#let's hope this post doesn't absolutely flop like the last one

[lalalian]

dr interviews: aeris lucresha greze

date: november 2, 2024

Aeris is my drself in my dragon rider academy dr (aethergarde academy dr)! this is essentially what would happen if I had to be interviewed for a newspaper-- oh, you should be prepared for that, by the way. Videos are a thing, they'll just be on newspapers, and the words from both me and the interviewer will be transcribed somewhere below the moving image.

My drself is honestly just me, but like idk, fancified? Maybe not, idk, I don’t really like to change my personality.

anyway, let's get on to the interview!

WAIT FIRST I LOOKED BACK AT THE POLL AND REALIZED I HAD MY NAME DOWN AS 'ERIS', I KEPT FLIP FLOPPING BETWEEN ERIS AND AERIS, WENT WITH ERIS FOR A WHILE, THEN SWITCHED TO AERIS... I'M AERIS NOT ERIS LMAO

I’ll explain why my last name isn’t Kashmir here in another post!

The Serpentine Record is one of most well-known newspaper outlets in aenaroth!

kalina: "By the skies, it's so exciting to see you! My name is Kalina Idreyss-- I'll be interviewing you today for The Serpentine Record, how have you been doing lately?-- I'm sure the academy's been working you and Kairos to the bone!"

aeris: "Yeah it kinda sucks. Kinda is an understatement honestly."

kalina: "*laugh* We all know how rigorous Aethergarde Academy can be, but, Cadet Greze, would you say it's harsher than your previous life before the academy?"

aeris: "Yes. I could at least sleep in peace at home, but now... oh by the six-- there he goes again."

The building trembles slightly, large gusts of wind force the slightly ajar windows open. A young black dragon roars loudly, Aeris sighs, perhaps this was a rather common occurrence.

aeris: "I told you to go play with the others. I'll be done soon, I promise."

She stands from the plush chair, her feet mourned the loss of comfort as she walked towards the dragon. Kalina stifled a giggle as she watched the scene.

aeris: "No? I can't just leave now. Kai, you have to be on your own sometimes, I can't be here all the time--"

The dragon roars loudly, snapping it's jaws and forcing its head through the window. Aeris pats his head. Suddenly, the slight eye bags below her lower lashes were more noticeable to Kalina.

kalina: "Aww, he's absolutely adorable~! He seems to be quite clingy, I heard gildeds aren't the cuddly type-- I suppose he's in good hands, yeah? Kairos, would--"

The dragon snaps his jaws irritably in Kalina's direction. Aeris swats at his nose, reprimanding the youngling.

aeris: "Sorry, he can be a bit rude towards strangers. Ah, and he's definitely not cuddly, he's clingy. I suppose coddling him like crazy from birth made him this way."

Aeris looks back to the dragon sternly; her eyes narrow-- a clear sign that the rider was speaking sternly to her dragon. The dragon chuffs, smoke puffing out of it's mouth before backing out of the window, and flying on another tower close to their location. Aeris closes the window and locks it, dearly hoping the glass frame was unscathed.

kalina: "Isn't he sweet?" Kalina remarks lightheartedly.

aeris: "He's so sweet. I love it when I find my lunch rotting in his nest. He doesn't even eat any of it... he could've at least eaten it-- why waste food just to annoy me??"

Kalina laughs again, enjoying the dynamic between the two.

kalina: "Oh, can you explain why you chose to name your dragon Kairos? It's a rather unique name."

aeris: "Well, to me, he represented opportunity. He came to me at a critical time in my life, and... I wanted his name to emulate that. I found his name in an old book back at home; I believe Kairos was the word for a critical moment in time in an ancient language, in the book, the word was Romanized into English. I don't know where that book went, but that word just stuck with me ever since I saw it"

Kalina nodded, she wasn't sure what language the name was from, but it held an air of prestige that suited the cadet's dragon.

kalina: "Kairos suits him well, Cadet Greze. I think your dragon is grateful to have a rider who's good with names. Ah-- could you expand on your life here at Aethergarde Academy? Is it what you expected it to be? Did you think you'd end up becoming an S-tier rider?"

aeris: "My life here consists of pure hard work. To be honest, I didn't really know what to expect, but at the same time, I did... I'm not sure how to explain it. I know this academy quite well, but it's not like I knew I'd end up here. Being a rider in general was out of the question for me, I never thought I’d actually be one. I grew up admiring dragons, but I always felt distant— like it was something unattainable."

kalina: "I definitely relate to that distant kind of feeling. I grew up thinking that way too, but now, the two of us are on our way to do great things, aren't we?”

Kalina gives the cadet an encouraging smile, “Cadet Greze, can I ask how you came to know of Aethergarde Academy? Some of the students Serpentine Record interviewed in the past didn't even know much about riders until they became cadets. Did you hear about riders from your parents-- maybe your friends?"

Aeris opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She cleared her mouth and smiled, Kalina thought her smile seemed a little mischevious, as if she knew something others did not.

aeris: "Yeah I heard about it from whatever books I could get my hands on. I used newspapers to build my vocabulary so... I... I would use them to practice writing."

kalina: "My, you must've been a smart kid! Did your parents think you'd end up here?"

aeris: "Definitely not, honestly. It's complicated."

