high. World looks more like scribbles when it's high too. When stress is high, they are not good at attacking or working. They are able to attack and work regularly as long as it doesn't get "high enough." They also won't eat if stress is high.

They get very stressed out when picking up gross/slimey things. Includes manure, any form of rot, slurtle slime, honey(it's sticky,) etc.

They don't mind being wet, so they don't get stressed from wetness. They do hate having to deal with their glasses getting messed up from being wet, so they are completely neutral to wetness.

It takes a while for heat to affect them. They hate the cold, and freeze easily. Low temperature that can seem managable to the others is cold for them. They prefer sitting by the fire pit during the winter. They like to stay put, and refuse to move away from the warmth. Unlessitstheholidaysthentheyllmakeanexception

Voice: Clarinet (Using the high notes. sometimes goes loud to soft because they struggle with their voice volume sometimes.)

A few extra things:

They don't like eggs and will not eat them. Includes eggs, tallbird eggs, tall scotch eggs, bacon and eggs, plain omelette, breakfast skillet, barnacle nigiri. Other than that, they'll eat anything.

They have apiphobia. They are terrified of bees. Being near one(or their hives) always increases stress. (Even the sound of their buzzing stresses them out.)

They do know how to swim and can do so if needed. They don't really want to though, and prefer to do it only when they have to.

They leave their big bag of belongings in their tent. They tend to instead use a backpack since they don't want something happening to their things. The backpack they use is the rabbit rucksack!

They love soft things! It helps with stress. Soft textures are their favorite! So are smooth textures.

They start off very shy and cautious at first, but slowly warm up to the other survivors. Going from feeling really bummed, low, and reserved to... being in a better mood. They smile a lot more, speak their mind more and are less hard on themself.

They picked up on the fact that everyone's names start with w. They decided to go by "Weardrop." It was just for shits and giggles, but then they ended up actually liking it and it just stuck.

They're from our modern times. They got pulled into the Constant three days ago. They were gifted their grandparents' antique radio when their grandparents moved away. They take advantage that they're from the modern times by confusing the survivors with our modern slang.

[anas-aspiration]

Run

warnings: violence-weapons- angst

summary: the w people attack Alexandria, y /n and carl already fighting are forced to huddle together and get over it xoxo. 1683 words

Its a semi cloudy day, perfect for relaxing inside and doing nothing. It was also turning out great. You woke up, got dressed, remembered you have snacks downstairs, and started cleaning up. When you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth you hear your bedroom door open. Peaking out you see its carl, not surprised, since you guys go back and forth “sharing rooms”

"Oh good your up. Did you finish the spare shampoo I had under the sink?"

You covered your mouth trying to be polite and not laugh at his sternness "Uh yeah sorry I can ask Daryl to put that on the list. You'll get it by tomorrow."

He furrowed his brow "K."

"Whats your problem its just shampoo."

"God my problem is you. "

You were taken aback at how fast he snapped back at you. He didn’t usually act like an asshole but you knew he would eventually get out of his little mood swing. Internally you decided to help him get out of it faster by arguing.

You rolled your eyes "oh please elaborate! Because I'm sorry your having a bad morning but that has hardly anything to do with me."

"you're useless. Your ass doesn't do anything except hang around your little friends and eat shit. What good are you?"

Turning from the mirror to him you mustered up the meanest look you could. Then popped the tooth brush out of your mouth and rinsed preparing to go off on him. Who does he think he is calling you useless? He was just your 'bff' yesterday and now he's acting like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"First I am not useless. Do you even think before you speak because that doesn't make sense at all considering I am the one changing Judith's diapers, cleaning both your room, hers, and mine every week, and on top of that cooking your meals, so please come get me when your attitude is looking up. Cause I don't know who put you in this mood but its your job to get out of it."

You walked past him scoffing. Downstairs you grabbed your walkman, a bag of grapes, rollerskates and walked out the door.

You had been rolling around the neighborhood for a little while, enjoying the fresh air and exercise. Eventually, you came across a bench and decided to take a rest. As you sat down, you reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of juicy grapes. As you savored the sweet flavor, your mind wandered to thoughts of Deana and her parties. You realized that you could really use some fun right now, and hoped that Deana would throw another one soon. In the meantime, you decided to listen to some music on your Walkman. You scrolled through your playlist and selected "Rehab" by Lana Del Rey, letting the cute melody wash over you as you enjoyed a moment of peaceful solitude on the bench.

You sat there soaking in your thoughts mindlessly eating your grapes. You started noticing small things that you didn't notice before like how lifeless everything looked when it wasn't sunny. It made you think of Winter which was coming close. The thought of Christmas warmed your heart, but made you wonder how different it would be celebrating during the end of the world. Surely parents want their kids to have something like that. You definitely would even at your age.

Or maybe-

"HELP"

You quickly jerked out of your train of thought at the sound. Was someone hurt? Looking around you didn't see anything. But something told you to get somewhere safe. You stood up gathering your things shaking, when you started hearing more screams. Startled you just grabbed your roller skates and ran in the direction of your house. As you turned a corner you saw the mayhem. People cut into pieces and random people running around with machetes and other weapons. Now officially scared out of your mind you sprinted as fast as you could.

Morgan was in shackles, people being sliced, beaten. You caught a glimpse of someone with a 'W' on their forehead. The group Rick and morgan were murmuring about got inside the walls and are killing everyone. As you neared the house you heard someone laughing close behind you.

fuck.

"No no no no" You Turned your head to see who it was and you almost started crying. A big, probably three hundred pound, man was running behind you with a spear. You picked up the pace still a block away from the house.

You looked to your right hoping Rick or someone was gonna shoot him but instead you saw a handgun laying on the sidewalk. You bolted to it and immediately picked it up and blindly fired two shots in his direction.

One hit his arm holding the spear. You went to shoot again but *click*. You panicked then he charged at you then you fell back. Now your heart was beating faster than ever hoping you didn't just get yourself killed. He was on top of you and you stupidly threw a punch but it hit him. Blood trickled down his cheek and landed on you. He hissed at the pain, not from your power, but from the four cheap and prickly rings you had on. Before he turned back to hit back you pulled out your knife from your boot about to pierce his neck when a shot sounded. You winced then realized Carl had shot him.

You quickly wiggled from underneath him as you had tried earlier then stood up and wiped the blood off your jaw, still in shock.

"I had it."

"Barely." He said in a cocky manner, but with some sympathy in his voice. "Are you okay?''

"um.........Yeah i'm okay." You said

Now you were feeling faintish after only having grapes as a meal for the day and all the stress you had just been through. It seemed he had noticed this too because he grabbed your hand and started guiding you through the chaos back home.

A couple of hours passed, you were boiling noodles for a classic spaghetti in the kitchen. It felt strange casually cooking a meal after what happened. But there seemed to not be any right way to deal with the fact that you almost become road kill.

Carl was upstairs probably putting Judith to sleep and getting into his pajamas. Your feet began to tingle, a sign they were falling asleep so you decided to stroll over to the counter and sit there after turning the simmer down. You ran your soft hands through your hair then slowly rubbed your temples. You heard him come downstairs.

"Hey y/ n"

You looked up "Hey Carl, whats up?"

"Nothin, just uh put Judith down. Are you doing alright?"

"Yeah i'm as good as I can be at the moment. I just have a raging headache. Also- where did the others go?"

"Oh they were helping people clean up, now their at Deana's." He paused "But I just wanted to talk to you about this morning.. Im sorry for being um rude. I didn't mean what I said obviously I was just well.. I don't know. I'm also sorry because its my fault you were out there when the people attacked anyway. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes I forgive you" you said slightly giggling "I can't stay mad at you for long but thank you for also saving my life. Even if it was your fault I was out there you could have chose not to save me, your best friend, but you did."

He smiled at the way you punctuated best friend "yeah" He sat in the chair next to you staring at his hands as if he was thinking about saying something.

As you rose to attend to the food, he said, "Best friend huh?" to which you simply replied, "Yep haha". However, the conversation took an unexpected turn when he asked, "Have you ever thought of like... being more?"

You stood frozen for a second, before realizing he was probably watching you from behind.

You had considered this possibility before, but you didn't want to complicate things by bringing it up. The thought of him rejecting you made you feel uneasy, wondering if he would be scrutinizing your every move after. You tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered in the back of your mind every time you saw him, thought about it, hell even dreamt about him. You thought it was time to confront him about it, or at least bring it up in conversation. You didn't want to be paranoid, but you also didn't want to ignore your instincts.

"hmm well" you said teasing him a little "what do you mean?"

"I'm just being dumb or whatever"

"No, your not, tell me" You said turning around and smiling. This gave him hope that you would feel the same.

"It's just, I woke up in a bad mood cause I overheard you with your friends last night talking about me. You said I come on too strong and It's obvious who I like and-"

"Oh my god no carl" you interupted " I wasn't talking about you I was talking about Abraham and Sasha. I love them both but it's so funny watching their little friends to lovers trope"

He laughed "ohhh, my bad um" "Well sorry for that too. But what I'm trying to say is I like you. I thought you didn't like me back so I got mad but- It's okay if you don't like me back I just needed to tell you because I couldn't hold on to that secret anymore." he said nervously running his hand through his hair.

You smiled and looked at him. You felt like everything that you didn't expect to happen today was happening at the strangest times.

"That- well I like you too. I was too scared to tell you because I was afraid you didn't feel the same way"

"Really?"

You nodded.

He stood up and walked over to your spot grabbing the warm wooden spoon from your hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

pt2??

A/N! :

HEY!! first post on this acc lmaoo. I posted this on watt pad originally like a month ago along with two other imagines (if you wanna check them out: leinsburg666) I wont be posting them here bc personally i think they are booty and i wrote them two months ago I’m obviously a new person duhh. but anyways i’m gonna write some more like this and PLEASE leave requests like good lord i will probably reply to all of them since i’m not sure a lot of people will see this bc the carl/reader fandom died in like 2018. hope this was enjoyable thoo 🩷

[margaret-the-sylvia]

Decided to create my own hcs for Nebula and Quasar

Decided to post it now. Sorry for text walling.

sooo here we go (btw, the characters are all felines in this AU)

And yes, they all have toe beans :).

Also, please do be aware of some angsty and whump-ish headcanons below that could trigger some people.

Nova’s the eldest, Nebula is the middle child and Quasar is the youngest.

Nebula is biromantic and somewhere on the asexual spectrum

Quasar is bicurious, but leaning towards bisexuality

Quasar is very close with Nebula than he is with Nova, they are still close siblings, but not as close as he is with Nebula.

Nebula has less body scars because of her more cautious nature and less of a “fight/shoot first, ask questions later” type of person unlike her younger brother. Quasar is the type to get into trouble due to his impulsive nature, hence why he has more scars.

Arguments are common between Quasar and Nebula (because sibling things)

I figure for both the siblings they wear clothes from the early 2000s/y2k era. Typically worn as causal wear if they are off duty or in disguise to capture a suspect.

The helmets the siblings wear are removable, typically only used when they are on duty. The "antennae" on top are used for communication back to the police station and they do have microphones inside the helmet to communicate back. The antennae are also used to correspond with their current mood.

Nebula did originally have long hair before her young adult years, but Nebula cut it after she joined the force.

Nebula is two years older than Quasar.

All three siblings have tabby patterns on their fur (Nebula: Mackerel Tabby, Quasar: Spotted Tabby and Nova: Mackerel Tabby)

Quasar has gotten himself kicked out of a few places due to doing some stupid shit, Nebula and Nova are not impressed.

Quasar and Nebula (to an extent) both have the ability to grow a "winter coat" during the colder months.

Both siblings ears are pierced (with exception of Nova).

Quasar loves white chocolate. Best you keep it away from him or else he’ll eat it in one sitting. Same thing goes for Cookies and Creme flavored chocolate.

Since all three are cats, they do cat things.

“if it fits, I sits” mentality for all three of them.

Nova, Quasar and Nebula have the ability to purr (typically used for contentment, but has other purposes like if they are injured, it helps them heal faster. Purring is not always a sign of contentment.)

Their species of cat are quite different from those on Earth (like Starstraw, who’s an earth lion), they are able to make other noises that earth cats cannot do. (They are able to roar, and it can be heard from many miles away. Also they can make other big cat like noises such as cheetah chirps)

Quasar is very much a ladies man. Gets all the girls and some men too I think

I feel that sometimes they'll have arguments over the stupidest stuff, especially if it's about water being wet or not.

Now we will get into the angsty shit.

Quasar has some form of depression, most likely due to being in the shadow of his older sisters. Their parents and Officer Stonecold have good intentions, but sometimes Nebula and Nova tend to overshadow Quasar's qualities (usually without realizing it.). He may look normal and happy, but inside is a lot of self-loathing. He never really confided in anyone about it until rather recently.

Nova was more feisty and was a bully as a younger cat. She would tease both her younger siblings, but sometimes Quasar was the main target. Nova has since mellowed out a lot since those days, and is now trying to make amends with her siblings when she is able to, especially Quasar. Nova is now very supportive of both of them.

Quasar doesn't quite trust Nova yet, but he will in time.

Nebula has another side of her that only really comes out if she's really angry, and it has the potential of killing anyone. She is working on controlling her anger to make sure this side never actually hurts anyone innocent and could be channeled into something good.

Nebula and Quasar have had nightmares of a mysterious “white room”. Quasar has the worst of it, and will sometimes wake up screaming if it is that bad. Nebula has dreams of the room too, but it’s less graphic and terrifying. She usually dreams about the room from a bird’s eye view looking down below, with an overwhelming sense of dread and terror accompanying it. Funny thing is that they do not remember being in this room at all in their lives, yet it feels vaguely familiar…

Quasar has a notch in his left ear due to an incident happening when he was a young kitten, causing him to get slashed in the face and ear. He was saved just in time, but was traumatized for a while.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Two: Chaos-Bringer

A bad mood. An even scarier visitor. Some dangerous realizations. 

