#its a recovery process in its own right. whether or not someone sees it as good or evil is fucking irrelevant

[mestos]

from a chara standpoint i think ppl can and are allowed to enjoy the vampire ascendant ending and direction if they want to. i mean, we all kno of power fantasies and villainious routes being extremely hot and sexy. i just find it incredibly grating ppl love to enforce the "he doesn't know love anymore bc dnd lore state that vampires don't feel emotion" like maybe for you jan but not me! my man is infatuated and adores my tav as the ascendant. sorry!

[babycharmander]

On Bill Cipher and Redemption

I've had a couple posts analyzing The Book of Bill and particularly Bill Cipher's development. You can check those out here and here if you want!

I have more thoughts, now, and I debated on adding them as a reblog to one of my other analyses, but I figure it's probably better as its own posts, so here we are.

I wanted to address the matter of "redeeming" Bill Cipher.

But before I do that, let me quickly do a run-down of what redemption is and is not, as this is a topic that people have a lot of misconceptions about.

Redemption IS NOT:

Ignoring a character's wrongdoings.

Excusing a character's wrongdoings.

Other characters forgiving the character's wrongdoings.

A character's having a sad or sympathetic backstory.

Something a character can "deserve."

Redemption IS:

A character's realizing that they were wrong, and taking steps to become a better person.

So no, I'm not here to say that Bill did nothing wrong (he did), or that what he did wasn't that bad (it was), or that any characters should be expected to forgive Bill (they shouldn't).

With that out of the way, let's move forward in our discussion.

First off, does The Book of Bill redeem Bill?

To put it simply, no. (Stay with me.)

By the end of the book, as I've discussed in my previous posts, Bill is in a worse state than when he started. He is refusing to heal, and, while he does see what he did as monstrous, he makes no attempt to change anything. He can't bring Euclydia back, sure, but he could still try to be better, and he's not doing that--he's insisting that the torture he put Ford through wasn't that bad, and trying desperately to go back to trying to get someone to help him take over once again. He wants to go right back to the awfulness he was doing.

However.

This does not make him incapable of redemption--it just means that, as of his current position in the book, he is not in the process of being redeemed.

But he is in an interesting position.

By the end of the book, Bill has largely given up on trying to convince the reader to go along with his plan, and begins rambling almost to himself. He keeps saying "I'm fine" over and over again, which is not an answer to a question the viewer is asking at that point. He's telling it to himself, which means he's trying to convince himself that he's fine... which, in turn, means that some part of him--a part that's loud enough that he feels the need to try to drown it out--knows he's not fine.

This is important, as it means that he is, potentially, still capable of redemption.

Fully accepting that he is not okay will involve confronting his past and what happened to Euclydia--something he is currently not willing to do. But there is potential for him to do so, especially since within the Theraprism, he is granted infinite time to recover.

It will ultimately have to come from him--he will have to reach a point where he realizes it's not worth living in denial and actually seeks to heal and better himself.

And healing will involve bettering himself, because in order to recover from the trauma of the Euclydian Massacre, he will need to accept that he made a mistake. And to accept that he made a mistake, he will have to admit that he is not a monster, which means he will have to admit that he did not need to keep acting monstrous for his entire life post-Euclydia--that he does not have to continue acting that way now.

That won't be easy, of course--recovery never is--but it is possible.

Bill Cipher is a redeemable character--potentially. But whether he's redeemed or not is up to him.

(And Alex Hirsch. :P)

[csmelody]

AAAAAAH sorry if this has been said before, or was meant to be an obvious thing implied by your work,

But i just keep thinking about the lore etc youve built up, and one of the things i end up wondering about is the healing magic (and now, how it interacts with magic resistance etc etc)

Bc like

Its Established that magical energy was left over in nats wound and severely impeding the healing process, but that it could be activated and set right (bc it was a magical injury? And was in the process of being healed?)

( Is essence/magic always neutral and potentially restorative like it is in the other place for spirits, and just applied to induce harm, or are there inherently different energies? [Electricity runs our hearts and keeps them beating, but can also stop them, or start them?])(Is essence inherently restorative?)

Its Established that going to the other place ptolomys gate style results in a) injury/aging/negative effects and slow recovery and b) an abundance of magical energy within the body upon return

Also established that kitty has resistant powers (reg and sword.), some sort of kinship with the amulet which has inherently similar powers, and shows resistance to meshing fully with bartimaeus (did she see less of an effect coming back from the other place than ptolomy due to this and not just bc of duration spent?)

So if nat went to the Other Place would he potentially have ptolomy level effects, negative ones but also in the amount hes suffused with energy? (Ptolomy "brighter" than kitty)

And more importantly given its a "magical injury" and energy is present, is it possible the energy is potentially stopping or slowing the healing/recuperation/relearning?

Is it possible that bart could do the same thing he did with the side injury, or similar, in order to fix/speed up recovery post dimension hopping were it a non magic resistant person in question? (Whether it can be done from the outside, or must be done from the inside)

Did kitty recover on her own more effectively because (along w just keeping more energy out longer) she wasnt infused the same way in the first place, and her sort of 'restorative temple', (as one has in a human body apparently,) was never accessed, and therefore never disrupted? (As we saw bart (who is made of essence, same as other place) couldn't really properly get into it?)

Does the body react badly to the other place because of a disruption to like, whatever is going on in there that makes it good for a djinni to be in there? Is it a similar disruption to what caused nats wound to get janked up?

If i understand/remember correctly the presence of the magic in nats wound allowed for barts healing, but its presence prevented/slowed natural healing. As time went on for both kitty and ptolomy after their adventures, they regained some of what was was lost, but kitty much faster and more fully. /but,/ she also lost the glow (energy/essence?) faster i think? (Resistance chasing it out? Continued exposure to the amulet?)

Ptolomy didn't seem to Really lose the glow and the healing was there but very slow paced, kind of like nats wound. (Magic not leaving, natural healing reduced)

All this leading to

If bart /could/ help w the effects of ptolomys gate field trips by activating the energies or something similar, (just not with someone resistant to magic like kitty who is our only other example of whats up w all that,) and bart /realized/ that,

Is it just oh fuck i could have helped ptolomy. I could have /saved/ ptolomy. Any advantage could have been the one that would have led to a different outcome?

Added onto whatever circumstances (honestly probably nats life being saved and him nearly not recovering. Again.) led to getting the knowledge that, yeah, you probably could have if youd known to, and known how (even if its impossible to know if it would have changed anything)

.

.

Uh. Sorry for rambling and ranting. All this to say thank you for the good fic, im clearly invested. Ive read it thrice.

It is very late though so i apologize for any eccentricities, faux pas, and/or inclarities in this here message. I probably should have slept on sending this but for some reason im worried ill forget what im thinking about now if i dont.

Oh also Please feel free to ignore this or respond without posting the ask itself for whatever reason

(eg not to clog dash, somehow ive gotten too close to a spoiler plot point idk, you just dont feel like it, its just incomprehensible, the government will find and dissappear one or both of us if they see this due to nefarious machinations we're yet unaware of... all good reasons.)

In general, No offense meant, and none will be taken if likewise. :)

First off, spoilers up to chapter 30 of The Lost Artefact. Probably not that far, but just to be safe. And I'm sorry it took me weeks, but I was just so focused on writing and not losing momentum. I hope you end up seeing this. Plus, I'm trying my best to say what needs to be said without spoiling the rest of the story. It's harder than you'd think. Okay, so, these are questions I want you to be wondering about, so I guess I did my job. 😂 And I'm not offended, I'm deeply flattered! I love chatting all things Bartimaeus.

The short answers for TLA are that magic is neutral, intention is the key, and ageing isn't a wound or a condition, so it's not 'curable' by magic. Here are some things I took into account:

Nathaniel wasn’t healing properly because the residual magic kept burning through the stitches and the meds.

Bartimaeus feels instantly reinvigorated when he’s summoned into Nathaniel’s body in PG, as does Nathaniel. So magic can’t be inherently bad to humans. In fact, it’s a symbiotic relationship when done right, and we get the sense that this is how it’s supposed to be with humans and spirits, actually, just like Ptolemy’s conversations with Bart foreshadowed.

Essence can burn through human flesh and skin (when the body is put through ‘unnatural’ circumstances, like eating a bunch of humans), as exemplified by Nouda. So magic isn’t inherently all good either. However, we don’t get a sense that there’s a timeframe exactly for this. Faquarl seemed to be doing well and he was in his host (Hopkins) for quite some time.

I took the Ptolemy/Kitty conundrum differently. Essentially, I based it on the fact that Kitty is a healthier individual, stayed in the OP for a shorter interval, and didn’t die soon after. Ageing, like I said, isn’t a wound or an illness, so it doesn’t function the same. At least that’s what I figured.

As for how Kitty and Bart literally didn’t mix, I figured that Kitty’s resilience should extend to magic in general. She resists the bad, but also the good. But it’s not like she totally cancels out Bart, and there are different types of resilience.

That's all I'm going to say for now. Otherwise, I think I'll just be giving myself away, hahaha. I should really get started on a Bart master list so these are more organised...

Anyway, feel free to drop a question anytime. (Or a prediction! Always fun.)

[holisticrecoverybali]

How to convince a victim to go for rehab bali?

Do you feel as if you are unable to assist a friend or relative hooked? Seeing someone you care about battle with drug misuse as you know their life is going worse and worse hurts. You can be enraged, helpless, and feel as if you have no idea how to enable their recovery. Although it might be difficult, sometimes getting someone to visit Rehab Bali or another location for treatment is very crucial for their recovery. How can you approach them on this delicate subject such that they would wish to seize the opportunity for a new beginning?

Learn more about Rehab Bali.

If you want someone to choose Rehab Bali, you must be well-versed in the center's offerings, including its treatments. Like those in Bali, luxury drug treatment facilities provide a peaceful and useful environment far from the pressures and stressors of daily life where patients may concentrate on recovery.

How best to choose the location and time?

Regarding something as severe as treatment, the location and timing really matter. Choose a moment when the individual is calm, sober, and more likely to open to communication. Ideal is a calm, private space free from distractions so you may converse uninterruptedly.

Observe love and compassion closely.

Make it plain that you want to speak to them out of love and compassion, not to condemn them. Tell them you worry about their health and how their abuse affects their relationships and way of life.

List the advantages of a high-end drug treatment.

Talking about the positive aspects of Luxury Drug recovery is one great approach to convince someone to go to recovery. Stress that Rehab Bali offers a unique opportunity to rehabilitate in a luxurious and serene environment. Visiting a lovely, quiet location like Bali might sound better than visiting a standard treatment facility.

Prepare for hostility:

Your loved one may not agree right immediately, hence you should be ready for opposition. They may be terrified, not comprehend anything, or feel humiliated, so they might not want assistance. Pay attention to their concerns, understand their perspective, and gently refutes their points of view with data and guarantees. Sometimes just sharing an idea with someone may help them to decide at their own speed.

Offer encouragement and supporting remarks.

Tell your loved one they won't be experiencing this alone. Whether it's assisting them into Rehab Bali or simply being there for them emotionally, offer to be there for them all through the process. Knowing one has a solid network of support might assist someone suffering make the less frightening decision to seek treatment.

Conclusion

Getting someone to attend treatment—especially at a facility like Treatment Bali—is a challenging and delicate chore. You must be accepting, patient, and very nice. If you approach your loved one gently and concentrate on the positive aspects of Luxury Drug Rehab, you may encourage them to see that seeking treatment is a courageous step toward recovering their life rather than a show of weakness. Recall also that improving is a process. Your unwavering support will help them to make all the difference in choosing to start the healing process.

[velvet-games]

apparently this is a hot take according to some people I know irl, but I'm wondering if people around here also think so?

I think something being temporary doesn't delegitimize it at all. even if it's silly, even if you cringe at it later, if it's important to you now, it's important to you now. that's why I hate the "it's a phase" phrase because for me, the response to that is not "no it's not a phase; I'm going to like it to adulthood;" the response should be "it doesn't matter if I don't like it later; it's important to me now and I only exist as the person I am now." (to be clear, people pretending they can predict the future about whether you will/won't be something in the future is bad and annoying in its own right) sorry this is kind of abstract so I'll try to explain it as best I can ...

I remember a teacher talking to me about how he likes the saying "this too shall pass," whereas I'm trying to get OUT of that mindset. the problem is that "this too shall pass" applies to literally everything. I don't think this was the original intention of the saying, but the subtext is that you shouldn't worry about what's happening now because it won't be forever; essentially, it doesn't matter if it doesn't last.

but isn't that literally everything? I get nervous whenever I'm happy because I remember that yes, this is probably temporary, and if history's anything to go by, it will be gone very quickly. but like, so is your entire life. so is the earth, the solar system. don't these things matter, not because they're permanent, but because they're your whole world in certain moments? when you're a teen and you're into a cringey show that you grow out of later, that's still a show that's your entire world (and might save your life!) in that time period.

I was pretty sensitive as a kid (still am, just better at hiding it/bottling stuff up), and I remember having genuinely scarring feelings and thoughts belittled constantly. and emotionally, you don't start thinking that that should stop applying when you're older. when I was a kid, all of my ideas and feelings were stupid because I was young and people thought I was a girl and I had normal childish interests. but even as I've become an adult, I haven't let go of the mindset of "everything I do and say and like is stupid and I need to defend them constantly or not mention them at all." it's definitely gotten better now that people have given me external cues that I can be taken seriously, but why wasn't I taken seriously before? I remember watching this movie about a monster eating a child and replaying that scene (and thus the fear that came with it) over and over for months. it's kind of silly in retrospect, but I think the stuff that I would have that exact emotional response to now would be taken much more seriously. when I was a kid scaring myself with that scene, was my fear not real? was I not in pain? was that not important to me at the time? why did it not matter just because other people stopped being able to relate to it?

I just wish we had a more gentle attitude about some of these things, especially when it comes to things young people don't have control over. I remember having a really aggressive attitude about diet/weight loss culture right after I started ED recovery, and as dumb as some of that was, it was necessary and legitimate. if I could talk to someone in a similar position, I wouldn't chastise them and tell them they're being naive and that it'll pass; I would say, "I see you; you're in a lot of pain right now, and you need to be feeling these emotions. I remember what that felt like. it might not last forever, but it's important that you process and validate them now anyway." obviously that understanding doesn't go as far as excusing harm, but I really don't think that even applies to most of the stuff we cringe at teens for (no, designing a sparkledog OC is not killing anyone).

your past self wasn't a rough draft on a piece of paper that just became human yesterday. they were a full person with actual emotions in full effect on them. they're gone now, and other young people won't be young forever either, but they're still people right now.

[37q]

now for question number 2 - even though clinging to identities can be, and often is a fool's errand, i feel that the concept of a non-self (if worded/explained in a way that divorces it from the concept of interconnectedness of phenomena) can be somewhat harmful and actually reinforce sociopolitical systems that emphasize conformity while crushing individual subjectivity. does buddhism, at its core, condone this?

ok im answering this one first because its loads easier than the other haha

flat out buddhism doesnt condone this at its core :) no need to worry. ultimately theres nothing to conform to, and i think reckoning the dharma with your intuition is part of the path. indeed, tailoring the path to your particular conditions is left to you. if enlightenment can only be found in the most antisocial and austere lifestyle* then so be it, but if enlightenment can be negotiated in this life then all the more power to you.

think of it like recovery: abstinence is useful, but potentially abusive and exploitative when institutionalized; and harm reduction is useful, but potentially dangerous when its not tailored to subjective life conditions.

*... which may or may not 'coincidentally' reify extant power dynamics by inscribing a ruling class's own self-serving ideology into broader cultural truths about liberation and the absolute. but that sounds kinda familiar almost like the political economic conditions of the buddhas early life. hahahaha anyways

to answer your question more comprehensively and succinctly, the main reason i connected with buddhism in the first place is that its liberation is as thorough as liberation can get.

im glad weve been having these talks if these are your concerns, because i think you might be developing a sense for what i call karmic dharma. my own path actually involves heavy work on conformity, repression, and "liberation within liberation" (a la uranus' astrological "sun behind the sun" symbolism; very cool allegory here). youre right, liberation ideology has been used to further mass social control, so as a buddhist it would be your job to set the record straight and call out false liberation when you see it.

study and practice will hone your eye for exploitation in the dharma. manjushri can tell you himself: communing with the dharma, sangha, and buddha without discernment is dangerous. if someones trying to constrict you rather than release you and youre not living in a monastery then its safe to say youre probably not in a good spot and divestment from that subjugation is the right way.

walking the path doesnt mean destroying your self, it means dissolving it with everything else. regardless of whether the dharma changes you or not, the path is where you realize that the distance and difference which distinguish our individuality are as impermanent and empty as the things we cling to. like yeeeaaah conventionally you can argue the truth of anythings independence but you can also argue the emptiness of its conditions easy as that, so my solution as a madhyamika is: why fucking bother.

personally as a dissociative individual ive struggled with sabotaging the progress ive made on my chronic neuroses by employing selflessness without wisdom. in the same vein i struggle with the delusional stability i attach to lesbianism out of a desire for its people to have any semblance of autonomy and self determination. dissociatively i have trouble discerning my individual subjectivity, so my exploration of it is more of a cooperative production than it is a discovery. in the same vein, as a lesbian ive had to renegotiate a lot of what makes me who i am and my capacity to affect change in the process.

so i usually just emphasize bodhicitta. the bodhisattva path means living in the impermanent and the karmic for its pedagogical utility; recognizing that individual renunciation of suffering means nothing when no one else has gotten there. liberation in this life, in each moment, in every mirror and mask. what will me dis-identifying do but isolate me from my peers who could benefit from the teachings? and what use is there in acting like liberation can be found only when totally divorced from our attachments, our karma, and the conditions of our suffering?

the most i let the sangha do to my subjectivity is open it up by removing the blindspots id previously erected, like how i define my subjectivity was already based in these unstable conceptualizations etc etc. for ex. no sane lama would tell me to stop fucking but theyd probably ask me to interrogate the attachments i form around it ykwim?

thats all to say that i feel you and its part of my journey too. i wouldnt say buddhism supports it at its core because 1. its not supported in the dharma 2. buddhist practice is largely de-centralized and 3. interrogating the dharma along the path includes its conventional proliferation.

[lion-buddy]

hi welcome to my tanjiro ramble :)

      A large part of Tanjiro’s dialogue throughout the series consists of very self-deprecating thoughts. He's constantly putting himself down for things outside of his control, in situations that seem impossible. Whether it be for being too slow to act, not being somewhere at the right time (even though he couldn't have possibly been there, even if he knew), taking all the blame for what was literally a group effort, are all factors of the situation he has no control over. And he blames himself for the outcome. He doesn't give himself a break, which is a pattern seen a lot throughout kny with many other characters. And everyone handles these thoughts and feelings differently, both physically and mentally. But, since Tanjiro is our main protagonist, we see a lot more of these little scenes delving into his inner monologue, and we see him talk down to himself a lot.  And the thing is, we never really get to see him deal with these thoughts in a healthy way, which always bothered me.

(continued under the cut !! :D)

      Because of his unhealthy mindset, Tanjiro is constantly putting his health on the back burner in order to excel. A clear example of this is when he keeps his fever high in order to perform his sun breathing techniques better. And yeah, he got what he wanted. It worked, and he excelled. And, as a demon slayer, putting your body in jeopardy is necessary. We see characters time and time again sacrificing themselves for the greater good, because it's what needs to be done. But!! What i'm trying to get at here is when Tanjiro does this outside of battle. Like with the fever temperature thing, and running to the Rengoku estate while still in recovery, I would have liked to have seen some repercussions in the moment for those actions. (and side note. They have done something similar to this once already. It was when tanjiro was training with inosuke and zenitsu in the forest. We see tanjiro collapse to the ground in exhaustion from pulling off too many consecutive sun breathing moves that his body could not handle. I like that, I hope the anime adds more little scenes like that. But training too hard is different. Training, even intensive training, is a normal, healthy way to get stronger. Actively making your body worse/ignoring your body when it is in bad condition is not a healthy way to get stronger, and technically, you shouldn't!).       And other characters around him tell him that! Tanjiro is someone who will push himself past his limit, ignoring his body's weaknesses to accomplish his goals, which is basically a required trait in order to become a successful demon slayer. It's not his fault, but he should have learned at some point to not hurt himself so much in the training process, or at least have it acknowledged. Like, for example, maybe have a plot line related to the fever incident, where he does get caught lying, and has to find a new way to raise his body temp that is less harmful to himself. Just a thought tho, and is just something that I think could have been better utilized for character development. Like, it was a setup with no conclusion, if you get what I mean. 

     That type of self-sacrificial mindset goes hand in hand with his self depreciation. He pushes himself to get better because he doesn't think he will ever be good enough.  And this is used to set up some very good character moments, like his dialogue after Renogku’s death. i love that scene for how it sets up Tanjiro’s insecurities and how his friends react to his words. That scene was heartbreaking to listen to, and I really understood where Tanjiro was coming from. It outlined his frustrations with his own weakness and his worry he will never be good enough. And it sets up some great growth and potential, and we do end up seeing him grow in great skill as a demon slayer throughout the rest of the series. But he still treats himself like a burden when he cant live up to impossible goals. And its unfortunate that we see him falling right back into this mindset later, even though he’d been told directly by Inosuke that thinking like that wasn't going to help anyone.

(i love this scene so much. it literally perfect in every way. and while its focus is more on how rengoku’s death effects the boys, i still think this bit of dialogue is very important to this topic.)

     And I want to make it clear, I'm not saying Tanjiro shouldn't have these moments of weakness! They are necessary and important, a key part of his character.  And they are addressed again later, brought up by Nezuko in both instances (at least from what i can remember. my bad if im forgetting something). We see it in the forest flashback with Nezuko and Tanjiro during the Upper Moon Six fight, and in the recovery room after the final battle. In both conversations, Nezuko tells Tanjiro to not put himself down for outcomes he could not control, how he will never be happy if he only thinks about what he did wrong. He needs to realize that he is not the one in control of his environment, and things are going to change around him whether he likes it or not. The only thing he should be worried about is how he reacts to those changes. He needs to look to the people around him for support, because he can't do everything by himself. He will only end up destroying himself with the burden of everything in the process. It's ok to ask for help, it's ok to struggle. It's ok if you're not good enough.  It's not your fault, as long as you try your best. That's all that matters. And “your best” isn't determined by the outcome. If the outcome is all you ever focus on, you will never be happy with yourself. 

     But I understand that thinking like this is easier said than done. An outcome, a mistake, can result in a lot of people dying, and this is a constant seen throughout kny. Tanjiro’s mindset isn't his fault. Hell, he’s told in the first chapter by Giyu that his inability to act to protect Nezuko is going to be his downfall. And I mean, Giyu isn't wrong in that scenario, he demonstrates his point very well.

(and i dont think that all of this stems from this one conversation, it was up to tanjiro to take these words to heart and be able to apply them to himself. and we do see him grow from this moment with how he actively defends nezuko during their trial, which i think was the point of this scene. but i think its definitely the defining moment for how tanjiro approaches becoming a demon slayer, and subsequently leads him to think the way he does, since demon slaying becomes his life).   

     And this mindset is probably only made worse because of the traumatic events Tanjiro witnesses throughout all of kny. Anyone who cares, especially someone who cares as much as Tanjiro does, would be discouraged at their inability to stop tragedy. He, along with all the other demon slayers, just want to keep people from suffering the way they had to. And when they fail to do that, well, it must be the worst feeling in the world. And I just wish we could have seen him learn to cope, because it makes me sad to know this is something he is constantly, silently, struggling with all by himself throughout all of kny.  It would have been nice to see him just, be nicer to himself, or have it acknowledged more by the end. This would be a hard thing for him to open up about. Tanjiro isn't one to openly talk about his emotions, or the traumas he's witnessed. Because he knows everyone is struggling along with him. He's very quiet when it comes to how he feels, no one forced him to talk, and he wasn't going to himself. Nezuko is one of the only people ever seen challenging his thoughts, and he seems to relax a bit about sharing how he feels around her. 

     But, seeing she does not talk throughout most of kny, her interference isn't an option in canon. When stuck in a constant state of train, fight, recovery, repeat, it can lead to a disassociation of your worth as a person and cause self sacrifice on all levels. It's not about you, it's about what you're here to do, and that's all that matters. But, even in these circumstances, I still think it provided some really good opportunity for character development for Tanjiro and others, and could have addressed what an environment like that does to a person in its own, character specific way. And I know it would be good content, because we do see it! The conversation about Rengoku’s death between Senjuro and Tanjiro was a beautiful, heartbreaking scene that did exactly what it needed to do. I won't analyze it, cuz that is a lot and it would make me sad :’), but I'm glad we got it. I just think it would have been nice to see other characters grieve the death that is constantly surrounding them more often, and support each other more throughout it. Rengoku’s death is really the only time we get to see that happen with our major characters, and for a very short time at that. Everything goes so fast by the end kny, and it feels like these characters never get the time to grieve, at least not in a satisfying way.  And maybe that's the point, maybe it's supposed to show how out of your control the world is, how the next battle isn't going to wait for you to feel better. It just, hurts so much to see these characters suffer like that and never heal mentally. I don't think they ever would heal fully, but it would have been nice to see some progress now that they have the chance to just breathe for themselves.