Kalina nods, wanting to ask more questions, but it seemed Aeris wanted to keep her humble beginnings to herself.

kalina: "Alright then, Cadet Greze, is it okay if I ask about your classmates? How's your relationship with them? Is there anyone that you're interested in?"

Aeris' face sours as the interviewer asked her about any students she was 'interested in'.

aeris: "Uh, sure, go for it. I really like Miaene; she's really fun to talk to and she's in a lot of my classes. I'm honestly glad that I even met her-- without her, I'm not sure I'd make it to my other classes in time... the hallways can be confusing. I'm a bit wary of Cadet Lancaster, mostly because he's always discreetly in my business... if that makes sense. Luckily he's only in one of my classes... ah, but it's unfortunate that he's in my throwing knife class. Straus is fine; I try not to talk to him much because-- Uh... I mean, he's great. I prefer Miaene's company."

kalina: "Cadet Lumynstrov? I'm glad you're getting along with some of your classmates; not many people predicted that you'd get along so well with her. Ah-- is there anyone you're interested in?"

aeris: "I'm very platonically interested in all my classmates."

Kalina laughs, but continues to prod.

kalina: "Are you sure? What about the Lancaster Cadets? Cadet Whit?"

aeris: "The Lancaster Cadets are... very..."

kalina: "Very...?"

aeris: "...Irritating. Slightly perturbing. Occasionally bothersome."

kalina: "Callisto seems to be quite interested in you, perhaps the two of you would--"

aeris: "absolutely not, miss idreyss."

Aeris shivers in disgust. The idea of Callisto was like drinking dragon piss, perhaps even worse than that.

Kalina laughs and gives the cadet a cheeky look.

kalina: "Aw, but it wouldn't be a bad idea to explore that path, no?"

aeris: "No. Miss. Idreyss. It would."

kalina: "*laugh* Well, I would like to inform you that many people like the idea of the two of you together-- based on a few photos in some recent papers, Callisto often sneaks out to see you--"

Aeris, horrified, abruptly interrupts Kalina.

aeris: "He what??? I need to get a restraining order-- cause WHAT."

kalina: "A… restraining order...?"

aeris: "It's nothing. I just--" Aeris gags.

Kalina tries to hold in a laugh behind her fist, and takes out a few newspapers from her bag.

kalina: "Many are speculating that these students are Cadet Lancaster--"

She points to a familiar white haired boy in each photograph, with each photo, Aeris grows more aghast.

aeris: "Th-that is him...!"

kalina: "Other than personal interest, do you know why he'd be so inclined to follow you around?"

aeris: “He's GROSS, that's why."

kalina: "I'm sure if the two of you got to know each other, he'd try to meet you on your own terms!"

Kalina held back another laugh with a smile. Aeris could only respond with disgust at the prospect.

aeris: "Just... Next question please..."

kalina: "Alright, hm, oh-- What classes are you most interested in this year, and what do you plan to take later on?"

aeris: "A-As I mentioned earlier, I'm taking a beginner throwing knife classes, if Callisto wasn't in that class too, it'd be more fun. Because of him, I think my favorite class in general is my scythe training class. I'd say my favorite non-fighting class would be Magical Creatures I. I really would like to take a few Merspeak classes in the future."

kalina: "You chose to use a scythe? Most riders choose to fight with swords-- what made you choose the scythe?"

aeris: "Honestly, it just felt right. It's not like I was unhappy learning how to use a sword-- it just didn't feel like it suited me."

kalina: "Oh wow, I heard that the scythe has a pretty steep learning curve-- did class go well on your first day?"

aeris: "It went as well as it could've been. Our teacher is tough on us, we aren't allowed to leave until we've mastered the skill to a certain degree. Luckily, it seems that I've got some sort of natural skill for scything."

kalina: "That's great, I think the scythe really suits you. It's rare to see a student choose that kind of weapon."

aeris: "Yeah... I don't blame them."

kalina: "Alright then, that's all the questions I've got for today, do you want to say anything else?"

aeris: "Mm... Don't treat Kairos harshly. Yes, he's a gilded dragon, but it's not like he chose to be that way. He's powerful, but under all those scales, he's emotionally weak. I won't stop him from lashing out if someone decides to spit on him purely because of his breed-- I mean, I'll rein him in if he tries to hurt anyone, but I think people need to face the consequences of their actions. Kairos isn't the kind of dragon to take things lightly, neither am I. I refuse to have people experiment on him or examine him like he's some sort of object. Thank you for today's interview, Miss Idreyss."

wanna know more about my aethergarde academy dr? here's a masterlist with everything I've posted about it!