AO3 | Playlist | Masterpost

-----

CHAPTER TWO: CHAOS-BRINGER

Martin is angry.

He tries to hide it from Jon—to acknowledge the guilt that Jon wears like skin—because it’s obvious Jon is already blaming himself for everything, and Martin doesn’t want to add to it.

But Martin is pissed, and he decides to take it out on firewood.

Jon should have woken him. Chop.

And no, it probably wouldn’t have done any good, and it had been the logical choice, but damn it, Jon needs to stop defaulting to doing this on his own. Chop.

And how dare some fucking monster show up here, now, when they’ve minded their own business, and haven’t called anything, or tempted anything, or done anything to deserve this interruption of hope and future and peace? Chop.

How dare it ask them to damn the whole world?

The axe goes through the firewood into the stump and gets stuck.

Fortunately, no one seems to have noticed his mood. It’s market day in West Village, and everyone is busy setting up their stands, exchanging stories, laughing lightly, focused on their own things.

Martin mutters at the axe as he wrenches it loose, then stands still, studying its edge.

Could the tentacle-god-thing be chopped? Maybe.

Would he survive the encounter? Really, no.

Damn it, Jon, Martin thinks, because Jon can’t help somehow luring these things like he’s fresh bait, but Jon also makes a convenient outlet for frustration.

“Martin!” Julia arrives with a basket of herbs and a smile. She kisses his cheek. “Peter and Mark are looking for you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,” he says cheerfully, smiling the way they all do here—bright but vague, never quite making eye-contact, chin up and shameless and sweet.

Too direct, and they grow afraid. Less direct, and they worry about you.

He’d mastered their non-verbal cues in less than a day. And if someone had asked him to explain how, he would not have been able.

“You do not have winter clothes,” Julia suggests in the way they do here without asking questions.

Questions send people toward panic, and neither Jon nor Martin know why.

“Well, I mean—not yet,” Martin says. “But we’ve been saving up, and we have a few more weeks until it gets uncomfortable.”

She smiles. “When it’s time, we’ll help you choose what’s best for our weather. Don’t forget to stop by later so we can trade for bread.” And she goes, swinging her basket, face turned toward the sun, not a care in the world.

For some reason, Julia, Peter, and Mark worry about him, anyway, no matter how he plays the game. He’s not sure why, but he’s grateful. They’ve helped so much.

Those three were Martin’s favorite “family” here—a proper polycule, though they didn't know that word. An open, multi-gender threesome in the middle of this quaint village, wearing homespun, and offering aid when Martin first arrived. Incredible.

Peter and Mark even discreetly helped out when Martin realized he’d need personal lubricant, and had no idea how to go about getting it here.

Vegetable oil, it turned out. Who knew?

There were some ways that Martin loved this place, and this was one of them: no one could be outed. You loved whom you loved.

Not that this helps Jon.

Jon’s problem is not whom he loves.

Jon is eldritch. Jon strikes people as weird, and they don’t know why.

Jon is not human, and he can’t lie worth shit.

So Martin works the people of this village with every ounce of charm he has—for Jon. Martin can lie for him. Martin has made it clear to everyone that he adores Jon, and Jon makes him very happy.

That bit is all true, and easy to communicate.

Thus: the people who like Martin tolerate Jon.

Martin tolerates Jon some days, too. Especially when he encounters a god on the front step and doesn't wake his partner. “Normally, it’s adorable, being him,” he mutters to his axe, setting up the next log. “Fumbling around. Getting excited over bugs, or whatever. But not like this, Jon. Not like this.”

“Mm, love is so confusing, isn’t it? Really makes you wonder if it’s worth the time,” drawls a voice that Martin has never heard before.

What the hell kind of statement was that?

Martin turns, smile plastered on, remembering to lower the axe so he doesn’t seem aggressive (a million little lessons embedded since his final, wild growth spurt in his teens). “Hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t think the market was open yet. I don’t think you’re quite allowed back here, yet? Maybe?” he suggests.

The man laughs. He doesn't look like… anything. Just a guy. Moderately attractive, brown hair, tanned skin, unremarkable clothes.

But that laugh felt weird.

Not quite like the Distortion’s laugh, but it shakes Martin the same way, unnerves him, unbalances him.

It makes him want to peel his own skin off, and that is very not good.

Martin’s grip tightens on the axe. His smile, however, does not waver.

“You’re really good at that!” the guy says, and there is nothing about his grin that should make it the worst thing Martin’s seen since the worms and corkscrew days, but it is, it is, it is. “No wonder how you ended up in such a complicated relationship. Just wormed your way in there, didn’t you? Would he even know you were doing it? Oh, oh—maybe he does know, but he just doesn’t care because he’s so desperate for love, which makes you lucky, doesn’t it, cupcake?” And the man laughs again.

Right, so none of that was good.

Martin doesn’t want to just assume this guy read his mind, but it sure did seem like he did.

Like he knows Martin’s quiet, deep fear that he manipulated his way into Jon’s heart, that Jon absolutely loves him but Martin made it happen, that Annabelle’s comment about getting what you wanted through smiles and shrugs and stammerings had embedded itself in him.

Martin pushes that aside. The more important issue is this guy asked questions.

Nobody asks questions. Nobody talks in such a sharp, present manner here.

This is already brushing up against Martin’s spook-limit, but he keeps it together.

He wants a reaction, Martin thinks, and decides not to provide one. “Sorry?” he says, his eyes wide and worried. “I’m not quite sure I follow. You know, you seem lost. I can always help you go wherever you need to get to. I’m Martin, by the way. Nice to meet you!” And though he’s so afraid he can barely breathe, Martin offers his hand.

It’s not even shaking.

“Oh, now, that’s just talent, isn’t it?” says the man, showing too many teeth. He grabs Martin’s hand in both of his (and they are hot, startlingly hot) and shakes it with wild enthusiasm, grinning the whole time. “Call me Kayne. Nice to meet you, too… plus-one.”

Okay, this had gone too far.

He considers using the axe.

He considers trying to run.

Kayne tsks at him. “Now, after I actually bothered to get your attention, you’re going to run away? Come on, now, Kartin, there’s no need for that. If I was gonna hurt you—” The axe in Martin’s hand breaks, snaps, just pops like a piece of straw, and Martin drops it with a gasp—”I would have.”

Martin’s hand is riddled with splinters, and it throbs with his heartbeat, and he takes two critical seconds to evaluate, recalibrate, shift tactics.

Because (and this is important) if the spooky guy is bothering him, he isn’t bothering Jon. “I’m going to have to replace that handle, you know,” he says, trying for just prickly enough to irritate, and braces himself for the worst.

Kayne tsks again. “Relax, muffin. No consequences for you today. Look around, my darling—it’s all waiting, just for you.”

It is waiting. It’s stopped.

No birds chirping. No movement.

A dog is frozen mid-trot, literally off the ground.

Please be safe, Martin thinks at Jon, though he knows Jon won’t hear because Jon is too far away and at least theoretically respects his mental space. “That’s, uh. That’s… pretty scary?”

“It sure is, my little baklava. Come on, now. Come on! Walk with me. Talk with me! We have some things to discuss. Oh, and a word of advice? The other guy can be chopped (though not to great effect), but I can’t. Won’t work. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”

His patter reminds Martin of some sort of cinema carnie, fast and cheerful and aggressively friendly, but Martin still feels the weird, frighteningly literal urge to peel off his own skin.

Hold his attention, he thinks again, and walks where Kayne leads. Which seems to be nowhere, just wandering through the stalls.

Everyone is frozen, mid-prep. Market day is important, and goods are on display, left and right—produce and clothing and tools, spices (mostly salt), and bundles of late summer flowers to brighten homes.

Martin hopes no one’s being harmed by this.

He won’t lead this conversation. If this Kayne actually has something to say, he can say it. Silence is hardly an issue.

“No, it wouldn’t be for you, would it?” says Kayne, reading his mind without so much as a please, and a wave of cold, familiar isolation washes through Martin.

It is just a second’s worth, and already too much.

The Lonely. That was the Lonely, splashed in his face like a glass of water.

Martin keeps it together, somehow, and huffs as if that didn’t absolutely terrify him. “Rude. Can we get this over with? Sorry, just, I’m kind of over the apocalypse, you know? So maybe just say whatever it is you want to get off your chest, and I can go back to work.”

“Oh, you’ve got even more potential than I thought,” Kayne says in a low, pleased tone, hands in his jacket pockets, striding along and watching the sky as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Creative. So focused. Positively tricksy. Sorry it’s not going to work out that way. Your BFF got visited by the King in Yellow last night, my friend. Things are afoot!”

“That’s... nice?” Martin finally knows who this voice reminds him of—that guy from Tangled. Flynn Rider. Only from hell.

“Ooh, so close! But no. Outer Infinity. Same concept, better amenities. So!” Kayne stops abruptly and claps his hands. “Can you guess why I’m visiting your AnimalCrossing island? Hm? Go on, go on, no wrong answers. Do your best.”

“For Jon,” says Martin without hesitation.

“Mmm, nope, nope, not my taste, I do not want him. Ew. Try again.”

But the thing last night had said… “The Entities,” says Martin softly. “You all want the Fears brought here.”

“Half a point for effort, cupcake. I don’t want that, either.”

What was with the weird pet names? “So… so what are you saying? Then what do you want?”

“Well, not to vaguepost, but some people,” Kayne says, using air quotes, “love a bit of chaos in their stew (excellent flavoring), and some people,” again with the air quotes, “really, really, really, really hate it. Let’s just say I prefer things savory—and the raw potential for chaos your snuggle-muffin brings to the table is causing quite the stir.”

“Chaos,” repeats Martin.

“C-h-a-o-s,” spells Kayne.

The god in yellow’s trigger word. “You,” says Martin, unable to keep his voice steady.

“In person and at your service, sir!” barks Kayne, and bows. He’s produced a full-on feathered cavalier’s hat, which he doffs with a flourish. It vanishes the moment he puts it back on.

Martin’s hand is sticky with blood. The splinters throb. “All right. Well. Jon won’t do it. I mean, I know that. And if you’re so good at reading minds, you know it, too.”

“Well, he won’t yet, sweetums,” says Kayne, “but it’s only a matter of time. You know that, right? I mean, it’s going to happen. It’s just a question of when, and I want it delayed.”

“It’s not a question of when. It’s not going to happen.” Martin feels sick, has to fight the urge to bend over, head down, pushing back nausea, dizziness. “It’s not. You don’t know Jon.”

“But I do. Didn’t like it at all.” Kayne sniffs imperiously. “He just shows everything in his dreamy brown eyes, doesn’t he? Can’t lie for shit, spends half his time in his own head, stabbing himself. Useless. You, on the other hand… there are all kinds of secrets in you, aren’t there?”

“I… I don’t…”

“I mean, you successfully fooled people who could read your mind. That takes some doing, sweet cheeks, and I am here for it.”

Martin has no idea how to feel about that statement. He swallows. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, because, because your affianced is not human. The King can’t just break him or control him (like either of us could do to you) without also breaking whatever it is that can invite all his friends to the party, you get me? And that’s not fair—so we made a bet!”

Martin’s heart is racing. “What bet?”

“Oh, whether he can get the Archivist to do it, of course. I’m going to lose,” says Kayne cheerfully. “But along the way? Drama! Romance! Tears! And since there’s no one who could influence our messy messiah, our herald of the end, our angel of music, better than you—you’re only all the little antichrist thinks about all the time—” Kayne cackles—”I took you.”

Martin takes a step back. “You what?”

Kayne flaps his hand. “Relax, cinnamon bun, I’m not here to kidnap you like an antisemitic goblin. My point, cupcake, is he’ll do what you want. You, the rudder for a nascent and deeply depressed god. That’s quite a lot of power for such a fluffy little pastry, isn’t it?”

This couldn’t be happening.

A bet.

A bet, again, with him and Jon as the game pieces. Anger makes his mouth sour. “You… you made a bet?”

Kayne studies his fingernails. “I just said that, Martin. I don’t like to repeat things. If you’re not going to listen better, I’m not going to come back.”

That is a threat, though Martin can’t fathom what might be worse than his attention. “Jon won’t choose to end the world. Why are you so sure you’ll lose?”

Kayne smiles slowly, like searing flesh, like Martin asked a question that pleases him, then suddenly flings one arm around Martin’s shoulders.

It’s like being encased in hot iron. It hurts, and Martin cries out.

“We are going to have so much fun, you and I!” Kayne says, squeezing tighter in response to Martin’s struggle. “Of course, we have to finish all this folderol first. You’ll do anything for him, he’ll do anything for you, blah, blah, blah, it's all so… so…” Kayne apes sobbing, mimics wiping tears, then switches it off and finally releases him.

Martin stumbles back, shoulders aching. Terror has finally blinded him to what to do next. It’s risen in his throat, lumpy and wet like clay.

“There, there, dumpling,” says Kayne. “Go on back to your crucial, ever-so-important work. You get to tell him all about this when he gets home.”

This can’t wait, Martin thinks.

“Oh, it can. It will. Because your little buddy with a bullseye is learning things right now that he’s going to need, and you don’t want to interrupt that, do you?”

“Then why did you come now?” says Martin.

“Stir the proverbial pot. Plant some seeds. Test your soul’s pH. You know, the usual.” He reaches for Martin’s cheek.

Martin dodges back.

Kayne smiles with poison, with such deep and dire eagerness that Martin almost starts to cry. “Ciao!”

And Kayne is gone.

Except for his cavalier’s hat, which is inexplicably in Martin’s good hand for two seconds, then vanishes.

Everyone is moving again. Time has resumed like nothing happened.