Cool off: 

Haha ok after thoughts. idk where i was going with this! I wrote it after re reading the ending of the manga, and then i started thinking abt the kamado siblings and how the two full “casual” conversations we get from them go down. But it seems i uh, ended up not touching on it as much as I intended to whoops. I dont want to cram it in there, it would feel unnatural. Maybe it'll be its own post. (I often find myself addressing these issues with tanjiro A Lot when writing bits for NezukoTalks!au [name still pending] so i'm glad to have this for reference now :D). But anyway, I hope it all makes sense and doesn't end up coming across as being too rambly! a lot of my concluding thoughts are purely my opinion and preference, and this was more of just something to try and, “organize”, what I think is very important, and not very often addressed in canon, part of tanjiro! TLDR I think it had great set up and potential, and maybe not the best execution. but what do i know, I just think these guys deserve a little therapy idk just a thought

[8gradient]

if there is one thing that the experience of art trauma and the subsequent process of recovery therefrom has offered to me, it has been a direct and immediate escape from that mindset.. cant strive for external validation via likes+reblogs if its too frightening to make anything in the first place, let alone post it.

so in coming back to social media as ive done the past year or so, i find that im not as concerned about it. notes are numbers on a screen. i like the idea of my work connecting with people, because i want to communicate emotion from within the pit of me. (what else am i meant to do with it? feel it? and thats all?) that i can see responses along these lines, see my own ideas reflected back at me with no direct prompting, and therefore know ive been successful in that task is a comfort.

but then who is to say that anyone can tell me whether ive succeeded in getting a thought out other than my self? what do i want people to say? is there a #series of words i could see in my notifications that would #justify all the work and anguish it’s taken to prepare myself to exist in an artistic sphere again?

am i waiting for someone to tell me ive done well enough?

#fav #inspiration #op i love this

does that make it worthwhile? im not altogether sure.

but i think its possible that thats not the right question here. i dont imagine that that makes it worthwhile for me, no. but ive been on the other side of it for a long time, mostly on this very blog, and, like. i regularly go through my insp tag. it actively helps me when i feel like i cant detangle my hands from nesting into each other with restlessness. when i see how other people have put down thoughts and emotions and i see how those efforts resonate with me, it makes me Want to try it again.

my favorite works of art of all time, pieces i think about years and years later, are mostly works that i would never have seen if not for the internet. i dont know if the people who made them remember uploading them, or even still have the work files saved, but it meant a hell of a lot to me that they did. even if the posts themselves (some of them ancient by now) break or get deleted, i will still have gotten something immense and filling from the experience of interfacing with the contents, even just the once.

so maybe thats what is worth it to me. this schrodingers connection that occurs when you share yourself in a semi-anonymous space this way. the emotional honesty of being able to say ‘i put myself out there, and you can do with that what you will.’ i think maybe that freedom from my own work is what i have been chasing. i think its enough

[somethingwritey]

How is the Rangshi long fic coming? Id love an update on ittttt!

Hello! I'm so glad you're still thinking about my Rangshi fic! It's currently around 20k at the moment—definitely getting a bit carried away!

Because you asked, here's another little out-of-context snippet ;)

-----

“Do you think the spirits would mind if I assassinated a world leader?”

Jinpa jerked his head up at the question, risking a glance behind him at her. Kyoshi knew she must be a sight to behold, laying out across the wide saddle and staring up at the darkening clouds. In her hands, she opened and closed a fan in time to her pounding pulse.

“I don’t think that’s listed as an Avatar duty,” Jinpa stammered, thoroughly taken aback by her proposal.

“Bummer.”

Jinpa was quiet for a few moments, no doubt trying to edge around the subject towards her reasoning. “I take it that meeting with the Fire Lord went… poorly?”

Kyoshi propped herself up on her elbows to stare him in the face. She hoped he could read how absolutely stupid that question had been. She’d emerged from the Fire Lord’s palace by stomping, causing tiny earthquakes as she marched over to the stables. That should’ve been indication enough.

“He’s out of control.” Kyoshi shivered—Rangi’s absence making itself very apparent just then; she could always be counted on for a little extra warmth while traveling.

Kyoshi went back to staring at the sky.

Zoryu’s words about the Firebender still echoed in her ears, doing more to chill her than the night air ever could. She wished she could put more distance between Rangi and the Fire Lord, despite being hidden away in Yokoya.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if Zoryu somehow knew. If he could see the girl in her cotton shift, laid out on the infirmary bed with her hands knotted in the sheets. If he had discovered a way to look at the bruises on her face and the way her breath still rattled slightly whenever she breathed. Maybe this whole meeting had been a distraction, a diversion to take Kyoshi away from the infirmary and Rangi. Maybe, it was too late.

“Jinpa!” Kyoshi felt her heart pounding in her ears. “Fly faster!”

She worked herself up as they flew, imagining horrific scenes of injury and destruction—rivaling the iceberg or North Chung-Ling - only this time, it would absolutely be her fault. If anything happened to Rangi, the Flying Opera Company, even Hei-Ran and Atuat, she would be to blame.

Kyoshi gripped the edge of the saddle, her knuckles turning white from the effort. She watched the ground grow closer and closer as Yingyong spiralled into a descent. Her chest tightened with every drop in altitude, and once, she almost slipped over the edge and plummeted the last several feet to the ground.

“Quiet evening.” Jinpa seemed on the whole unaware of her own personal panic. He landed Yingyong with ease and dismounted, walking around the side of the bison to assist Kyoshi like he always did.

She didn’t wait for the monk to make it over to her. She tumbled from the saddle, falling hard onto the ground and scrambling back up to her feet.

“Kyoshi!” he yelled after her in disbelief.

She didn’t turn around, stumbling towards the infirmary to what she knew would be waiting for her. Blindly, she pushed open the door and tripped over the doorway, panting and gasping for air, to find -

No evidence of violence. No ransom note or bodies or trails of blood. Just Hei-Ran and Atuat sitting in a few chairs with bowls of noodles, with the rest of the Flying Opera Company still bedridden, but looking more vibrant than before. Even Rangi looked, on the whole, unchanged, propped up in bed. Someone had even taken the time to put her hair back up in its usual topknot.

“Well,” Hei-Ran said dryly, taking in Kyoshi’s haggard appearance. “Are you being pursued by wolfbats? Lion vultures? Spider snakes, perhaps?”

Kyoshi’s face flushed red, and she tried hard to catch her breath - smoothing down her skirts to remove the ruffles.

“Did the monk get eaten?” Atuat asked calmly, taking another bite of her noodles. Clearly, the two women were enjoying the joke at Kyoshi’s expense.

Rangi covered her mouth, looking as though she was trying to keep a straight face for Kyoshi’s sake and failing at it. Kyoshi glared at her.

“Not you, too.”

A little snort escaped Rangi’s fingers, and her eyes went wide.

“Some bison ride you must’ve had,” Kirmia ventured, surveying Kyoshi’s windswept state. “What did happen to that Airbender of yours?”

Kyoshi gestured out the door. “Probably unsaddling Yingyong,” she told them all, still somewhat out of breath. “I, uh, just needed to check something.”

“The Fire Lord put you on edge?” Hei-Ran put down her bowl of noodles, staring hard at Kyoshi.

She forced herself to look back calmly. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone know that she’d gotten worked up over some unfulfilled threats. And now that she was here, even Kyoshi could tell how stupid she’d been. The infirmary was the safest place for Rangi right now, surrounded as she was by Hei-Ran and Atuat and unable to make any wrong move the Fire Lord could use to justify an attack.

Kyoshi forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders the best she could. “Nothing of the sort.” She tucked her fans back into her belt. “The meeting was simply to confirm what he already knew. Pretty big waste of time, actually.”

Hei-Ran was still studying her skeptically, probably trying to pinpoint the reason for Kyoshi’s sudden change in demeanor. Kyoshi dared to look over at Rangi again.

Her expression mirrored her mother’s, lips slightly pursed and head tilted to the side. If Kyoshi didn’t want Hei-Ran to discover the true nature of her meeting with Zoryu, she definitely didn’t want Rangi figuring it out.

Rangi’s station meant everything to her, and she took her job very seriously. If she knew that her own Fire Lord was pondering possible ways to strip the girl of her life - or worse, her honor - she would lose it.

Kyoshi had already seen how Fire Nation citizens treated their disgraced ranking officials. Hei-Ran had been pitied, patronized, pet like an animal. If anyone were to take that tone with Rangi, well, Kyoshi couldn’t promise that she would be able to keep her Avatar State in check.

“Care for some noodles?” Atuat gestured to her own bowl, holding it up for Kyoshi to see.

There was no way Kyoshi could turn down food. She hadn’t eaten since… well, Kyoshi couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten, and she could feel Rangi staring daggers at her.

“Yeah,” she smiled at Atuat. “Noodles would be great.”

////

It was three days before Rangi was able to stand.

Atuat worked on her the best she could, trying to heal the internal damage caused by Yun. She told Kyoshi that bits of his earth dagger had broken off inside her wound, causing irritation and leaving a large possibility for infection. It didn’t help that Rangi was a terrible patient.

“I can get up,” she kept insisting. “I’m fine!”

When Atuat finally let her try, Rangi leapt at the opportunity, getting to her feet much too quickly and nearly doubling over from lingering stiffness and pain.

“Careful!” Kyoshi cried, hovering nearby. The outburst earned her stares from both Rangi and Atuat.

When Rangi straightened up again—slower this time—Kyoshi could see the imprint of the bandages under her shift - wrapped generously around her torso like battle armor.

“Are you sure she should be doing this?” Kyoshi asked Atuat, probably only fueling Rangi’s determination. “She’s still got bandages on! What if she starts bleeding again? We can try again tomorrow! Or next week!”

“Kyoshi, what’s your problem?” Rangi narrowed her eyes.

She was being far too overprotective, Kyoshi knew. She should back off. Let Rangi manage her own recovery. But even though it was inviting Rangi’s wrath, Kyoshi didn’t want her Firebender’s stubbornness to impede her healing process.

Rangi needed to take it slow. Make sure she didn’t make things worse with her rush to get better. As much as Kyoshi wanted to see her girl back on her feet, she knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them if it happened too quickly.

That’s what Kyoshi told herself as she watched Atuat support Rangi and instruct her to gently raise and lower her arms - stretching out her muscles. Kyoshi just didn’t want Rangi to overextend herself. To tear open her wound. To hurry an infection along. Her concern was born from love and care, not selfishness.

Or cowardice.

As if to poke holes in her reasoning, Hei-Ran entered the tent, arms crossed. “Jinpa told me your meeting with the Fire Lord ended… abruptly.” She glanced over at Atuat and Rangi for the briefest of moments. “Rangi, straighten your shoulders. Injuries don’t excuse bad posture.”

Rangi huffed, but obediently did as she was told. She respected her mother’s authority, whether she liked it or not.

Kyoshi picked her next words carefully. Lying to Hei-Ran was never a good idea, but neither was letting on just how badly the meeting had actually gone. “I think… the messages of both parties had ample time for sinking in.”

The words could’ve come straight from Yun’s mouth—vague with just the right amount of high-brow language. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless cause after all.

Hei-Ran seemed surprised by the response as well. “I see. And what message did the Fire Lord impart on you?”

Shit.

Kyoshi tried to think on her feet. “Politics,” she said at last. “The importance of… political relations.”

“Sounds like the stuff Jianzhu used to preach,” Rangi offered, crinkling up her nose at the mention of the departed sage.

Hei-Ran sniffed dismissively at the mention of the man who’d nearly poisoned her to death. Kyoshi wondered inwardly if the woman ever mourned Jianzhu, despite everything. He had once been her close companion, after all.

Every one of Hei-Ran’s old friends were gone, she suddenly realized - swallowing hard. Kuruk. Kelsang. Jianzhu. The once-inseparable gang hadn’t stayed that way for very long. Hei-Ran was the sole survivor.

Killed after hunting dark spirits.

Murdered by Jianzhu.

Murdered by Yun. And me.

What terrible fates had been waiting for the previous Avatar team, often at the hands of each other. Was that what waited for her? For Rangi? For Wong and Kirimia? Was every Avatar doomed to bring failure and annihilation to the people who loved them most?

“Atuat,” she said sharply, turning to look at Rangi who’d made good progress accompanied by the Waterbender. “That’s enough for today.”

“Yes, Avatar.”

As Atuat moved to help Rangi back to bed, Rangi protested - an angry haze settling over her face as she watched Kyoshi move towards the door.

“What?” Rangi twisted in Atuat’s grip, trying to break free, to run after her. “Who let her call the shots around here? Kyoshi, don’t you dare walk away from me! I’m not through talking about this!”

Kyoshi didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“Fine! Go clear your head! See if I care!”

And then Kyoshi made it out of earshot.

She would delay Rangi’s recovery as long as she possibly could, drag it out until the spirits themselves were begging the Firebender to get back on her feet. Because at least here in the infirmary, tucked away in Yokoya, she had people to keep her safe. She couldn’t get herself thrown into another life-threatening situation while she was still recuperating from the last one.

Kyoshi wouldn’t be the reason for Rangi’s obliteration.

And neither would Zoryu.

---

more coming soon! my commissions are open (and so is my ask box!)

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 36

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 17.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, psychological torture, mentions injuries/infections, mentions of past abuse ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧  act five ➻ part three

​​​​

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Yeosang offers without missing a beat, and he steps into your space. “That Spectre can’t be trusted enough to be alone with you. It’s bad enough that he’s being left alone right now.”

“Just yesterday you were talking about how much you hate me,” you scoff, turning away from the door to stare him in the eye. “Now you’re wanting to protect my every movement?” A huff of air passes through the man’s lips. For a moment, he refuses to look at you, and you think he’s going to choose to ignore you rather than respond to the question.

“Having Wooyoung speak to me through you put things in perspective a bit,” he admits. He drags his tongue over the front of his teeth, then shifts to face you without resistance this time. “If there is even the slightest chance that your death could negatively affect Wooyoung, I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Don’t worry, I still hate you. I can’t stand you one bit, and I wish that I had a damn guarantee that you getting hurt wouldn’t risk Wooyoung’s safety because I could care less about looking after you on top of all this mess. Besides Wooyoung — he asked me to look after you, and my feelings about you are meaningless compared to what he wants.”

You haven’t had much of an opportunity to think about all the ways in which you and Wooyoung could be connected. While there is no guarantee that harm to you would harm him physically too, Yeosang does have a point. Just the chance is enough to be wary about. The same could be true the other way around in turn — anything they do to Wooyoung could potentially hurt you too, but there is no possible way of confirming that at this point in time. All you can do is wonder whether you will be able to see him and the others when you sleep next, should you even be able to sleep because it doesn’t sound tempting at all after what you just had to go through.

Your dragging hesitance must bother Yeosang to some degree because he huffs out another sigh and steps around you to lead the way out the door. You shift to follow him, stepping forward into the corridor only to run face-first into the Elitist’s back in less than a second. One peek around the curve of his shoulder tells you why he’s stopped so suddenly, and it’s none other than Jongho who stands before the two of you in the hall.

“Oh good, perfect timing. We need everyone to the medbay immediately,” Jongho says with a short nod, looking past Yeosang to give you a glance as well.

“Did something happen?” You ask in response.

“Hongjoong woke up, and he asked to see everyone.”

“He woke up? Why? No, no — how is he up?” Yeosang is the one to begin rambling, and he doesn’t stop there. “There were no signs of changes in his condition. I thought Yunho said it could be another several days before he woke up?”

“I don’t know either honestly.” Jongho brings a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair, pushing the locks off his forehead for a moment before they fall flat against his face again. “I came straight away the second Hongjoong gave the order. I don’t even know what the situation is quite yet.”

“Your conversation will have to wait then,” Yeosang murmurs. The two of you exchange a small nod, although you can’t say you’re too upset about having to postpone the conversation with Jisung.

“Conversation?” Yeosang steps around Jongho as the Berserker asks the question, and you are left to regard each other with confusion while Yeosang starts a path down the corridor.

“I was going to talk with Jisung about some things,” you explain, ducking your head to avoid the look Jongho gives you. It’s not one that causes any discomfort — moreso there is too much sympathy in that expression he wears, too much underlying pity that makes the pit in your gut deepen further. “Later. It’s fine, nothing pressing.”

Jongho reaches a hand out and takes hold of your elbow. The touch is delicate, probably one meant to offer some sort of comfort and nothing more, and that’s exactly what it does. Moments later, you are walking after Yeosang with a much lighter feeling swelling in your chest that you can’t pinpoint or explain.

When the three of you reach the medbay at last, Yunho stands outside the doors, hands close to his chest as he wrings them together without cease.

“Why aren’t you inside with Seonghwa?” Jongho asks upon seeing the healer.

“Hongjoong asked — he asked for a minute alone with Seonghwa.” Yunho blinks furiously as he speaks, and the motion of his hasty blinks is nearly dizzying in its frequency. “Under normal circumstances, Seonghwa would be the one to inform Hongjoong of the situation but… but Seonghwa still refused to speak even after seeing Hongjoong awake. He — what the fuck happened to the two of you during the night?”

You know the question is directed at you, but it still catches you unaware nonetheless. You can do nothing but stare back at him with wide eyes as the words process along with Yunho’s shaken-up disposition.

“I’m not sure,” you mutter. Yunho purses his lips, and a small exasperated sigh slips through, enough to show his annoyance with your answer, but Jongho steps in front of you before the healer can say anything. “I recall having a nightmare of my own but Seonghwa wasn’t there with me — I, no, that’s not — I mean he wasn’t—”

“Seonghwa had a nightmare,” Yeosang interjects, saving you from the moment of panic and from further fumbling with your words. “I managed to coax a bit out of him while you and Jongho were talking with Y/N. He had a dream that he was choking which is why he stopped breathing, and because he was so deep in the nightmare, he couldn’t wake up when Y/N tried to get him up the first time. You ended up startling him out of the nightmare and back into consciousness.” It could be a complete lie on Yeosang’s part, but it is logical and adds up in your mind to make some amount of sense. It saves your ass for certain, and that’s all you could ask for given your awkward and helpless fumbling. Yunho, however, doesn’t seem pleased with the response based on the way he shakes his head.

“That doesn’t add up,” he mutters, arms coming to fold over his chest. “Whatever he was dreaming about had to have been more traumatic than that since he had no other symptoms that lined up with other causes of shock. Trauma is the only logical option given what state he was in. Shock… it’s not just a quick jolt, it’s a critical condition brought on by a sudden drop in blood flow through the body. So trauma, heatstroke, blood loss, allergic reactions, infections, poisoning, burns, those sorts of things. His organs were not getting enough blood or oxygen, but just physically I could not see any sort of physical causes proving that. I can run some poison checks, but that truly wouldn’t make any amount of sense.”

“Even if it was something merely traumatic, what makes you think that he would ever want to talk about it with someone who always seems to want to pick him apart for every decision he’s made in life?” Yeosang levels Yunho with a glare so intense that you can almost feel the spike of tension in the air between them. “He was unresponsive with you for a reason no doubt. Maybe you shouldn’t have criticized him so much for decisions that didn’t involve you.”

“He involved me the second he started complaining about the arrangement betwe—”

“That’s enough,” Jongho cuts in, and he lifts a hand to rest atop Yunho’s arm. “Let’s not get heated right now. I can confirm that the emotional aura coming off Seonghwa’s body was something far beyond even a moderate level of trauma. Just being with Hongjoong in there is already helping some, but it will likely take some time for him to recover.”

“This is the worst possible timing,” Yunho sighs. “With tensions already high and everything… right when we need Hongjoong and Seonghwa the most, things like this have to happen?”

“Hongjoong is up now though, so that won’t be as much of an issue any longer.” Yeosang has a valid point with that one. Although without Seonghwa… you don’t want to have to think about how things would be without Seonghwa in all honesty, and it’s hard enough to even conjure up the smallest of thoughts about it. “Has anyone had eyes on Han?” Jongho is the first to deny it.

“I still feel his aura in the spare room we gave him. He didn’t budge at all during the night prior to the incident happening so I don’t think he’s behind that either.” Jongho’s words are enough to bring an unsteady silence to the four of you. There is nothing that can be said really, and you understand that better than anyone. How could you even try to explain the things you saw in your dream? You aren’t sure what you thought you would say to Jisung either; that was moreso a spur-of-the-moment decision made in a panic, and it’s probably for the better that you don’t go see him now.

“I hate this,” Yunho mutters after the silence grows unbearable. “It’s too quiet without the others here.”

“We should enact a plan soon, especially with Hongjoong up,” Yeosang says back. “Seonghwa won’t want to take a break or any recovery time, so things should be business as usual from now on. Can’t we hurry this along a bit? I doubt anyone is going back to bed soon, so talking with Hongjoong now would be best, no? Discussing plans so we can catch up to the transport ship the others are on?”

“Just a moment, yeah.” Yunho dips into the medbay. When the door slides open, you catch a glimpse of what’s inside, for better or worse. Seonghwa resides on one of the beds, the one closest to the door actually, and Hongjoong is as well, body draped over Seonghwa’s like an extension of the man, It’s not anything inappropriate, nor does it seem to be in the way the smaller captain straddles his hips and clings to his lieutenant like his life depends on it.

Looking at them like this — something close, intimate, calm, peaceful almost — you nearly feel as though you shouldn’t be present. It’s a crawling sensation that spreads to your stomach and chest, eyes trailing over the places where one man meets the other, and if not for looking so intently at the scene before you, you would miss the hefty tear tracks over Seonghwa’s cheeks. One of Hongjoong’s hands curls through Seonghwa’s hair as the other wraps tightly around one of the lieutenant’s.

Hongjoong pulls his hand down from the other man’s head, brushing over the tear-stricken skin of his cheek. He is clearly looking down at the man but Seonghwa doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his eyes shut tight with a few tears spilling out the corners. And in the back of your mind, you barely process how much you hate seeing Seonghwa in such a state, broken and crying without relent, and you hate how you seem to be just fine in comparison to him. The two of you were in the same place, suffering the same fate of being put through nightmares, and yet you came out of it because Wooyoung saved you. Did Seonghwa have anyone there to save him?

It is pointless to think of that now, but it’s all that is on your mind as you watch Hongjoong’s lips move with haste, muttering words that must be meant to comfort under his breath. You are too far away to hear it all clearly, although a few words slip in here and there.

“You’re okay… here… we’re here… together, okay? It wasn’t real… trust… I’m here.”

Yunho clears his throat when Hongjoong still doesn’t pull his attention away from Seonghwa, but even that announcement doesn’t cause the captain to budge even a little bit. Instead, he continues his hushed whispers for a few more moments then lifts the hand that is still tangled with Seonghwa’s in a pausing motion.

“We’ll talk more about it later, yeah?” He murmurs a bit louder as he pulls back to glance over in Yunho’s direction. His gaze slips past the healer’s should to find you in an instant, and you duck your chin in a panic, eyes finding the floor. It’s the feeling of being caught doing something you shouldn’t or watching something you shouldn’t be watching, and seeing Hongjoong atop Seonghwa in such a way is the cause of that. Perhaps he expects you to be jealous and scowl at him, and perhaps that is exactly what you are supposed to feel, but frankly… it doesn’t make you envious in the slightest. You moreso feel content at the sight of them holding each other so closely, like Seonghwa is finally at peace with Hongjoong in his grasp and awake. Hongjoong is finally up, can finally comfort him, and Seonghwa can finally rest easier. Why would you ever want to take that away from him?

The sight of them so closely linked, however, brings up a fleeting memory from your foray in the Dreamscape.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?”

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

Albeit briefly, you wonder if that might be what Seonghwa saw once the two of you were separated. Even moreso than that though, the more pressing worry on your mind is just how deep Hongjoong’s demons run for Seonghwa to be so concerned that it has become his worst nightmare. You don’t have any more time to think about it as Hongjoong slips off of Seonghwa’s body and props himself on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa moves to sit up as well only to have Hongjoong’s hand slap down on his chest and shove him back to the bed with little effort. They don’t exchange any words, but they don’t need to either with the way one corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirks up in a half-smile as he blinks down at his lieutenant. Perhaps Vladimir had a point in the backhanded comment he made in the arena — when you see the way Hongjoong gazes at Seonghwa, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen or experienced before, like Seonghwa could do no wrong in the captain’s eyes, and like he’s the most precious creature in existence. Hongjoong slips his hand down to the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, resting his fingers against the fabric of his pants just above the knee. It’s nothing… lewd or suggestive, nor does Seonghwa seem to take it as such, moreso a touch of comfort and nothing more.

“Well, are you all going to get in here or not?” Hongjoong leans to look past Yunho’s shoulder, regarding the rest of you with a stare that is enough to cause you to step inside. Yeosang does the same and comes in behind you, but Jongho doesn’t budge even an inch. Instead, he stays in the corridor with arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting down the hall every so often like he’s expecting Jisung to come bursting out at any second. Hongjoong waits but you have a growing suspicion that he’s not waiting for Jongho to come in necessarily. “I asked for the whole crew, Yunho. Where are the others?”

Does he not… did no one tell him of the situation?

Yunho inhales sharply but doesn’t manage to do anything more than that, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Yeosang, however, doesn’t let any silence drape over the room in the aftermath of Hongjoong’s question. He takes the initiative and steps forward with an expression so flat and even that you nearly believe nothing is wrong in the slightest.

“During the mission at the arena, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung were all taken captive and are currently missing in action. Vladimir was used as an instrument to get the ball rolling, but someone else is behind the incident. The three are aboard a transport vessel that is on its way to Dorado, where Mingi will be sent to a recreational facility to reprogram him back into the Brute of Kebos. San and Wooyoung were not the initial targets, so their fates and what will happen to them are currently unknown. We — we have someone aboard who is acting as a mole for us and gaining information from Vladimir, Han Jisung. He’s also eavesdropped on several meetings to get information about the transport vessel and the plans.