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I'm not too great at writing, so if it seems blocky or unrealistic, yeahhhh that's my bad 😭😭

[glitched-username]

..★soo- , urh- I got a little concept regarding rottmnt G/t, thought about sharing it with you- if you don't mind.★

★M'kay- so combining the latest analysis that you made about Donnie being a size-shifter and the turtles heights in your 'Biblically Accurate Size' AU- I managed to cook up this (no, this does not only concern Donnie by the way) :

|⭐| What if the turtles were size shifters- who could only shrink, but wait- there is a catch. What if the absolute minimum of how small they can get depends on their species height. Like, once they reach said height- they won't be able to shrink any more.

|⭐| For instance, if Raph wants to get smaller- the absolute minimum could be 30 inches- since that is his accurate height, based on your AU at least. Same goes for the other turtles as well- such as, Mikey's minimum height is 5 inches tall- Leo's minimum is a foot tall, Donnie's is 9 inches- yeah, you get it.. I hope (—‹ —⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ..

★..erm. just a thought that has been spiraling around my head. I let you do what you want with it or smth, smth..★

★soo, bye for now-★

(I might return with a little idea regarding size shifting brains & brawn duo. erm. since Raph is technically a size shifter of some sorts- and Donnie does have the potential of being a size shifer. Though I don't have much in mind for this concept.. fuck =[[)

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THIS! My brain has been mush the past few days 😔😔😔

Anyway

Yes. Absolutely

Mikey 100% does it the most. To annoy older brothers, practice his "razzmatazz", and perfect cuddle buddy. Very "marketable plushie" coded. I just have a mental image of Mikey taking the place of whatever "sports ball" they plan on throwing around. He's already the biggest adrenaline junkie on the team and in the show, they already make it a habit of throwing brothers around like ragdolls so this is an entirely real possibility lmao

Donnie does it for science purposes like 99% of the time. Especially before he got his mystic goggles/powers. Machine is down but don't wanna tear it apart to get at the ONE section failing? Just shrink down and work on it there. The next 0.50% is when he's too overwhelmed and just needs to get small to hide from the lights, sounds, everything, just 'get me the hell out of here'. The last 0.50% is purely for personal comfort. Small bath turns into massive pools for the aquatic turtle to enjoy, warm human friend is suddenly a super warm and comfortable giant heated weighted blanket.

Leo is by far the most unpredictable. He'll do it to annoy Raph and Donnie and also LOVES how it can make him the center of attention. Leo is like the master of "I'm secretly craving affection but I'll cover it up with a cool guy persona who 'totally doesn't need hugs'!" April and his brothers will just carry Leo around like that one ferret gif:

Post krang, however? That boy does NOT like shrinking down. It makes the room seem massive, never ending, cold like the prison dimension. And his brothers, normally a comfort, morph into large terrifying shapes, reminiscent of the Krang. But "EveRYThiNGs FiNE! DoNT yOU WorRY aBoUt 'ol NEoN LeON!"

Raph shrinks down the least. He's too big to enjoy the perks being small gets. Still too heavy to be casually carried around. Still too big to have a nice heated bath feel like a nice pond. Too spiky to have the same huggable qualities as the other two. Not to mention the only time he really feels comfortable is when they're all shrunk down at the same time because he's worried that he would not be able to help his family at the smaller size. But at the same time he'll have those moments where he wants to be small, to be taken care of, to be the younger brother. He'll never admit it but the others can always tell when something's off. They've figured out enough that while he can't really be carried or held like the others, Raph still makes a perfect lap dog/turtle and is perfectly happy to just flop down on someone's lap and enjoy the free scritches during chill hours.

Splinter thought he was hallucinating for the first couple years when the boys would just randomly change sizes until he actually caught the turtle tots shifting in real time. Then he just was like "yeah this might as well have been another thing Draxum did to their DNA"

Also I started writing a response before I reread the ask and noticed it said "could only shrink" so under the read more was my thought process before of how that would effect the growing part of idea 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

And to add on, what if it kinda works in the opposite way when they grow. Like the Scale for BA Mikey is about 1:10, so what if when he grew it was flipped so he's 10x the size instead of 10% (47 feet)

Same with the others. BA Raph is about 1:2.5 so 2.5:1 when he grows (15 feet). BA Donnie is a 1:7 scale so then 7:1 (37 ft). And BA Leo is 1:5.25 so 5.25:1 or 28ft.

Suddenly biggest brother is now smallest brother and the smallest brother, Mr. "more than happy to chuck himself off a building to do a cool trick" is now the SIZE of a building.

It think I'd be really funny/cool as an added thing.

[keets-writing-corner]

I really miss your Lucilith fanfic! Are you going to return to writing any time soon?

aww hello anon!