Martin’s bleeding hand aches.

He feels like a monster just put him in its mouth, chewed lightly to test for doneness, then spat him out again.

“Hey, Martin!” calls James, who seems to think Martin’s opinions on the price of cheese matter more than anyone else’s.

“Oh, hey!” Martin calls back, cheerful, smiling, because he is very good at this, very good at not scaring anyone, very good at hiding tears and making sure he’s liked.

And his hand is bleeding, and he holds it behind him while James talks, and only goes to pull out (cut out) the splinters after James has walked away.

#

“So, in summary: in mid-January, year 63, Emperor Turdot died, leaving behind a deeply unstable situation. He’d refused counsel, refused to allow anyone to know what he was doing or why, and the resulting power vacuum and destabilization gave the Church of the Thousand Young what they needed to take over, transforming the last unshepherded empire into an Esoteric theocracy.”

Jon stops, tracking which students are still paying attention (most), which students are making the connections he’s tried to lead them towards (none), and which students are so distracted by matriculation that they can’t fully focus (all).

He’s not sure yet if he likes teaching. It’s deeply intimate, more than a little uncomfortable. And given what he has to work with, it’s also like trying to plow in fresh mud. “Questions?” he prompts, expecting none. “Ah! Yes—William.”

“Mentor, tell us more of the Esoterics.”

Jon listens for the answer and finds everyone around him seems to know the same broad, unhelpful things. “Ancient beings, origins shrouded in eternity, who guide the world through their carefully-formed Churches.” Dear lord. “They control every government to some level, dependent on the individual nation’s history and relationship with their Esoteric One.”

The visitor in yellow had to be one of these things.

His students watch him, rapt. Jon doesn’t know why; he’s too busy gathering his answer to look into that just yet.

“Some nations are, as Gaul now is, theocracies, which means the deity and its underlings are physically present, openly and aggressively. These nations are considered less free by those outside of them, and unpleasant places to live, leading to—” Oh, that’s new—”the tradition that, when refugees appear, they are treated well. It is considered a mark of a good person and a civilized society to show compassion toward those who’ve torn their lives up by the roots to escape their god. It is doomed to be a cursed life—eventually, so goes the rhetoric, the gods catch up to you.”

Well, that explained why being “refugees” had put them in such a position of aid.

The students stare at him, and Jon takes a moment to try to know why.

Ah. They want to know which nation he escaped from, and how. It seems he evinces none of the things they look for as clues to his origin.

(What things? That’s hard to say, but it seems at least one of those nations would have left him with w-shaped pupils, like a cuttlefish. Yikes.)

“Any further questions?” says Jon, trying to keep that image from messing with his head.

Of course there aren’t. Nobody has questions in this place. They’re all staring at him in awe, though, because they think he will be hunted down by an Esoteric, and they’d like to see it happen.

Lovely. “All right—your final test of the season is tomorrow. No excuses—your families have known you’d need the ink all year, so I expect you to arrive fully stocked.”

“And then matriculation!” shouts Donovan from the back, and his whole class—aged fifteen to sixty-four, all genders—cheers.

He still doesn’t know what students who matriculate actually do. None of them seem to have any plans.

Still, Jon smiles with them. “Yes, yes. Go on, now. Be safe, and may the wind hide you.”

Why do they say that? He doesn’t know because they don’t know.

And no one asks.

He just doesn’t understand why nobody asks.

Jon gathers the books permitted for these classes and—per standard—locks them away. (Why did the books have to be locked up? No clue! Nobody knew! Nobody asked!)

He takes his time cleaning up—dusting, straightening, adjusting the chairs and desks so they’re all even.

He’s lingering. He doesn’t quite know what mood Martin will be in when he gets home.

Martin was not happy with last night’s adventure. Oh, he would probably be fine by tonight, but…

Making Martin upset for any reason was something Jon couldn’t really handle. It echoed things neither of them talk about, things Jon would take back if he could.

Things they maybe would never talk about.

Well. At least he had new information, finally.

Year 63 was the end of Gaul’s human rulers. This was year 376.

What was everyone counting up from? Something so significant happened 376 years ago that it changed how human beings reckon time, but no one knew what it was.

Jon sighs. School had always been a place of comfort for him—where what you knew mattered more than who you knew, or what you wore, or any other thing—but here, they all knew so little.

Though Jon doesn’t want to admit it, it’s beginning to physically hurt.

He feels starved. No, dehydrated. No… something.

It’s not a need for statements, he tells himself—which is good, as he has taken none since arrival. It has to be something else.

Sure.

Jon rubs his chest and tries to focus on this new knowledge.

The Esoterics. So strange, so undefined; just other, powerful, out there somewhere. Not that theocracies hadn’t existed in his own world (three concurrent popes all calling each other heretics like in that Spiderman meme remained one of his favorite weird historical moments), but this was different.

Actual deific embodiments. No wonder nobody he’d met here was an atheist.

They just all knew, believed, accepted, did not question. And they did not like his questions, felt terrified when asked, and he did not know why.

It was like pulling teeth to get his students to even comment on lessons.

There was little doubt that an Esoteric had come to visit last night.

Why would any of them want the Fears closer? Surely a god couldn’t get so bored that it wanted competition.

“Knock, knock,” says the Paragon.

“Come in, Mason,” says Jon, packing away the remains of his lunch.

Jon does not like the Paragon.

The Paragon makes him think far too much of Jonah. His eyes are gray. His smile is banal. His mind is heavily shrouded. While Mason is far from the only one whose mind Jon cannot see, it’s worrying.

The Paragon also provides Jon’s guilders, so Jon tries to not to let any of that show.

“So, you’ve done it,” says Mason, smiling and leaning on the door frame, like they’re old friends. “Made it through your first season. It looks like you enjoyed most of it.”

That’s another thing Jon doesn’t like: the man states his guesses as though they are fact, and often, is right.

Jon tried to hint he’d taught before.

Mason hadn’t believed it for a second.

Jon tried to hint they hadn’t traveled far.

Mason laughed like he’d made a joke.

Worrisome. “I did, thank you,” says Jon, taking up his satchel and double-checking the clasp.

“Well,” says Mason, a little gleam in his eyes (Not his fault they’re gray, Jon tells himself every time they talk), “the position is open for next season, if you’re interested.”

Three weeks between seasons, Jon has learned, is normal. A three-year program for those few who qualify, four seasons a year—eight weeks on, during which students are expected to do nothing but learn, and three weeks off, during which they must produce one new fact they learned on their own.

(But still without asking questions, and Jon is bothered.)

“That sounds lovely, assuming I’m not taking someone else’s job,” he says.

“For someone with your vast knowledge, I would make a spot, even if I had to dig for one,” says Mason affably. “Someday, you’ll have to let me know why you didn’t matriculate.”

Jon doesn’t understand what that means, or how Mason knows he didn’t, or why it matters. He focuses on his bag because he knows his face is not neutral. “Someday. Sure.”

Mason doesn’t look like Jonah. He’s younger. Slightly rougher, living in a world without spa days, or whatever Jonah did to Elias Bouchard’s body. But those eyes….

Stop it, Jon tells himself.

“There is one more thing.”

Jon tries not to tense, then decides Mason probably saw it, anyway. He smiles weakly. “Those words usually aren’t followed by anything good.”

Mason smiles back. “They are this time. I would like to invite you and your partner to a mentor’s gathering tonight. We’ll be hosting mentors from the three closest Groves, as well. It’s a good chance to meet your own kind—since I know you’re unfamiliar with our area.”

See, there it was again. That phrasing; it could be read in all different ways. Maybe Mason was trying to figure out where Jon had run from, too. “I’ll ask and see if he’s interested. Neither of us feels overly social just yet.”

“Really.” Mason’s eyes widen. “It seems your beau is quite social, from what I hear.”

“Professionally, of course he is,” says Jon, trying so very hard not to feed his suspicion of this man.

“Fair enough, fair enough. Well, I hope he says yes. I’m heading to London after, so I won’t see you again until next season. Have a good night, Jonathan.”

Jon doesn’t correct his name. He just leaves.

Worth it, he reminds himself, because it is, and he isn’t tied down, and they can leave at any time (quitting was an option here, and he had damn well made sure).

Cresting the hill before their cottage, he pauses, looks; it’s market day, and Martin will be late.

Jon’s going to bake something. Welcome him home with good smells and love.

He checks the dough that’s been proofing overnight, liberally mixed with fresh rosemary; it already smells divine, and he has high hopes for it as he sticks it in the oven.

Happily, he doesn’t have to light a fire. Electricity works here between the hours of five AM and seven PM—even though there are neither wires nor outlets.

It’s wireless power in a place that doesn’t even have radios. Yet another mystery.

What was the world like before that event of 376 years past?

Jonathan was a Hebrew name, and Jon had it because of religious and cultural integration. Others here had names like Mark, which was originally Greek, and—back home—common for the same reason.

There was no Church of Rome, couldn’t be in a world with floating gods, and without the common foundation of that Greco-Latin influence, the language should not be the same. The word theocracy had Greek roots, for crying out loud.

He had to wonder if they were actually speaking English—if the Eye was doing something to ease communication.

But if it was, how would that work for Martin?

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Jon mutters, bringing leftovers up from the narrow, deep cellar.

Maybe the Fears hadn’t been able to come through because this world was so different.

There didn’t seem to be much suffering, at least. Nobody talked about anything frightening, ever; and when he skimmed minds, he never saw the concerns that should, by reason, be there.

No one worried for their future or their health or war or money.

No one worried for their children or their parents or their crops or their cows.

It’s like they were all caricatures of people, two dimensional—kind, hard-working, but unable to think deeply about anything.

How could they be like this in a universe run by terrifying beings like last night’s god?

There is no way to know, of course, (You could know, tempts the Eye, and Jon ignores it), but he highly doubts the yellow-cloaked being is going to be patient with him for long.

Would distance make a damn bit of difference?

Esoterics rule various nations, but the fact that refugees get chased down means fleeing probably won’t help.

Escape might be possible, but it might not—and if it isn’t, running would just piss off the thing that was after them.

There is a London, but Jon’s not found a map. Is there an Oxford? Probably not. The likelihood of there being an exit, another Hill Top Road, is slim to none—and whatever hole they’d fallen through originally was definitely no longer available.

He didn’t want to risk returning to their original world, anyway. What if the Fears continued to follow him, tethered? What if they weren’t as stuck as he hoped?

Jon sighs. “Focus, Sims,” he mutters, because wherever he and Martin land, here or elsewhere, he is determined to make a home for them. No matter what it takes.

Even if that means figuring out a way around a god.

“Hopefully, with no more stabbing,” Jon mutters, chopping everything for a makeshift fry-up.

And suddenly, he knows whose territory he is in.

His hand slips, and he cuts his finger.

Cursing, he runs it under the sink; while it heals, he tries to stay calm.

He hadn’t reached for this new knowledge. Hadn’t asked. Why had it been given to him? Why had—

“Jon?” says Martin from the door. He is very pale, and his hand is bandaged.

Jon drops everything and runs to him.

#

They sit together on their old, broken-down couch, ignoring the springs that press into their backs and bottoms. “What are we going to do?” Martin says, very small.

“I don’t know.” Jon cradles Martin’s bandaged hand. He doesn't mention his own cut, already healed.

“We have to do something. Maybe go somewhere. We—we have enough saved. If we had to buy passage overseas or something, maybe we could.”

“I don’t know, Martin. I don’t think it would help.”

“We can’t just sit here!”

Jon sighs. “I think our visitors are truly in charge here. That whole Esoteric thing… I mean, what kind of a name is the Church of a Thousand Young, anyway? It has something to do with what they call the Black Goat of the Woods. Can’t you feel how terrible that is?”

Martin cannot, but he can see how it affects Jon—disgust and fear, equally rancid—so he nods.

“And do you want to know which Esoteric rules here? I found out while I was… before you got back. Alba belongs to the Church of the Pallid Mask. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” whispers Martin, breathing faster, because something about the way Jon said that was too familiar, tipped him off that Jon got this information illicitly, and if he’s listening that hard, actively searching, then he’s stretching his powers, and he hasn’t needed statements yet, but what if he starts needing them, and—

“A white mask, Martin. Like the King in Yellow was wearing.”

“We’re in his territory? Then we should leave!”

“Even if we got away from him, I don’t think we could from your chaos god.”

“He’s not my chaos god,” Martin snaps, and doesn’t know why he does.

Jon flinches. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, Jon.” Martin pulls him close, sighs against his hair. “No, I’m sorry. I’m on edge.” He sighs. “And my hand hurts, and I had to pretend it didn’t all day because if I get so much as a scrape, everybody’s all over me to help.”

Jon smiles against his shoulder; then laughs. He can’t help it. “Of course they are. My man, the Village stud.”

“Stop.” But Martin’s smiling.

“The mysterious thoroughbred from far away, the most eligible gentleman—”

Martin’s laughing now, too, and he’s red behind his freckles. “Jon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“What, just because I happen to be sleeping with the most strapped, the most—”

“All right, all right.”

“Even Salesa was into you, you know.”

“What?”

“’I like this one,’” Jon mimics in a poor attempt at Salesa’s accent.

Martin gives up and kisses him quiet, laughing against his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes, I am,” Jon smirks, but then the moment has passed, and his smile fades. “This bet of theirs is insane. I won’t bring the Fears into the world, Martin. I’ll die before I do that to this place.”

Martin is silent for a long moment. “You’re assuming you can die.”

“I assume it because it’s reasonable. I don’t have the power I did back home, even before Jonah’s ritual. Yes, I can gather thoughts, but I don’t need them. And I can’t force people to tell me things—there’s no compelling at all.”

“You’ve tried?” says Martin, softly.

Jon blinks at him. “Well, yes.”

“Jon, when did this happen?”