“Oh, I know that part,” Hongjoong hisses through gritted teeth. A flash of panic crosses Yeosang’s gaze for a split second, and the two of you seem to instinctively share in that panic by looking towards each other.

“H-How?” Yunho stammers.

“Why do you think I’m even up in the first place? A certain Han Jisung came in here and woke me up.” Seonghwa sits up without hesitation and latches a hand around Hongjoong’s shoulder. The captain doesn’t even have time to react before both Yeosang and Yunho are suddenly stepping closer to the bed and into his personal space as well. Your first instinct, on the other hand, is to twist at the waist and look towards where Jongho stands in the hallway.

“Did you sense anything? I thought you said he was in his room this whole time.”

“I… No, I truly didn’t sense anything. It must have been during the commotion in Seonghwa’s room. That—” the Berserker cuts himself short there, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he finishes the thought “—that was the only time I didn’t think to check for his heat signature. By the time I was certain the crisis was averted, Jisung must have gotten back to his room.”

Hongjoong shrugs Seonghwa’s touch off as best he can before pushes the man back to the bed with another gentle touch.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t lay a finger on me.” Even though the words are clearly directed at Seonghwa, they hold weight over Yeosang and Yunho as well, bringing both men a few steps back from the bed. “Han Jisung is the one you should worry about.”

And as much as you despise it and wish your brain did not catapult in that direction, you cannot stop the twinge of panic that surges through your veins. It must be strong enough to pique Seonghwa’s interest because however hard you try to conceal the emotion on your face, you cannot keep the Siren from sending a worried glance your way. You don’t wish to care for Jisung still, you wish you could just bury that part of yourself and focus on something else instead — something like Hyunwoo, who deserves more than what you gave him, but your mind clings to Jisung like a parasite. You aren’t sure it will ever let up.

“I left him with several pretty threats that were enough to deter him from doing anything foolish. But he in turn informed me of the situation from his perspective. I merely wanted to hear from you all to make certain he was telling the truth. So thank you, Yeosang, for sharing the information better than this Jisung character did. Although, he did tell me what they intend to do with Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung is set to be sold to the House of Lilies in the Upper Echelon of the capital, Lynder.”

“What the hell is the House of Lilies?” The name itself leaves little to the imagination, but you can’t exactly blame Yeosang for needing the verbal confirmation. This time it isn’t Hongjoong who answers, though, and for what seems to be the first time since waking up, Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s… a whorehouse for the top class of Lynder, typically only used by the military and head councilmen of the city.”

“It’s a fucking what?”

If they’re putting Wooyoung in a place like that, then you don’t want to imagine where they would put San.

“San. Wh-what about San? Do they plan to do the same to him or—”

“No, they have different plans for him,” Hongjoong interjects, cutting your thought into a silent breath of relief. “He’s slated to be put through regression therapy and built into the perfect assassin. After that, he’ll go into the military in the Upper Echelon of the capital. He and Mingi will be put in the same facility for their treatments, but Wooyoung’s deal is supposedly more immediate.”

“Regression therapy? That’s the worse possible treatment San could ever receive!” You don’t really need to hear the panic in Yunho’s tone right now; it only makes the gravity of the situation weigh heavier on your shoulders. If you could sink through the floor and disappear from existence entirely, that would be preferred, but alas, no matter how much you wish for it, you’re stuck in place. “That could undo every ounce of progress he’s made over the years! All that — everything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s tongue flicks out for a second, stabbing the corner of his lips harshly before retreating back into his mouth. He presses his lips into a thin line after that and refuses to respond to Yunho’s words.

Regression therapy. You’d heard of it during your stint with the military, a thing that was merely used as a threat for rowdy and unruly recruits who refused to do as asked. Only a threat because of how awfully traumatic it could be and how inhumane the public thought such a treatment to be. But the point was not to be humane then.

“They’d… use regression therapy to undo all that progress for a reason,” you murmur. The heat of five stares hits your body, and it’s almost overwhelming for a moment but you push forward to finish the thought. “Breaking him down into the husk he used to be is only part of the process. Once he’s put in the military, they’ll just wipe him of it either way, but to seem like they’re doing it consensually, they have to get him to go in there by choice. That’s how things worked on Eros. They threatened to bring back memories from before the wipe if you stepped too far out of line. They’ll break him, turn him into what he used to be, make him as deprived and desperate for even an ounce of freedom, then offer to take it all away.”

You don’t realize how hard you are gripping the inside of your right elbow until the pressure stings, but the moment you release your arm, that temporary grip on reality slips away and you fall into a vague flashback.

“Things will be okay, Y/N, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hyunwoo is the one to speak to you. Your attempts to reach out and grab him are futile as you quickly find that you are strapped to a cool metal chair that practically burns your skin. Hyunwoo reaches down, lips twisting into a soft pained smile, and he takes one of your hands in his own.

“It’ll only hurt a little bit. We won’t take much, just enough for them not to be able to track it back to you. If you don’t know then they won’t be able to pin the blame on you, and you’ll be safe. So we’ll only take what we need to, okay?”

“I-I don’t know who ‘they’ is.”

“You won’t need to know after this. Jisung is prepping the serum now.”

“I — Hyunwoo, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

“I’m sorry. This was the only way I could save you all. Maybe one day you will get to see each other again, and you can tell him the truth. And he can tell you the truth.”

“What fucking truth? You can’t do this now of all times, Hyunwoo! It isn’t the time to be cryptic and mysterious!”

“You’ll understand one day, Y/N. I promise.”

You pull yourself out of the flashback there, mostly because you’re so startled and confused as to why that memory slipped in. You were certain that you shared that conversation with Hyunwoo just before he walked to his death, not strapped to a chair with him saying such startling things.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong mutters, tugging you back to reality so harshly that you flinch. “Once they get on Dorado and conduct Wooyoung’s deal, they’ll separate Mingi and San. Probably place them in separate rooms: San to an isolation chamber, a large one no doubt. Mingi will most likely be placed in a much smaller one that will resemble the underbelly of the arena he grew up in.” Hongjoong pauses his thoughts there and shakes his head. “Han Jisung seems to know far too much about these plans and exactly what is going on. Why isn’t he tied to a chair in the brig right now?” Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply only to have Hongjoong wave his hand and dismiss the question entirely. “That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that we must keep any and all information found from henceforth away from Han Jisung. No plans, no musings, nothing whatsoever. That all stays between us as we cannot trust Jisung no matter what. I would rather keep a gun stuck to the back of that man’s head at all times than risk failure at this. Emergency rescue and recovery mission. We’ll talk further over the details soon. It’s best to get more rest now though.”

“I’d like to run some sleep tests anyways,” Yunho chimes in, and he turns to you before you have a chance to duck out of it. “Both you and Seonghwa. Don’t think I’d let you get out of it. Please just let me run a few tests, if anything only to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine,” you mutter. Yunho doesn’t wait for you to follow him as he leads the way to another bed further down in the medbay. Sleep is the last thing on your mind right now, but you don’t have much of a choice as the healer sits you down and starts pulling wires and electrodes out. Hongjoong continues to talk to Yeosang a bit more, no doubt to decide on what to do moving forward.

“I’ll be hooking you up to a telemetry machine. It’s just to monitor your heart and see if there are any irregular happenings during the night. I’ll use it mostly to make sure it’s all beating properly and such while you’re asleep, but I’ll also place some sensors on and around your scalp, temples, chest, and legs, along with a small clip on your finger to monitor the oxygen in your blood. I’ll be here the whole night monitoring you both if any issues arise, yeah?”

“Okay.” You don’t make any efforts to hide the slight exasperation in your tone, and Yunho has the decency to at least pick up on that as he connects more of those sensors to your skin.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, you know. It’s — I know I have a lot to be sorry for and this one shitty apology won’t do much, but I am genuinely sorry,” he murmurs quiet enough for just the two of you to hear. “For all the ways in which I have been immature and hurtful. I did not act as a responsible or good doctor shoulder, but also from a deeper standpoint, I didn’t act as a friend should either, so I’m sorry for that as well. I want to do better and fix those mistakes but I don’t know how to right now. With all the stress we are under right now, I don’t want to risk making things worse by any means but... I can promise that I’ll try to do better.”

“I’m not petty like that,” you huff in reply. “Just you admitting that you did wrong and want to do better is enough for me. Just trying is enough. Maybe… try not to be a defensive asshole next time?” You dare to look up at the tall man’s face to gauge his reaction and are pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a smile.

“My goal is to avoid doing that again, yeah,” he laughs. His grin falls within a second, however, and he next brushes a hand over your hair with a small frown painting his thin lips. “You really gave us a scare. Hearing you call us for help only to go in and find you unconscious on the floor? We thought Jisung had gone in there and attacked you both. It was something out of a horror novel.”

You turn away as heat rises on your cheeks, and the only thing you can do to cover your embarrassment is cough awkwardly.

“I-I must have been so stressed and tired that I passed out right after.” That isn’t wholly a lie seeing as that’s what happened to Wooyoung according to Yeosang. Still, that begs a more pressing concern of what exactly happened on Wooyoung’s side of things for him to leave so suddenly. Perhaps the only good thing that could come out of this sleep test Yunho wants so desperately is the possibility of checking on Wooyoung and the others.

“You’re all set up now. You shouldn’t notice a thing unless we run into any issues, but again, I’ll be here to monitor throughout the night, and I’ll write up the scans in the morning.” Yunho pulls back with a smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter, settling back onto the creaky bed without further ado, but you know that sleep won’t come any time soon. So instead, you resort to watching Yunho make his way over to Seonghwa’s bed and repeat the same process he just did with you on the lieutenant. Yeosang dipped out of the medbay at some point apparently because he no longer stands before Hongjoong at the foot of the bed, and Jongho must have gone with him because the doors are now snapped shut. Hongjoong has his fingers curled tight around Seonghwa’s again, and once again that sense of distant longing seems to fall over the captain. He remains silent as he watches Yunho attach pads and wires to Seonghwa’s body. The feeling that next creeps over you isn’t one of jealousy or envy.

Your mind conjures up the image of San sitting at the foot of your bed like Hongjoong does with Seonghwa. San reaching a hand out to take hold of yours as he blinks down at you with concern. San brushing your hair out of your face and murmuring soft encouragements to you. Cat-like eyes and a dimpled grin gleaming above you like a whisper of hope.

It’s a painful reminder of reality: how San isn’t here and can’t be either. It’s a painful reminder that causes the corners of your eyes to sting against your will, emotions welling up so strongly in your chest that you double over to alleviate some of the pain there.

When you dare to look back at the bed, Yunho has walked around the side of the cot to stand before Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s free hand moves up to rest on the dip of Yunho’s hip, falling down to the top of his thigh for a fraction of a second then finding purchase on the mattress once more. Yunho pulls a stool forward and seats himself before the captain.

“I need to do a few more routine checkups on you too, just to make sure you’re okay since you didn’t rest as long as your body wanted. Eyes okay?”

“I can see you just fine if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any pain in your ears? Ringing? The vibrations from the bomb will have shaken you up quite a bit.”

“No ringing, no pain.”

Yunho lifts a hand and rests it against Hongjoong’s forehead, pushing the blue strands up to lay his hand flat there.

“No fever either, that’s good. How does your throat feel? Your body should have purged the majority of the dust and smoke you inhaled by now, but I’m worried your throat might still be scratched up from it.”

“A little sore but nothing unbearable,” Hongjoong hums. He tilts his head from side to side as Yunho continues to worry over him but other than that, he seems entirely unbothered by the healer’s fretting.

“Ribs hurting at all? And your right hip?”

“Ribs feel okay, hip hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah because you aren’t supposed to be moving around with a fracture of that degree.”

“I moved less than six feet.”

“You’ll move six feet under if you aren’t careful.”

“Because of the injury or because you’ll put me there for not listening to you?”

“I’m gonna write off that attitude as the concussion talking because I know you aren’t dumb enough to argue with me on this.”

“Head is fine too.”

“Then let me call Jongho back to help you get to your room. You can’t be walking that far on your own and—”

“I need to talk with Seonghwa a bit more first,” Hongjoong interjects, head falling in Seonghwa’s direction. Yunho cuts off with a small ‘o’, and his gaze flits over to where you’re reclining against the pillows of the bed. Hongjoong seems to pick up on that without prompting though. “She can stay in here, it’s fine. I doubt it’ll take longer than a half-hour, if you don’t mind waiting outside that long?”

Yunho pushes back on his stool, slipping away from the bedside. If not for looking so intently at the man, you would have missed the way his hands curl into tight fists against his thighs, but he doesn’t voice whatever is on his mind.

“Right, don’t take too long though; I know you’ve been resting a while but your body still needs to recover before you try to do anything drastic, and knowing you, that’s exactly what you plan to do as soon as you can. Y/N, Seonghwa — you two get some rest soon. I’ll be back to monitor in a bit.”

You don’t wait to watch Yunho leave the room because it doesn’t feel needed, but at the same time, you are trying your best to avoid any eye contact with Seonghwa or Hongjoong as not to intrude on whatever conversation they intend to have. You hear the soft click of the door and its scraping metal as it slides open, then a repeat of the same sound when Yunho steps out. The silence that falls over the room is so thick it could choke you. Hongjoong shifts on the bed again and scoots closer to Seonghwa’s head, a series of creaks following the movements. You crack an eye open to peek over at the pair. Hongjoong doesn’t lie down beside Seonghwa or anything, just sits there with a hand still wrapped around the other’s, and other than that neither move or speak. It’s only after the silence drags on for several minutes that Hongjoong decides he’s had enough and speaks once more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“We should talk about the plan more first. If Jin is truly behind this, then we need something more… just something more.”

“He’s not. It can’t possibly be him behind this because he would have targeted you rather than going after Y/N. I don’t think he has anything to do with this, nor do I think he would stoop to kidnapping to get what he wants.”

“We are down three crewmembers and have an untrustworthy rat aboard,” Seonghwa hisses without missing a beat. “Jin could very well have eyes and ears on us and know how weak we are right now. You might be able to excuse him, but I know for a fact that kidnapping is not the lowest he would stoop to get what he wants. And I will not jeopardize your goals by being captured by him.”

Hongjoong extends his free hand to cup Seonghwa’s cheek, brushing over the smooth expanse of skin there with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t believe that would ever happen. He would sooner have to kill me than capture you.”

“I’m… yeah, sorry, I’m simply worried. We’re headed to Dorado after all. Lynder of all places on that godforsaken planet too.”

“Why are you worried, hm? We shouldn’t be going anywhere near the Lower Echelon.” Seonghwa responds with a sharp shake of his head.

“Mother moved up to the Upper Echelon, remember? Three years back?”

“Are you calling me forgetful then?”

“You’ve always been forgetful, and you know it. You wouldn’t need me around if you could remember things.” That comment earns Seonghwa a smack to the shoulder, but you hear the huff of a laugh fall from Hongjoong’s lips before the lieutenant continues speaking. “The risking of seeing Mother is so high.”

“Are you… still afraid of her?” The question is hesitant in the same way that one would walk around a wild boar, like Hongjoong is afraid to set Seonghwa off in some way with the small question. “Hwa, you’re trembling. Is it too cold in here? I can get you an extra blanket if you—”

“No, no, shush, I’m not cold. I’m n-not afraid of her, I… I don’t want to be afraid of her, but in all those fucking nightmares, all I could see was red. I wanted blood, I wanted to kill, I wanted my hands around her throat so I could strangle her. And in all those dreams, that little voice won.” Seonghwa pauses and lifts a hand to touch Hongjoong’s cheek now, reflecting the other man’s actions from earlier. “I fear seeing the crew fall apart and not being able to save you from yourself more than anything else. Yet in those dreams, it was me who unmade each of them and ruined you. I’m… afraid of going to Dorado and not being able to hold back. I’m scared of killing Mother in a fit of rage and letting the Lieutenant of Death take over. I’m so afraid of hurting anyone on the crew, and I’m so fearful that I’ll bring ruin to you. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if that happens.”

Hongjoong’s hand comes down hard on Seonghwa's chin, gripping the skin and bone between lithe fingers, and he forces the man to look him in the eye.

“I won't let that happen. There is no way in hell I would ever let that happen. Even if I have to pry you off your own mother, I will make absolutely sure that that voice doesn't win, that those people who make up those rumors and disdain you so much don't win. I won't let you do anything you regret, Seonghwa.”

“Ha, as though you can promise such a thing,” Seonghwa mutters through a bitter laugh.

“I know. I can't promise much of anything, but I can give you my word and hope. That's enough for now. If all I have to offer you is one more day of hope, then I will continue to give you that for all eternity.”

The shorter man leans over the space between their bodies and presses his lips to Seonghwa's forehead, parting the hair that lies flat there to touch his skin.

“Don’t you ever regret letting me join the crew?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think the word regret exists.”

It’s spoken with such a raw conviction that you feel your own throat closing up around itself. As your gaze falls over Seonghwa, you can clearly see the way the words affect him, from the way his lips part in wonder as he stares up at the man above him like he hung every star in his universe in the sky. Words fail him, but that doesn’t bother Hongjoong one bit as the captain tries to leave him with one more soft-spoken comment.

“Get some rest.”

He moves to get up and pull away from the bed, but Seonghwa's grip on his hand pulls him right back.

“Please don't go. I... I have both of you here with me for once. Please don't deprive me of this right now. Not when I've gone this long without you.”

“Whatever you wish, Hwa.” Hongjoong doesn’t fight back as Seonghwa tugs him down to his side, resting his head against his lieutenant’s chest once their bodies are pressed close. You don’t know if they’ve fallen asleep — the lights are still on in the medbay so it would be hard to fall asleep anyways — but you rest in the quiet with clouded and foggy thoughts. Twisting to the side, you turn to face the wall rather than look at that vulnerable scene any longer than you have to. You wish that could be the end of it, that the dismal conversations ended there with the two of them going to sleep, but Seonghwa’s tone rising up again in the silence disrupts that hope too.

“How much longer do we have to keep doing this? I get more and more tired with each day that passes.” Hongjoong hums a bit, and his next words come out rather slurred.

“I’m tired too. We’ll rest soon.”

“Aren’t we too young to be feeling this old?” There’s some humor to those words, but what Seonghwa says next eradicates that levity in an instant. “Jongho offered to take it away for me. Jongho, our youngest. He shouldn’t even have to think about taking our burdens.”

“That’s not the world we live in,” Hongjoong sighs. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. There is no normalcy. We don’t have and never will have any sort of normal family.”

“Family? Is that what this is now? The one you talked of wanting to find?”

“Yes… of course, this crew is our family without a doubt. One day when this is all said and done, we can settle down somewhere.”

“But?”

“But can we ever really be happy and content with settling down? I’ve been flying around space since I was born and as long as I can remember. Suddenly not doing that would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

Seonghwa laughs a clear and ringing sound, then seems to catch how loud the noise is and quiets himself to a softer chuckle.

“Then you can fly around space for all eternity if that’s what makes you happy.”

The bed creaks under someone’s movement, and you can only assume that it’s Hongjoong simply because he’s the next one to speak.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Keep doing what?” Seonghwa echoes softly.

“Every time we have this conversation and every time we talk of the future, you talk about it as though you won’t be there for it. Like you won’t see that future with me.”

“Stop saying foolish things, Hongjoong. We should be sleeping.”

“Seonghwa.” This time, Hongjoong’s tone is different. It’s something you’ve never heard from the man: a fragile sound that is on the verge of breaking and one that holds unspoken warning to it.

“Sleep, Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa.”

That’s your breaking point. It’s too much for you to handle, the tone of their conversation has taken a drastic turn and you don’t want to hear anything else out of either of them simply out of fear. Even though you aren’t tired, you squeeze your eyes shut and internally beg for Wooyoung to let you in tonight.

…

As it turns out, you get your wish. You come to in Wooyoung’s body with a jolt and a gasp, although that sound goes unnoticed because Wooyoung yet again has full control over his body while you are left to sit back and watch through his eyes. The cell you wake up to is starkly different than the last; it’s much larger and brighter, fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling, but that isn’t what draws your attention. No, the wall that consists only of thick metal bars and rings with the crackles of electricity garners all your attention first simply because of how loud the noise is but also because Wooyoung’s eyes seem to instinctively flit over the bars before turning further left. They are, thankfully, no longer chained to the floor like dogs and now seem to only have wrist and ankle shackles. It’s a significant step up from their last prison, and when Wooyoung finally pushes himself to his feet, you catch sight of Mingi resting on a small cot.

Wooyoung steps over to the Berserker without hesitation, hand dipping into a small bucket that’s full of icy water, and he pulls a rag from the liquid, wringing it a few times before laying the cloth atop Mingi’s head.

“How are you feeling?” Wooyoung asks. Mingi murmurs something in response, but it’s largely unintelligible, and Wooyoung must not pick up on it either because he strains his neck to get closer to the man. “Hm?”

“A b-bit better.”

“That’s g—”

A sharp rattle interrupts Wooyoung’s train of thought, and he jerks to look over at the shock wall. The door at the center swings open without warning, two men stepping through with someone hanging rather limply between their arms. If your heart could plummet right now, it truly would, because you would recognize that patch of white hair anywhere. The two men — guards from the looks of it — shove San into the cell, not caring to be mindful of the sides of the bars before pushing him against them without warning. San’s shoulder knocks roughly into the edge of the fencing as he comes through, and a bolt of shock sears through his body with surprising haste. The force brings him to his knees. Wooyoung lurches forward, darting out to grab hold of his shoulders and keep him somewhat upright.

“Be fucking careful! Are you paid to be idiots?” He shouts as he pulls San closer to his body. The stockier of the two guards sneers back at him.

“You’re next, slave. Watch yourself.”

Wooyoung responds by hurling a glob of spit at the guard’s feet, eyes narrowed to slits.

“You can take me once I’ve seen to my crewmates.” That comment earns him a sharp smack to the side of his head. San curls his fingers tight around Wooyoung’s side.

“Don’t make a scene about it, I’m fine,” he murmurs under his breath. He is far from fine, that much is obvious, because he can’t keep his body upright and his cheek keeps slumping down against Wooyoung’s shoulder no matter how much he tries to keep it up. The stout guard steps closer, arm poised to deliver another blow to Wooyoung, but he’s caught by his taller friend, who grabs him by the wrist before he can do anything else.

“They all need to make it to Dorado relatively unharmed or prices will down and we’ll get less of the cut from Boss.” That’s enough to pull the man away from Wooyoung, and he retreats back to the outside of the cell with his partner.

“You have ten minutes. Five if you make any other snippy remarks.”

Wooyoung exhales a small sigh of relief when the door slams back shut. He helps tug San to his feet and guides him to the bed beside Mingi’s. You’re grateful that Wooyoung won’t take his gaze off him because it gives you a chance to fully examine his current state.

The bruising on his face has gone down quite a bit, and just from that alone, you would say he almost looks okay. Still, his body reeks of exhaustion, and he clutches the shoulder that knocked into the shock wall even as Wooyoung eases him down to the cot. His dark circles are so deep that they almost seem to hollow his face, and you have an instinct to comb your fingers through his hair if you could because it’s a mess and so unkempt that you can barely see the white patch in the front. Wooyoung keeps pushing him down until San lies flat on the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to peel San’s shirt up to his midsection. It exposes the awful bruising underneath, a colorful array of blues and purples that are ugly to look at.

“They’re gonna snap your ribs in two if they aren’t careful,” Wooyoung grumbles, tracing over the outline of the bruise with his index finger. “It’s already damaged enough.” San chokes out a laugh that has to hurt.

“That’s only the half of it. They could be doing a lot worse. At the very least, they don’t know shit about torturing people. I’ve been through worse and... and seen a lot worse in the past.” San’s hand darts down to the dip of his hip, where there’s a thin scar just by the bone. You recognize it in an instant — the place where Cara stabbed him back on Echidna and left him nearly dead. “They’ll have to work a lot harder to get anything out of me. They don’t like how quiet I am.”

“That doesn’t mean they really should work harder. You won’t survive that much. Did you manage to get anything out of them this time?”

San shakes his head at first then grips the front of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“They were fumbling a little when I asked what the plans are. Mean one — shorty — he tried to shut me up but the other started asking questions too. Said he was just as confused and didn’t know what the boss plans to do with the two of us. They know exactly what would happen with Mingi but had way too many doubts when it came to us. They had to have wanted someone else. Maybe Scourge since he was in the arena with Mingi?” Hearing San call Hongjoong by that name sounds so foreign and stilted, but you know it’s just a way to protect as much of their identities as possible. Wooyoung draws his lips together.

“That doesn’t sound right. They would have had a clear path to both Mingi and Captain in the arena. Why wouldn’t they grab him then? When… when they take me, I’ll try to get more out of them. Clean — if you can, please clean Mingi’s wound again. The infection is almost fully fleshed out and his fever will break soon, but without anything to sew it up, he can easily get a worse infection if we aren’t careful.”

“Should it be gone within the next two days?”

“That’s up to his body and how it reacts to the rest of this process. Why?”

“I heard them say that we’ll be landing on Dorado in three days,” San mutters. He glances over at Mingi’s reclining body, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “If he’s well enough within two, then maybe we can work out a breakout plan.” Wooyoung glances between the Spectre and Mingi without reacting for a few moments then gives a small nod.

“We’ll talk about it more later. I’ll try to get more information in the meantime.” Wooyoung moves to step away from the bed, but San keeps him in place, fingers curling around the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“Just — please at least cooperate a little bit. You don’t have to tell them shit, but don’t put yourself in danger simply out of pride.”

“I won’t.”