I've been working on it on and off lately tbh for multiple reasons, a lot of life stuff happened shortly after I posted 3, and when those finally settled I hit my shitty mental health months, and those are finally at a close now that the new year has started, aaaaaaand my main focus atm is actually trying to get my webcomic up and running (I'm hoping to start posting that in march, still got some background things to get through for that)

BUT I AM STILL WORKING ON THE LUCILITH FIC I PROIMSE

Actually, after the helluvaboss mastermind episode I really wanted to get back into it cuz of that micro Lucifer not-cameo. It's kinda hard for me to stay engaged with it a bit tho, none of my irl friends wanna chat with me about Lucifer and the one that at least listens to my ramblings hasn't read the fic

I usually try to reread comments or rewatch episodes, but there's only so many times I can rewatch Dad Beat Dad XD

it doesn't help that chapter 4 is the one I knew I'd struggle with a lot? I had very clear ideas for chapters 1, 2, 3 and 5 but not 4. 4 is kind of in there because there's too big of a time skip between 3 and 5 that it'd be awkward

Plus I do want to explore some things that so far haven't been explained in the show

smol hilarious sidenote: because I like to share snippets when ppl send me asks, I'm pulling the doc and damn, you KNOW it's bad when your computer turns on its fans and begins to lag XD it's so big hahaaaaaaaaa help mee

word count: higher than last time I checked by like 2k words but given the sizes of the chapters that's kind of nothing

now let me see... trying to find a smol snippet that won't spoil anything but satisfies the need for more for a bit hmmm I already shared the first like 600 something words in this other thread and here's a link for that in case you missed it hmmm oh I got it! this is pretty funny imo

__________

“Mmhmm....”

The man waited. 

“So would you mind repeating all of that over again?” Lucifer asked. 

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME???” the man pulled on his hair in frustration, “WHY???” 

The man had been monologuing at Lucifer for over an hour after he summoned him, and... to be quite honest, Lucifer had zoned out almost immediately. The guy’s voice was rather.... Drone-ish...

“I got distracted by something and missed a few details,” Lucifer played it off. 

The man kicked a rock and then began pacing angrily, muttering something about having messed up the ritual before spinning around to face Lucifer, “YOU’RE Lucifer?”

“Correct.”

“As in the scourge of heaven, the absolute ruler of hell?

“Yeppers.”

“One of the most powerful angels that ever existed.”

“Uh huh,” Lucifer picked at his teeth with his claws.

“ARE. YOU. SURE???”

They both stared at each other for a minute before Lucifer shrugged, “Listen, I don’t know what the problem is. You summoned me, and I can’t leave until either I help you or you decide you actually don’t want me here. So what. do. you. want????”

“I want the literal devil! I want a miracle heaven can’t take away or mess up! Not some short pale blonde man who can’t even pay attention to the conversation!” The man flopped on the ground exasperated. 

Lucifer sighed. He had been enjoying seeing earth again after so long and for a moment he felt the briefest twinge of his old love for humans tug at his heart, “Listen, just give me a short version of what you want.” 

“How on earth did you even get distracted anyways??”

“I was thinking of my wife,” Lucifer admitted. The way their conversation had ended lingered in his mind and weighed in his heart in a way he couldn’t properly describe.

The man stared at him, “YOU’RE MARRIED?????”

“You don’t know about Lilith???” Lucifer grabbed him by the collar, “She’s the most amazing person to ever exist! She’s twelve feet tall, gorgeous, so so smart, gorgeous, she’s actually doing most of the ruling of hell right now, gorgeous, her hair is super long and gorgeous, she’s incredibly smart and kind and zealous, ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS and-,”

“I don’t want to hear about your wife!” the man interrupted. 

“You what?” Lucifer felt so offended on Lilith’s behalf that his eyes glowed red. 

The man’s eyes widened and he scooted away on the ground in alarm, “Nonono I-... what I meant umm... She sounds amazing, why were you thinking about her??” he smiled nervously. 

Because last time I was on earth, I was with her and I wish she were here now. But we also had a fight and I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t think I’m wrong, heaven is awful and she’s taking a big risk trying to work with an angel from up there and like who even IS this guy??? Why does he think he can get heaven on board with something I couldn’t?? I mean I was a high seraphim, and if I couldn’t enact change then I doubt anyone who was lower ranking could either without getting instantly smited, and I’m so worried about her even though I know she can handle herself, but I don’t want her getting hurt by heaven and why can’t she just understand that heaven is never going to change, and the sinners aren’t worth the effort, they’re horrible people who got sent to hell for a reason, I mean like, what if they hurt her too?? Oh god Lilith is all I have left, for centuries she’s all that I’ve had, my only source of happiness left! I don’t even know who I am anymore, I can’t recognize myself in the mirror, but when I’m around her it’s like there’s still some part of me that I know and it’s the part of me that loves her, I love her so much- I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her or or-

A million thoughts raced through Lucifer’s head so fast that all he managed to blurt out for the man was, “shepretty.” 

They stared at each other as Lucifer struggled to keep a poker face on and the man waited for him to say more, too afraid to try and change the topic. 

After a moment longer, Lucifer snapped his fingers and out of the ground popped out a chair made of stone. The man stared wide eyed as Lucifer sat in it and then brought them back to the original problem at hand, “Three sentences or less, what do you want me to do for you?”