“I… not long after I started looking for a job. I….”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Jon looks so surprised. “I didn’t want to worry you! Besides, what’s there to tell? You know I’m not the Archivist here. Whatever lingering effects there are, I’m not that. I don’t have the powers, and I don’t have the protections.”

Not all of them, anyway.

“Who did you try to compel?”

Jon sighs slowly. “Just a shopkeeper. I haven’t gone back. I… I just needed to know if I could do it.”

Martin is silent.

Jon feels suddenly ashamed, though he hadn’t a moment before. “Martin, I had to figure out what remained inside me. I doubt I can look anyone to death, either.”

“No, I’d assume you couldn’t do that. But Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” Which is the truth (because Martin was right and Kayne was right and Jon can’t lie for shit). “I just did a few tests, realized I can’t compel, can’t just know everything—but I also don’t need statements. I don’t have to feed the Eye, Martin.”

“I know you don’t, but….”

“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it,” says Jon, softly, looking up (and Martin wants to melt into those eyes, wants to kiss away the pain he sees there, the lingering sorrow and shame). “You’ve been so focused on just keeping us afloat here. So have I. We just… haven’t talked about not needing statements.”

They haven’t talked about a lot more than that.

Martin sighs. “I felt like if I did, I’d be pushing our luck. Jinxing it.”

Jon’s smile is not a good one. “If you don’t want to be jinxed, you’ll need to stay far away from me.”

“No. No,” says Martin, firmly, uncomfortably reminded of Kayne’s comment about Jon mentally, repeatedly stabbing himself. “None of that. You know better.”

Jon neither confirms nor denies.

Martin cups his face. “I am with you because I love you. I choose you,” he says. “I didn’t know it would be this way, but that’s how all love is. That’s how life is! I mean, if I’d known it would be like this, I would have stabbed Jonah in the back of the head or something, but I’d still be with you. And we’d be in Honduras.”

“Honduras?” says Jon with a little smile. “Why?”

“Non-extradition treaty,” says Martin. “I looked it up.”

Jon manages a small laugh. His smile fades, changes into something intense, eldritch, too much to bear, and Martin has to fight not to drop his own gaze. “I don’t deserve you,” says Jon.

“Stop that,” says Martin. “Also, I think I smell bread.”

“Damn, the bread!” Jon says, and leaps away to get it out of the oven.

Damn Jonah is what Martin thinks, because he sees the wounds, he sees the scars, sees how brilliantly Jonah destroyed whatever confidence Jon had once had.

Of course Jonah had. He hadn’t wanted the god he’d created to come after him.

And Martin doesn’t know how to heal him.

It angers Martin that his love isn’t enough to reach the bottom of the wounds Jonah left.

I’m just jealous of everybody, aren’t I? thinks Martin, considering his reaction to Oliver Banks, and has to laugh at himself. “What a pair we make,” he mutters.

“Safe,” says Jon. “Rosemary bread tonight. It’s going to be lovely.”

Not nearly as lovely as Jon’s expression, Martin thinks, studying the way his eyes crinkle, studying the way he actually shows his teeth with a smile this real.

Why can’t we have this? Martin thinks at the universe. Just let us have this.

The universe does not reply.

(part three)

NOTES:

It's ALMOST AS IF they really need to talk about some stuff. Hmmmm!

[reswhocareswhocareswhoca]

me being massively depressing under the cut

No one follows me anyway, so it doesn't matter what I say here. Nothing I do really matters anyway. I can wash the dishes, but they still pile up. I can do the laundry, but it still piles up. I can cook one day and starve the next because there's no food. And I can't just go out and buy more food or get creative in the kitchen and make a meal with what I have. I'm too disabled for that. It's a miracle when I can cook at all. Consistency is a pipe dream.

For the past three weeks, I've really been struggling to move. My FND has been really bad lately, which is heartbreaking because I was actually on kind of a good streak up until this relapse. I feel powerless. I have no idea how to help myself. I'm trying so hard to keep my spirits up but my heart is faltering.

The bathroom smells really bad and I don't know why because it's visibly clean but I'm too worn out to do anything about it, so even though I'm in the living room it still smells like shit and it has smelled like shit for days. My boyfriend doesn't smell anything though, and he has a wicked sense of smell. He usually smells things I can't smell at all, and if it is something I can smell, he can smell it much sooner than I can. But he doesn't smell the foul odor coming from the bathroom. I can't even go in there it's so bad.

I feel hopeless. Practicing crocheting was nice but now I'm out of yarn. I didn't want to order any because I wanted to actually physically go to the store for once to support brick and mortar stores but I think I'm just going to have to get it delivered. It is so rare that I'm in good enough shape to drive. I can drive maybe a couple of times a week, and only if it's sunny. My FND is so bad on gloomy days, and this has been a very gloomy winter. Also, I never drive farther than 10 minutes away, and the craft store is about 20-30 min away. It's an undertaking.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time and manage my mental health from a young age so that I wouldn't get this stupid crap now. I know the cause of FND is unknown but it's correlated with stress and I suspect that's how I ended up like this. There's no way to know for sure, but this is what I suspect. I also kind of suspect COVID, I've seen quite a few headlines and articles regarding the relationship between COVID and FND, but honestly trying to read them upsets me so much that my condition flares so I can't really do it myself. Besides, I got FND months after receiving my vaccines. And I got COVID in 2021. And who knows? I could have had it more than that one time but stayed asymptomatic. I'm trying not to blame myself for opting to get the vaccine. I'm trying to tell myself that I was just trying to do my best with the information that I had, and that I got COVID anyways, so there's nothing that I truly could have done to prevent the FND onset anyway. If COVID is even the reason why I got FND anyways. Who knows what caused this? No one knows what caused this.

No one knows how to fix it either. I got my diagnosis and the neurologist just said there's nothing to do. I'm just stuck like this. I can't live. I don't even know what my options are. Should I go live in some in-patient facility somewhere? Should I go to another clueless therapist like I have five times before? I hate therapy. I hate it so much. It's the first solution people shove down your throat when you struggle with your mood and it's total bullshit I am convinced. I have been to five separate therapists and I swear it's nothing more than a venting session. I can vent to my mom. I can vent to my cat. I can vent into my journal. I can vent here. I have plenty of places to vent. Any question they ask is a question I've already asked my myself. It's such a waste of money I can't stand it. But apparently that bull is my only option and honestly, I'm not having any of it. Any improvement I have seen in my life happened when I WASN'T in therapy. Therapy is completely irrelevant. And way too damn expensive. Venting isn't enough. And I don't have a job anymore, so I'm definitely not paying for that crap now.

I don't know what to do. I'm a burden on my boyfriend. He is the biggest sweetheart in the whole world. When I'm doing bad (which has been most of the time, lately), he's the one who cooks, he's the one who cleans, he helps me shower, he helps me get dressed, he helps grab things for me when I can't go get them myself, he makes me smile and laugh on my worst days. He is my everything and I don't deserve him. He does all of this after breaking his back at his manual labor job every day and I don't deserve him. I don't have any friends. My mom is six hours away. My dad (also 6 hours away) means well but has zero emotional intelligence (okay, I should be fair, maybe like 40%), and he doesn't address my FND at all. Just pretends it's not there. I feel invisible. Nothing matters. What's the point of me being here at all? Just to be a weight on the shoulders of everyone I love? They don't deserve that. But I can't leave them out of "mercy" because I would break their hearts and mess them up for a long time. They tell me to be strong and fight through it. But how?! FND has no rules! No order! No rhyme or reason! How do you fight an invisible opponent who's playing a game no one has ever heard of before! One day, working out helps the condition. The next day, it makes it ten times worse. One day, forcing myself to complete tasks around the house works. The next, moving around is completely impossible. How do I fight something when I'm completely nerfed and the opponent makes its own rules? I feel betrayed.

I don't know what else to say. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of my emotion, but I don't know what to say. I can't take feeling like this anymore. There's no way out. I'm losing my mind trying to stay calm and stay positive. I can't handle feeling alone anymore but I'm in no place to reach out to people. My misery has consumed my whole life. Any conversation topic someone could hope to have with me will be marred my FND's presence. "Oh, what do you do?" I stay at home. "What do you do in your free time?" Suffer. Okay, maybe I'm not that blunt. I do try to elegantly dance around these questions saying things like "Oh I just passed my state exams and am waiting on my license," or "I enjoy reading." But as the conversation unfolds there always comes a point where I must decide if I want to hide my FND or not. Every time I have to weigh that question in my mind, it hurts. It hurts feeling like something that has consumed my whole world will turn me into a pathetic freak in other people's eyes. But simultaneously, I feel like a faker! Like my FND "isn't that bad". I don't use a cane! I don't use a wheelchair! I don't have double vision! I can talk just fine if I'm not struck temporarily mute like I am sometimes! Hell, I can drive! I can work out at the gym! I can cook! I passed nail tech school and exams with this condition! Clearly I'm just being dramatic! Clearly it's all in my fucking head!!!!!

There's no consistency. How can one live without consistency? It's been taken away. I've been robbed.

I really want to go upstairs it smells like sewage down here but I can't move. I wish I could have some water but I'm out and I can't move. I wish I could make myself some oatmeal like I do most mornings but I can't move. I wish I could go to the library and pick up the book I have on hold but I can't move. What room is there for someone like me on Earth! Can't be a productive member of society? The sooner you die, the better. But I'm not dead. I'm too stubborn for that.

I try to meditate. Maybe if I remove myself from the ups and downs of life. Remove my ego. Become the river. Maybe then I can find peace. But I can't meditate, it triggers the FND. That's the whole point of doing yoga anyway, to make the body well enough to handle stillness and meditation. Apparently you can't truly meditate until you've mastered asana anyway. So they say.

Maybe I should get into writing. I don't have to worry about running out of yarn that way. But my mind stalls and my ideas are non-existent. I can't write what isn't there.

I feel hopeless.

[uglytsumugi12]

band bb 【ep 2】

♢ characters: koga, yuuta, ibara

♢ season: winter

― ☆ ―

〈 The next day 〉

Koga: Man, I stayed in here for too long. I wasn't plannin' on buy anythin' but they kept bringin' new guitars to me. Damn shopkeeper… Now I wanna buy one.

Well whatever, doesn't matter. 'M in a good mood now ♪

(Never would'a thought I'd get my hands on that discontinued score print. Had given up on it for a while. I was also able t' get that tailpiece I 'been wantin' for a while now. Thank fuck it was in stock.)

(They were all sold out when I came last time. Ended up bein' a fuckin' waste of time.)

(Guess I could avoid worryin' about items bein' sold out by buyin' them online but…)

(I need'a touch the actual thing myself before buyin' it. That way I can feel some sort'a connection with it, or somethin'.)

(Tch… Pisses me off when a shopkeeper tries t' force me into buyin' his shit, but…)

Well, I'm takin' care of a bunch'a stuff. Guess I'll stop relyin' on the internet 'n help with small shops' sales.

--Hn? Eh? That closed building, that's-- Hey, wasn't it a live music club? I remember some of the juniors used to play there.

Err.. There's a bar sign there 'n a convenience store over there. Guess I was right.

The fuck. Did it really shutdown…?

Well, now that I'm lookin' at it closer, some other shops have changed too.

The live music club's gone. The convenience store was replaced by somethin' else, 'n the rest are abandoned buildings.

Tch. That means the story I've heard was true…

That project of creatin' a "music district" put that music club 'n other music shops in a difficult situation.

It was already hard enough, but then ES was created 'n that was the breaking point.

Damn it. I wish I could do somethin', but there's nothin' I can do anyway.

Man, that fuckin' sucks…

Ibara: --Excuse me? Absolutely not.

Yuuta: What? Why not!?

Ibara: What do you mean, "why not"? You should be wondering why you even thought you'd get permission to do that in the first place.

Yuuta: W- Well, because this is out of my working hours and… It'd be a way for me to repay the people who've helped me for free in the past…

Ibara: …You've got to be kidding. Okay, listen up.

Surely that matter is personal.

But as long as you belong in this agency, your popularity, skills, appearances and such… They're all the agency's properties.

This matter being private isn't an excuse to handle it for free.

Are you saying you wouldn't mind disgracing the sponsors' value and huge money compensations towards idols? You're--

Yuuta: Ugh.. T- that's..--

(That may be true, but..! Handling it for free… What the hell does that mean!? No need to be so stuck up--And even so, I'm not some kind of object!)

Ibara: You look dissatisfied.

Well, I don't want to hear you complain anyway.

You should be happy with belonging to an agency offering so many merits in many situations.

Yuuta: …merits?

Ibara: Yes. Merits.

Ibara: Why do you think you keep getting job offers after job offers?

That's simple. The agency sells you to business offers, and that's how you obtain jobs afterwards.

Yuuta: Ugh…

Ibara: You get to work freely without having to worry about a single thing. Know why?

That's right; Someone else is doing all the hard work for you.

Yuuta: ..Hgrn…

Ibara: How is it that you're never exposed to society's ill will, hm?

Maybe because the company protects idols from any kind of danger.

Yuuta: ……

Ibara: It's unacceptable for someone in your position to think only of their own selfish wishes.

Besides, an agency can't just stand there and watch its idols getting exploited in any way.

Yuuta: That's…! This isn't some kind of one-sided exploitation!

I was just asked to come back for old time's sake… You don't have to be so harsh!

Ibara: Clearly, that is one-sided exploitation.

There are plenty places that would love to make use of a celebrity's popularity for their own benefit. They'll throw you away once you're not needed anymore.

Can you even differentiate what's acceptable and what isn't? Can you explain that this is a distinction and not a discrimination?

Furthermore. Instead of focusing so much on such a fruitless job, you should work harder on actual jobs that'll bring actual money.

Trust me, it's the only way you'll be able to grow and build your future. That's how it works in this industry.