That is what Wooyoung says, at least, but his next action is surely one out of either sheer stupidity or an obscene amount of pride. He steps over to the shock wall and raises a clenched fist to the metal. Without a drop of hesitation and without flinching in the slightest, he raps his knuckles against the metal as though it’s nothing. You would think it’s nothing too if not for the waves of electricity that cascade through his body and in turn, yours. If it were you, you would pull back thanks to the shock, but Wooyoung doesn’t and only wraps his hand around the bars.

“You gonna come get me or not?”

“Fucking brat,” the shorter guard mutters, but he does exactly what Wooyoung wants and approaches the fencing to let him out.

“Try harder on the fences,” Wooyoung remarks, daring to drag his tongue over the front of his bottom row of teeth — a show of smugness that drives the guard mad.

“It’s not meant to incapacitate you, simply to keep little brats like you in check.”

“That was meant to keep me in check? Come on, that little shock didn’t even make me flinch in the slightest.” That comment isn’t what gets Wooyoung smacked upside the head; rather, it’s the huff of laughter that falls from his lips right after that causes the first guard to elbow him in the back of the head.

“Get walking, fucker.”

“When you gonna let me see the big boss?” Wooyoung grumbles as the pair sandwiches him between their bodies.

“He’s not around to have any meetings, especially not with the like of you. Busy with work of his own right now. But maybe one day you’ll mess up enough to get a meeting with the lieutenant thought.”

“What? This disordered bunch of scoundrels has a lieutenant?” Yet again that draws the ire of the stockier guard, and the man slams the butt of his gun into Wooyoung’s stomach. The impact is enough to cause Wooyoung to hunch over, bound hands grabbing the other guard’s thigh for support. The force careens both into the wall on accident, but Wooyoung doesn’t stop there. He fumbles around until his hand slips into the man’s pocket. Cool plastic greets him, something flat and rectangular, and Wooyoung latches onto both that and something else that feels vaguely like metal before pulling his hand out the pocket.

“Stay up, you rat,” the taller hisses. When he knocks his shoulder into Wooyoung’s, Wooyoung lets his hand fall near his own pocket, pushing both items he just lifted into the fabric. You can’t be sure that he knows what he’s just taken or that he has any sort of plan for if he gets caught with the stolen items. He doesn’t let anything slip through his expression though and simply rights himself when the shorter of the pair nudges him forward, continuing to follow them through the narrow corridor. The longer you walk, the more the interior and layout of the ship become familiar to you — from the dark grey walls to the solid doors with no peepholes. Your growing suspicions come to a grinding halt of realization when Wooyoung is shoved into a dark room that has one yellow-tinted light hanging from the ceiling. It sits directly above a reclining chair, and that’s a sight you would recognize anywhere. From the straps on the side down to the flat metal headrest — they must be aboard a military ship, or at least a former one given the pirate crew running it currently. But that chair and this room resemble the one you had your memories wiped in with an uncanny certainty.

Wooyoung doesn’t have a chance to resist before the two guards are shoving him further in and pushing him down onto the chair. Rough leather straps wrap tight around his torso and legs, then two more for each ankle and wrist once the first ones are secured. That, however, is all the men do for the time being. It seems to shock Wooyoung as much as it shocks you because he shifts to watch them as they walk over to the side of the room and lean up against the wall.

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?”

“Be patient.”

Wooyoung squints. His wrists twist a bit in the restraints, testing the tautness of the material, and when it doesn’t give any budge, he jerks harder against them. Two clear and mocking laughs resound in response. Someone comes up on Wooyoung’s left, one of the guards moving without warning to lean over Wooyoung’s body.

“We’ll do a few tester questions just to see how willing you are to talk, how about that? So… who do you work for?”

“Go fuck yourself, how about that?”

“Oh come on, you’re a slave, aren’t you? Why be loyal to a cruel master? Can’t you answer one simple question?” The guard reaches down to toy with the collar around Wooyoung’s neck. In an instant, every muscle in his body seizes up, and Wooyoung goes so far as to stop breathing entirely with the barely brush of contact. The pirate doesn’t stop there, though, and he slips a finger under the metal collar to touch the skin underneath. Pressure invades your head, like someone is grabbing your skull between their hands and squeezing with an obscene amount of force. Wooyoung thrashes and tries to jerk away from the contact, but the guard just loops his finger under the metal and maintains that same level of contact. Your head — or Wooyoung’s rather — begins to tingle and throb, ears ringing loudly with white noise as something else creeps up on you.

Please!

If you had any ounce of control over Wooyoung’s body, you would jerk your head to find the source of the sound, but as it continues, you realize that it’s not real. Not something that is truly resonating around you in the room right now. The voice is too young, too child-like, just a wailing noise that repeats over and over again without cease. A constant prayer of ‘please’ that fades into the background when the guard above Wooyoung speaks again.

“Now who do you work for?”

Please.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Wooyoung grits out. “I have nothing to gain from speaking to you about anything.”

Please, please, please.

Finally, the hand slips away, and Wooyoung gasps for breath like he’s never had air in his lungs before. His head lolls to the side almost the same way a ragdoll’s would as a sharp slap echoes. Pain sears over your skin, resonating through Wooyoung’s body to burn you too.

“This is why you’re going to the whorehouse. They can shut you up permanently with other things.”

“That kind of threat won’t work on me,” Wooyoung manages to murmur. His eyes roll back in his head as he slumps back into the metal headrest, chest still heaving to bring in air. “I’m not gonna tell you anything. If your boss w-wants info so badly… he can come take it himself. What’s the point of this anyway? Bring me to a room and ask me pointless questions? You already said you aren’t allowed to hurt the ‘goods’ too badly. And if I’m slated to go to a whorehouse — messing any physical features up would lower your cut dramatically. But the boss probably doesn’t pay you to be smart, huh?”

Red flashes through your vision then a fist careens into Wooyoung’s nose so hard that you’re certain it’s cracked in two. Warmth trickles down his nostrils and trickles into his mouth, leaving the taste of blood on the back of your tongue. The second man in the room pulls forward. He grabs his partner by the arm and tugs him away from Wooyoung as best he can before taking up the same position over Wooyoung’s reclining form.

“Listen here, slave, I really don’t want to be cruel to you, but there are ways to make you talk, ways that won’t… damage the goods as you say and will instead mess up that pretty little head of yours, so let’s just cooperate while you can, yeah?”

A sneer tears through Wooyoung’s lips, but he doesn’t fight back any longer, letting his head drop back to the headrest without complaint.

“You know who I work for already so I don’t need to tell you shit.”

The shorter of the two guards takes another step towards the chair.

“That may be the case, yes, but we aren’t after your captain. We need information on someone else… someone who was seen with you in the streets outside the arena. Someone you seemed to be close to based on the way you were protecting her, and someone who looked an awful lot like the Ghost of Eros.”

You can feel the way Wooyoung’s eyes widen. The same shock that courses through his veins rushes through your own as well. His tongue darts out to moisten his lower lip, dragging over the dry and cracking skin until it stings. He tries his best to hide that shock, but it’s too late, and the guards have already seen the flashes of recognition across Wooyoung’s features.

“So you know Miss Y/N then?”

“Yeah, we’re closer than you might think…” Wooyoung mutters, glancing off to the side and avoiding their prodding stares as best he can.

“Where is she?”

“Hell if I know.” Wooyoung tries his best to shrug with the words, but the restraints around his arms and torso keep him firmly planted to the cold metal chair. “In case you don’t remember, you kinda kidnapped me while I was unconscious and couldn’t see shit. Amazing that you managed to grab my sorry ass yet missed your precious little Ghost entirely, huh?”

That pulls the second guard forward, and he steps into Wooyoung’s space with a sneer of his own that is so vicious it causes Wooyoung to flinch away.

“We weren’t the dipshits in charge of collecting the packages. The ones who were hit a snag.”

Wooyoung manages to roll his eyes even as the guard presses closer.

“There’s nothing I can do to help you then. Your people crushed my earpiece so I don’t even have a way to contact her.” A finger comes down to tap against Wooyoung’s temple. It’s almost gentle in the way it brushes over his skin, but each tap comes harder than the last and you aren’t too foolish to ignore the threat in the touches.

“You will cooperate though, and you will answer our questions. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to crack that pretty little head open and take what we need instead. Unless you’d like to arrive at the whorehouse as a husk? That would make your job easier wouldn’t it?” A cruel grin twists over the man’s lips, one that you can’t bear to look at but you don’t have much of a choice because Wooyoung decides to stare him down with equal ferocity. “Now, when did Miss Y/N join your crew?”

“Who knows?” Wooyoung shrugs within his constraints. “I’ve never been good at keeping track of time.”

“Then what did she do before joining the crew?”

“Never shared any details about her life before meeting us.”

The pirate lifts his hand, and you’re almost certain that he is going to hit Wooyoung again but instead, he presses one index finger back to Wooyoung’s temple.

“You know… the other one was a lot more intense about these questions. Thrashing, angry, fuming at every mention of her name, so upset that we would even dare to ask about the little ghost. Why is that? Are they close?”

Wooyoung arches a brow. It takes a moment for you to realize that this man is talking about San of all people, but when you do, a wave of guilt hits you square in the chest. The thought of San being strapped to a chair like this and probed for answers about you and your past — having to experience it through Wooyoung and knowing that this is all because they captured Wooyoung and San in your place… it’s brutal enough as it is. More than that, it brings you back to that conversation you shared with San in the aftermath of your shared torture — the one where you sat opposite each other on his bed and admitted how afraid both of you were. How you were afraid to ever see San in that position again, and yet somehow… somehow not seeing it is worse. Somehow knowing that he is being put through this sort of hell and you are powerless to do anything to stop it is far worse than lying across from him on a sandy floor in an old warehouse with a crazed Berserker over you.

“Am I supposed to know the intimate details of relationships now? Why does your boss even need to know something of that nature?”

“Quit asking fucking questions.” It’s the more violent of the two guards who says that, and he steps forward to slam his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach. “Do you wanna know what we did with your friend? Put him on this very chair and told him all the pretty ways we could fuck up that head of his if he didn’t cooperate. People like him… they have a lot of baggage. They carry weights on their shoulders that last a lifetime, and if you know how to manipulate it, then you can get whatever you want from them. And you—”

The man pushes a hand up the expanse of Wooyoung’s chest until he reaches the band of metal around his neck. Two fingers slip under the collar. Wooyoung presses his lips together so tight that they tremble under the force, yet that’s still not enough to keep a whimper from slipping out. It’s a mirror image of the Wooyoung you met upon waking up in the medbay for the first time, a mirror image of the terrified boy who plunged an anesthesia shot into your neck, the one you were certain was weak and fragile. You hadn’t thought of Wooyoung like that since back then, never imagined him to be weak after Yeosang mentioned how much he’s gone through and after witnessing his drive to protect the people around him. But now?

Now it’s just Wooyoung. There is no one in his immediate vicinity to protect, nor is there anyone here to protect him as you are stuck being a helpless bystander with no power or control over his body.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Burden after burden on your shoulders. Pretty little traumas to keep you awake at night. That… tough guy act where you pretend to be better than your crewmates — don’t you know how easy it is to see through that? You know your own worth, and that worth amounts to being nothing more than a filthy slave who will soon sell his body to others to get a bite of food at night. Can’t you see yourself doing that for the rest of your life? Why else would a broken collar stay around your neck?”

Broken?

Wooyoung has grown dreadfully quiet, and that tells you that the pirate hit the nail on the head with too much ease. Yet now that you think about it, the collar around Wooyoung’s neck is most definitely a shock collar, but you have never once seen it glowing with electricity or power in the slightest, which can only mean that Wooyoung truly is walking around with a dead shock collar at all times. That reality is haunting on its own, but that coupled with the continuous and monotonous cries in the background that beg ‘please’ over and over only make matters worse.

“We’re getting nowhere with this one. The last one was much more responsive when it came to these questions. We should just bring him back in and leave this one to rot in the cell with the Berserker.”

“O-Okay… yeah… let’s try that.”

Wooyoung doesn’t make some great escape when they pull the restraints loose, and for the first time since waking up in his body, you gain the sense that he is genuinely tired of fighting back against their advances. He lets his body fall slack in their grasp, allowing himself to be pulled from the chair and dragged by the elbows between their bodies. Albeit faint and dying, you swear up and down that you can still hear that faint child-like voice ringing in your ears.

“You really do suck at torture.” A bit of crimson liquid slips out the corner of Wooyoung’s lips as he speaks, leftover residue that dripped from his nose, and he spits it to the floor without a care in the world.

“The goal isn’t to torture. If we could harm you physically, we certainly would.”

Wooyoung doesn’t speak further than that and again you think it’s because he doesn’t have the energy in his body to do so. He settles for glancing around the ship extensively as the two guards drag him back to the cell. That is somewhat odd to you at first seeing as he’s had plenty of opportunities to look around the ship from the inside of his cell, but realization sinks in when Wooyoung nods his head towards an exit door on the way to the cell.

Oh… are you trying to help me? That becomes increasingly apparent when he scans each wall and corner like his life depends on it, and you do your best to commit every inch of the room to memory. If this is something of a military ship, you should be able to figure out a basic layout with Yeosang’s help if he remembers anything too. Wooyoung hums to himself as they reach the electrified gate to the cell, but he doesn’t do anything other than that until the taller guard shoves him to the floor of the cell. San darts forward, nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to get to Wooyoung’s side.

“God, what did they do to you? I told you to be fucking careful!” He hisses under his breath. Wooyoung quirks one corner of his lips up and flashes a quick wink in San’s direction.

“Hold onto this for the time being,” he mutters back, digging the small rectangular card and piece of metal from earlier out of his pocket. Wooyoung only extends the piece of metal, something small and indiscernible practically, but Wooyoung must find some value in it to pass it to San rather than the card, which is clearly a keycard. San takes the item without complaint but his brows are still tightly knit together in concern. “I need more information from the guards. I almost got ‘em.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Only a little beat up. Pain… pain is nothing to me, not this kind at least. I’ve felt enough to grow rather used to it after all this time, so don’t worry about me getting hurt. It’s all just my little show so they don’t go harder than I want them to. Just — take the time to care for Mingi’s wound while you can. I’ll be back soon.”

Wooyoung hoists himself up to his feet and presses the keycard between his teeth. He and San maintain eye contact until Wooyoung turns completely around to face the closing door of the cell.

“Can’t even focus long enough to keep track of your belongings, huh? Cheap guards for the big boss?”

There’s a clatter then the slam of the cell door resounds, and both pirates rush in to tackle Wooyoung to the floor. The shorter of the two reaches him first, knocking into Wooyoung so hard and fast that it feels like your brain is rattling against the confines of your skull. San pushes forward as well and intercepts the second guard with his arm.

“Stand down, San, stand down!” Wooyoung shouts, stopping the Spectre at just the last second before he punches the guard in the throat. “It’s okay, just let them take me. It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”

“We may not be able to, but the Reaper is gonna make you fucking pay for such foolish actions.”

“The Reaper, huh? Is that the infamous big boss?” A hand curls through Wooyoung’s hair. With a sharp tug that nearly pulls the strands right off his scalp, he’s brought up to his knees.

“Yes, it is. You’ve quickly proved that you’re too much of a disobedient brat to be sent to the House of Lilies. Maybe we should send you through some rehabilitation too with your little friends, yeah? We’ll take good care of you until the Reaper comes back to the ship though.”

Wooyoung collects a bit of spit on his tongue then slings it at the guard’s face, a bit of crimson mixing in with the saliva.

“We’re counting on it.”

Right then you feel Wooyoung directly contacting you in his consciousness, a small push and pull on the edges of your mind, and he drops his chin to his chest so quickly that you think he’s passed out on the spot. It’s enough to deter the guards and their focus on him for now, and he cracks an eye open to stare at the floor as they drag him down the hall yet again.

“Y/N…” he whispers under his breath. “Y/N, take that info back to Yeosang. Give him that name too. The Reaper.”

You want more information than that, but Wooyoung’s consciousness knocks hard against yours, and the vision before you fades to black, cutting any hopes of getting more from him drastically short.

All that you’re left with is fogged thoughts and that name shining clearly at the forefront of your mind: The Reaper.

…

Han Jisung.

Never did you think you would see him again, and that still hasn’t sunk into your bones yet. The feeling deep in your gut currently is hard to explain. You aren’t sure you could ever make sense of it, but seeing that man, Han Jisung, a person you relied on so heavily for so long standing over by the observation window on the bridge of The Horizon feels like it should be something of a fever dream. Alas, it’s not, it’s all very real and very tangible, and you don’t realize how long you’ve been glaring holes into the back of Jisung’s head until Yeosang clears his throat from beside you.

The two of you sit near the comms station, and you’ve made a home for yourself sitting atop the desk as Yeosang sits at the chair before it. He has his bound journal set out on the desk, pen in hand as he scribbles over the pages. Jongho is not far away himself: he stands closer to the captain’s seat, and none other than Hongjoong himself sits in that place, back steering the ship as he usually does. Seonghwa is nowhere in sight — still down in the medbay with Yunho for further observation since his condition was much more critical than yours. All you can hear is the faint rumble of the ship’s power systems and air passing through the air filters. The silencing should be deafening, but it gives you more than enough time to process your thoughts while you can.

That blessed silence is interrupted within seconds as Yeosang’s chair scrapes hard against the metal floor and he scoots closer to where you’re perched. You follow his movements, twisting at the waist to lean over the empty space between you and offer some semblance of privacy for the ensuing conversation.

“So, according to what you saw last night, I drew up a basic sketch of what I think the ship’s layout looks like,” Yeosang mutters, exposing the pages of his journal to you. “Two exit doors in the room with the cell. They took Woo to a small room that had a single reclining chair and medical equipment. Potentially a former military ship, although from the sounds of it, it must be a rather old one. Since they’re headed to Dorado, I would assume it’s a Doradian ship that they jacked.” Yeosang pauses to scribble a few more unintelligible words on the paper, writing twisting and curling in a way you’ve never seen before. “We still don’t know why they want you… but San said they’re at least three days out to Dorado. With the speed Hongjoong is flying at, we won’t catch up for another four days though. Most of the flight will be pushing through the celestial barrier between Aurum and Geofflan, but we can’t burn extra fuel without having to tap into emergency reserves.”

“So then what? The exchange is supposed to happen soon after they land so there’s no way we’ll be able to catch up and break them loose before then,” you reason. Yeosang manages a small nod, avoiding the stare you send his way as he continues to scribble in his journal.

“We at least know the main location will be the capital, Lynder. And we know that Wooyoung is slated to go to the House of Lilies — if this Reaper figure doesn’t change his mind, that is — but Mingi and San will be sent to separate rehabilitation facilities.”

“That’s bad for the rest of us then. Once they’re separated, we have a higher risk of failure.”

Yeosang presses his lips into a thin line and hums softly. “But once they’re out of this Reaper’s hands, they won’t be his responsibility anymore. Mingi will, since they plan to transport him back to Kebos once he’s ready, but Woo and San are being sold independently. We should aim to take them back after the deals go through. That way the Reaper can’t cause issues because he will already have his money. A whorehouse won’t mind losing someone unless they pay a great deal for them… I don’t know how Dorado operates in terms of military regulations and such. Or even how important the military is to them. We’ll have to be quick to get San back, won’t we?”

You give a quick shake of your head.

“They plan on putting him through that regression therapy first so we will have time before they try to wipe him.”

“If, and only if he’s strong enough to withstand that torture.”

You ball your fists tight around the leather of your pants.

“He’ll be strong enough.”

“There’s no way of knowing what they’ll do to him once it’s time for that regression therapy, and we won’t be able to do anything for him if he caves early.”

“Then we should prioritize him and get to him first,” you argue, forcing your tone to stay as low as possible. “Either we have faith that he will hold out as long as possible or he’s the first one we rescue.”

“And how confident are you that he can handle that level of torture? I saw many recruits be sent to those wiping chambers in my time as a prince. None of them lasted longer than fourteen hours on the table. Either due to a weak constitution or the sheer level of trauma they were forced to go through. Knowing his past and what traumas they could awaken, how confident can you be that he will last longer than that? I don’t want one slimy fucking mongrel to lay a hand on Woo in that whorehouse, and he will be easiest to recover so we need to prioritize him if that’s the easiest option. If San reaches a point where he wants the serum, then what? We have another Mingi dilemma on our hands?”

That question stops you in your tracks. You hadn’t dared to think that far ahead simply out of fear that it could be a reality. It does take you back to the one and only time you and San spoke about the issue the serum posed though, for better or worse.

“If our positions were switched, would you be okay with it?”

“I can’t pretend to know what that experience was like for you or how deeply it affected you. If I were the one who had used it before, and I was aware of it like you, I know that I would be selfish at the end of the day. I have mentioned it before but I wish to cling to you for as long as I can. And though it’s — though it goes against my morals, I would not want you to take the serum because I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting who I am and how I feel about you. I know that sounds a bit bold, especially given your relations with Seonghwa, but… I would say the same to any member of the crew — save for Yeosang perhaps. You all are special and valuable to me in unique ways, and the thought of any of you losing any memory we share is too much for me.”

“Would you expect the same of me in return?”

“I would only ask that which I would ask any of the crew. To do what is right by your own standards and not by anyone else’s. We’ve all been slaves to other people’s whims and desires for too long. I would never wish to put anyone through that again, and even something as simple as pushing my opinion onto you would be unfair.”

And here you sit now coming to the gross realization that you cannot be okay with the thought of San forgetting who you are. You cannot live in a universe where he loses every ounce of work he’s put in over the years, the relationships he’s built with the crew, the things he has had to survive — you cannot bear the thought of it becoming meaningless and futile in the face of simply forgetting it. Because now, as you struggle on your own with these hazed memories that have no true place in your mind, you know that you could never wish that on anyone. Not knowing your past is a horrid fate, but losing all the pieces you’ve put together is a fate worse than death.

“There’s no way in hell I am ever going to let them give San that serum, even if it’s what he wants.”

Yeosang huffs air through his teeth but doesn’t comment further than that, and you take it as a sign that the conversation is concluded for now. When you lift your head again, movement from near the observation window catches your eye, and none other than Jisung himself stares over at you with eyes wide and searching. Like not a thing has changed in the past few years, and like those broken memories that plagued your dreams were nonexistent altogether.

Whatever comes over you is compelling enough to pull you off the desk. Yeosang follows your movements with his eyes, lips parting to ask what you’re doing, but you stop him by dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“There’s something I can’t wait on anymore,” you murmur. That is all the explanation you give before forcing your feet to move towards Jisung. A soft laugh echoes through the bridge as you draw closer to him, and Jisung greets you with nothing more than that and a rounded smile at first.

“Took you long enough to come speak to me like this. All those years of knowing each other for what?”

“For you to tell me the truth now.”

“Hm?”

“Hyunwoo told me before he went off to die that one day you would tell me the truth. So what is it?”

A frown paints Jisung’s lips.

“What are you talking about? Hyunwoo never said anything of the sort.”

“I distinctly remember it, as well as being strapped to a chair with Hyunwoo over me saying that they would only take a little bit. And I’ve been having odd dreams of memories that I have no recollection of. So just what the fuck happened to me before leaving the military and killing the king? Right now I don’t have anyone alive who can tell me that except for you, Jisung.”

Jisung folds his arms over his chest, eyes turning to narrow slits as he glares forward at you. Then, he slowly extends his right arm and poises to place the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Watch it.” You don’t need to turn to know whose voice that is, and you half-expect to turn and find Jongho at your side in the blink of an eye. However, when you glance back over your shoulder, Jongho is still beside Hongjoong’s chair, and the captain’s hand is placed ever so delicately in front of his chest that it hardly blocks the Berserker from moving. It’s moreso the gesture that keeps Jongho in check, and no matter how unhappy he seems with the order, he follows it without complaint.

“I have no intention of hurting her at all! Come now, would you take me for a fool? You should all know better seeing as the bargain I made in helping you was for her safety.”

“She might have made that bargain with you, but you made no such deal with me,” Hongjoong states without batting an eye. “And I will not allow you to force her to leave my crew, even if you have come to an agreement.”

“She made the agreement knowing full well what it would entail and because it’s what she wanted,” Jisung counters. His arm falls back to his side without touching you in the slightest.

“I didn’t,” you refute immediately. “I am only doing this for the crew, not because I actually want to be near you.” An almost feral noise tears through Jisung’s lips, and you flinch back just to put some distance between your bodies.

“After all the things I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I’ve made, the risks I took to even make certain that you would make it out of that cell alive—”

Your body reacts before your head can catch up. Next thing you know, you have two fists curled tight around Jisung’s collar and are slamming him up against the observation window with a strength that surprises you as much as it surprises Jisung. Hongjoong must retract his hold on Jongho because suddenly the Berserker is at your side now, hand pressing hard on your shoulder. You knock his grip away without so much as looking at him; there is too much adrenaline running through your body right now, too much heat in your blood and fire in your bones, and nothing is going to stop you from taking out years of bottled-up frustrations on Jisung now.

“You have absolutely no right to dare to say such a thing. You don’t get to talk about sacrifice! The only person who took risks for me was Hyunwoo. The one who died In my place is the only one who gets to talk like that and claim that he’s made sacrifices. I buried you in my past the minute I was forced to dig an empty grave alone. You let me alone on that god-forsaken planet to bury an empty grave without so much as looking back! No matter how hard you try to justify it, there is nothing that will ever convince me that it was the right or fair decision to make! Anything you ever did for me — whether I remember them or not — it all pales in comparison to what Hyunwoo sacrificed.”