_________

I do apologize again for the unintended hiatus, I do fully intend to get this out! I just have a lot happening rn, so much so I'm literally having to schedule other creative stuff otherwise I just don't do them XD

[existslikepristin]

Okay, so I had someone send me an ask last night and now I've been thinking about it all day. It wasn't anonymous, which I appreciate, but I'm not responding to it directly for because

I reached out already to say I'd do some editing, and I've let them know the rest of what I'm about to rant on below, but I want to make sure at least a few more people see this

I flip flop around on how to say this shit all the time. Like, do I say that everyone's a good writer in their own special way? Do I say that you don't need likes and reblogs for validation? I don't fucking know what to say except for maybe one more thing that I'll reiterate until the day I die with various embellishments that will fade in and out

You. Yes you, the person who's reading this who is also a writer/aspiring writer. Come closer. We share a bond, you and I, so really get in physically close

Art can't be contained, you scrunge

If you don't think whatever you're creating is art, go to a damn museum. Or do a virtual tour. Or google the phrase "modern art". It doesn't matter. You're going to see some shit in there that, I would hope, makes you think the artist was a dipwad

I'm ranting more than I thought I would. Here's a keep reading line

You know who fucking sucks at art? Pablo Picasso.

Look at this absolute pile of bullshit, then look me in the eye, and tell me this isn't the colorized manifestation of an elementary school dropout's Wattpad account

"But ELP, Picasso demonstrated actual working knowledge of anatomy. This is just his AbstRACt sTyLe"

SHUT UP. Nobody asked you, Barbara

Picasso, Piet Mondrian, Andy Warhol. Their artworks are money laundering schemes. Their fame doesn't come from their talent. It comes from obscenely rich people trading blood diamond money for crisp, clean, still-fake money by claiming that poor people "don't get it"

And yet, despite popular opinions being developed because of ridiculous sums of money being pegged up these guys' assholes, artists today still find meaning in their works, tunneling straight through their cognitive dissonance to tell themselves that, no, I actually enjoy staring at blocks of washed out color until my retinas have burnt in just the right spots that I can see an actual human face because an art teacher once told me that these pictures got the most likes on the pre-internet Tumblr

Does that mean people don't actually like this art? Am I trying to tell you you shouldn't like this art? Maybe, but then you'd be obligated to remind me that Churchgirleum Yawjinius is a disgusting assault on your imagination and yet has as many likes as Definitely Real Medicine, which you wouldn't believe was actually written with all the earnestness my void of a chest cavity could muster

Take it from someone who willingly threw away the opportunity for automatic dozens of reblogs and hundreds of likes per post by telling people to fuck themselves (and still gets a bunch for some reason):

The validation is cool, but it's not worth it

The validation does not define what is good or not

What is good or not doesn't even matter

You're not going to make money off this shit

Someone who is genuinely terrible is going to get more validation than you, and is going to flaunt it in your face, and their writing is still somehow going to mean something to way too many people, and it doesn't matter because their soul is just as unfulfilled by the validation as yours is unfulfilled by the lack of it

What is fulfilling is doing something because you can

You are your only source of real validation, no matter what fuzzy dopamines you get from the vapid click of a like button

Oh, and if you do get the validation of Tumblr notes, that doesn't mean your work is shit or you don't deserve love or whatever. Accept it graciously because it's definitely not uncool that people like your shit, but recognize that it's not going to cure your depression

Art is art. We can look at Roman columns and marvel at how their art built modern civilization (though the Romans can fuck themselves IMO (oh wait they literally did haha)), but did it really? Art makes otherwise brutalist architecture tolerable, but the curly Qs at the bases and tops of columns isn't what kept the coliseum from collapsing on thousands of people watching live murder

If you have a story that has overstayed its welcome in your head and needs to be on paper or on a screen, then write the fucking story. Nobody actually cares about the qUaLiTy of your spelling or grammar. They care about being given permission to think about Karina's tits. Do you think their opinion matters?! I mean, they may have great contributions to make on their own, and they should have voting rights, and it's chill if they have something nice to say to you, but the point is that they're already thinking about Karina's tits regardless of your writing. They're just your thralls to manipulate into thinking about Karina's tits in the way that you, the all-powerful artist, want them to think about Karina's tits. If they try to tell you "Karina's tits would have tan lines" then write a whole fic about how Karina is a nudist and has a perfectly even tan, and who's going to argue about it? The idiot who wrote a pedantic comment? No! It's YOU. THE ALL-FUCKING-POWERFUL ARTIST WHO ACTUALLY MADE SOMETHING TO PROVE YOUR POINT WHETHER OR NOT IT IS CORRECT

If you're an artist, then fucking act like one. Embrace the chaos inherent in creativity. Maybe gentleman is vampire. The poison contains joy. We exist in these devastating, beautiful worlds of contradiction in which we hate people and how lonely we are, we crave kindness and embody violence, and we beg the universe to give us direction despite knowing full well that we're going to zigzag between paths. Maybe you relate. Maybe you don't. THAT'S THE POINT. You're not right. I'm not right. We both write (wow, bars)

I keep saying that everyone should just write, and it's not because I think everyone is secretly a good writer. It's because someone out there needs permission to write after being told their entire lives that their value lies in A, or they're not good if B by all the non-artists in who genuinely don't understand why someone needs to make something impractical to begin the infinitely long road to completion

The dumb fucks who don't understand want to contain you because it's in their nature to desire order. They like to come up with metrics to categorize what counts as art and what doesn't so they can change the rules on you. Chaos always wins though

So WRITE. The world doesn't need your artistry. YOU DO. If you write a bunch of shit and people like it but you quit anyway or nobody likes it and you quit, then idk. Maybe you weren't an artist in the first place, which is perfectly fine, or maybe you're giving your corporate overlords too much control over your mind. If you're an artist, you'll burn with the need to create, no matter how much you create. If you feel that, keep writing

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Braided Memories

A peek into Ghil's life throughout the stages, and his different relationships with people.