― ☆ ― ♢ previous chapter ♢ next chapter

✦ masterlist

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

Honestly do you ever wish you could just fuck off into the wilderness for like a year or two (preferably two) and then emerge?

Because like I kinda don't want anyone seeing this kinda awkward HRT starting phase, I wish I could just disappear until all the surgeries are performed, until my fat redistributes, my voice drops even more, the acne gets a little less severe (I know that it usually lasts until your 40s but guys have told me that it usually gets at least a bit better when the hormone levels get a bit less fucky, just like during cis guy puberty) and the T face chub disappears (I still don't really get why this happens tbh? But a lot of guys have said that even when you don't gain weight some of your fat moves to your face and neck for a while before it disappears around the 14 months on T mark? I'm not sure if I noticed anything like that on myself, I may just be getting paranoid from reading such things lol). Mostly I wish I could do that because it's like...when we go through puberty during teen years, people expect us to look different later. They think "Oh you look like shit but it's okay because during puberty everyone looks like shit and you'll look better later". But nobody knows that i'm essentially going through a second puberty, so everyone who meets me now or doesn't know about the course of HRT will think that I just look and sound this shit and honestly I'm not a fan of that. And also I want to finally be free of my chest. It's very hard to hide even with a binder (I'm double D and pretty skinny with a small ribcage) and I don't want anyone to even look at me while I have them.

That's such a mood 😭😭😭.

I started transitioning medically my last year of college and it was definitely weird. Thankfully, the results happened fairly quickly for me.

I think the best way to know how T is gonna work is to look at the men in your family. The men in my family get symmetrical facial hair that tends to focus on the neck before going to the rest of the face, they don't get super low voices, their faces get kinda rectangular, awful acne, etc. So that's more or less what I was expecting and it's more or less what I got. My face didn't get fatter, but it did get more rectangular. When paired with a haircut that complimented that it looked really good.

So advice for the neck fat and everything you mentioned is definitely look into hairstyles that actually work well with your facial structure. Cuz that makes a HUGE difference.

Thankfully acne didn't get too bad for me. I never got any acne the first time I went through puberty, so this time it was a mild to medium amount. It's pretty mild now. I got really lucky with my genetics.

I don't have much advice on the chest binding. I only wore binders for a month and then had to stop because of breathing issues (even when I went up in size). But I had a very similar size and body shape as you. This is what I found helpful:

-larger button down shirts with designs on them. Small graphics all over the shirt. Not so big that it's feminine but enough that the designs distract from my chest.

-puffy vests in the winter. I don't know how to describe them, but they basically look like a winter coat but as a vest. They are kinda puffy so they can help hide chests and curves.

-vests in general are good at hiding curves. Depending on how you wear it they can make chests look smaller. They can come off as feminine still, but at least it helps chest dysphoria.

-layers. I used to wear t shirts with a long sleeve flannel worn like a sweater.

-distracting hats that make people look up instead of down.

^^^^ none of these will necessarily help you pass. But they helped me with dysphoria at the very least.

On a last note tho. Time goes by fast. I was on T for about 8 months before I had top surgery. As soon as I got the surgery I was able to pass just fine. Less than one year on T and no visible chest was all I needed. I'm almost at 2 years now and still having no issues. It felt like I started T yesterday. Time went by really quickly. It's definitely weird going through the second puberty and it's awkward having others see you in that stage. But most won't even remember it as you start to develop further.

Literally tho, I have people who knew me before my name change that have completely forgotten my old name-- despite that happening less than a 5 months ago. My own girlfriend and her best friend have known me since we were 12 and they BOTH forget sometimes that I wasn't always a man. Once you get past the awkward stage people get normalized to how you are, and they really start to forget everything else.

[babylooneytoonz]

Summary: Your first meeting with Sergeant Barnes wasn't exactly charming, hell, it was a disaster. And the only adjectives that came to your mind when you thought about him were words like prick, bastard and a jackass. He made your life hell, and you lived to make sure you made him suffer. And neither of you realized, how your sole mission of tormenting each other became the most important part of your life.

Warnings: Bucky Barnes continues to be an ass // Reader has finally has it // War declared

Coffee Stains - Masterlist

Coffee Stains

Your anger still lingered inside of you like a deep rooted worm, even after you had stepped into the warm soothing shower, after your encounter with whoever the fuck that man was. You were still annoyed, and you were sure as hell worried that your mood might end up affecting your performance at the training today. You stood in your room, the pads of your feet nestled onto the feathery carpet that adorned the floor of your apartment, semi dressed when you heard Friday.

"Miss Y/N, Captain is here, waiting for you."

You frowned, wondering if it was already 7 and somehow, you had lost the track of time, but you noted that it was still 6: 40 pm by the clock.

"Thank you, Friday," that was the fastest you had ever gotten into your yoga pants, pulling it over your round bum, the elastic strap stinging against your soft fleshy belly as it hit it with a slap. The towel still rolled over your hair, you ran up to the door and flung it open, only to see Steve standing there with two people you didn't know of and who were probably newbies like you.

"Y/N, how are you holding up?" Steve asked in soft voice, and somehow you found your previous anger slowly melting away.

"Great, Steve. I thought I'm late on my first day," your lips now crept upwards in a grin, and Steve just shook his head, his hand flying to the back of his head as he ran his fingers through his blond locks.

"I thought I'd introduce you to the two of them, they were the only ones I could find lurking in the recreation room, so I dragged them here."

"No, you did not, I was the one that insisted I wanted to meet the newbie," the dark haired girl just winked playfully in your direction, and you couldn't help but snort at her words when you saw Steve's face turn crimson like a cherry.

"I'm Wanda, well, people around here might call me stuff like the Sokovian witch and all that, but when they're saying that, consider it is me they're talking about." The woman threw out her hand towards you, her hand extended in a shake, and you took her hand, feeling a comfortable warmth radiating from her. Wanda then turned towards the one to her right, and smiled, "Well this one doesn't talk much, but you'll like him."

"Hello Miss Y/N, my name is Vision, and I have taken it upon myself to welcome you to our team."

"Thank you Vision, it's my pleasure." You shook his hand; the little meet and greet causing you to temporarily forget about the man; the stranger you had met in the kitchen a few minutes back.

Steve's thick voice reaching your ears caused you to turn towards him, and you saw him looking at the trio of you with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it– " He took a step away, his front turned towards you, but his steps moving backwards until he was now a good distance away, " Y/N, I will expect you to be at the training room in ten minutes." With that, his heavy footsteps retreated away, until you couldn't hear him anymore, and you were left standing with Wanda and Vision, on your doorstep.

"Around here, punctuality is the key. And in general," Vision began.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Vision and Wanda lingered around in your apartment for the next ten minutes along with you, talking to you about the life at the Avengers Towers and how you got used to it once you had started adjusting.

"After a while, it feels like you are living with your roommates, except the fact that they all are superheroes," Wanda chuckled, as she watched you place your glasses away and pull out your contact lenses and fix them into your eyes.

Exactly nine minutes later, you left your apartment, and slowly started making you way towards the training room with your newly found friends, who you realized just couldn't stop bantering and talking amongst themselves; and it was cute, not in a way you felt left out. The three of you made your way to the fourth floor, and towards the training room when Wanda and Vision finally parted ways with you as it was time for their own training as well, leaving you alone.

It wasn't long before you reached the training room, but before you could step in, you heard muffled voices from the inside, until you strained your ears a little and an automatically induced frown found its way to your forehead.

"What's gotten you so grumpy today, Buck?"

Steve.

The other voice that replied wasn't one of the voices you really wished to hear again.

"What's with Stark hiring all the weirdos found in NYC? I can't believe my best tshirt got ruined."

"Come on Buck, it was a tshirt. And besides, I'm sure it was an accident."

"Who the hell cares what it was, if I was Stark, I would have fired her lousy ass right away."

"Buck, language."

You couldn't believe this piece of shit was still stuck over what had happened that afternoon. You couldn't say you had forgotten about it, but atleast you were acting all grown up and weren't bitching about it to anyone. And here he was, bitching around with none other than your mentor. This day was getting worse and worse, and you internally begged to call it a day and disappear into your apartment so you could peacefully spend your night curled in that soft, mushy pillows and the silken sheets.

You cleared your throat, intentionally, so you could announce your presence and as if on cue, Bucky's head snapped in your direction and his scowl widened, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"You again? The hell you following me around for? If you're here to apologize– "

Steve's eyes widened when he sensed the tension slowly rising in the room and it wasn't like he was daft. Having put the two and two together, he understood now that the person responsible for putting Bucky in this foul mood had been you, well not intentionally.

"Buck, easy. She is our newest recruit. Thank you for being on time, Agent."

Bucky took a double take, his eyes raking over you, in a very obvious way; and not in a sexual kind of a way but in a way to believe that he was truly shocked. This annoyed you even more and your fingers clenched against your sides.

"You got to be kidding me, punk. She can't even walk straight while holding a darn mug of coffee."

That's it, you had it with him taking continuous digs at you.

"You know, you deserved it. And now I wish it wasn't just coffee but something way worse. Probably horse piss," you literally spat and if it wasn't for Steve who had now fixed himself in front of you, blocking the two of you from slamming anything you could lay your hands on, into each other's faces, things would have gotten messy in the training room within seconds.

"Bucky–" he warned, his palm outstretched towards him, glaring at him, "we have to train now."

He then turned towards you, his expression reflecting a bit of disappointment in his orbs, "Y/N, I expect atleast one of you to be sensible, and if not, then cordial, he is a senior in here."

It suddenly clicked in the back of your head. You had watched the coverage of the Battle of Triskelion on TV. So, this was him, that ass, Winter Soldier. Of course, this man had issues, like really serious ones. But that didn't excuse the way he was behaving with you. But also, you knew that Steve was right. There was no point in engaging with him, so you decided to just be cordial, if it meant not having to deal with his shit anymore.

"Fine." You grumbled, almost under your breath.

Running your hand through your short shoulder length (Y/H/C) hair, you finally walked up to where Steve was standing, already in the Captain America mode now.

"Today, we'll test your hand to hand combat skills," you heard him say and you nodded your head, zoning out all the unwanted presences in the training room, although you could feel Bucky's piercing gaze on you. You knew he wanted to watch you fail, and falter but you weren't going to give him a chance.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Sweat drenched down your face, dripping off your neck, as you shifted the weight of your body and threw out your fisted palm towards your mentor, with a sudden looping overhand, but Steve managed to block your punch, his own aim now towards your nose. Your reflexes had kicked in, causing you to duck at the right time and block his punch, at the same time managing to knock him off his feet with your foot thrown out.

Captain America was hard to beat, but so were you.

The distance had once again taken its place in front of the two of you, and the two of you were ready for another round, and you were glancing at your opponent, analyzing what he was thinking, what his next moves were. He was subdued, the weight of his body shifted to his left, his eyes narrowed at you, probably ready to attack, but you couldn't be sure; maybe he wanted you to attack first, and then he would counter you.

Suddenly, he lunged at you, his fists aimed in an attack and you had been wrong there, to study his body language, and even worse, when you let yourself get distracted when you heard a low, meenacing and annoying voice reach out to you, "Agent.. are you sure you can see Steve, because you don't seem to have your glasses on. Not that you know where to go even with them on."

Your eyes flew to him in disbelief and your mouth curved into a perfect O, making you lose your fighting stance, and your guard. Steve was already fast, and when he heard Bucky's taunt, he tried to shoot him a sharp glare for distracting you, but he couldn't stop himself, he was so in momentum, his heavy palm cracked against your abs, throwing you away, down on the mat with a force you didn't think was possible.

Steve threw his hands in the air, as he rushed over to you, kneeling down beside you, to check if you were alright, but you gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded, sitting upright, shooting Bucky a glare.

"I didn't know they taught you these cheap tactics of distracting people back at the army, Sergeant."

Bucky smiled, leaning forward slightly, so his elbows were resting against his knees, his lips stretched into what looked like an evil smirk.

"Weak people always find excuses, one way or the other. You let yourself get distracted."

He stood up, with slow steps, walking over towards you. By that time, you had lifted yourself off the mat, and your hands had flown to your hips, your neck held upright. Bucky stepped onto the mat, moving in front of Steve, who had opened his mouth in protest, but hadn't yet said anything, until Bucky was in your face, giving you a stare down.

"This is the real deal. I don't know where you came from or what you did. But this is the real deal. There will be real enemies, and they will do everything on their part to distract you. There is no room for weakness here."

Suddenly, a feeling of dread washed over you, it wasn't exactly dread, but it was something else all together, like a sudden burst of adrenaline , perhaps provoked by his words, but also because of his close proximity. You hadn't realized till that moment, and perhaps, neither had he, but he was so close, you could feel his hot breath on your face which caused your eyes to involuntarily fall over his lips for a second, and then back up, until you caught him smirking down at you, probably basking in his little mountain of victory.

You only thanked Steve inwardly, when he suddenly stepped in, breaking whatever this moment was, when he grabbed Bucky's palm and pulled him away from you, his eyes now on him, a look passing between the two of them that you couldn't decipher. Maybe it was a best friend thing between them, something only the two of them knew of.

"Buck, that's enough, she was good, and you know she was."

"I agree."

When a foreign voice sounded in the room, the three heads involuntarily snapped in that direction, only to find Sam Wilson leaning against the door, a half eaten apple in his hand, and his mouth moving as he was chewing on it.

"What?" He shrugged, his voice sounding unclear as his mouth was completely stuffed, "that was the Captain that she just fought. And I am impressed."

Your expressions softened, and a smile broke out on your lips and you nodded towards Sam, who nodded back with his eyes twinkling at you.

Bucky shrugged and finally, he let his shoulders relax, and shot you a quick look, "I don't think so. I think you just went soft on her."