“Only people who die for you can sacrifice things? What of the people I killed for you? The innocent people I killed to keep your reputation untarnished? How much blood is on your hands, Y/N? You look at me like I am a monster but I am what you made me! Whether you like it or not, the truth of the matter is that Hyunwoo agreed to my terms. Hyunwoo is just as much at fault for what we did to you as I am. And what we did was necessarily because I guarantee if you remembered all the things you did, you would rather kill yourself than keep on living the way you are now.”

Your momentary shock is enough for Jongho to pull you off Jisung. He wedges himself between you and the Spectre, folding his arms over your hips to guide you further away from the man.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

“And what exactly is it that you and Hyunwoo did to me? Because I sure as hell don’t remember or understand anything! How long do you plan to lie to my face?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jisung says. There is a sudden drop to his tone, one that hits harder than it should. “As selfish as it may be, that is the one secret I will never disclose, and Hyunwoo would be a fool to ever believe that I would tell you what it is. If he wanted it exposed so desperately, then he can do it himself.”

You see red. It all feels like a blur yet simultaneously like the universe is moving in slow motion around you. You are hyperaware of the way you push Jongho out of the way to get back to Jisung, fist clenching so hard that your knuckles go white just before you sock the man in the jaw. The noise that resounds is disgusting and brutal, a sick crack that echoes in your ears like a battle cry.

“You don’t fucking get to talk about Hyunwoo as though he’s alive,” you growl, curling your fingers through Jisung’s hair and yanking his head back hard enough to make his neck pop. “You dipped off-planet without even seeing the execution through, without even waiting for blood to spill, so you have no right.” Jisung’s tongue darts out and wets the corners of his lips. “You have no right1” You repeat as though it will do any good. “You killed innocent people as though it was nothing! Was that all Hyunwoo was to you too? Just another bump in the road on your path to power?”

You swing for his face once more, but this time Jisung reacts before you can hit him. He pushes your hand to the side, expression relatively neutral compared to your own rage-filled one.

“I bet you couldn’t wait to see Hyunwoo die because that would mean the leader was out of the way and you could finally have that power you wanted! People would finally listen to you? Is that what you wanted? How could you do that to us, Jisung? We were a team, a family, you were all I had. How could you kill people in my name? Innocent people, who did nothing wrong killed for saying something trivial about me? How could you let innocent people be taken in my place? Wooyoung and San did nothing wrong! They don’t have that blood on their hands, they don’t carry the weight of that guilt on their shoulders, they aren’t bad people, Han Jisung! How could you? Why would you let that happen? Why would you put them in a place to be hurt and sold in my place? Who gave you the right to make that decision? You’re not some god!”

Jisung doesn’t move a muscle throughout your tirade, his face doesn’t budge nor does his disposition — it’s almost like yelling at a statue in an eerie and unsettling way. Then he speaks again, and this time it is with a haunting flatness to his tone.

“When have you ever known me to be cruel?”

“I-I thought the answer to that was never bu-but now I don’t know if I can trust that.”

Jisung blinks.

You inhale.

Then something hits your stomach so hard that you double over in pain, blind-sighted by the speed at which Jisung moves, and Jongho doesn’t have time to react either. Jisung doesn’t stop there though; no, he returns the favor and grips your hair close to the scalp to yank you back up to be eye level with him.

“I am merely… a cruel person, Y/N. I have always been cruel. And when it comes to protecting people I care about, there are no morals. There are no grey areas. There are no lines that I am not willing to cross. The universe has made me evil by taking everything from me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to have at least one thing I care about. And that one thing is you.”

Silence ensues. You don’t dare speak again; you aren’t sure you could even form words if you wanted to. Out the corner of your eye, you see a flash of metal and the barrel of a gun.

“If you so much as move a muscle, I will shoot you down with no hesitation.” You never saw the man move but that cold tone can only belong to Hongjoong. That suspicion is confirmed when Jisung releases his hold on your hair, letting you pull back and stand up straight once more. Hongjoong doesn’t lower his weapon even as Jisung raises his hands in surrender. “You call yourself cruel. Well, I am evil. Cruel, harsh, cold-hearted, and full of nothing but malice. So you can fucking bet that I won’t let you take her against her will. And if you even for a breath of a moment think otherwise, then I will put a bullet between your eyes and send you off to meet your maker.”

Jisung’s nose twitches as he sneers back at the captain.

“That’s not a risk you would ever take.”

“Ha, then you know fairly little about me, Han Jisung. I could sit here for hours and tell stories about the blood I’ve spilled, the blood my lieutenant has spilled, the things we have done as the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirates in the universe, or I could tell you of my own individual accomplishments. But if you truly think that I won’t do everything in my power to stop you from taking her?”

Hongjoong’s arm shifts and the barrel of the gun finds a new home, a new target.

On you.

Between your eyes.

Hongjoong cocks the hammer back. The click seems ten times louder than it is in reality. Jongho pulls closer to you, eyeing Hongjoong with a wary gaze.

“I can be evil if that is what you want me to be,” Hongjoong whispers, arching a brow at Jisung. “Such a thing would be easy for a man like me. But it comes with a price, and it’s one that you should weigh heavily. Take her against her will, and I’ll make sure the only thing you take is a corpse.”

“Good move, Captain,” Jisung replies. “I do so enjoy playing such mind games with someone who is actually of my caliber and on my level like this. Now, the move is mine to make, no?”

“You would treat her life as something as mundane and childish as a game of chess?”

Jisung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mind yourself, Captain. All I have to do is give the command, and my dogs will bite.” Hongjoong lets Jisung step around him and make for the edge of the bridge before lowering his pistol and returning it back to its holster.

“Han Jisung.”

Hongjoong’s words stop the man in his tracks, and your eyes find his in the brief moment of hesitation before he turns to look directly at the captain. Hongjoong doesn’t look back, at least not face to face because he merely glances over at Jisung through the reflection of the observation window. It’s an almost haunting sight, one that sends a chill down your spine and makes you stand up a bit straighter as you watch them level each other with glares full of contempt and malice.

“Hungry dogs are never loyal. They’ll eat with anybody who has food. And yours are ravenous.”

“The same could be said for yours, Scourge. Many wonder how much bending that Berserker can take before he breaks. Others say that the slave will turn tail and run the moment the doors of the whorehouse open. My money, on the other hand, is on the Spectre.”

If either man hears the audible gasp of panic that slips between your lips, they opt not to comment on it. Jisung’s lips twist a bit, curving into an ugly smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

“You’d be nothing more than a fool to believe that any of my dogs are not fed well under my care.”

“Is that what happened during your mutiny? Which dog were you, Kim Hongjoong? From the stories I’ve heard, you were starved to the bone.”

Hongjoong shows an admirable sense of restraint in that moment; he barely lets any emotion slip through his features or stance even though you are certain that he is just as shocked as you are.

“The weakest links are always the first to go. The ones with the most to lose, and thus… the Spectre will break first. Because whether you acknowledge it or not, I have something he is desperate to see again.” Jisung shifts to face you. His eyes glint under the fluorescent lights of the bridge. “What happens when you throw a hungry dog a bone?” It’s nothing more than a rhetorical question, one meant to scare you, and that it does because your heart clenches painfully in your chest and squeezes around itself until you can barely stand up straight. “He swallows it whole.”

You watch Jisung leave without daring to speak one more word to him. Hongjoong doesn’t move away from the observation window quite yet, and even as you look over his reflection in the window, you cannot for the life of you gauge what emotions are running through his body.

“Would you truly have shot me?” You ask before you can stop yourself. The adrenaline of having a gun pointed at your head with such little care for your life is not something foreign but to have Hongjoong be the person to do so… you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his tone was far too resolute for that. But then, he shakes his head in denial.

“Never. I made a promise to keep you safe, and I made similar promises to the rest of the crew that no matter what, I would always do whatever is in my power to keep you all safe. To keep our crew safe. I am not about to let Han Jisung take that from my crew.” Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back. His boots scrape against the floor as he spins on his heel and heads back to the captain’s seat.

“What… what did Jisung mean by his ‘dogs’ if he works under Vladimir?” Jongho is the one to pose the question, and it brings Yeosang away from the comms station to listen in on the conversation better. Hongjoong tilts his head from side to side, letting a quiet hum ring through the room before speaking again.

“Did you truly believe that when Jisung told you that? I thought I taught you all to think more critically than that. After all, who in the universe could want you badly enough to kidnap and work with deadly pirates?” Hongjoong looks you dead in the eye as he asks the question. You scoff to deflect the panic it sends through your system.

“With a bounty like mine, it’s enough for anyone to resort to violence of some sort.”

“Word gets around quickly, and people hear things fast in our little world. Pirates are good at transmitting information swiftly. Which means that everyone already knows you are now employed by the Black Scourge’s crew. So I’ll ask again: who could possibly want you badly enough to cross me of all people?”

There is only one answer to that question, and that answer just walked off the bridge not too long ago. You can’t bring yourself to admit it with your words, although you don’t need to because Hongjoong simply continues speaking without missing a beat.

“Jisung made no mistakes. There were no missteps. When we were in the arena, there was never any intention of kidnapping you. There was no hesitation on his part, he knew what he was doing, he knew how to play into your hands. He made a deal with Vladimir — allow his own crew to get into the arena so that he could take two of my crew, then he would kidnap Mingi for Vladimir as payment. Because Jisung knew there was an easier way to get you since he knew what kind of person you are from time in the military together. He knew that if he took your teammates, you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself for their safety. And thus, he made his offer: an exchange of you for your crewmate’s recovery. In reality, he was the one who took them intentionally in the first place.”

A smile twists at the man’s lips, one that is almost unsettling and disturbing, and you find yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot as you look down at him.

“I played right into his hands then,” you murmur, glancing away to grant yourself some semblance of peace.

“That may be the case, yes… however, once something is mine, I don’t particularly like letting go of it. If there’s one thing I have in common with such a person, it’s that. I am undeniably selfish, Y/N. And now that you’re here with me, I don’t intend to let anyone take you from my hands. If he wants you so desperately, then he will have to go through hell to get you, and giving people hell is my specialty.”

“Is that the same reason you pointed a gun at my head?”

“Every man has his price. I find threats to be quite effective in securing bargains and deals. Before I placed that gun to your head, he didn’t imagine I could be so cruel. And now… I’ve only confirmed every suspicion that has been eating at my mind since I woke up.”

“And those suspicions would be what?” You dare to ask, leveling the man seated before you with a stare that he regards out the corner of his eye.

“Han Jisung is nothing but a hungry dog, and I intend to make him bite.”

✧✧✧ a/n: haha? 17.2k WHO?! gotta admit this is my fave chapter i’ve ever written the ending hits im v proud of her ! what did i say i said she would be a long one but even i didn’t expect this i cannot lie well as i said i am dropping and yeeting (to sleep) but i’ll be here to watch my chaos unfold a bit first ;3 as ALWAYS let me know what you think, give me the juicy deets, the theories, the screaming, the ‘caly how could you’, and all that jazz it’s SO good to be posting a mists chapter yall have no idea how happy it makes me to do this again fogijdfiogaj, she’s heavily unedited tho so im sorry in advance for grammatical issues

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @fuckjoong​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[scripttorture]

One of the central characters in a fantasy story I'm writing has torture as part of her backstory. She was captured by an evil race, and one individual in particular put her through a "training" regime designed to turn her into a useful/trustworthy slave. Specifically the goals of the training were:

- destroy her sense of self / agency

- overwrite her ingrained response of healing herself when injured (she has magical healing powers)

- an affectionate or worshipful disposition towards her captors

- immediate obedience to any command

I feel like both physical and psychological torture / mental conditioning are probably appropriate, though I'm leaning away from including sexual abuse. I honestly don't know much about torture at all and the only things that come to mind as producing a result similar to what I'm looking for are the Game of Thrones torture sequence and the use of obdience collars in the Codex Alera book series. The latter is very interesting to me because it is a magical device that inflicts pain in reaction to disobedience but also inflicts pleasure to reward obedience.

I guess I'm just wondering if you have any advice for what kinds of methods would be good to include in a process designed to produce obedience, rather than torture for its own sake or to extract information, as well as if there are any common pitfalls I should try to avoid in writing about such a thing.

The training itself won't be in the book, but I need to be familiar with it for backstory purposes because later in the story this character encounters her torturer again, and is subjected to some further abuse before she finally overcomes her fear and kills him.

Alright well I’m going to be straight up with you: the scenario you’ve presented is a very common torture apologist trope. It’s incredibly unrealistic. And it’s unrealistic in ways that support torture by claiming it can be ‘useful’.

 Which probably means that you’re new to the blog and haven’t heard me give this talk before. That’s OK, we all learn sometime and it’s not my intention to shame you for the fact you’re not as obsessed with this stuff as I am or couldn’t afford to shell out for the books.

 Torture does not produce obedience. The best evidence we have right now suggests it encourages active resistance.

 If you got a lot of your inspiration from Game of Thrones then frankly I’m not surprised you came up with apologia. The torture in that series is incredibly badly handled. And a big part of the point of running this blog is that most people are getting their information on torture from shows like that. Which happens because the research is inaccessible and hasn’t been popularised the way fictional tropes (sometimes fictional tropes literally started by torturers) have been popularised.

 The important thing is what you choose to do now.

 I’m going to break down the problems here and make some suggestions for what you could do instead.

 Firstly: there is no torture or abuse that will guarantee obedience. Pain does not make people meek or compliant or willing to follow commands.

 Torture survivors are not broken.

 They are not ‘controlled’ by their torturers and the suggestion that they are is used in the real world to bar real survivors from treatment. It is also used to bar them from entering safe countries and to argue that they shouldn’t be allowed visas or passports.

 The best statistics we have for any sort of compliance under torture come from analysis of historical French data where torture was used to try and force confessions (something we know torture can sometimes do).

 The ‘success’ rate averaged at 10%. Under torture 90% of people will not comply long enough to sign their name.

 Secondly: torture does not and can not ‘make’ a victim feel ‘worshipful’ towards their torturer. The suggestion is kind of like asking if someone can tap dance immediately after removing the bones from their legs.

 Torturers have no control over a victim’s emotions. They have no control over their symptoms. They have no control over their beliefs.

 And there is no such thing as a torture that can change someone’s mind in a way torturers can control.

 Once again, this fictional trope is used by politicians and the media to justify marginalising real torture survivors.

 I have read hundreds, possibly thousands, of accounts from torture survivors. I’ve read historic and modern accounts. I’ve read accounts from all sort of people from all over the globe. I have never seen a survivor say anything positive about their torturers. I have never seen anything close to toleration.

 A lot of survivors are blisteringly angry at their torturers. A lot of them feel overwhelming levels of spite and some report literally putting themselves at risk of death in order to spite their torturers. And yes, a lot of them are afraid too. None of these emotions are mutually exclusive.

 Affection is impossible. We are not wired that way.

 Thirdly: I understand that ‘evil races’ are a long standing fantasy trope but it would be remiss of me if I didn’t mention the racism inherent in that idea. That some people are ‘born bad’.

 I’d strongly suggest you look up the Black, Indian and First Nations people that I know are on this site critiquing these kinds of fantasy tropes. Because they will be able to explain it better then I can.

 Fourthly: the term ‘psychological torture’ is a pretty common dog whistle for torture apologia.

 Most of the time tortures that people dub ‘psychological’ are things with real, physical effects that lead to lasting injury and death. They just don’t tend to leave obvious external scars. I use Rejali’s term ‘clean torture’ for these techniques. Researchers distinguish them from scarring tortures because they are harder to detect and prove in court.

 The majority of survivors today will have experienced clean torture. They will have no obvious physical scars. But they will still be disabled. They’re ‘just’ less likely to see any form of justice for it.

 Fifthly: torture is a terrible training method because it decreases a person’s ability to learn.

 Torture causes memory problems. It also often causes lasting physical injuries that make performing basic tasks more difficult. And it causes a lot of serious psychological problems which make performing basic tasks more difficult.

 A trained person who was never tortured will always out perform someone whose training involved torture.

 I probably sound quite angry here.

 I write fantasy and I also write about torture a lot. But I can’t imagine that it’s just flavour for a fantasy world or some artefact of the past. Torture is a real, present threat in the country that I grew up in. If I was to return now I could, literally, be tortured and executed.

 If you want to include torture in your world, in your story then you are committing to telling someone else’s story. You are representing an incredibly marginalised group of people and you are presenting that representation to a third group, one that has never had contact with real torture survivors.

 Are you comfortable with the idea of telling your peers that survivors are still controlled by ‘the enemy’? That they’re passive? That they don’t have the capacity to make their own decisions?

 Are you comfortable knowing that the popularity of this message keeps millions of genocide survivors in refugee camps, blocked from citizenship, aid and safety?

 I understand feeling attached to a story and a character. And I understand that this information is hard to find. Hell I’m probably going to end up with the only English copy of one of the pivotal textbooks because I’m shelling out to get it translated.

 You say you want to write a torture survivor. With respect I don’t think you know what a torture survivor looks like.

 I think the most helpful, and kindest, thing I can do here is describe what torture does to people. Because I can’t tell you whether that’s something you want to write. I could try and rebuild this scenario for you (and if you decide you’re interested in that after reading all of this and all the links then I suggest looking through the blog tags for ICURE, torture as training, Black Widow and Overwatch.) But I think you need to decide whether you actually want to write a torture survivor first.

 Here’s a post on the most common torture apologia tropes.

 Here’s the post on the types of memory problems torture commonly causes. I strongly recommend picking at least one.

 Remember that this would never go away. Improvement and recovery in torture survivors means learning to live with symptoms. The symptoms themselves are permanent.

 It’s a hundred different alarms set up on their phone to try and make up for the forgetfulness that makes them miss appointments. It’s the little bottle of perfume in their pocket to bring themselves back to reality when they get intrusive memories at work.

 Here’s a post on the other common symptoms.

 You want something in the range of 3-5 of those, though more are likely if your character is held for years. Each of them should be severe. Every single symptom should have a large, negative, impact on the character’s daily life.

 Do you know anyone with chronic pain? It warps their world. Work can become impossible. Basic household tasks like getting dressed, cooking, cleaning the dishes are done through gritted teeth or not at all. Hobbies and ‘fun’ activities dwindle as they struggle to find a way to do them that doesn’t hurt. Interaction with other people, even loved ones, can easily become barbed.

 Because the pain makes everything more difficult. It means everything takes more energy, more effort. Which means that things fall by the wayside, whether that’s by a pile of mouldering dishes in the sink or snapping at a child. It means tears and the social judgement that follows them. It means the world narrowing as it gets harder to go out.

 Do you see what I mean? Every part of life.

 That’s an example for one symptom. You need to work out at least four. Then figure out how they interact. Then figure out what the character can do to make her life better.

 With chronic pain that can mean painkillers but it’s always more then that. It’s re-learning how to do things; how to put on trousers without aggravating the bad knee, how to sew with one hand. It means learning to cut down on what they do and it means learning a new sort of flexibility; accepting that there are days when the pain is too much.

 It can mean having the same conversation about disability over and over again. With family, with friends, with colleagues. ‘I can’t do that.’ ‘I can do that sometimes but not always.’ ‘That will hurt me.’ ‘I can’t use that chair.’ ‘I can’t get my arms that high above my shoulders.’ ‘I need help with this.’

 And that sometimes means learning a kind of patience that is really barely held back rage. Or perhaps I’m projecting a little with this last one.

 If you’ve never met a torture survivor, if you’ve never looked at a survivor’s work, then all this is difficult. You’re trying to imagine something from first principals with nothing to fall back on.

 So let’s bring some survivors into the discussion here. Some reality.

 Who’s listened to Fela? How about Bobi Wine?

 Fela Kuti was the father of modern Afro beats music. He was tortured multiple times and during one attack, which destroyed his home, his mother was murdered by the military. When he got out of jail Fela marched her funeral procession past the biggest barracks in Nigeria’s biggest city. He wrote two songs about this attack and he doubled down on his opposition to the military government.

 Fela’s music started causing riots.

 You can read what I have to say about him here. You can listen to his music on youtube.

 Here’s an interview with Bobi Wine, which was conducted shortly after he was tortured in Uganda. He talked about how he was determined to go back and continue fighting. Which he did. He even ran against the president.

 I’ve also got a short piece on Searle who was a cartoonist captured by the Japanese during World War 2. His drawings of what happened in To the Kwai and Back are worth seeing. Especially if you want to write atrocities on this scale. They will show you the scale and how to focus on the small, human elements despite that overwhelming scale.

 Alleg’s The Question is pretty much a must, it’s one of the most thorough accounts from the Franco-Algerian war.

 Monroe’s A Darkling Plain is also a must, it’s a series of interviews with survivors of various different conflicts and atrocities. Some are torture survivors. Some are not. It is essential reading because it shows the variety in survivors as well as giving a sense of their lives beyond the symptoms.

 Finally Amnesty International has literally hundreds of interviews and studies available for free online.

 The most important decision for any story with regards to torture is whether it should be there at all.

 So much of this topic is intimidating and so much of it is difficult to write. Not just in the ‘oh this is horribly effecting’ sense but in the ‘I have twelve things to juggle in this simple scene’ sense.

 Ask yourself what torture adds to this character and this story. What does this backstory actually give this character?

 Because if the point is to have her vulnerable and then ultimately triumphing violently over her attackers I don’t think you want a torture scenario. You could get the same thing from a bad guy trying to drug her and having the kidnapping fail when she fights him off, clumsy but effective nonetheless.

 And she could still come out of something like that traumatised.

 Right now I really don’t see this adding anything but torture apologia to your story.

 Handling torture well in a story means accepting that it can’t be the same story without it. It means watching the characters and narrative warp under the weight of it. It means lasting effects, for all the characters and for the world itself.

 I believe you are capable of writing that if you want to, pet. But this ain’t it.

Edit: I’m having trouble seeing the beginning of the answer here. Can anyone let me know if there are formatting issues again please? The first word in the htmal is ‘Alright’ but what I’m seeing on tumblr starts 8 paragraphs in.

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[tommybaholland]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a angst oneshot about the whole Izuku leaving UA incident and how his s/o would take it seeing that letter right after the war ark, and maybe their reaction if he came back?

If you've done this already please just ignore this! (ˊ˘ˋ*)

where are you, deku?

featuring: midoriya

recent manga chapter spoilers in this one! i have to admit that i haven’t been the biggest fan of the current arc thus far but this is one reason why i write. so i included some stuff that i feel were missed opportunities. also, if you read the manga, i’d love to hear any predictions you might have. enjoy! x

sitting in a hospital was never fun. it’s already bad if you’re there to be treated but sitting there, waiting for someone to wake up, not knowing that they will? you’d rather be admitted.

you didn’t know how he would recover from this. there’s no way his body could handle everything that he pushed through to stop the evil from winning. was there even a winner in this war? you’re not even sure how or why it started. there were so many things happening, so many twists and turns and surprises that everyone who survived physically wouldn’t have much luck mentally. 

no matter how you spin it, there was no silver lining. and you were not the only one plagued by the lasting effect. 

todoroki’s supposedly dead brother is alive and a mass murder, mirio has his powers again but doesn’t know that tamaki might be dead, midnight’s death was confirmed days ago and no one could just forget about it..

and it had been three days, but deku had not awoken from his unconscious state. 

you were adamant about being the first one he saw when he woke up. he’d say that you’re stubborn but that was one thing you had in common. it was odd for him to stay unconscious for this long when he had always been the epitome of persistence. 

the sound of all might entering the room jerked you awake from what was probably the tenth time you had dozed off. 

“y/n,” he addressed. “you have done a great job keeping midoriya company but i think it’s time for you to get some rest. todoroki and bakugo have awoken, why don’t you go check on them with your other classmates?”

you didn’t even look over to him, not wanting to see the pitiful expression on his face. 

“why isn’t he waking up, all might? he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain,” you observed, looking down at your unconscious partner. 

“that must be a good thing, though, right?” the former hero replied. 

“yes but,” you paused, unsure of how to say it. “it’s odd. he’s not in a coma-induced state, he just looks like he’s taking a nap.” 

all might knew that midoriya and bakugo had kept the secret of ofa between them. now might be a good time to tell everyone, or at least everyone who should know, what was going to happen to him. midoriya was not unconscious nor asleep but was in a similar state, one that allowed him to talk to the previous holders of one for all. 

until he finishes his conversation with them, an explanation would have to wait.

“you have observed well, y/n. i can assure you that he is not in any pain and will wake up eventually. he’ll want to tell you everything when he does. until then, please go tell the other students what you know for now.”

“what if he wakes up?” you questioned, continuing to face deku with your hands over one of his casted arms.

“i’ll have someone send for you but i’m sure you’ll be around when he finally wakes,” all might reassured. 

you nodded, too tired to protest at this point. you stood from your seat before leaning down to press a parting kiss to his freckled cheek. his skin was warm which prompted a tear you didn’t know was there to fall down your cheek. he was alive but you wanted him to be okay. 

you wiped the tear from your face and sniffled before turning around to finally face all might. he patted your shoulder as you walked by, quickly leaving the room. you decided that you would do as you were told and to go check on your other classmates. however, you didn’t get very far when you ran into bakugo who was storming down the hallway while resisting the restraint of sato and mineta.

“Y/N! WHERE IS HE?”

It almost made you smile to see that bakugo was still his belligerent self, despite being seriously injured. however, that doesn’t mean he should be walking around so soon. you stood in front of the door to deku’s room, prohibiting him from entering. once he finally reached you, he tried to push past you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“you better move out of the way or start talking before i kill both you AND HIM,” he threatened when you wouldn’t move. 