Tags: hurt/comfort, found family, grief, and trauma. Pre-transition language (ftm refers to himself as girl/sister before he's aware he's trans, as does family members). Full consent given to play with hair.

Trigger warnings: alcoholism (not from Ghil, but from family he once had), trauma, grief.

Despite the tags, this is very soft and warm. It was just mostly meant as feel good hurt/comfort and introspection.

Hope you enjoy, and if you did, please consider giving it a like or reblog! It lets me know people like my work, and encourages me to continue writing.

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It happens while they're all talking in the dining hall. One of those group meetings that somehow happened around lunchtime, a casual affair that has Taash and Harding slinging grapes at each other.

Bellara is chatting at Emmrich, her hands wildly expressive, and she walks past Ghil’s chair to clean her plate.

Then, on her way back, Ghil feels hands sink into his hair.

He's not entirely surprised. He gave sleepy permission a while ago for her and Harding to fuss with it, the white tresses running loose and silky down his back.

It nearly reaches his waist these days.

He's half paying attention to the conversation, especially since the meeting aspect of lunch is over. Last night was rife with nightmares, and sleep didn't come easy.

Ghil wonders if Bellara used to have family members that would let her braid their hair.

Or maybe an ex-girlfriend.

Either way, it's relaxing.

Sound drowns out into white noise, a deft flick of her wrist securing another strand for her braid.

It's soothing. Safe. Even as her fingers comb through his scalp for another strand, running over gnarled scars hidden by the sheer volume, she doesn't comment on it.

It's a blessing, really. Sometimes Bellara is a little too invasive with her questioning. Ghil loves her, he does, but he's grateful she's learning to ask less about his personal life.

Laughter scatters throughout the table, and he sinks more into that touch.

Ghil wonders what it would have been like to have grown up Dalish, like Davrin and Bellara, to have lived among trees and nature instead of the choking grime of the alienage and the familiar mustiness of the necropolis.

It's a curious thought. One he mulls over in the evenings, on the rare occasion he has alone.

Another twist, another braid.

His eyes slip shut.

Giggling reaches his ears, and he smiles. This particular sound is familiar to him.

Hezenkoss is away on business, the workshop kept in pristine condition by his careful hand.

“What are you doing now?” He says exasperatedly. His voice is soft and lilting, the barest remnants of his Denerim accent clinging on.

“Nothing!” Wren replies. Her words say one thing, but her wicked tone says another.

Even post-Joining, his sister remains the same.

“Da’len,” he sighs. “Am I going to break a mirror if I look in it?”

If anything, that makes the giggling worse. “No!” Wren laughs. “You're just going to be the prettiest lady ever. All of Thedas will fall in love with you.” She leans forward, kissing his cheek.

He smiles and shakes his head fondly. “Maker, I've missed you,” he says. “The Necropolis is too quiet without you. Not to mention my studies are going slower without my genius sister to help me.”

Wren scoffs, finishing plaiting one braid. She flops it over his shoulder, the green and silver ribbons fishtailing out the end.

“You're a genius too, idiot,” she says, starting on the other braid. “Don't think I'm not aware Hezenkoss isn't teaching you. I don't see a single trace of your work here.”

He hums, shrugging nonchalantly. “It's honestly fun to piss her off. I play stupid, she yells at me, and then she's absolutely baffled when her experiments get updated and solved overnight. She never even notices when I study her notes.” His bored tone makes Wren snort, pulling on the braid she's weaving.

“Told you that you were smart. No one learns advanced alchemy and theoretical necromantic metaphysics out of sheer spite. Unless they're you.” She sighs.

This close, he can hear the rustle of her Warden uniform, taste the slight tang of the Blight-sickness that remains ever present around her. It's strong enough to change her scent, and that worries him more than she cares to admit.

“What's on your mind?” He asks in response to her sigh.

Wren sets the half-finished braid on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. Her chin digs into the top of his head.

“I worry about you,” she mumbles. “You're so…isolated. I would've thought by now some cute Watcher would have swept you off your feet.”

He snorts. His hands slide up over her arms, doing his best to hug her back from his seated position. “No one's interested in a weird girl like me,” he replies simply. “I'm too tall for an elf, too muscular now that Hezenkoss has me taking sword lessons. She's not the one teaching me, mind you, she sends me elsewhere for those.”

Wren nods. “I figured. Still, you're lovely. Any man would be honored to have a woman like you.”

He hesitates. Wren notices.

“What is it?” She asks.

It takes a couple seconds for the words to come out. It's been on his mind for a while now.

“Wren,” he says, his voice small. “What if I'm not a girl at all? What if I want to be…to be a boy?”

There's a moment of pause.

Her arms squeeze tighter around him.

“Then any man would be lucky to have a man like you,” she replies.