You scoffed in disbelief, biting your lower lip to bite back from barking back at him and moved away from the mat to grab a chilled bottle of water that lay on a table. Your fingers worked on the bottle and at the same time, your eyes remained on Bucky, and Sam who had now joined the two of the super soldiers. You could see that Steve was trying to knock some sense into Bucky, tell him how he was just overdoing it, but Bucky just deadpanned, his glare fixed on you until he again took a dig at you, and this time you couldn't take it.

"Did it hurt? That blow to your –" He pointed his index finger towards his abs, that cocky smirk still draped over his lips,   "Now maybe that's payback, for almost burning me a few hours back."

His words caused you to almost tighten your grip on the bottle, the grip so hard, the plastic of the bottle almost shrank. You took a deep breath, taking one step towards him, slowly, before your pace rose, and you were striding towards him, your eyes brewing with anger. The bottle was still in your hand, the cap laying abandoned on the table, so when you were sure you were at a close proximity from him, you tipped the bottle, letting the cold water drain through his tshirt, right on his abs, drenching him completely.

"There you go, I think it won't burn now, I feel I should have done that hours back, atleast you wouldn't be crying about it till now."

Steve closed his eyes, his palm flying to his face as he swiped his hand over his face. He knew that things were going to get murky now, and things had gotten out of hand, which is why his grip on Bucky's arm tightened. Bucky was seething, partly in rage, and partly due to a sudden flush of what he could only name as embarrassment, while Sam was openly smirking at what he had just witnessed.

A woman had managed to shut the Winter Soldier up, and how, with cold water right on his burns.

Today was a good day.

(Feedback is appreciated. 💗)

Permanent Bucky Barnes Taglist :

@thepeakygurl

@all-art-is-quite-useless

@baumarvel

@really-dont-forget-it

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[icharchivist]

I have finished winter troupe debut episode! It was very dramatic lmao. Was enjoyable though. Winter troupe all had very interesting characters and It's nice to see a troupe that is all adults.

Since I complained about spring troupe issues being solved by not talking about it. I have to talk about how winter troupes issues were solved by literal outside forces trapping them or letting them read peoples minds.

I'm guessing they did this because unlike the teens who are more willing to be open about themselves and pester others,,,, adults are a lot less likely. (Before winter the adults were, sakyo, and itaru? cause the uni students aren't really adults yet. sakyo opens up to Izumi because he knows and trusts her. Itaru. Hasn't really opened up yet but he's getting there.) Whereas winter troupe is a group of strangers and the two who know each other literally are in the middle of massive misunderstanding/fight?/idk mutual disappointment.

(Also misumi just getting trapped in random time loops???? Holy shit is he ok???? Like he was able to figure it was tsumugi and tasuku this time but what if he doesn't know the people? I have so many questions)

Ok rant over. I have accepted that magic exists in a3 and all it wants is for people to get along and understand each other. But yeah once I crawl through the events and next act I have to rewatch spring hahaha. I definitely wasn't fair to them.

Homare oh my god. Just. Holds gently. I want to protect him. No one deserves to be called a broken cyborg :(

Gahhh all of winter troupe I just want to protect.

Also I saw fuyupoly is a thing? Because I'm excited to see the troupe develop more.

(you said you had a Google drive of the inbetween acts events :eyes: should I message you or something?)

tHEY’RE SO DRAMATIC I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.....

And yeah tbh when you talked about Spring having communication problems my first thought was “oh BOY you haven’t seen Winter yet” DLKFJDLFKJDFLKJDFLK

I. think about Winter much more than i should but yeah, pretty much it’s the fact they’re adults and strangers and just. are extremely conflict avoidant, all of them, for various reasons. Tsumugi because of his crushed confidence, Tasuku because he struggles to convey his feelings and he lost Tsumugi in the past, Hisoka because he litterally has no past and it freaks him out (Homare was spot on when he said Hisoka knew he couldn’t defend himself), Homare because he’s scared he’ll mess up again, and Azuma because he spent his life keeping people at armlength.  They’re all adult and agreeable people, and they are also all pretty understanding in some way, so they let some conflict pass by hoping it will be over soon. Some of them like Tsumugi, Azuma and Homare are also pretty analytic of people on a psychological way so they can try to navigate with what they know. 

But in the end without communication it’s not going very far, but they don’t really know how to do it when all of them are adults who have got used to it. 

so yeah, like you said it’s really that they’re adults and that unlike the youngest ones i think it’s just. they’re all used to compromise and compromise a part of themselves as well. 

but yeah the magic being the thing solving it cracks me up all the time i’m just. Like. okay. Okay cool okay. Normal. Like. Thematically wise i think it’s because Winter is a season that’s so cold and sad but there’s a bit of magic in it (like the magic of christmas) and i think that’s what it is meant to echo but that’s. so out of the blue DLKFJDKLFJDLKFJLDF that said once that just accepted i really love the way the three magical events reflects the characters (Tasuku and Tsumugi needed to reconnect and find back the comfort they had with one another and plushies are considered comfort items that helps transition into a safer place, it’s also linked to childhood and those two are childhood friends. Homare and the loupe are pretty straight forward, he needed to see closer, deeper. Azuma and Hisoka both were locked into a room, isolated, just like their past (or in Hisoka’s case what his flashbacks implies) make them feel isolated, having experienced loss).). I am FASCINATED with Winter. i just. akjhfkdhfkdjfmldjfmd?? sljhfjldk.

but aah i’m glad you enjoyed the ride so much i’m so happy!!

and god yeah please someone check on Misumi i worry for him wtf

and Homare’s arc yeah!! yeah!!! his arc is one of my fav arc i just. really love how it all plays out. It’s really rare to see a story goes “here’s a character with low empathy: and he’s the most loving and kind character you can imagine”. The way he struggles from it, how sad it makes him, this way to see himself, everything makes me want to cry for hours. I want to hold him so bad.

Fuyupoly is definitly a thing yeah. Fuyupoly my beloved. I adore Fuyupoly so much 😭 but Winter is honestly a slow burn, especially in comparaison to the rest of the teams. 

I actually didn’t think much of them at first read (Azuma and Hisoka were already my favs though, i’m so soft for them)(also i say that but i know i found back screenshot of me crying about fuyu on first read so i did feel a lot but it didn’t hit me until late, how much i actually cared), and now i legit can’t stop thinking about all of them. I don’t know how much it says about their slowburn or what it says about me but; Winter.

ANYWAY congratz on finishing the main story of act 1 :3c and yeah, i’d prefer if i could share it in private (bc it’s, a lot of content and if i provide it in public this is clearly piracy and DLKFJDF i know a3 tends to take down some of this content and i’m trying to be stealthy).

Though if you don’t want to come off anon, you can tell me in another anon’s ask, i’ll link you my drive, then you’ll need to send me an ask to tell me you got it so i can delete the post, if you prefer?

anyway the drive is up and ready anytime. i just didn’t update some of the latest act 2′s events but act 1 is filled and that’s the priority. so you know also this drive includes 1) Story events, 2) the songs linked to each plays (which tells the story of the plays, def recommand it), 3) All the backstages from limited time cards i could get. Backstages linked to specific events are inside their specific event files, else the cards which didn’t come in an event are in the “Scouting file”.  What’s important to read plotwise is the Event stories. The backstages are very good and i def recommand it but it may be overwhelming so you can skip them and come back later for them DLKJFLDKFJFD it’s really just the main plot of each event that you should watch.

(also i should mention only the first two events are fully voiced, the rest are just with some voicelines here and there, but i still recommand watching it bc of the mood with the music and the sprites and all)

so yeah ready to send it anytime you want  !! :3c

[spacegirlinorbit]

Fooling You? Series

Fooling You? Chapter 5: Leave it up to boys to ruin plans

Warnings: swearing

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr

Fooling You Masterlist 

(All rights to HP universe belong to JK Rowling)

Song:

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Chapter 5: Leave it up to boys to ruin plans

I woke up early this morning after having such a vivid dream I can barely remember now. I looked at my clock on my nightstand saying it was only 7 am. Lily said we are going to leave at 9 so I still had about an hour or so until I needed to get ready. So I quietly tried not to disturb the others as I went to the bathroom and got ready and change into some leggings I had grabbed from the chest and then grabbed a hoodie as well. I slipped them on along with some shoes and left the room. I made sure to grab my wand on the way out and had it sit in my hoodie pocket.

I made my way down the stairs and there was only a couple people in the commons and the head boy and girl of the school posting something on the board wall. 

“Goodmorning! y/n isn't?” The head girl, Michelle, I believe is what her name is asks.

“Yes, Goodmorning.”

“Ah, how are you adjusting?”

“Fine. Say is breakfast ready yet?”

“Oh yes. You know how to get to the Great hall?” She asks and I nod with a smile and bid her goodbye. 

I make my way out of the common rooms and towards the ever changing staircases. Once I missed my stop a couple times I finally hop off and make my way to the Great Hall feeling more hungry than before. I see that there is food spread about the tables like crackers and cheese, fruits, and various breads. 

The plates and cups are all aligned for every student who may come in. Since school doesn't start for another few days, it's pretty scarce in here. I do however notice that a student wearing a red unlined robe sits at the far right table so I make my way over there and take a seat randomly and away from anyone else. I help myself to some grapes, banana, and a buttered croissant. I reach for a cup and it automatically fills orange juice. 

God, I’m going to miss coffee. Maybe I could buy some in Hogsmeade.

I enjoy my breakfast thinking quietly to myself until someone sits across from me. She is an older woman, a professor I assume. She smiles sweetly at me and I try to return the smile back without looking confused. 

“Good Morning. I wanted to personally introduce myself, I am Professor Mcgonagall of Transfiguration and head professor of the gryffindor house. Also the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts.” She explains herself. 

“Wow, quite the title you have. They should just call you queen.” I joke to lighten the mood. Is this normal? Since when did teachers make time for students?

“Oh you flatter me dear. I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything especially personal if you feel uncomfortable going to Dumbledore about it, I am here for you. I unfortunately couldn’t meet with you yesterday, but I at least wanted to make my acquaintance known.”

“Of course. Thank you Professor Mcgonagall.”

“Right, well I’ll excuse myself now. Welcome to Hogwarts.” She smiles and I can truly smile back as she leaves. 

I see more students enter the Great Hall and I finish my OJ and banana and leave the Great Hall to avoid further interaction from anyone who might want to question who the new girl is. I slip out of the Great hall and take my time walking back to the tower taking the long way instead of those confusing staircases. After leaving the Great Hall I reach the viaduct and take a moment looking at the view and breathing in the morning air. I see a couple of owls pass by in the sky most likely delivering letters. I exit the viaduct and back into the school building but now I am faced with two ways to go.

Left or Right? Shit I should've taken the map and there’s someone coming so I can’t use apparition that will look suspicious. I could summon the map. 

“Are you lost?” I hear someone say pulling me from my thoughts. I look up and I see him. Sharp jawline, star like eyes, and cherry lips against his pale skin. Damn he looks fresh out of a portrait. 

I stumble on my words until I finally breathe out, “Yes.” 

He looks me over curiously and then takes a cautious step forward. I remain still, entranced by how handsome he is. “Where do you need to go?”

“Gryffindor tower.” I could've sworn in that moment I heard him mumble ‘shame’. Shame indeed. Shit what am I thinking?! I don’t even know his name. 

“You are going to take a left through there and cross the stone bridge and then head straight and the tower is at the end.” He explains as he extends his arm and the flex of his bicep tighten the loose black button up he has on. I try to breathe as he looks back at me. 

“Thank you um…” 

“Regulus. Regulus Black.” He says with an air about him that makes him stand tall. 

“Thank you Regulus.” 

“Of course, but it’s only fair if in return I get to learn your name.” He says with a smirk.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

“You as well.” and we part ways. I pinch my cheeks to defuse the blush, but I think I only made it worse. I finally get back to the gryffindor tower and head to the room. I walk in the room and it is a mess and the girls are yelling amongst themselves. 

“What’s going on?” I question shutting the door. 

“Oh thank merlin, where were you?” 

“I went out for some breakfast and then I got lost.” I explain by leaving out some details.

“Oh, see, I knew we should have gone out and looked for her.” Marlene says. 

“And we were just about to if you didn’t just show up just now.” Lily explains.

“It’s okay really. I need to get familiar anyways since I'll be here for a while, right.” I state back to them. 

“Right then, well it’s almost 9 so let's get dressed and head to Hogsmeade.” Lily says. I make my way over to the closet and pull out a black turtleneck shirt and some sneakers along with a jean skirt and cropped jean jacket. I get dressed and put my hair in a ponytail and added some chapstick to my lips knowing they were going to get chapped in this weather boarderlining winter. I pulled my mother's necklace from my nightstand drawer and clipped it on. Then grabbed my cross body bag. The others dressed similarly for the weather. A mix of fall and winter. 

Enter Hogsmeade

Once we entered the village, the shops filled with some people passing through making their way from shop to shop. Hogsmeade was a homely village, with pointed top cottages and shops of variety. I can smell something sweet and spicy in the air, it must be the drink everyone has in hand coming out of a place called Madam Puddifoots’ Tea Shop. I hear laughter coming from another end of the street where we walk at another shop called Zonko's Joke Shop. 

“Say Lily won’t you take her to the quill and cauldron shop, maybe Dervish and Banges. Me and Dorcas will head to Gladrags and then meet you guys at Honeydukes.” Marlene says as she shares her idea. 

“Why Honeydukes?” Lily questions. 

“Because she must try butterbeer and I’m starving.” Marlene groans. 

“Here since you’re getting the outfits.” I say pulling out some galleons in a small coin sack. They all look at me incredulously. 

“Well, you didn’t tell us you were loaded.” Marlene exclaims at the bag of gold. 