“he’s still unconscious,” you replied solemnly. “but all might’s certain that he will wake up.”

bakugo’s demeanor changed as he observed the melancholy expression on your face. he wasn’t an idiot but you were. it was the least he could do.

“well, i agree with him. of course he’s going to wake up, you idiot.”

you looked up at him, waiting for elaboration from his sudden confidence.

“tch. i thought you loved him or whatever. somehow your annoying ass decided to put up with his dumbass so you of all people would know that he wouldn’t just quit. and if he does, i’ll make sure he’s really dead.”

-

once almost everyone was discharged from the hospital, you were instructed to return to UA. you were told that you would receive updates and further instructions the next morning. however, sleep was far from what you would receive. despite the exhaustion, you were restless beyond belief which made you delirious and you couldn’t tell if the shuffling outside your room was real or not. 

you woke up early, just when the sun was beginning to rise. you decided to get up as there was no point in trying to fall back asleep. you didn’t get even a step outside your room after stepping on a folded piece of paper that had been shoved under the door, waiting for you. 

it was a letter from him. 

it turns out that seemingly everyone got a letter from him. all of them varied in contents but they all conveyed the same message:

he had left the hero course. 

they also explained his power and how it passed down from all might which is the reason why the league of villains and all for one were after him. yours, however, included a little extra message written at the end. 

i love you, y/n. please don’t come looking for me. 

he had probably blamed himself for all the strife he had caused with the war but you thought it was dumb for him to leave. how did he think he was going to do this on his own? there was obviously more to this story than he provided but given that he told everyone in the class, he had to keep it simple. 

it was all making sense to you, shedding some light as to why all might was so sure of deku’s recovery. however, you didn’t get to see him when he woke up like you were told. he played it safe in writing these letters because he knew that you and others in the class would only try to stop him if he left. everyone was asking you about what you knew and you couldn’t tell them squat. you tried calling and texting him but he wouldn’t answer.

it was an odd feeling. you didn’t know whether you should be mad or not. if you couldn’t see your boyfriend yourself, you had to talk to all might. however, mr. aizawa was the only thing standing, or rather now sitting, in your way. 

“by now, you all know that your classmate, midoriya, has left the hero course. this does not mean that the rest of you should follow in his footsteps.”

even though he didn’t tower over everyone anymore from his wheelchair, he was still equally as intimidating. 

“now, UA has agreed to use its campus as an evacuation shelter. your families have already begun the moving process. classes will resume as normal but no one will be allowed to leave the campus under any circumstances. we’ve put a pause on all work study-related activities outside of the school until we know that there are no more possible threats, at least, for now. any questions can be directed to me.”

“will all might be returning?” you asked.

“all might will be taking leave from teaching for now,” answered mr. aizawa. “as i said, you can direct your questions to me.”

“right, sir, but i have questions for him about dek-- i mean, midoriya.” 

“well, you’ll have to wait until he finds an opportunity to return then.” 

“when will that be?”

“whenever he finds an opportunity, y/n. any other questions?”

it seemed like you were at a loss until you remembered something from when you were in the hospital with deku. bakugo’s behavior when you told him what all might said changed rather abruptly and you don’t think it’s because all might is his favorite pro hero. although they grew up together, deku and bakugo were anything but close. however, bakugo’s affirmation that he would recover felt odd and like he knew something that made him sure of it. 

this led you to pursue him as your next lead. 

you found him later in the kitchen making something for himself, as he usually cooked for himself than eating the food sent over by the school. 

“what did you think about his letter?”

“what letter? i didn’t get anything from that damn nerd.”

that was surprising but that logic further pushed the idea that he knew something and therefore didn’t need a letter to explain it to him. 

“so you don’t know anything about this?” you asked as you pulled out the folded-up paper that was left at your door that morning. 

bakugo snatched the paper out of your hand and scanned over its contents quickly. his brows raised by the time he reached the end before he grimaced again. 

“that idiot,” he muttered under his breath. 

“so you didn’t know about it?”

“this is almost the same as what everyone else got,” he observed, ignoring your question. 

“okay. but did you know about it?” you asked again.

“of course i did, you dumbass! so are you gonna ask me a billion questions now that his cowardly ass isn’t here to explain it to you like he should’ve?”

“so there is more to it.”

“he gave you the gist of it. that’s really all you need to know.”

“but what do shigaraki and all for one have to do with this?”

“can’t you read? the letter literally explained that.” 

“like you said, it was really only the gist of it.”

“well, you were right in wanting to talk to all might but i guess you’ll have to wait.”

“no. if you know something, i need to hear about it. also, why do you get to know about all this?”

“because that moron originally told me about it back when we started school here. i didn’t take it seriously at the time until he started getting stronger. right after we moved to the dorms, he and all might told me everything,” he explained.

“i need you to tell me what happened then because he and all might aren’t here right now.”

“look, it’s really not my job to tell you! this really belongs between the two of them. dumb deku just promised that he would be strong enough to try to beat me.”

“at least tell me why he felt he had to leave when we could’ve helped him! i know he likes to act like a selfless idiot but i don’t know if he can do this by himself.”

bakugo sighed. “this is his fight and his fight alone. like icyhot said back at the sports festival, he has all might in his corner. that’s all the help he’s gonna need.”

you nodded in agreement.

“plus, that dumb power of his involves more than what you’ve seen of it,” he added cryptically.

“what does that mean?”

“did you even read the letter? it said that the power was passed down from all might to him, moron.”

 “again, that doesn’t really mean much to me,” you pressed.

“tch. yeah. you probably only paid attention to that gross end part. that stupid nerd,” he muttered. 

“what was that?”

“look, i’m done talking with you. either talk to all might or use your damn head.” 

that wasn’t a complete waste of time but it certainly was a lost cause. despite his arrogance, everything bakugo said was true. he’s not someone who goes around lying about things so you felt that you could trust him when he said that deku would be in good hands with all might. 

you left the kitchen somewhat satisfied but it still bothered you that you didn’t know everything completely. you wondered if there was anyone else who knew about it but the chances were slim, given that bakugo also stated that it was between deku and all might. 

while heading back up to your room, you ran into todoroki. you hadn’t talked to him much since the war. out of anyone, he was probably going through it more than anyone. 

“hey, todoroki. how are you holding up?” you asked, grinning softly. 

his voice was still recovering but it was a lot better than a few days ago. “hello, y/n. my family’s okay for the most part and my father is finally doing what he should.”

you didn’t want to pry but you knew what he meant. 

“did you get a letter?”

“from midoriya? yes. i’m not especially surprised since he and all might have been close since school began. however, i do find it odd that he suddenly has another power. did you notice it?”

you nodded. “it first happened during the training session with class B, right?”

“yes. were you ever curious about it?”

“he was probably more freaked out about it than anyone else so i didn’t focus too much on it,” you explained.

“i asked him about it and i agree, he did seem apprehensive about it.”

there was a beat of silence then which had you pondering over what bakugo had said.

“apparently there’s more to his power than we think and it has something to do with the passing from one user to another,” you reported.

“i’ve been thinking about that, as well,” todoroki replied. “it’s possible that midoriya’s power is evolving to beyond what all might could do with it. it would make sense, given quirk singularity.” 

his theory seemed reliable since he would know about something like singularity. 

“thank you for sharing that with me, todoroki. it think it’s quite possible that you’re right. i’m going to try to talk to all might if you want to confirm it,” you offered.

“thank you, y/n, but i believe the answer will be more clear later on. there’s something i have to focus on for myself right now. i hope you find out more soon.”

you thanked him, wished him well, and made the rest of the way to your room. now, you really couldn’t imagine what todoroki was going through. if anything, he had just as much weight on his shoulders as deku right now. 

then again, you still needed answers as to exactly what he was doing.

later that night, bakugo sat on his bed looking down at a piece of paper. it had four simple words on it. words that both excited and annoyed him immensely. 

i’m catching up, kacchan. 

-

months passed and you hadn’t heard from deku. well, you had but not in the way you wanted. you finally got in touch with all might, who showed up to UA in person. apparently, mr. aizawa had passed down the message that you were wanting to talk but you don’t know how long ago that had been. you appreciated his effort but at this point, it was your boyfriend who you needed to see now. you didn’t want to displace your anger onto him but he could see that distress that you are in. 

“i’m sorry that he couldn’t come himself,” all might apologized.

you sighed. “it’s alright. it seems like he has better things to do now.”

“he just needs to work on yielding one for all,” all might elaborated. 

“is that what it’s called? one for all?”

“he didn’t tell you about it? i thought he wrote everyone in the class a letter?” 

“he did but he didn’t go into too much detail which is why i wanted to talk to you,” you explained, your tone rather aloof. 

“right. of course,” all might replied before clearing his throat to fill in the missing pieces.

it turns out that todoroki’s theory was on the track in that one for all had reached the singularity point and the quirks from its predecessors were beginning to manifest. 

“the fact that he was completely quirkless before one for all makes the singularity point easier for him to transition to and use the other six quirks.”

that was news to you. “he was quirkless?”

“yes.”

it was all making sense now. everything that seemed off about him and his power was because he never had one in the first place. you also could now understand why bakugo was the most hostile with him when it came to training and deku’s improvement with his power. and this was why bakugo was dead set on deku coming out of this alive. 

however, you couldn’t help but feel naive. you felt like you should’ve listened to your intuition more when things weren’t adding up and he was landing himself back in the hospital with broken arms time after time. but you ended up falling in love with him and it wasn’t because of his power. in the same vein, you weren’t about to hate him for it either, like bakugo or even todoroki at the beginning of the school year. he had worked hard to where he is now and the truth was that he had always been that way, quirk or not. 

but how come he felt the need to hide it all, especially from you? bakugo had only recently been clued in about all of it so why not you as well?

“i made him not say anything to anyone, especially since i had started teaching at the school,” all might explained, continuing to be incredibly perceptive. “and bakugo was only roped in because he was catching on to it.”

“yeah. he told me that deku originally told him a while ago,” you recalled. “so what is he going to do about shigaraki and all for one?”

“we’re not entirely sure yet. right now he’s mostly acting as bait to try to lure out the league of villains while taking care of any stray villains from the prison breaks.” 

“so what you’re saying is you don’t have a plan?” you questioned.

“we’re considering all of our options, y/n.”

“who?”

“deku, myself, endeavor, and hawks. best jeanist has also been helping with recon,” he elaborated. 

of course, he’d have the top three heroes and all might on his side. not to mention all the vestiges talking to him in his head. what about the rest of the class though? surely he was going to need more than that. hero society is hanging by a thread that could snap at any moment if the villains strike again first. 

“why didn’t you let me see him after he woke up?” you asked, changing the subject. 

“we wanted him to stay at UA, as that’s where he’d be most protected. unfortunately, every decision has been his own,” he answered.

that was what you were afraid of. 

since that conversation, the city had been partially recovered, villains were being captured, and there weren’t any threats as of yet from the league. UA fully reinstated work study programs and students were allowed out under heavy supervision. 

todoroki kept coming back from his father’s agency with letters from deku to give to you. you read them, of course, but hadn’t replied to a single one. talking to all might was helpful, it really was, but you couldn’t help this nagging feeling inside you. his letters didn’t help much either. of course, you were happy to hear from him and it did give you that tingling feeling of love that you hadn’t felt in months. 

the letters mostly detailed what he was doing and provided updates on his progress since you had talked to all might. however, if he was freely moving about the city, you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just come talk to you. all might had said that all the decisions made were his own and he was doing it in the best interest of you, the school, and his family. the thought of deku saying that he didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt made you shake your head. he’s very persistent and strong-willed but he too often doesn’t accept the help nor listen to the warnings of others, yourself included. 

you missed him but you were also resentful towards him and you hated feeling that way. you wanted to be supportive rather than selfish but it was hard when he could be too self-sacrificing. it’s not that you didn’t have faith in him. you just wanted to prepare for the worst. 

-

“hey, idiot.” 

“what is it, bakugo?”

bakugo and todoroki approached you one day after they came back from their work study. 

“we’re trying to tell you something important so don’t cop an attitude right now,” he glared.

you gave him an unamused look, unfazed by the irony. “so did you need something?”

todoroki spoke up next. “yes. my father would like to recruit you for work study. you don’t currently have one, right?” 

“no. i don’t,” you replied honestly. “why does endeavor want me all of the sudden?” 

“because midoriya—“

“shut up, you half and half moron!” bakugo interrupted. “look, we need help and thought you would want to be included.”

“okay. but why me?” 

“you’re such a dumbass. just come with us!” 

and now you were here at the endeavor agency in your hero costume with an uneasy feeling. maybe it was because you were standing right in front of the number one himself.

“hello, y/n.” 

it was true that he didn’t have any other expression other than a scowl. lately, that scowl seemed worn down and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. 

“bakugo and shoto have told me about you. of course, i first heard about you from deku.” 

your ears perked up at his hero name. you hadn’t heard it in months. 

“since he has left the hero course, we needed another student apprentice at the agency. the reason why we didn’t contact you sooner was that we were overconfident in thinking that we didn’t need another and for that, i personally apologize.”

endeavor bowing to you was a sight you thought you’d see only in your dreams. 

“so what is this really about then?” 

“the league of villains is on the move and he needs some help.” 

you didn’t have time to even think of a response before the familiar mess of green hair came into view. that was really the only familiar thing about him against his dirty and tattered hero costume. not to mention all the upgrades that you had never seen before. 

“hey, y/n,” he greeted with a soft grin.

you felt like your heart had stopped for a solid three seconds. 

“deku…” you breathed out finally. you let the tears well up in your eyes. you didn’t want him to see you cry. you felt a rush of adrenaline pull you towards him and tackle him to the ground. 

from the view, it looked like you were happy to see him. you were anything but thrilled. 

“why— how— w- what are you doing here?” you questioned, leaning over him on the ground. you face felt hot with rage but you couldn’t stop it. the more you tried to suppress your emotions, the more intense they felt. 

“well, i wanted to see you!” he answered, trying to lighten the mood. 

“you wanted to SEE ME!? what about the previous eight months, huh? or when you woke up? you didn’t want to see me then either?”

“y/n, please i didn’t intend to abandon anyone. i only wanted to protect—“

“everyone, right?” you interrupted him. “what about the rest of us? we want to be heroes too! we’ve fought countless battles and went through a whole war with you! when are you going to get it through your dumb head that we want to help you?”

“heh. they sound like me now,” bakugo quietly commented as he and todoroki watched this whole scene. 

“i wouldn’t get excited about that,” replied todoroki.

“i’m sorry if i’m being selfish but this isn’t fair, deku,” you cried, your tears dripping onto his face. 

if he thought about it, deku had improved immensely in the last several months, most likely at a quicker rate than he had at UA. however, that was because there wasn’t as much restraint on the usage of his powers. he got to fight high-level villains without a lot of supervision. he was essentially a vigilante and the top three of the hero society were allowing him to do it. 

“i’m sorry for leaving, y/n,” he began, sitting up as you leaned up off of him to wipe your tears. 

“i wasn’t thinking about everyone’s feelings but i felt that it wasn’t anyone’s decision. you guys would have stopped me no matter what.”

you didn’t make eye contact with him until his next sentence. 

“but that doesn’t mean i should be treated as a special case. you’re right, i shouldn’t waste all the energy and effort everyone has put into to stop something that i’m mostly responsible for. even though i’ve been figuring things out on my own lately,  i have no idea how i’m going to stop all for one or save shigaraki.” 

you suddenly felt stupid as he looked down solemnly. you were stupid for overreacting. at the end of the day, this was his fight. no one else could do this but him. however, hearing that he needed help was what you needed to hear. 

your boyfriend needed help.

“hey,” you called softly, placing a hand over his cheek. he looked up as you with glossy green eyes. 

“you don’t have to do this all by yourself. you have so many friends and heroes wanting to help you. i know you don’t want to lose anyone but i think everyone involved knows the risks.”

you looked back to bakugo and todoroki for reassurance. todoroki nodded in agreement while bakugo simply, “tch. whatever.”

“you’ve got me, too. you’re never gonna lose me, deku. and i won’t let you lose either. i love you too much even if you can be really dumb sometimes.”

“i love you too, babe,” he reciprocated, his face getting closer to yours. “i did really miss you.”

“i know, baby.”

you completed the reconciliation with a sweet kiss, one that made bakugo roll his eyes.

“can you idiots stop wasting my time already?!”

“i agree,” endeavor spoke up. “we should start telling them what we know.”

“right! sorry, sir!” your boyfriend squeaked before scrambling to get you both off the floor. you stifled a laugh. he’s probably seen some stuff over the last few months but his cute, spastic self didn’t change much. 

“let’s get y/n acclimated to the agency first and then we’ll go over everything,” endeavor suggested. 

“oh my gosh, y/n! i can’t wait to show you how huge this place is! c’mon,” deku exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you around the office.

he didn’t want to let go once but if you wanted to because your hands were sweaty, he’d simply reach for it again. his thumb ran over the back of yours when you were just standing next to each other, giving it an occasional squeeze. even when it was his turn to talk, he didn’t release.

“okay so here’s what i’ve done recently and the information i’ve gathered from those encounters..”

you didn’t know what the end result would be and he was none the wiser. he knows how he wants it to end and now he has people he can count on for that.

heyy bnha night! let’s hear about more of your favs..

[vidavalor]

Beginning to think that Sam was helping Bucky to hide...

The canon is asking us to believe that The Winter Soldier stayed hidden for ages without anyone being able to find him. Yes, Bucky’s skilled and all that but considering that The Winter Soldier ran away from Steve and Tony’s fight and disappeared... uh, exactly how did he stay disappeared for *that* long? Especially with Steve and Sam looking for him? Steve didn’t find him until the Sokovia Accords/Zemo situation forces Bucky out of hiding but Steve is also The Avenger who is the least technologically-savvy... but Sam? Sam is plenty technologically-savvy. 

Do we really believe that Sam never found Bucky that entire time? Better question: Do we really believe that Sam-- based on everything we know about him-- would choose to tell Steve if he did? Because while I’m sure he didn’t love lying to his friend, Sam would absolutely see what would happen if he told Steve he had found Bucky. 

Steve believed in the system. He believed in following a certain path. Sam had and has a different lived experience in the world-- one that causes him to think more critically of the ramifications of the system and a bit more big-picture than Steve did. If Sam told Steve that he found Bucky, Steve would say that the next step would be to get Bucky to come with him and the government would take it from there-- a government that likely was looking to hold Bucky responsible for his actions as The Winter Soldier or, worse, might see a weapon they could gain control over and have no interest in helping Bucky get beyond The Winter Soldier. Instead, they might be looking to use him. Steve knows that there can be evil factions within government but he chooses to take a rosier approach to all of it-- assuming that others will act with integrity and seeking to stop them if they don’t. Sam is different. 

Sam is a war veteran who identifies with the PTSD Bucky is suffering and has seen plenty of other soldiers go through something similar, if not quite on the same scale as Bucky. He knows what it is to be a Black man in America and love a country that has a government that is set up not to favor you. He has seen how it has failed its veterans and he’s savvy enough to know that handing Bucky over to the government is basically handing him over to be at least imprisoned again, if not further weaponized against his will. 

Sam found Bucky, probably not that long after Bucky disappeared. He was able to reassure Bucky that he wasn’t there to arrest or hurt him but to help him and Bucky took the risk to try to trust him because he had seen him with Steve and figured he might be able to. Sam never told Steve he found Bucky and on those nights when Team Cap did their own thing, Wanda wasn’t the only one who went to go visit someone she cared for in secret. 

This would help to explain why Bucky and Sam are already at a state of Sam-can-touch-Bucky-without-him-freaking-out and Bucky-is-already-looking-at-Sam-like-he-hung-the-moon in Endgame. They’ve actually had a secret relationship for a couple of years already (pre-Blip, anyway.) Most of it by then also took place during a time when Bucky *was still technically programmed as The Winter Soldier*, which would also add to the levels of trust they’ve built up that we see, especially in the early parts of TFATWS, when they seem to already have more than we’ve seen them earn with one another.

To be clear: I’m not saying they were romantically/sexually involved necessarily when Bucky was in hiding. I’m saying Sam-- the war veteran, the PTSD survivor, the counselor-- took one look at Bucky and knew what telling Steve where he was would bring about and couldn’t do that to him. He felt Bucky deserved a chance to find his way back to his own mind and have a life and he wasn’t about to put a fellow soldier back in physical or psychological chains so he just kept missing that slippery Winter Soldier! for a couple of years while on the run with Team Cap, figuring that the on-the-run bit would eventually work itself out and he could go back to his normal life, though still keeping tabs on Bucky. He likely went further than just not telling Steve as well-- maybe helping Bucky with technology, cover IDs, etc, to keep him going. 

In the process, they became friends, probably both beginning to feel more than that as time went on but not really pursuing it but that could also explain the contradiction between Sam being very aware of Bucky’s various struggles in a way that shows they’ve talked about them (as we see in TFATWS) but also giving him a lot of space and putting up necessary distance during that same time. His response to meeting Dr. Raynor is one of real relief and gratitude that she’s helping someone who is very important to him (he really sounds like Bucky’s husband, meeting his therapist for the first time-- all this before the couple’s counseling, of course.) I am not saying that Sam *should* be taking all this on because he shouldn’t be, regardless of whether or not he’s in love with Bucky. They’re friends and that alone means they need to be supportive of one another but it wouldn’t be ethically right for Sam to act as a therapist to Bucky, even if he wanted to. It has too many conflicts and it changes the balance of power in their relationship. I think what we see in the canon, though, could be explained as Sam was there when he was the only one Bucky had when Bucky was in hiding, which was also when they didn’t really know one another at first. The fact that Sam has taken steps to both continue to be there for Bucky as his friend and be supportive of him but to make sure that Bucky has other resources for this process is actually a really strong indicator that Sam's relationship with Bucky has evolved to a point where he would find it conflicting to be helping to manage Bucky’s trauma recovery. If he and Bucky were just casual acquaintances? If Bucky was just another vet at the VA, like the many Sam helped in his groups back in the day? Sam would be there to help devise those recovery plans. But that he’s taken a step back in that particular way? That he remains there for Bucky emotionally and supportive of him but gave him the space he needed in Wakanda and is happy that he had a therapist in New York? It suggests that Sam wants a different kind of relationship with Bucky-- at minimal, a very close friendship. More likely, a romantic relationship down the line, when and if Bucky was able to recover enough to be in a place to consider one. (Not that Sam was telling Bucky any of this until recently but...) 

But yeah, while it seems like a couple of months at least have gone by between Endgame and TFATWS, even that amount of time-- especially considering Bucky going on a bit of a PTSD/self-loathing pull back towards the beginning and not really responding to Sam’s texts-- doesn’t seem like it’s enough time for the level of intimacy Sam & Bucky already have when we first see them together in the second episode. Them having a secret relationship while Bucky was in hiding, though? Slowly earning some trust from one another? It would also help to explain why Sam is the only one who can touch Bucky without him being bothered by TFATWS and how Sam knows Bucky well-enough to not give up on him, to know what his triggers are and to not miss a beat after Bucky went AWOL for a few weeks and stopped answering his texts. He’s not really upset about it and is teasing him basically the second they see one another again, which indicates both that Sam has enough affection for and understanding of Bucky that a few unanswered texts isn’t going to break them and that Bucky trusts Sam, even when he’s frustrated with him, and puts in the effort to make things work between them because he cares about him. 

[weelittleweasley]

Amnesia (p2) | Draco x Reader

If you have not read part one, you can find it here!!

Prompt: After proper diagnosis and treatment, your Healer informs you that your amnesia has effected your most recent memories. These memories include your life as a upperclassman at Hogwarts, your knowledge and skills, and arguable the most important thing to you: your relationship with Draco. When Draco hears of your condition, he is overwhelmed and scared to say the least. You two are now strangers. What happens in Part Two of this multipart series?

Warnings: memory loss, nightmares, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: This part is a slow burn, but just trust me. Shit will hit the fan soon.

This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love. Thank you for coming back for part two :) 

Flashbacks told in italics!

Draco watched you from the window that saw into your hospital room, his nerves and terror eating away inside of him. How was he supposed to keep calm when the love of his life almost died days ago and now does not remember a single detail of their relationship? He ran his hands through his matted platinum blonde hair before covering his face and letting out a sigh that was full of mixed emotions. He was going to fall apart in seconds if it were for your Healer passing by, so he could ask him questions about your recovery.

“So her memory is gone?” he frantically asks, pleading that the answer is no. That would just mean so much time and love and energy that you both had put into this relationship was being washed down the drain. 

The Healer places a firm, yet reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Not gone,” he speaks as Draco lets out a breath he was holding. “Temporarily lost you can say. Her memories can come back to her in random spurts or all at once. The brain is very complicated and everyone reacts differently. It could take anywhere from two days to two weeks for her to remember. There are rare cases, but it is possible, that it could be a few months for her to recover,” the Healer tells Draco as Draco swallows hard.

If it was going to take you months to remember your relationship with Draco, the boy would go mad. He needed you to remember who he was and what your relationship was like so you could both move on and live the life you had planned when you were students at Hogwarts weeks before. Draco dreamt of what it would be like when you two finally got away from the chaos. He pictured you two settling down somewhere remote, in a cottage somewhere in the countryside, maybe out of England. He pictured you having a lot of land, somewhere you could both enjoy nature and its scenic views. He imagined you with your beaming smile in one of your favorite sundresses, laying in the grass, reading a book whilst you laid your head in his lap. He would stroke your hair and watching you crinkle your nose as you laughed at something he said, him relishing in the regality of your beauty. He felt unworthy to look at something so rare and so beautifully genuine. 