He drifts. Faintly, he can still hear Bellara talking, and the dulcet tones of Emmrich replying. His companions are near.

He is here.

He is elsewhere.

A brush rakes through his hair, and he flinches.

The back of the wooden brush taps the top of his head scoldingly.

“Be still, ___.” Shanni’s voice is sharp and reprimanding, her breath reeking of booze.

He tries not to provoke her. Occasionally the big sister he knew is still in there.

Usually, she's not.

“Sorry, Shanni,” he apologizes quickly.

“Beauty is pain,” she lectures, dragging the brush through his hair. It's still choppy, only to his shoulders. One of the shem children threw something at him and it got stuck. Shanni had to cut a fair bit off. “If you want to attract a husband, you should…should…”

He tenses. “Shanni?”

When he tentatively peeks over his shoulder, her stare is glassy-eyed, off into the middle distance.

Reliving a horror that he cannot begin to comprehend.

He stays absolutely still. There are two ways this will go. Either Shanni will return to normal, or she'll have one of her screaming fits, drink more, and then he'll have to find a spot under someone's house to hide in until she's calm again.

Shanni is all he has left. Their mothers were friends, and now their mothers are gone.

Hers from illness, and his from…

He tries not to think about the strange men who stole his mother away. Tries not to think about the floorboards creaking as he hid under them, hearing the strange language of the men going back and forth as they dragged her away.

Shanni resumes her brushing.

She drags it through the snarls a few more times before giving up and pulling him into her lap.

Wraps her arms around him, as if she can protect this child from the world.

“Shanni?” He asks quietly.

She shakes her head.

“Whatever you do,” she whispers. “Don't ever get married. Don't ever fall in love. Don't give those shems anything to take away from you, because they'll take everything.”

She's trembling violently, and he'd forgotten about the third option.

Quickly, he turns in her hold, hugging her back.

“It'll be okay, Shanni,” he replies, in that awkward way that children do. “I promise. I won't ever get married. We'll live together forever, okay? I'll be your little sister, and I'll never leave you.”

She falls apart, body wracked with sobs as she hyperventilates.

That promise will never be fulfilled.

“-think you put him to sleep,” Davrin says teasingly.

“I've never seen him this peaceful,” Harding replies.

Bellara laughs. “Well, maybe that's for the best. This braid looks absolutely *awful. I don't know how people can braid other people's hair. I usually just throw mine in a bun and go.”

“Oh!” Harding’s feet make a thud on the floor. “I can show you. Here, let me. I'm sure Ghil won't mind.”

A second set of hands gently undoes the braid that Bellara made, and she steadily explains the process.

“So as you know, you take these three strands…”

A hum surrounds him.

It's an old Dalish lullaby, he thinks. Cold hands weave his hair with deft ease, practiced with time.

“Hold still for Mommy, da’len,” a voice murmurs. It's his voice.

It's her voice.

Higher pitched, softer, far more lilting than his ever will be. It's the sing-songy accent of the Dalish, a constant rhythm and quick consonants.

“Are we done soon?” He hears himself ask excitedly. “Do I get ribbons?”

She hums in affirmation. “Miss Mira bought them for you,” she replies. “Remember to thank her next time we stop at the bakery.”

“Okay, Mommy.” He tries his hardest not to bounce in place. It's almost noon, and the laundresses always have an extra sweet or two for the children who help carry the wash.

The top of his head is kissed.

“There's my good girl,” his mother says lovingly. “Your father would be so proud of how well-behaved you are.”

He gives her a gap-toothed grin. One of his baby teeth has fallen out recently, and it sits on the windowsill now to ward off spirits.

“Will you tell me about Daddy again at bedtime?” He asks eagerly. “I wanna hear another story.”

His mother sighs. It's fondness and exasperation and…something else.

Sorrow. Grief. Pain.

“Of course, da’len. But first, we have to finish your braids.”

“Rook?”

Emmrich’s voice wakes him up, and he opens his eyes. It's just them in the dining hall, now, the embers low in the fireplace.

His scalp feels a little sore.

“I fell asleep, didn't I?” He says, his voice gravelly and low. Ghil doesn't miss the way Emmrich’s eyes flash briefly with hunger.

His professor. Always so buttoned up and proper.

Ghil’s learned to love the little glimpses he gets of the man beneath the necromancy.

“You did,” Emmrich replies. “I'm quite surprised, to be honest. Bellara and Lace were tugging at your hair quite a lot, until Taash stepped in and fixed it.”

With a laugh, Ghil slowly gets up. His body’s screaming at him for sleeping in a chair, but he's gotten used to it.

“I've had worse, trust me.”

Emmrich beckons him forward, brushing something off the top of his head. “A speck of something,” he clarifies.

“Thanks, Vhenan,” Ghil says softly. He can feel the thick braid setting between his shoulder blades, discordant and slightly askew. One large braid, with two smaller ones woven in.

One of the smaller braids is significantly more neat than the other.

Emmrich smiles at him lovingly. He kisses the top of Ghil’s head, one of the few people tall enough anymore to do so.

“One of these days you'll tell me what that means,” he murmurs.