“I’m not, really.” I say shaking my head. I used mainly american dollars in the U.S. and sometimes wizarding money, but it was easier to transfer american money so that my relation to Grindelwald wasn’t known. 

“Darling, it’s okay. I’m paying for everyone’s clothes today. My treat for bursting in yesterday.”

“You mean all summer.” Lily mumbles. 

“You can say that again.” Dorcas remarks.

“Har Har, Lily fire and I’m hurt D. Spicy this morning aren’t we?” Marlene says sarcastically. 

“Just go!” Lily says and pushes Marlene away. Meanwhile Lily takes me to the quill shop where I can get more ink and paper. I also grab some envelopes hoping Lily doesn’t see it as I purchase them quickly. Then we stop at Ceridwen's Cauldron, where I buy a small silver cauldron and then we make our way to the herbology shop where I gather fluxweed, dittany (that I could easily use as an aphrodisiac), ginger, and valerian. However I couldn’t find moly, a special flower that can allow my body to counteract any enchantments used on me. 

I go up to the counter and purchase my items and ask the lady who is packaging my items,”Do you by chance sell Moly?”

She looked up at me slowly and then looked me over curiously. “What do you want with Moly?”

I challenge her stare, “I’ll need it to reverse the effects of the valerian if something goes wrong.” 

“Hmm, that you will. Best not put yourself in a deep sleep, deary. However the moly will cost extra.” She states. 

“I think I’ll have enough.” I say putting the coin sack of galleons on the counter. She smiles at this and goes to the back to get the package of Moly. 

“3 galleons.” She says with an obvious devious smile. I place the coins on the counter and take my bag of herbs and leave the shop as Lily follows behind saying goodbye to the lady. 

“Everything okay back there?” Lily asks. 

“Yeah. I got everything I need. Should we head to Honeydukes was it?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Lily connects our arms together as we walk the streets to get to a place called Honeydukes. Lily and I are laughing and talking about the shops and the people in the village and what we think they are up to. She stops abruptly and lets go of my arm. I look towards her confusingly. 

“Lily?” I ask trying to see what she’s looking at. 

She turns around abruptly and smiles at me, “I saw a friend in there that I haven’t seen for a while. Do you mind if I go say hi?” 

“No not all. I saw the post office two shops back, I think it’s high time I write a letter to my friends in America.”

“Great. I’ll come find you then, I shouldn’t be long.” She says and rushes into what seems like a pub called, Three Broomsticks Inn.

Marauders 3rd POV

Lily rushes into the pub and quickly and furiously makes her way over to the four boys who all have their heads down knowing what’s coming towards them. 

“WHAT THE HELL are you guys doing here?” She seathed. 

“Lily darling, what a lovely surprise!” James grimaced trying to ease the fire in her. 

“Shut it James!” Lily snaps. “Black what the hell, we told you we could handle ourselves.”

“Aww Lily don’t be like that. We are just here in case.” He whined. 

“Look and listen carefully to the words coming out of my mouth. We are fine. They won’t dare come here. Diagon Alley, for sure, but here never. It’s too crowded with students and teachers from Hogwarts that we would be able to sniff them out. Go! NOW. We are fine and everything is well.”

“Sirius I think we should go.” Remus pipes in and Peter nods in agreement. 

“Right, where is this new bestie of yours?” Sirius pried.

“She’s at the post office. Said something about writing a letter to her friends in America.”

“Oh you can’t be this dull.” Sirius says. Lily gasps in shock and her anger intensifies.

“Padfoot.” James states. 

“Here we go.” Remus says and takes a sip of his tea. 

“What did you just say about me?” Lily presses her hands down on the table leaning towards Sirius. 

“What if she is writing a letter to well you know or maybe someone in connection.” He explains quickly slightly fearing her wrath. 

“You think I didn’t think about that? Dumbledore has someone in there to infiltrate her letters.”

“He does?” James questions. 

“Yes, maybe if you boys paid attention in the meetings you would know that we have put in place a way to intercept any communication she has. Even the letters.” 

“Well damn.” Sirius mutters. 

“Go back to the school boys. The party isn’t going to plan itself.” 

“Will do, mlady.” James says with a big smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. 

“Fuck off, Potter.” She says and walks away from the boys, hiding the small smile on her lips. 

Y/n POV

I go into the post office and head to the counter. A man sits there stamping off envelopes and a woman on the other end is helping someone else out. I also see some elves attending to the mail and owls in their cages. I walk over to the small island made for people to write off their letters. I pull out a paper and ink with my wand but disguise it with a spell to make it look like a quill. 

I write out my letter to look like it was ordinary and directed to my friends back in America. Then I look around to make sure no one sees and blow across the paper with blue fire and I quickly whisper what I want to really say as the paper fills with my words and disappears. I sign it and envelope it to an address that is in America, but will be rerouted to Austria once it goes to transport and the real address will reveal itself. Grindelwald taught me this secret way of communication when I left for america. Taught how to use the blue fire to conceal the truth of things you want hidden. It's undetectable but takes skill and focus. I have been doing it so long it comes easy to me now, yet if anyone knew I would be suspected for dark magic. I put the letter in the post box outside so I won’t have to explain the faraway address. 

“Did you get to write your letter?” Lily says as she approaches me. 

“Yes. I only hope it gets to them safely.” I smile and we take off to honeydukes. 

By the time we get to Honeydukes, it's noon and Marlene gushes to us all the clothes and accessories she bought and how great we are going to look tonight at the party. We all ordered lunch and I got to try butterbeer for the first time. It's like butterscotch candy mostly, its sweet deliciousness coats my tongue and I order another once I'm done. I wonder what kind of treats the party will hold tonight. Maybe I’ll finally meet “the boys” and see the one I ran into this morning.

[theravenclawlover]

Monster

Parings: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: +18 Mentions of torture, mature language, future smut, mentions of death, slight depression, mentions of kidnapping.  

Word Count: 2,066.

Summary: You are one of the youngest members of the Avengers, and you love it. Out of the blue an impossible mission is assigned to you alongside Natasha Romanoff, and it was sure to change your life. Lies, and betrayal from the closest people in your life; they never told you who you really were.

Chapter Number: 2.

Chapter Tittle: The Mission.

A/N: Hey! I’m back with another update for this series as you can see! I’ve been so busy with life, it’s a little tiring. Who would’ve thought that online courses could be so homework heavy... Nevertheless, I made some time to twink this thing up and some other chapter, so my prediction is that maybe later or tomorrow there’s going to be another chapter up! Thank you for being so patient with me, it means a lot! Now for those who read my Harry Potter fics, I know I still owe you lot a smutty Weasley Twins fic, and I promise I’ll post it by the end of the month or beginnigs of next, I haven’t been able to finish it for some reason. Also, I think I’ll try to start drafting chapters for my “Welcome to the Industry of Porn.” It’s been almost a year since I last updated that one. Okay, I’ll stop! Enjoy my fellow readers! 

After getting things ready, Nat and you found yourselves in her car; Natasha on the wheel. She kept on glancing at you, not real expression set but it was kind of annoying you. At first it didn't bother you and didn't really mind it, but it had been an hour since her eyeing had begun, so the annoyance was bound to sprout from you any minute.

"What?" you said a little snappy, it couldn't be ignored any longer. It was just rude to stare.

"What?" echoed Natasha with feigned confusion.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" You exclaimed while turning to face her as much as you could with the seatbelt on.

"Like what?" She didn't turn like you had, but you were able to see the change of her expression from your seat, she just gave you a confused look at your words.

"Nat, you haven't stop looking at me! It might sound crazy, but you've looked worried ever since Steve mentioned this "Bucky" person." You couldn't stop from raising your voice a little. She was agitating you and you knew you probably were overreacting at the whole situation.

She let out a sigh before answering, "Y/n, we have been sent to bring the Winter Soldier by no means of force. He has memory problems because HYDRA thought it was a great idea to mess with his brain. So, I'm sorry If I can't take my mind out of it! Also, I'm not looking at you with worry, I was just wondering why you seem so calm." At the last words she'd turned to face you, having reached a red light.

"I never thought that I would witness what I believe is a mini freak out from you. Also, I had my breakdown in my room when we were getting ready. He's scary for what I've read in his report. Remember Washington? Stupid question, of course you do. Dude, I cried when you and Steve were on the run. Trust me, I'm fucking scared, but I'm trying to stay calm. I have a theory that he can smell fear. So, I'm practicing my 'I'm cool with a brainwashed assassin in the room' face," you exclaimed with the tiniest grin on your face. Joking about the matter seem to help with your anxiousness, and the exasperation from before now gone.

"To be honest with you, I'm rather impressed that you look better than I do right now," she said after stopping the car in front of a big old building that looked like it was about to fall, "we're here."

"Shit." It was really happening. All you had to do was peacefully bring a brainwashed dude with you back to the base. Should be easy. Piece of cake, right?

"Let's do this, " said Nat getting out of the car, her façade of tough—not really a façade, she was tough—assassin had 'activated' once more.

You both stepped through the rough looking doors, according to the last report on him, he was in last the floor going up. You were shaking a little when you had finally made your way up. Nat made her way toward the door with quiet steps. Once the two of you were in front of the room neither of you knew what to do next. Do we just knock, or we burst in like the badass women we fucking are? you thought to yourself, a little grin trying to break on your face. You didn't get to dwell on it for too long because Nat had knocked on the door, her face showed the clear regret of that action. She had just acted without thinking of the consequences of her actions—how odd.

There was a noise coming from inside, you could hear hesitant footsteps coming towards the door, you knew he was going to open the door anytime soon, but you didn't know what to do so you just stood there. The movements from inside suddenly stopped, you saw the shadow of someone right in front of the door from its order side. A second later, that someone opened the door, and lord did the sight made you blush.

The door opened to show a shirtless man, long hair covering his face. He looked as if he had just taken a shower, he hadn't been expecting anyone—I mean, who would? The building was mostly empty, except for the homeless that looked for shelter. You knew you were staring but you couldn't remove you gaze from his massive, muscular form, and that glistening arm.

"Good afternoon," said Natasha, breaking the silence. He didn't say anything he just kept looking at both of you trying to figure out who you two were, and most likely wondering why you had disturbed his peace and quiet. After her words, more silence came—awkward silence.

"We are here to help you out, we know who you are," Natasha proceeded to say without introductions. Wrong move. The calm face he'd had was now replace with a cold expression. Before either of you could muster words out, he'd closed the door and hurried back inside.

"Shit! Shouldn't have done that!" Natasha grabbed her gun kicking the door trying to stop him. You did the same thing, grabbed your gun and try to stop him before he disappeared once again. You knew it had been hard to get a hold on a ghost like the Winter Soldier, so you couldn't afford to mess the mission up.

Once inside, he had put out on a shirt and was ready to jump from the window. Nat shouted a 'stop' but he didn't listen, he jumped from the window. You ran to the window to see him landing flawlessly on the ground. Before running off, he turned his head, and you swore he winked your way. Without another glance, he ran and vanished from your view when he took the first turn to the left.

"Crap! The fucker ran away again! He was ready," said an angered Natasha, now standing by your side.

"That was so fast. Who gets dressed that fast?, and that bag must've been packed already," you said looking around for any type of intel you could find. You needed to know where he has heading next, that could help with the foul mood Fury was surely going to be in.

"I don't know, but what I do know is that we are in big trouble when we get back," said Natasha with a sigh escaping her lips. With one quick look around, you gave up and headed back to the car, your murder by your boss awaiting you.

                                                        °°°°°

"Sir, he just ran back inside and jumped from the window and disappeared." For the umpteenth time you told what had happened to Fury. When the two of you got to the new secret facility of S.H.I.E.L.D.—or what was left of it—you were to give your mission report to Fury. Steve was there, listening on how bad the mission had gone; he looked worried, but you had a feeling that it was because his friend was in the world off the radar rather than worried about either Nat or you being yelled at by Fury. You felt guilty, Natasha and you had messed up the chance for him to see this 'Bucky,' but at the same time you were slightly annoyed at his uncharacteristic coldness at your failure.

Fury was mad that you two had failed the mission, but he had known that someone like him was no easy target, but that doesn't mean that he let you off without some type of punishment. You knew that S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't the same organization that once was, now it was just a little group left since the incident with HYDRA. Fury told you after he had—somewhat—calm down that Natasha and you were to be in the tracking team. Meaning that you were to sit down in front of a computer until you got wind of him.

You got back to your room but not before spending the rest of the afternoon working for the new coordinates of where he could have run to hide. You opened the door to your room; once in, you kicked your shoes off and walked towards where your bed was, putting your gun and badge on the nightstand. You were exhausted to even remain awake while walking around to get things done. You went to the bathroom to take the most relaxing shower. The warm water felt so good against your tired body and your thoughts ran wild, with no care. At first it was just how bad you had mess up the mission and the guilt that came with that, but then you could only focus on him. Those piercing blue eyes that seem to take you away from reality... You shook your head trying to forget about those eyes, but you found yourself going back to them. They seem to bring you a sense of comfort that you couldn't explain. You quickly finished your shower, trying to rid yourself from thoughts of him. Once out, you grabbed your panties and the biggest, baggiest t-shirt you owned, and with no trouble you fell asleep.

                                                         °°°°°

You were in a room that seem too familiar for some reason, there was a glass window in front of you. You walked towards it; it showed another room. Your eyes landed in the person that was in the middle of the room, it was him. He was shirtless inside a capsule, he looked troubled while he slept. There were people waking him up, and when they did, they sat him on a chair not far from the capsule he had been. There were doctors around him with clipboards, and big machines were being situated around the blue-eyed man. You looked around, besides the doctors there were people in green outfits—officers. Then you looked to your other side and saw one of the doctors coming to the room you were in, he walked towards to what looked like a control panel. You saw him pressing some buttons, and the big machines in the other room started moving.