Draco snaps back into reality from his daydream and speaks, “Are you sure there isn’t a charm or spell of some sort that you could use to jog her memory? Do muggles have something that you could possibly use?” Draco was desperate for an answer, a sign, a solution, something.

The Healer just smiles lightly and shakes his head. “If there was, my boy, we would have used it,” he tells him. “I’m sorry you two are going through this. I can imagine it is hard for you, but just imagine how difficult it is for her. The best thing you can do for her right now is be there for her. When she remembers, I have no doubt that your relationship will be stronger than ever.”

-------

And so Draco was there for you. Even though visitor’s hours were over, Draco stayed in the waiting room in case anything happened. Not even your parents did this. Your parents went home and told you they would be back in the morning, confident that you were in good hands with the Healers. Draco could never be too sure. You could remember him overnight and desperately need him. You could remember something about Hogwarts and need answers, to which he would be right at your side. So in the waiting room he stayed, waiting in case you needed anything. 

The ex-Slytherin prince was exhausted to say the least. He hadn’t slept since the battle, too afraid to close his eyes and see what his mind conjured. He feared he would see the eyes of his father, burning into him full of anger and disgust; his only child, his only son, betraying the family to run off with some girl. Draco feared he would see the eyes of the Dark Lord although he was dead, he feared he would find his way into Draco’s mind and into his dreams. Draco didn’t even want to think about if he saw his mother in his dreams. How he abandoned her, leaving her alone to her own devices. Worst of all, Draco knew that in his nightmares he would see you, getting hurt, pulled away from him as he clawed at his father to let him go. Draco knew he would see your limp body, bloody and frail as they carried you away to a medic. He couldn’t face his dreams; they were far too scarier than his reality.

Exhaustion pulsated throughout your body before your heavy eyelids fell, you immediately falling asleep with the help of the pain potion given to you. Today was overwhelming for you; too much has happened for your brain to process adequately. You were relieved to see your parents and Ron and Hermione, but now your diagnosis and this whole Draco situation just made things worse than you had expected. How could you just forget a whole relationship with someone that had lasted almost two years? It just didn’t seem or feel real.

You were peacefully asleep, but that’s when your dreams started for the night. Although your body was at peace, your mind raced. In your dreams, you saw flashes of fire, the screams of people echoing in the halls. Stones and rubble were all around you, bodies, dead and alive, all around. Panic entered your veins as you felt your heart sink. You’re running as fast as your legs can allow you. The taste of iron is in your mouth as you scream, your lungs burning and hot tears running down your face. You’re screaming for someone, but the words don’t come out. It’s just a scream. Chaos is growing around you as see people who you once knew die before you in the matter of seconds. Somehow you cannot control yourself in your dream as you try to run over to your friends in need, but your legs are planted. You have become stone. You see Ron from across the hall and you want to run to him, knowing that he’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from whatever was happening. 

But before you can run to Ron, your body pulls you in the opposite direction. You want to call out for Ron, but his name doesn’t come out. Instead, your screaming something else, but you can’t make out what. Before you can even register where you are going, you look above you and see a large boulder, making its way down to crash down on you. 

And that’s when you scream. The sound is rippling through your body as you sit up straight in your bed, eyes darting open. You stop screaming when you realize it was all a dream, a nightmare rather. Why did it all feel real? The pain in your head is creeping back up as your brain throbs as you catch your breath. Your heart is beating through your chest as sweat slowly drips down your temples. Hot and cold flashes ripple through your body as you clinch onto the white hospital sheets for dear life. Frantically, you look around the room to see if anyone was around you to come to your rescue. Were your parents still here? Ron? Anyone?

In that instant, the door flings open and there was the boy you were supposed to be in love with, his blonde hair pushed in front of his face, a panicked look in his eyes.

When Draco heard the scream, he knew it was you in an instant. He could recognize your voice easily, whether it was in joy or in pain. Draco knew you better than he knew himself. His heart sunk to his stomach at your cry and he leaped to his feet. The worst thoughts came to his mind, thinking that something awful had happened to you. Did someone come into your room and try to attack you? Was he not dead? Was it his father? 

Before he could answer any of these questions, he had practically knocked the door down just to see you sitting up straight in bed, your face covered in panic, horror, and sadness. The sight was gut wrenching. Draco wanted to run to your side, pepper your face in kisses, stroke your hair with his fingers, and tell you that he was right beside you and going nowhere; he would be there to protect you. But instead of doing so, in fear of frightening you more in your vulnerable moment, he just makes his presence known.

“Are you alright?” he asks, gently and slowly, still half standing in the doorway, half in the room in case you asked him to leave.

You take a look at the boy in front of you and wondered why he was still here in the first place. It was the middle of the night; not even your parents were here. Why did a boy you barely knew decide to stay here overnight? You don’t entertain the thought any further. “Bad dream,” you simply tell him, rubbing your eyes. 

Draco understood, there was no need to ask you any further questions. He knew that you needed time and space. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you further.

Out of curiosity, you ask him, “What are you still doing here? It’s late.”

Draco sighs, “Uh, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. That if you needed anything someone would be here for you. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to go...” he trails off the last sentence sadly. He ran away from his mother, there was no home for Draco right now. He was alone. And without you? He was more alone than ever before.

You both look at each other for a few moments, breathing the moment in through your nose and out of your mouths. You took the time to really take a good look at Draco. He looked exhausted; heavy bags under his eyes that pulled all the way down to the tops of his cheekbones. His hair flopped lazily in front of his face. As sad as he looked, there was something almost angelic about him in this moment. The medic lights that flickered over his head dully almost made a halo above his head as he stared upon you with the most loving, sad expression you have ever seen. You could see how a previous version of yourself fell in love. He was undeniably handsome and there was something that was absolutely magnetic about him. You wanted to be around him for some reason. 

Draco interrupts your thoughts, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.” 

He tries to slither out of the door before you stop him, not even register what you are saying until the words fall out of your mouth.

“Stay with me,” you call to him, rather than asking him like you would have preferred. 

He stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, a confused expression on his face. Did you remember him? Was this your way of telling him? 

You inhale, “I just don’t want to be alone.” It was true, you didn’t want to be alone again with you and your nightmares in fear it would attack again when you closed your eyes. “My dreams are scary,” you confess. “They seem real.”

In that moment Draco knew that the dreams you were having weren’t really dreams; they were flashbacks. He had them too when he closed his eyes. Draco knew exactly what you saw and there was no need to explain. He was just happy that you asked him to stay with you. “Of course,” he gives you a small smile, preventing a larger one from appearing on his tired face.

Draco slowly closes the door behind him before making his way to the chair near your bedside. He sits in the chair slowly and offers you a small smile. You return one to him with a small sigh. You wanted to go to sleep, but also were afraid of what you would see again. Would you dream of the same thing again? Or something worse? Would this happen all the time? 

You watch the ceiling for a few moments before speaking to Draco, “I’m afraid of closing my eyes.” You turn to him to watch his reaction and he gives you a sympathetic look.

“I am, too,” he confesses. “I see old memories that replay in my head. Horrible things. Things I did, things I bore witness to, things I tried to stop...” he looks at you sadly. It was like you both understood where the other came from. There was an unspeakable understanding that just reassured the other that they were not alone. Although you don’t remember much of Malfoy besides the limited encounters with him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. He had obviously been fighting something and you wished that it would leave him alone. “Did you want to talk about what you saw?” he asked you. You shook your head and he gave you a smile. “That’s alright. You should try and fall asleep at least. You are in recovery from a nasty injury, let’s not forget that,” he teases as you smile. He loved your smile. 

You lay back a little further in your bed relaxing. “Malfoy?” you ask as Draco’s ears perk up to his name being dropped from your lips. “Were we in love?” you ask, surprising him and yourself. But if you were going to remember the boy, you had to know if you loved him. 

Draco thought to himself, Were we in love? As much as I breathe. But he doesn’t say that. “We were,” he smiles lightly at the memory when you would look at him with love glistening in your eyes, brushing his hair with your fingers as he would pull you in close by your hips, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. The boy loved you with every fiber in his being. “Madly,” he adds with a laugh. 

As he says that, your curiosity peaks. You two must have had a beautiful relationship if he claimed you were madly in love. That was not a light statement. Without further consideration, you ask him, “Can you tell me the story? Of how we fell in love?” Draco’s eyes widen when he looks at you. “It’ll help jog my memory...I also just want to know,” you tease, making him laugh. His laugh made goosebumps appear on your forearms.

Where to start, Draco thinks. He could tell you about the story of the moment he knew that he wanted to make you his, your first date, when he asked you to be his girlfriend, the moment he told you that he loved you for the first time. There were so many good memories that he had of the two of you, it was hard to choose just one. “How about this,” he proposes, “I’ll start wherever you don’t remember. With each day, I’ll tell you a new story.”

His proposition made you smile. It seemed promising. “How do I know I’ll see you every day for a new story?” you ask, raising your brows.

Your expression made Draco smile. That teasing little smile that played on your lips was one he was so fond of. “I’ll make sure of it. That’s a promise,” he tells you. “Pinky promise.” He sticks out his left pinky finger as you loop yours with his, squeezing it. Instinctively, you kiss your thumb and Draco does the same. Your eyes widen, shocked that he did the same thing as you. You would kiss your thumb after a pinky promise ever since you were a child with your mum. As if he read your thoughts, Draco said, “I remember a lot of things, (Y/N). We also used to do that a lot.”

His words bring a smile to your face as you let go and giggle at the boy in the chair. “Alright, let me think,” you state. You scan your memory for what you remember of Draco. You remember meeting him that first night you arrived to Hogwarts when he made fun of you of being friends with Ron, you remember him teasing you in your charms class because you came to class with bedhead, running late, you remember sitting next to him at the Triwizard Tournament and stomping on his foot when he said he wished the dragon got Harry, you remember when Umbridge busted you and your friends for learning defensive magic and Draco being the first person you saw when you exited the room of requirement. “The last thing I remember was when Umbridge busted Harry and all of us for learning defensive magic behind her back. You were there and you made a comment at me. I remember being mad about it and you stood a smirked at me,” you push his arm.

Draco laughs, “Sounds about right.” You roll your eyes, turning your body gently to face Draco before he began the story. Draco had to stop himself from getting distracted at the way you looked at him, excitement in your eyes as he started his story. Your wispy pieces of hair floated over your head like a fuzzy halo, his heart fluttered at the sight. Merlin, I love you, he thought to himself. “Alright, let’s see,” he starts.

After being busted by Umbridge, you were under high surveillance. Not much to do for fun around Hogwarts anymore. No more gatherings after a certain time, no common room study sessions, the library closed after a particular hour, and not to mention boys and girls had to be separated by 8 feet. How was anyone supposed to have fun outside of academia anymore? Even Hermione belly ached about how bored she was. 

You should have expected your secret meetings to have been busted. When you heard that Umbridge had rodeoed a select few students to be on a watch patrol, you knew that their leader, Draco Malfoy, would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant busting Harry Potter. You wondered if the boy really found joy in being a dickhead to people. Although the conversations you had with Draco were limited, you could tell that some of it was a show that he put on for his other Slytherin friends. It’s like they expected him to be an arse before they even met him. Regardless, the point was that Draco was always blunt and rude around you and his company was not your preferred company.

In the library, there you were, sat at a small table during your off period, scribbling some answers down to some last minute Potions homework that you knew if you didn’t get done, Snape would have your head on a silver plate. As you scribble down your answers in a frantic fury, you don’t even notice Malfoy enter the library, his sightline going straight to you. He smiled when he saw you sitting at the table, immersed in your work, hands pulling at your own hair gently. You were a sight for sore eyes. Draco always took notice of you at Hogwarts, he just never made a move because you never left the damned Gryffindor common room. 

You didn’t even notice Draco in front of you until he hovered above you, startling you. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you jump. “What do you want? And stay eight feet away, you git. I don’t need to get into more trouble with Umbridge. You have already done enough damage,” you sneer at him.

Draco thought it was adorable when you were cross. “I came to ask you out,” he simply states. He doesn’t explain himself further. He just sits beside you at the table in the library, a smug grin on his face like you said yes to his proposition.

“What makes you think that I would want to go out with someone like you,” venom drips from your cherry flavored lips as Draco smirks. Your words did nothing to him. Oh, how that would change very quickly. “You’ve been nothing but cruel to me and my friends and now, all of a sudden you want to ask me on a date? You’re out of your bloody mind.” You continue to finish your Potions homework before Draco plucks the textbook from underneath you.

Before you can protest to his actions, he speaks, “Someone like me? And what would that be? Handsome, charming, intelligent, and funny? Sounds like a real bore,” he jokes. Merlin, he had a big head. “Not to mention, this hasn’t come all of a sudden. I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, (Y/L/N). I just haven’t mustered up the courage to ask you out properly. So here I am,” he leans on his elbow on the table, a shit eating grin on his face that you would love to smack off. “I need an answer, darling. Or else Professor Snape’s homework will just have to wait...”

You roll your eyes, “The answer you’re looking for is not the one you desire. Besides, even if I said yes, what would we even do? It’s not like we have any freedom here. We’re under constant watch.”

Draco laughs at your naiveté. “I thought you were brighter than this, (Y/L/N). I have my tricks. You can get away with a lot when you’re a Malfoy,” he pushes a strand of hair out of your face as he said this, you slapping it away as he does so. “Play nice,” he teases. “Your homework is on the line.”

Anger bubbled in your stomach, but for some reason his argument seemed to be compelling. What did he have planned? “What exactly are you thinking of doing, Malfoy?” you lean in, teasing him further as he smiles, thinking he’s won. Instead, you just pluck your textbook back from his hands, smiling as you do so. You beat him at his own game. This just made the boy more enthralled with you. 

“Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, darling,” he speaks. “So, I take it you’re interested?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

You really hated to admit that you were interested in his offer, curiosity getting the best of you, as it usually did. You huff, brush your hair to one side. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you admit, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. This was so unlike you.

Draco let a chuckle escape from his lips. “Brilliant. 7pm. Stay in the Gryffindor common room. I’ll come to you. I’ll see you then, kitten,” he purrs, leaving just as quickly as he came.

As Draco wraps up the story, you stare in disbelief. “There was no way I fell for that line,” you tell him, sitting up from your position in your hospital bed. “I really said yes to that cheese ball line?”

“How could you not?” he retorts. “I’m suave,” he jokes, making you laugh as you threw your head back. The sight of you laughing was enough to melt every single one of Draco’s fears. The way your nose crinkled as you laugh, your eyes squeezed shut, melodious laughter falling from your parted lips. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he tells you, unable to hold back his thoughts. That was Draco’s weakness. He could never lie to you. He always told you what he was thinking. It was his best quality and yet his downfall. 

His compliment makes you blush and look away from him. You weren’t uncomfortable from the comment, but you were just taken aback. Draco was someone who you barely remembered, yet you had such visceral reactions when you were with him. He brought you confusion and comfort that was oddly satisfying. You decide to change the subject. “So tell me about our first date. What did you end up doing that was so spectacular that make me stay?” you ask through a large yawn.

Draco smiles as you cover your mouth, you were obviously exhausted. “I said one story a day, you sneak,” he smiles at you. “Besides, I don’t think you would be awake for the most of it. You look exhausted. I think you should get some rest,” he rises from the chair. He was right. You were even more exhausted than you were before. You pull the covers back over your body, cuddling into the thin sheets. Draco watches as you get settled in your bed, gently smiling at how you pulled the sheet all the way up to your chin like you always did before bed. He remembers how you would always sneak into his bed at Hogwarts; you always preferred his silk sheets to your cotton ones. “Sweet dreams, (Y/N).”

The platinum blonde boy walks to the door before a thought intrudes your mind. What was the harm in speaking it? “Draco?” you call his name cautiously. He turns around to face you, eyebrows raised. You slowly pull the sheets open. “Do you wanna sleep next to me?” you ask slowly, treading lightly. You gave him the offer mostly because you felt bad about him having to sleep in a hospital waiting room until morning. Those chairs were wildly uncomfortable and no one should be forced to sleep there by themselves. But there was part of you that wanted Draco with you. There was an aura about him that reminded you of home. The way he could make you smile with just a dumb sentence was comforting. He felt familiar; like you could remember some pieces of him. Maybe if he stayed with you tonight, all the memories would come back. Maybe his touch would awaken something in you.

At the offer, Draco wanted to scream yes and climb into bed with you, snuggled next to your side, breathing in your all too familiar scent. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you. He had to tread lightly, make sure that you were comfortable. “Are you sure?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if that was alright. “I can just stay in the waiting room, it really is no problem.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive...I want you to stay with me,” you tell him. “I could be rushing it or I could be crazy, but I think that maybe you staying with me might be helpful...for my memory.”

How could Draco argue with that logic? He smiled and closed the door, trying to hide his excitement. He took off his patent leather shoes and peeling off his blazer, getting himself comfortable before climbing next to you in bed. The hospital bed was arguable just as uncomfortable as the waiting room chairs in Draco’s opinion, but you in bed with him made it all better. Draco slid one arm carefully around your shoulder as to not disturb any painful areas. Although the gesture should have been romantic or comforting, it just felt awkward. 

You both just laid there for a moment, awkwardly laying before you give in to his touch, resting your head on his chest. Within an instant, the two of you let out a breath that you were holding in, melting into each other’s touch. This position of you resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat made something inside you click. It did feel familiar. Something about it was familiar.��

The two of you don’t speak any words to each other. You both lay there, waiting for the other to say something. But no one says anything. What is there to be said? You allow yourself to slowly fall asleep to the slow drum of Draco’s heartbeat in your ear through his chest as Draco follows only after you are sound asleep. He knew that he could sleep once you were.

-----

As you drift back off into sleep, another dream kicks back in. This one not nearly as horrifying as the last. In fact, it was quite endearing. You aren’t at Hogwarts. You’re somewhere else. Someone’s home. It’s not yours, that’s for sure. The house was smaller, but had a large winding staircase. It isn’t until you hear multiple voices in your head that you instantly recognize where you are. It was undeniably the Burrow. Weasley’s. A smile forms on your face when you recognize your surroundings. 

In this dream of a memory, it’s Christmas time. Molly Weasley in the kitchen, cooking, something delicious smelling of sage and rosemary. Fred and George are in the backyard, building what looks like a fort of some kind, their efforts failing miserably when Ginny runs into the fort, causing it to fall down. A giggle escapes your lips.

You walk further around the house and recognize it more and more with every step. The Weasley home felt like a second home to you. So much so that Molly knew how to cook your eggs and knew the difference between yours and Ginny’s uniforms and Arthur had put a coat hanger in the side hall for you when you were over. You were here almost as often as your own childhood home. Your parents travelled a lot for work and you spent Christmas at Burrow maybe two or three times. This year was undeniably when you were in year four with Ron. You know it to be so because of Ron’s horrid haircut that you teased him about that whole year. 

As if one cue, Ron appears and pulls you to the other room and suddenly you are on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. Ron is telling you about a prank that George had planted in Percy’s room for when he came home. You have the feeling of undeniable joy in your chest and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Have you ever had this feeling before? The two of you were laughing at the other and expressing your joy and excitement for the holiday, focusing on the company of the other. You loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys because you knew that you would have more time to bond with Ron. Ron was your first friend at Hogwarts and he was the one who introduced you to Hermione and Harry. Ron was the one to push you to go after what you wanted. Ron was your best friend and other half. Undeniably. 

In this dream, Ron looks at you in your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face and says, “I am so glad you’re here for Christmas. It makes things so much better.” He pulls you into a tight hug and kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

Before you can process the words, you speak out, “I love you more, Weasley.”

Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. You were all kinds of confused. Ron Weasley? He was your best friend, sure, but the feeling you got during the dream was not one that a best friend should have. Your face was flushed, cheeks a bright shade of red. Were you blushing? Your heart beat was racing and your mouth was dry. The image of Ron smiling at you, his arm around your shoulder sticks out in your mind. Him saying I love you plays on repeat like a broken record. What was happening? This went against everything you knew and what people told you you were supposed to feel? Ron wasn’t your boyfriend; Draco was. 

Draco.

You look next to you to see Draco still peacefully asleep, lips parting that allowed light snores to escape. His arm was still draped around your figure which you once found comforting, but now you found alarming. Careful not to wake him up, you peel his arm from around you and onto his lap. His touch now was now foreign. How did this all take a 360 within a few hours?

Casting the thoughts out of your brain, you turn over to the other side of the small bed, back to Draco, trying to fall back asleep, hoping that Draco didn’t notice the change of position. You let your heavy eyelids bring you to sleep, but unbeknownst to you, Draco does notice that you are no longer peacefully asleep on his chest. But he doesn’t say anything. Disappointed, he just takes note of it and closes his eyes, but he can’t fall asleep.

-------

The morning light streams in just as quickly as it left and gently wakes you up. The light hurts your head and makes you wince in pain, softly clutching your head. You sit up slowly and rub your eyes with the heel of your free hand, trying to rid the sleep from your eyes. As you let your eyes focus again, you see Draco is sitting in the chair beside your bed like he was like night, trying his shoes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles at you. You let out a groggy morning. “The Healer left you another pain potion for this morning. He said to take it as soon as you wake up and then you are good to be discharged and go home,” Draco reports.

The thought of going home made you excited, but nervous. Home was always nice and being your parents at a time like this was definitely something you needed. However, your childhood home didn’t feel like much of a home after your time at Hogwarts, especially since your parents were always traveling and were rarely home even on holidays. If anything, home meant going back to Hogwarts or alternatively going back to the Burrow with the Weasleys...

Shaking your head, you return yourself to the current conversation. “Sounds great,” you smile and take the pain potion from off the nightstand, drinking from the small vile, contorting your face in disgust after, the fowl taste lingering on your tongue. Draco laughs as you do so. “I hate the taste,” you blush, wiping your mouth. “Are my parents here to pick me up?” you ask Draco.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I can check with the Healer and see if your parents called or not. If not, I can always take you home. I have no problem seeing that you get back safely,” he offers with a gentle smile as you nod. “Great,” he breathes out. “Let me check for you.”

Draco moves to the door and opens it up only to reveal Ron Weasley standing there, fresh eyed and with a small smile on his face that fades when his eyes land on Draco’s. “Weasley,” Draco greets. “I was just going to grab the Healer. (Y/N)’s been discharged.”

Ron shakes his head, “I know. I’m here to pick her up.” Ron glances to you and smiles before sending you a wink. Your heart stops in your chest and your eyes widen. Something that was a friendly gesture between you and Ron now has new meaning after last night’s dream/memory. What was going on?

Interrupting your thoughts, Draco looks to Ron and says, “You’re picking up, (Y/N)? Where are her parents?”

“Is there a problem with me picking (Y/N) up? I’m her best mate after all. Plus, her parents asked me if I could whilst they dealt with preparing her room and treatments for her arrival home,” Ron pushes past Draco and straight to you. “Morning, darling. I have fresh clothes for you and your mum is making breakfast for you back at your house. Ready?”

You look back and forth between Ron and Draco and the tension between the two is palpable. You thought that Draco and Harry had problems? This was another level. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” you reply to Ron while looking at Draco who shakes his head, understanding completely. Your parents had sent Ron for you. You didn’t need Draco. Draco just gives you a small smile before walking to the door. “Wait, Draco,” you call for him like you did last night. “I’ll see you again, right? You owe me a story,” you gently smile.

Draco lets a pink hue reach his cheeks. “You’ll see me again, darling. I promise,” he tells you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, this directed toward Ron this time. “Until then, love,” he winks at you before walking out of the room and down the hospital corridor.

Of course, Draco wished he could be the one taking you home from the hospital. He wanted to be with you every step of the way on your recovery. Draco wanted to hold your hand and guide you through every bump in the road. But if this is what you wanted, he had to respect that. He would have his time. He was sure of it. You would come around.

Meanwhile, you changed in the bathroom into the fresh clothes Ron had brought with him. The soft cotton of your clothes made you sigh in relief, it was so much better than that itchy hospital gown. You emerge from the bathroom, straightening out your hoodie before breathing out, “Let’s go home.”

“Brilliant,” Ron beams, guiding you out of the room, his hand on the small of your back. The action makes you gasp a little bit, but you eventually relax and calm yourself down. It’s a friendly thing, (Y/N). Merlin.

The two of you exit in the hospital, leaving behind all of your fears and worries, ready to face whatever obstacle with a newfound confidence. As you climb into the car, Ron starts it and drives away from the hospital, the radio playing whatever muggle music the channel had to offer. The car ride is mostly quiet except for a few exchanges, but that’s when you notice Ron isn’t taking you back to your childhood home. Rather, you are going somewhere else.

“Ronald Weasley,” you furrow your brows. “This isn’t the way home to my parent’s house...where are you taking me?”

Ron doesn’t hide the cheeky grin from his face. “We’re going home alright,” he laughs. “Just my house.”

The Burrow. Merlin, help you.

[440mxs-wife]

Cookies and Milk

Pairing: Sam x Reader. Other characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills

Word Count: 5060+

Warnings: None really, except here there be fluff

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You were on a supply run in town to restock the bunker's refrigerator and pantry, one of your jobs while the boys were on a hunt. The list for this run wasn't as long as usual, but you still had quite a bit to buy. On your list were the items to make meatloaf, spaghetti, beef stew, chili, and your famous lasagna.

As you were nearing the frozen food section and the end of your list, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text message from Dean. They were on their way home, and had stopped at a gas station for fuel and snacks. He wanted to let you know about when to expect him and Sam home.

DW: Hey, sweetheart. We stopped for gas and stuff, but we're still about five hours from home. Wanted to let you know.

You: I'm in town now, on a supply run. How did it go?

DW: I'll tell you more when we get back.

You: Okay, Dean. Drive careful, see you guys when you get home. Over and out.

Dean's last text message had you a little concerned, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. The best you could do was be there for the boys to support them, whatever they might need. Something you'd been doing for quite some time now, it seemed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You've been bunking with the Winchesters for the past six years now, but you've known them much longer than that. Ever since Bobby sent them to help you on that wendigo hunt, you've been the best of friends.

Over the years, you had drifted in and out of each others' lives, meeting up on a hunt or taking a break at Bobby's house. It wasn't until Bobby passed away that you moved into your own room in the bunker and semi-retired from hunting. You knew hunting was important work, it was just that you felt you could be more useful in a support capacity.

The bunker's gym helped you keep in shape and maintain your fighting skills. For the most part, though, you were in charge of the bunker. Your duties mostly included supply runs, chief cook and bottle washer, research and medical service. You also fielded calls for information from other hunters, given the expansive Men of Letters' library.

You and Dean shared a love of classic rock music, action movies and baked goods. Whenever Dean needed a bit of cheering up, you knew just how to do it. Usually, a freshly-baked pie was all it took to put him on the road to recovery. Didn't matter what flavor, though you knew apple, cherry and pecan were among his favorites.

Sam was different. To you, he was the "quieter Winchester". With his warm hazel eyes, thick chestnut hair and long arms perfect for providing comfort when you needed it. The two of you bonded over books, whether for research or for fun. You didn't always see eye-to-eye on music, but he didn't mind watching a chick-flick with you every now and then.

He was particularly sensitive to other peoples' emotions, quick to offer comfort at the first sign of distress.  On the other hand, accepting comfort from those closest to him wasn't always easy for Sam. He had a tendency to want to process things on his own, away from prying eyes and concerned hearts.

With Sam, if you needed to talk, you could count on him to listen and not dismiss your feelings. You could be yourself with him, even let your inner "nerd self" shine through. As time passed, your feelings had developed to where you saw Sam as more than your best friend. You knew you had to keep those thoughts about him to yourself, though. The last thing you ever wanted was to risk a longtime friendship over what you were sure was one-sided affection.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

While you were putting away the groceries at home, your thoughts drifted back to your feelings about Sam. You wished there was some way to show him how much you cared, how you were there for him if he needed someone.

You remembered that one way you showed Dean that you cared was with a homemade pie. You wondered if something like that would work in the same way for Sam. So instead of pie, you decided to make Sam a batch of cookies. It would be your way of telling him that someone was thinking about him, like the pie did for Dean.

With a plan of action and a renewed sense of purpose, you rummaged through the cupboards and found that you had everything you needed for some oatmeal chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies. You hurried to put away the rest of the groceries so you could get started on the baking.

You got right to work mixing the butter, sugar, eggs and the other ingredients. You also made sure to sample a few of the chocolate and peanut butter chips. Got to check the quality level, you thought with a smile.

After you finished cleaning up from your baking endeavors, you still had a couple of hours before Dean said they would be home. You reached for your book that was left on the coffee table and you picked up reading where you left off. Next thing you knew, a hand was caressing your cheek, so you opened your eyes to see Dean smiling down at you.

"We're home, sweetheart," he said softly.

You yawned and stretched in your chair. "Welcome home, Winchesters," you replied sleepily. You pulled yourself into an upright position and looked around the room. "Where's Sam?" you asked.

Dean dropped his gaze. "He headed off to go take a shower," Dean answered. "This was a rough one, honey. I'm just glad it's over, though. It's so good to be home," he explained.

"I'm glad you're home too, Dean. Wanna tell me what happened?" you asked gently.

He took a seat on the couch next to your chair. "It was a lot of little things that added up to one giant mess. Nothing went according to plan, even more 'off book' than usual," Dean explained. "We both almost got clawed, but we managed to fight them off. Now they can't hurt anyone else," he remarked.

You stood up from your chair and held out your hand. "Walk with me, Dean, I have a surprise for you in the kitchen. I may or may not have made you an apple pie yesterday. You know, unless you're not interested...." you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Dean jumped up from the couch as if sitting on a spring, taking your hand as he reached his feet. "Really?" he asked excitedly. You nodded, and he gave you a peck on the cheek. "Bestest best friend ever," he grinned and rushed off in the direction of the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that night after a dinner of pizza and Dean having a third slice of pie, you went to your room to read to help you fall asleep. Dean's exhaustion started to take its toll on him, so he showered and after wishing you goodnight, he went to bed. Sam hadn't come out for dinner, but there was enough leftover pizza that you weren't worried about him going hungry.

As the night wore on, you started to hear talking from the direction of Sam's room. You put your book down, put on your slippers and carefully opened your door. You roamed the hallways, trying to find the source of the noise. It was at its loudest when you were standing in front of Sam's door.

You peeked into his room to see him in the middle of a nightmare, tossing and turning. A sheen of perspiration had formed on his brow. Your heart broke for him a little to see him in such turmoil when he should be at rest.

After getting a cool, wet washcloth for him, you carefully sat on the edge of his bed. You gently placed the washcloth on his forehead and reached to take his hand in both of yours. He jumped at the unexpected contact and his eyes flew open. His head swiveled frantically from side to side, taking in his surroundings and trying to figure out what was going on.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Sam. I'm here, you're safe now. It was just a nightmare, it wasn't real," you soothed. His breathing slowly returned to normal and he started to come back around.

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did," Sam rasped.

"No, I was awake, reading when I heard you in here, having your nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently.

"Not right now," he answered with a shiver.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and was surprised to discover that it was so wet. His clothes were soaked in sweat, as were his sheets. "Hey, let's get you into some dry clothes, you'll catch cold if you don't," you remarked. "I'll take the sheets off and put them in the laundry room to be washed tomorrow. While I'm doing that, you change," you ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After he had changed into some dry clothes, Sam wandered into the kitchen for a late snack, since he hadn't come out for dinner. He knew you and Dean had pizza for dinner, so he headed for the fridge to get some of the leftovers.

He stopped when he saw the note on the table with his name on it, next to a plate of cookies and an empty glass. Sam didn't remember you making any cookies before they left for the hunt. He loved it when you made cookies. If he had seen them, he definitely would've taken some with him.

Sam looked around to see if you were near the kitchen and were going to join him, but didn't see you anywhere. He chuckled at your instructions that he was to eat all of the cookies by dunking them in the tall glass of milk. Then he was supposed to drink all of the milk, even though it would have cookie crumbs in it. Well, if she insists, he thought with a grin. Sam poured himself a glass of milk, then sat down to attack the plate of cookies.

Per your instructions, he dunked the first cookie, letting it soak up some of the milk like a sponge. The first bite was heavenly, as it seemed to melt in his mouth. A groan of appreciation escaped his lips, not only for the taste, but for your efforts in making the cookies in the first place.

As the cookies disappeared one by one, Sam thought about how you helped him out of his nightmare tonight. You woke him up out of it, and took care of him by making sure he changed into some dry clothes. You also set up his sheets to be washed in the morning. That last hunt really took it out of him, with so much not going according to plan.

Sam welcomed any opportunity he could to confide in you about how he was feeling or just to feel your arms around him. He longed to hear your kind words and let them wash over him in your soft, soothing voice as it fell from those pouty, kissable lips. And your eyes always held such understanding. No matter what secrets he shared with you, he never saw any judgment in their depths.

Before Sam knew it he was out of cookies, so he followed your last instruction and drank all the milk. He smiled to himself because he had to admit that he felt a bit better than when he first walked into the kitchen. He took his dirty dishes to the sink, rinsed out the glass, then he headed back to his room to sleep. The only part that would've made it better is for you to have also been in the kitchen, spending time with him and talking.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you wandered into the kitchen to start making breakfast, still wearing your pajamas. Coffee was the first order of business, because Dean was very grumpy without it. You went to the sink to fill the pot with water for making coffee. You noticed that the plate and glass you left out for Sam had been rinsed and were waiting to be washed. A small smile crept across your face, knowing that your mission had been accomplished.

Dean stumbled into the kitchen shortly after you pressed the 'start' button on the coffee pot. He took a seat at the table and grumbled as he rested his head on top of the table. "Good morning, Dean," you giggled.

He lifted his head and stared at you through half-lidded eyes. "Is coffee ready yet?" he rasped.

"Not yet, but I'll make sure you get some as soon as it is," you chuckled. You squeezed Dean's shoulder as you walked by him on your way back to the stove.

You heard someone clearing his throat and looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Sam," you said with a smile. "I hope it didn't take you too long to get back to sleep last night," you remarked.

"Good morning to you. No, I came in here after I changed clothes and had some cookies and milk that a certain someone left for me," Sam replied as he returned your smile.

You couldn't help but grin as you kept your head down and continued to prepare breakfast. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Sam," you said.

"Uh huh, yeah right," he smirked. "I thought for sure you were going to come in here to join me, but you didn't," Sam pouted.

"Oh. I thought you might want that time to yourself, so I went back to my room. Sorry," you replied.

He stepped behind you to grab three coffee cups from the cabinet, then turned to glance over your shoulder. Sam was so close that you swore you could feel his breath on your neck as you flipped the pancakes.

"Something I can help you with, Sam?" you asked. As you turned to make eye contact with the man behind you, he was so close that your lips meshed against his ever so gently. Your cheeks immediately felt blazing hot and you closed your eyes tightly to regain your composure.

Sam jumped back in surprise, then touched his lips where yours had most recently been. He took a hesitant step towards you as you flipped the last of the pancakes. You put them on the platter and turned off the griddle. You brought the steaming stack of flapjacks over to the table, then awkwardly excused yourself from the room.

Dean stared after you as you bolted from the kitchen. "What's wrong with her?" he asked.

A grin slowly spread across Sam's face as it dawned on him what had just occurred. He realized how perfect it felt to have your lips pressed against his, even if only for the briefest of moments. Sam also became aware of how much he wanted to do that again, but for longer and with even more contact. "I don't know, Dean," he said slowly.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean asked, cutting into Sam's daydream.

"Perfect, Dean. Just perfect. Can you please pass the bacon?" Sam answered.

"You know this is real bacon, right?" Dean said as he eyed his brother.

"Yeah, I know. It's okay, I'll burn the calories off tomorrow on my run," he assured Dean.

"Getting weird around here," Dean muttered.

Back in your room, you sat on the edge, head in your hands. What the hell was I thinking, kissing Sam? you asked yourself. Not like you hadn't thought or dreamed about it a thousand or more times. But with how he jumped back like he was burned, that was indication enough that he considered it a mistake.

Now it's going to get weird around here and that's my fault, you thought bitterly. You had to admit to yourself that his lips felt nice, and that you would like to do it for real and often. However, you decided your best course of action for at least today was to hole up in your room for a date with Netflix.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of days after the "Kitchen Incident", as you thought of it, you decided to quit hiding out in your room. Whatever fallout was going to happen, you wanted to meet it head-on, then move forward, whatever that looked like.

Sam and Dean still went on cases, some that lasted a few days or even a week, while you stayed behind to run research. Life had seemingly returned to somewhat normal, or as normal as the hunting life gets.

Every once in a while, a plate of cookies and an empty glass for milk appeared on the kitchen table. Next to the glass would be a tented piece of paper marked, "For Sam". The usual instructions were written on the inside. He had to eat all of the cookies by dunking them in the milk, then drink all of the milk. Sometimes there would be a quote from a movie that you had watched together, or some silly knock-knock joke.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

About a month had passed and Sam and Dean were on their way home from a demon hunt in Montana. They had stopped in Sioux Falls to rest up at Jody's house and hang out with her and the girls before heading home. You asked Sam and Dean to say hi to everyone for you, and that you wished you were there.

Dean asked if you were going to do any baking, to which you laughed and asked him what kind of pie he wanted you to make. "Well, sweetheart, as long as you're offering, would you make a pecan pie for me?" he asked.

"I can do that. Um....how was the hunt?" you wondered.

Dean knew what you were really asking, but played along anyway. "It was fine, just demons being demons, causing their usual trouble. Sammy got knocked around a little though," Dean answered. "For the most part, he's okay. Sprained his wrist and has a bump on his head," he explained.

"What?!? Is he okay? Does he have a concussion, are you sure his wrist is only sprained?" you rambled.

"Shh, shh, relax. He's going to be fine. Here, talk to him," Dean said as he threw his phone to his brother, who threw him an epic bitch face in return.

"Hello? Sam, are you there?" you inquired nervously.

"I'm here. Don't listen to anything Dean says, I'm fine. How're you doin'?" Sam asked.

"Just trying to keep busy while I wait for you guys to come home. I must have done around seven loads of laundry in the last couple of days, though," you giggled. "You and Dean had at least three loads apiece!" you teased.

Sam smiled and chuckled in return. "I'm sure sorry about that, honey. I'll try not to let the clothes pile up so much next time," he promised.

Jody looked at Dean, with her mouthing the word, "Honey?" Dean just shrugged.

"Oh, it's all right, Sam. I was only kidding. I've got plenty around here to keep me busy and out of trouble," you remarked. "I miss you guys, but I know you don't get much chance to visit with Jody and her girls. So, don't be in a hurry to get home, and I'll see you when you get back," you replied softly.

"It's all up to Dean when he wants to leave, but I'll tell him you said that," Sam said. "Until then, take care of yourself and don't work too hard, okay?" he asked.

"I won't. Bye, Sam," you answered shyly. You heard a click and the call was disconnected.

Sam threw the phone back to his brother, a smile on his face. He got up from the couch and went into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Jody's and Dean's eyes followed Sam as he left the room. Once he was out of earshot, Jody and Dean were sharing their thoughts about Sam's phone conversation with you.

"Is there something going on between those two?" Jody asked. "Because it sure seems that way to me," she finished.

"Yeah, you should see them at home. They'll be sitting at the table researching or doing something on their laptops. I'll look up and see one of them staring at the other, then looking away. It's kind of cute, though," Dean replied.

"I can imagine. So, you'll have a pecan pie waiting for you when you get home, that'll be nice," Jody remarked.

"Yeah, and Sammy will probably have a plate of cookies waiting for him on the table," Dean answered.

"Wait. Mr. Eat-A-Salad-With-Every-Meal eats cookies?!?" Jody exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, but only the ones she makes for him. It started after we got back from that werewolf hunt that went so bad," Dean explained with a grin. "At first, it was how she let Sammy know that he could talk to her about it or anything else if he wanted to. However, I think it's evolved into something more than that at this point," Dean said.

"Hmm. Maybe now it's her way of showing Sam how she feels. She might be too afraid to say it out loud," Jody suggested.

Neither Dean nor Jody had heard Sam come in from the kitchen. He heard the tail end of their conversation, the part about the reason you'd been leaving a plate of cookies out for him. "Hold on a minute. That's why she's been making me cookies?" Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch.

Jody and Dean looked at each other, debating on what to say next. Dean finally rolled his eyes and spoke first. "Come on, Sam, add it up," he started. "I've seen the two of you making goo-goo heart eyes at each other when you think the other's not looking. Then there's that phone conversation between you today," Dean smirked.

"What about our phone conversation?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing, just that if you smiled any wider while you were talking to her, your face would've split in half. And somehow, I don't think this is a recent thing for her," Jody chimed in.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam wondered.

"Well, remember the last time we all got together with Donna and Doug, about six months ago?" Jody asked and Sam nodded. "I noticed how her eyes seemed to follow you as soon as you entered the room. Then she looked away when you smiled at her and had caught her staring. How her face fell when you started talking and laughing with another woman," Jody finished quietly.

"H-how was she looking at me, Jody?" Sam asked, even though he pretty much knew the answer.

"Like a woman in love," she replied gently.

Sam turned to look at his brother. "Really?" he asked, his voice higher than usual.

Dean nodded. "So, the question really becomes, how do you feel about her, Sam?"

"I think I need some air," Sam said as he got up and walked out to Jody's back deck.

Once outside, he tilted his head up to see the endless array of stars shining in the night sky. Get it together, man, he told himself. This is your best friend you're talking about. You've known her for years. Do you really want to lose that if she doesn't feel the same? he silently asked.

Looking at the other side of the argument, Sam asked himself what would happen if you did feel the same, and how he would know. He loved the late-night conversations you had when neither of you could sleep. The warm towel you placed outside the shower for him after a cold morning run. Your laughter at his usually lame-ass jokes. Even that heartbroken look on your face as he flirted with another woman at the bar was enough to indicate how you felt.

The more Sam thought about it, the more he marveled at how he didn't see it sooner. It was all in front of him this whole time, the little things you do to show you care. Comforting him after he'd had a nightmare, buying his favorite veggies for snacks.....making cookies. You were in love with him.

Sam was suddenly desperate to have you in his arms at this very moment. As the two of you gazed at the stars, he knew your eyes would sparkle with amazement. Then you'd turn your focus on him and give him one of your heart-stopping smiles.

At that point, Sam knew he'd be a goner. He wouldn't be able to resist capturing your lips in a searing kiss, if your mouth moved even a fraction of an inch in his direction. That last thought was what sealed it in his mind. He was in love with you. If even half of what Jody and Dean said was true, then he didn't want to waste any more time before telling you how he felt.

He walked back through the house and into the living room, where he'd left Jody and Dean. When Sam entered the room, they stopped their conversation, because to them, it looked like he had something to say. "Hey Dean? Um....Could we...." he fumbled.

"Yeah, we can leave for home in the morning, Sam," Dean replied with an understanding smile.

"Thanks," Sam sighed with relief.

"Go get 'er, Sam," Jody remarked in support, bringing a smile to Sam's face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had just pulled Dean's pecan pie from the oven and set it on the counter to cool. With any luck, it would be cooled off enough and ready to eat when he got home. There were also a few dozen snickerdoodle cookies you had made for Sam, resting on the wire cooling racks. You took out a plate from the cupboard and a tall glass. You placed about six cookies on the plate and set the glass next to the plate.

Taking out a blank sheet of paper, you folded it and tore it in half. On one half, you folded it into a tent and wrote "For Dean", then placed it next to the pecan pie. For the other half, you folded it the same, and wrote "For Sam" on the outside, then turned to write something on the inside.

Several minutes ticked by and you hadn't written anything. You couldn't think of a movie quote or line from Shakespeare to adequately express how you were feeling at the moment. You thought about your last conversation, the one where you heard he'd been hurt. Sam said it wasn't serious, but it was enough to cause you concern.

You decided you didn't want to hold back anymore when it came to your feelings about Sam. A hunter's life isn't always known to be a long one, and you were done wasting time. A smile broke out over your face as you resolved your writer's block. You wrote the three words that you felt best fit the situation, then left the note next to the cookies.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam convinced Dean to drop him off at the bunker so he had some time alone to talk with you. Dean said he would use the time to go back to town for a pizza or something. Sam first went to the kitchen, because he smelled the evidence of your baking endeavors. He saw the plate of cookies and bit into one as he read the note. As soon as he read the three words, he ran out of the kitchen.

A knock at your door startled you enough to make you drop the book you were reading. You took a deep breath then turned the doorknob. As soon as the door was open, Sam's hands were on you, cradling your face as he smashed his lips to yours. The urgency of his kiss made you gasp in surprise, creating an opening for Sam's tongue to slip inside. As you returned the favor, you could taste the cinnamon and sugar of the cookie he ate before he knocked on your door.

You broke the kiss when you needed to catch your breath. "Wow, Sam," you whispered. "That's some 'welcome home' you've got there," you chuckled.

"Couldn't help it, I had to see you, baby," he murmured. His right hand slid behind your head, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "Then I found the cookies and the note you'd left in the kitchen," he explained. Sam dove in for another kiss, but this one was slow and tantalizing, full of everything he was feeling at the moment. He pulled back from the kiss and guided you so you were both sitting on the edge of your bed.

Your hands slid up his chest and clasped behind Sam's neck. "I couldn't think of anything clever to put in the note this time. The more I thought about you, the less I wanted to hide how I felt about you. So I wrote the three words I believed would best fit the situation, and figured I'd explain once you read the note," you replied.

Sam grinned. "It said, 'Come find me', and how could I do anything else? I've thought about you so much these past couple of days. I don't want to hide how I feel about you, either. I love you," he declared, dipping his head lower to capture your lips with his own.

"Oh, Sam," you whispered. "I've felt this way for such a long time, but didn't know how to tell you. So, I baked," you both laughed. "I love you too," you replied softly.

You were about to pull Sam in for another kiss when you heard the bunker door slide open, which meant Dean was home. The two of you looked at each other and laughed, Sam's forehead leaned against yours. He gave you one last peck on the lips before he got up from the bed, his hand held out for you to take. You took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers as you walked out to see what Dean brought for dinner.

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@janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride

[trashcatsnark]

I've been toying with an AU where Johnny gets to return to his body AND V survives, but the relic still wrecked their body and they're still dying, so they join the Aldecaldos to look for the cure (essetially the star ending + Johnny). Johnny kinda had to become the caretaker for V, since they're too weak to do a lot themselves. He feels like he's fucking up constantly, but he's doing his best; he can't cook, but he always buys V their favorite flavor of instant ramen, for example. Or does something like "you should sleep V, you look like shit. You don't feel like it? Too bad, because I'm lying down right next to you and I'm not leaving untill I hear you snoring (which you do btw)". In reality he loves to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, and now that he has his own, he hopes that V finds it as comforting and soothing as the other way around. He devoted himself to getting V the help they need and V themselves back when he was an engram, and he intends to keep this promise of guardianship in whatever form necessary, be it snapping someone's neck to protect them or making them some ramen and nagging them to eat it.

Awwwwwwww, I adore that please give me! (V better end up okay in that AU or I’ll riot) 

Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077 Endings In My Response 

I downright adore the idea of Johnny at some point having to take care of V. I really want with my own V for it to follow Temperance ending at first with V letting him take their body. And then Johnny very adamantly saying No, fuck it I can’t let this go, I will rip V out of cyberspace if only to wring their neck and tell them what an idiot they are for sacrificing their life for mine. 

So, he works with all of the everybody to get them back, get him a body because V refuses to leave cyberspace unless they’re both saved, And they find a fix. 

But what I’m getting to is similarly to your AU is I imagine, all of this will take a huge toll on V’s body and the recovery process will be a long one. Days, weeks, where V barely leaves bed cause they’re still too weak. There body has been under so much duress while his was under cryogenic stabilization. His body accepted him back easily, with no trouble, and V has to be pumped with medication to make their body not reject their very presence in it, intensively for the first couple months and then after enough progress they can go down on it. And Johnny takes up the role of playing caretaker, because he can’t after all of this just watch V suffer and do nothing about it. 

And Johnny, feels immense guilt, as he would in the AU as he does with any kind of suffering V endures because of the chip, because of Mikoshi, because of him. Not only does he blame himself, but there’s a sense fo survivors guilt in each scenario, because while V isn’t gone. They suffer while he’s fine and that just isn’t right; why should he be the one doing great and okay while V is actively hurting, when they did nothing wrong, they don’t deserve this. 

I also, agree wholeheartedly with your view of him as a caretaker and planned as much with it in mine, because Johnny is so fucking clumsy with it. Because he’s never had to be the responsible person is any situation. Depending on the person, anytime someone he knew sick came to him he’d either tell them not to be a pussy or offer to lay with them as a thinly veiled excuse to touch them and see if he could still get laid. (Alt wasn’t particular amused by that and yelled at him and Rogue saw it coming a mile away and told him to kick rocks)  

He feels so out of his element, he knows he wants to, needs to do this for V. But he’s overthinking everything and feels like he’s fucking up every second. He knows their favorite foods, favorite ramen, favorite dessert, favorite everything and he tries to get them for him. Because he, like you said, cannot fucking cook. He can’t make anything, boy burns water. And a part of him is second guessing even giving them their favorites, cause, ramen isn’t great for recovery is it? He can’t give them shitty buck-a-slice pizza when they’re still healing right? That’s bad...right? He doesn’t even know how to be healthy, how is he suppose to help keep V healthy? He might even try to outsource cooking to one of the Aldecaldos if they’re with the nomads or Mama Welles if they’re in the city (he considered for a second asking River to make jambalaya for them, but immediately decided no) but even that makes him feel bad, because then is he really the one taking care of them, but should he be that selfish, to prioritize his own ego in caring for them over them getting the best care? He can’t clean their living area worth shit; their tent or apartment space is messier than usual. If in the city, Kerry offers to pay for a maid service and Johnny refuses, because god damn it he shouldn’t be this incompetent. He has to take care of Nibbles for V a lot of the time and he’s never taken care of a cat before; he doesn’t know how to clean a litter box. He sometimes has to help V shower or bathe when its really bad and finds himself worrying about if he should be doing that, if they think he’s just being a pervert, if he should ask someone else (then remembers that someone else would see them naked and he doesn’t like that too much either and is that selfish?) He honestly has so much worry and anxiety when it comes to V. And while I think he’s always had a hidden level of self hatred and disgust with himself; the anxiety and doubtfulness is definitely a bit..new to him. He was always confident, assured, and determined; he hated himself, knew he was an asshole, but he was an asshole who’d get shit done or die trying, sacrifice every relationship he had for his goals and refused to think about the consequences because it was worth it. Now, he’s freaking out internally about whether or not he can make spaghetti for his favorite merc. 

Meanwhile V is just like, Johnny let me sleep on your chest as you hum samurai songs and I’ll be happy. 

V: Look, I made Johnny a better person!

Kerry: You fucked up a perfectly good rockerboy is what you did, he’s got anxiety!