Your eyes moved to find his, he was already staring right at you; he couldn't see you, though, the glass didn't allow it. One of the doctors near him grabbed something and put it in his mouth, him never questioning what. He kept looking straight ahead, you felt as if he could really see you through the glass, it made you shiver unconsciously. One of the doctors now gave a signal towards the glass, and so, the man on your side of the glass pressed one button and the machine got closer to the man sitting on the chair. Before you could guess what was going on, he was screaming. You didn't want to see, your heart ached at the way his eyes shut abruptly, how his knuckles were now white from gripping the chair. You couldn't look away and you weren't even able to flinch at his screams. You didn't know how long it went like that, but all the screaming was soon replaced with a shrilling silence. As soon as he was still, dead-looking, some officers were now helping him up and taking him somewhere else. Everyone started to leave, doctors and officers alike—loud-ish chatter amongst them. There was one person who didn't move, and he was looking at you. The man smiled and made his way towards you, he seemed familiar and nice.

"What you just saw, Y/n, was how we made our best weapon stay emotionless, and strong. That is why he is valuable to us; he doesn't show emotions towards his victims." The man was now kneeling in front of you, "now, honey, we better get you to your room. Tomorrow is going to be another day full of training."

"Yes, sir," you said. Your voice sounded so young, probably less than ten years old. He picked you up, and you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck. It took forever to get to what you guessed was your room. Once inside and you were changed into your pajamas, he helped you get in bed, tucking you in.

"Have sweet dreams, my little princess," said the man that was looking at you with loving eyes.

You gave him a soft, sleepy smile before yawning while muttering softly, "goodnight, papa."  

Tag list:

@boredtotearz100 @john-benderr @cnco-ravenclaw-46

[h3l10tr0p3]

SPIRIT ANIMAL AU (Part 11 : The fluff, The Crack and the extra)

Previously-

Deku's Spirit Animal is a Fennec Fox, whose voice can only be heard by Katsuki (because, reasons), while Deku himself appears to be in a coma.

Extending on the imformation on Spirit Animals from my prev post

("Kacchan! Love me!")

me from the back, sniffing into a hanky: JUST LOVE HIM ALREADY!

The Extra:

While the class was out together, running errands, Izuku and Katsuki get involved in an incident where a child, 4 years old(Person A) develops their quirk smack in the middle of a crowd and it is making people faint. Neither of the m remember the incident but bystanders say that Izuku tried to save Katsuki.

Person A then falls into Quirk Pyrexia (like Eri's fever) and then into a coma. But the effects of the quirk stay. The people who fainted woke up and found a Spirit Animal attached to them

But Deku is in a coma too, and there is this green-haired Fennec-Fox scampering about instead.

Person B, older sibling of Person A who has a similar (but not exactly the same) quirk explains how their own quirk works. And mentions that a lot of people had been affected at once by person A's quirk. So there are a lot of spirit animals going around now in Mustafu.

Class A gets pretty hyped and wants their own spirit animals. They all ask Person B for one of their own. Being mobbed by the eagre class, Person B agrees.

Everyone gets one. Except Katsuki who doesn't want anything to do with the critters; Shouto who couldn't be bothered to get one and Mineta whose Spirit Animal turns out to be a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach and Person B refuses to let that abomination exist. (gtfo mineta)

Gradually the class starts to learn more about Spirit Animals in general and themselves with the help of their Spirit Animals (since they are a reflection of their emotional psyche)

E.g.- Spirit animals' voice can be heard by only the person (the Master) who provides them with some of their own life-force. Normally the amount depends on the size of the animal, but since most are small it is as easy as breathing - life span is not reduced because of it in anyway.

Spirit Animals are born from some basic things like- a person's strongest and most definitive memories, their emotional psyche, their quirk (not necessary though) and their Master's life energy. Basically an SA is the soul of the person in animal form - but they only have a subset of the memories of their human counterpart.

Normally a person from whom an SA is born is also the Master. In Katsuki and Izuku's case there are a lot of problems because Izuku interfered in the process. Now Izuku is in a coma while Katsuki is stuck with the mutterings of a fox inside his head.

the further the SA is from the Master- the more energy it consumes from both. it's a balancing act. The SA might get sick from being too far for too long, but the effect of distance on Masters is however, negligible.

Another way an SA gets sick is when the Bond is one-sided, where the Master (knowingly or unknowingly) refuses to provide for their SA.

In both cases the SA might 'die'

Any sickness or injury of the SA, if treated in due time, can be healed just by prolonged skin contact with their Master.

Ways SA can die- When the quirk fades, when they get very sick, when another SA kills it

In the last method - the Master enters a coma when their SA dies. Because murder is an unnatural warp in the fabric of humanity and psyche- so it impacts the Master too. No one knows if such a coma is treatable or not.

SA can talk to each other, but not other Masters.

SA have special abilities unlike quirks. They are small spiritual-ly abilities, like: Fortune telling, star-reading, dream-walking, mood-reading, etc. Almost every SA has an ability. The occurrence are same as quirked:quirkless ratios.

The PREFACE:

Katsuki avoids F!Deku after he finds out that Katsuki can hear him. But Deku tries to be persistent. Katsuki, naturally gets mad and tells Deku to get lost because he is 'irritating, too loud, too jumpy and disgusting'

This breaks F!Deku's heart, because he doesnt have the memory of Katsuki literally hating him in middle school. Depressed, he starts to keep away, talk less, run less, appear fewer times in front of Katsuki.

At first Katsuki finds peace in the silence, but it starts to worry him. Soon he figures out that Deku is getting sick because of him, as other SA inform through their Masters.

THE FLUFF and CRACK!

after that Katsuki (apparently) grudgingly takes care of Deku. He needs good food? Fine! A bath? Fine! Warmth?! FINE! SKIN CONTACT? FINNEEEE! he is gonna take care of it so damn good that everyone else drops dead at his SA-grooming skills!! (goddamnit, Katsuki,you fucking idiot...)

Cue the most ridiculous phase the Heights Alliance has ever seen-

Katsuki bringing Deku to school in his bag. During classes, Deku naps on the table or in the desk- with his tail curled around Katsuki's left wrist or being left whisking over his hand.

Katsuki in Practical Classes: With Deku wrapped around his neck, inside the neck brace. Winter costume? Inside his turtle-neck. (Imagine Deku's fox head popping out of that collar on being called. oh my heart...that visual...)

Also the visual- Deku nuzzling the underside of Katsuki's jaw if he gets mad, to distract him. Cause that lil fucker actually (begrudgingly) likes the soft fur

Katsuki cooking? Deku's waiting on his shoulder patiently and taste-tests Katsuki's cooking when he gives him a gravy-dipped finger

Katsuki eventually agrees to use Deku's plans during Mock Battles and they make a sick team. Other students say it's unfair to have an extra member on Bakugou. But Katsuki's sly ass reasons that he keeps Deku just because he'll get sick again. (And it's true, cause Deku can still mutter plans in his head from a distance)

Katsuki hosing down Deku's fur like that shit's contaminated. And Deku regretting every second of his canid existence.

Katsuki complaining about Deku's long-ass nails cause they scratch the bejesus out of him. Deku tells him that his Kacchan can clip off those nails if he wants, but Katsuki doesn't reply, instead gives Deku a sour look. Next day he pawns off those Soft Nail Caps from Aizawa (or Shinsou. Maybe Black and orange ones or green ones?)

Sleeping - Deku normally curls up in a ball and sleeps on Katsuki's tummy. But since Katsuki is a turbulent sleeper (more about this later) this gets difficult. So instead he sleeps while nuzzling the curve of Katsuki's neck or makes a nest in his spiky hair.

("G'nite, Kacchan")

The girls of class A open a social media account with all the SA and Deku, the cutest fox in the world, as their focus. Katsuki has to pry off the fox from their hands too often to be comfortable about it.

Katsuki's morning rituals? Deku's riding on his head while he goes down to the communal bathrooms. Eijirou swallows toothpaste and Denki shits himself when they see him like that.

Deku needs to sun-bathe in the chilly weather. So, Katsuki takes him out of cafeteria in lunch time, his friends join too.

Deku gets really popular with Gen Ed and Class B as days go by and when the others try to cuddle him or coo at him, Katsuki twitches with irritation.

Monoma tries to harass Katsuki one day in the cafeteria, so Deku and the other SA literally wage an SA war on him. All the SA of Class A are nibbling and stealing Monoma's food, leaving a mess over his things and making life hell for him. Denki, Hanta, Mina and Eijirou sign up too. Katsuki, unwittingly, earns the title of 'The Savage Snowhite' from Class B due to their efforts.

Once, while lying on his tummy, Deku figures out that Katsuki is really ticklish there and tickles him incessantly till Katsuki is laughing. When Deku suddenly stops tickling and just sits back doing nothing, Katsuki asks suspciously why he stopped, what's he planning. Deku just says that he doesn't remember ever seeing Kacchan laugh, so he wants to remember this properly. cue feels.

Somewhere down the line Katsuki starts to FINALLY fucking acknowledge that he likes to be around the nerd fox, maybe even loves the Deku trapped inside this form. But the real Deku lies asleep in the infirmary. And oh, the Angst ensues as he starts wondering if this is permanent.

Meanwhile SA are being murdered, people are falling into coma, and something has infilrated the UA campus. One of the Class A student's SA was killed very recently. Because the SA was born from Person B's quirk and not Person A, they recover soon after and inform the teachers that they saw an SA Arctic Wolf attack them.

Cue Villain music- dun dun dun!

Here is PART 1 if you are interested in some Fennec Fox Facts!

(Next up! PART 3: THE ANGST, THE DRAMA! -please look forward it!)

[sugarplum-senpai]

How much non Eren/Levi researching goes into your writing? And how do you go about doing so? For instance, in Sparrow the characters discuss the right kind of branches one might need to make a useful fishing rod, and there are loads of good tidbits like needing to find one that bends and doesn't break.

Hi there! Thank you so much for your questions! ❤️ This will be a detailed answer. :) 

“How much non Eren/Levi researching goes into your writing…”

To be entirely honest: It depends. For some stories I do lots of research (so much research!) for other stories almost none, and sometimes/mostly it’s the little details that require most attention. For Unloveable, for example, I think I did no research whatsoever. I didn’t need it. It’s a story with an emotional development in the center of the attention, and not much “action” happening. For Give Me a Reason, on the other hand, I looked up injuries, and herbal lore stuff, and checked on (more or less) realistic healing processes and time spans for them. For Light in the Dark I remember heavily researching panic attacks, including possible causes, how they feel like (I checked on multiple resources and experience descriptions from different people), and how to overcome them (again: multiple resources).

In general, I try to write about details and actions, environments, etc. I myself know about and that I can use as a pool for inspiration and mood building, world building, plot devices: Nature, tea, (yes, no tea research needed for any of my fics), (kitchen) knives, food, cooking on an open fire, taking care of injured birds, seasonal food in Central Europe and so on. But if I’m uncertain, I also will look up if the things I remember are right.

For Sparrow (Revised), most of the research has been concerning survival skills, fishing, more detailed veterinarian stuff about vetting injured birds than I already knew about, and a bit knives, which I know some things about too much far from offering a founded knowledge. I also remember checking on injured bats, mating seasons for foxes, stellar constellations, tried to track down that one paint for Nuthatch and if I had to explain what it is for my readers (the distemper Levi and Hanji are washing off the walls) and about being homeless (for Levi). 

“…and how do you go about doing so?”

I almost always start with asking doctor Google ;) For the fishing stuff in Sparrow, for example, I browsed fishing websites, looked up videos on YouTube (always helpful since I learn more quickly this way), and tried to cover every question from “how to make a makeshift fishing rod” to “fishes in ponds in December” and “how to catch a fish” (plus what to do if you’re successful, including stunning, killing, gutting, preparing…). Then I started writing, and when I hit a spot that demanded further details, I looked up more stuff (in this case I actually googled recipes for fried trout that a) weren’t too fancy and b) used winter ingredients that I felt fit the snk canonverse – potatoes, bread, herbs).

So I looked up multiple sites and resources, and counter checked the info I had (“diy fishing rod with vines, how to”, “healing wing by dressing?”) My experience: the more nerdy the websites—like those for fishing—are, the better and more precise is the info you will get. Same with knives, hunting, herbal lore, and so on, since they care less about being pretty and easy to understand for a noob, but more about giving correct info for people who “know their shit”. Forums are great, they’re always a good source since they also deal with counter questions and eventualities which can help you before you even know you’ll need it. If I know someone who knows about the stuff I want to write, I ask them. My beta, for example, helped a lot with the survival stuff and hunting in the new Sparrow, for example, as with lots of other stuff. 

And then, of course, is the general research: 

Sometimes I research stuff that has nothing to do with the plot but with writing itself. Questions here range from “how to write male characters well,” to “how does an erection feel like”, and “how to write a certain kind of scene” all the way to “how to improve what you already have” and “what was that word again?” Stuff like that. 

Sometimes I just read stories I liked or even didn’t like to analyse how others handle a certain scene type or a plot situation and which direction fits my own story.

Sometimes I spend whole evenings looking up possible/fitting names for an OC, even if they’re only mentioned once (Karl, for example, lol! I agonized over his name for days and he isn’t even really a part of the story. Still, I needed it to be perfect, so google thinks I’m pregnant with a boy now. ;)

Sometimes I browse the aot wikia for canon details or look for interview translations (“how tall is Hanji again?” “When did Levi join the SC?”).

Sometimes I recheck comma rules (damn those commas!), sometimes some lyrics for inspiration, and sometimes mundane stuff like body parts (for feet and hand descriptions, mostly), body language, vocabulary, idioms, or stuff like: “how to describe handwriting/a voice/someone’s hands”.