Ghil gives him a fond look. “Perhaps I will.”

Hand in hand, they walk out of the dining hall together.

[saintsenara]

subluxation is a need and i would like you to talk about it

also please god talk about gardener’s question time. i’m so serious

thank you, pal, for two exemplary choices from the work in progress tag game list!

very funny to me that - having once declared yourself to not be a rare pair girly - you have come out swinging in favour of the two rare pairs on the list. the corruption continues apace...

gardener's question time is the result of a prompt i saw last year for a rare pair fest - which i didn't have the time to dive into at the time but which has stayed gnawing at my brain ever since - for a post-war fic with severus snape/andromeda tonks as the pairing.

and you'd better believe i was intrigued...

we're still in the early stages with this one, but the basic idea is to bring these two together through the complexity of their grief. [cheerful...]

the struggle when writing things in which snape lives is, of course, how you approach the fact that he has been living according to a script which has now ended. for all the implication of canon that dumbledore expected him to survive [why does he tell harry at king's cross that he intended snape to be the true master of the elder wand, if he wasn't planning for his loyal spy to reveal his true loyalties by helping deliver voldemort's final death blow?], snape can be very easily viewed as having presumed - and maybe even hoped? - that he would die in the second war.

how he deals with - for the first time in his life - having no master and having the freedom to choose to live on his own terms is something i think is always interesting to explore.

but i think it's particularly interesting to mash into andromeda's own finished script - the fact that her war has ended so devastatingly, with her husband, daughter, and son-in-law all dead; that she has gone from being a grandmother to teddy's primary caregiver [and the resentments that brings up - as we've talked about before, i'm wedded to the idea that she doesn't really like harry and isn't thrilled that he's teddy's godfather]; and, most thorny of all, that her sister is dead and there is now absolutely no chance of bellatrix seeing the error of her ways and trying to make amends [which, while i loathe the common trope that andromeda and her sisters would reconcile easily, is something i believe it's entirely reasonable for her to have hoped could be possible, even if she recognised it's unlikely it ever would have been.]

snape's post-war relationship with the malfoys - presumably absolutely torpedoed by the reveal that he was a spy - also has parallels with andromeda's post-war reckoning with narcissa.

the title is because andromeda wanting to grow a kitchen garden of medicinal plants [and healing through it! omg, a metaphor!] was the premise which sprang to mind when i came up with this. i may have been watching gardener's world [i'd risk it all for monty don] at the time.

subluxation is obviously something we've talked about a lot, seeing as its development has definitely run alongside percy entering his post-war flop era in beasts.

for the uninitiated, it's - in the main - the story of what percy's year of working for the death eater-controlled ministry during deathly hallows looked like.

i think we've both been struck by the fact that pretty much every fic which deals with this question has percy offering some sort of behind-the-scenes resistance to voldemort's regime - maybe not as flashy as that offered by the order members in his family [although, let's be real, what the order actually does in that year is... debatable], but fundamentally aligned with the goodies against evil.

and, i want to be clear, all of the percy-the-resistance-fighter stories i've read have been amazing. but they've still never managed to shake me from my conviction that he probably... didn't do anything substantive against the regime at all. that he just fucked around and then, as the battle of hogwarts approach, began to find out...

and i am choosing to take 'fucking around' literally...

have a little snippet from this month's chapter:

Audrey's gripping his hand.

Her palm is clammy. His isn’t much better.

She was called back from her day off an hour ago. The Minister’s full support staff is assembled in a row against the wall in Meeting Room J. Biagio is crying. Clarice looks like she’s about to be sick.

Rookwood - Mr Rookwood, they have to call him now - is slithering up and down the line, snapping at anyone with wonky knots in their ties or lint on their robes. The hum of chatter rolls in from the Atrium. It sounds warm, the ordinary murmur of people greeting old friends or needling each other over Quidditch rivalries. The staff from the canteen mingle among them with platters of canapes - the Death Eaters have upped the usual standard of refreshments, but perhaps that’s part of pulling off a coup, Percy wouldn’t know - and champagne. 

Hands are being shaken, and partners and children are being asked after, and holiday plans are being discussed, and absolutely nobody - not a single, solitary member of the great and the good of wizarding Britain - seems shocked to discover that the entire world has been upended in a matter of hours, on this completely ordinary day.

It's this which is so terrifying, that the Minister didn’t see any of this coming, but everyone else did.

Agnes Skim, who presents the six o’clock news on the WWN, kissed Mr Yaxley on both cheeks and asked if he and his wife were still coming over on Sunday. Mr Selwyn was laughing uproariously at a joke told by one of the Wizengamot’s most distinguished members as he showed him to his seat. Half of the Hogwarts governors are milling around the place, making cheerful conversation with mass-murderers. There are representatives present from Gringotts and St Mungo’s and the Diagon Alley Shopkeepers Guild. The Prophet’s chief political correspondent breezed in five minutes ago, gabbing away to Travers - Mr Travers - like he was an old friend.

Which, Percy supposes, he probably is.

The Unspeakables have crawled out of their domain to greet Mr Rookwood like some conquering hero, miraculously returned from a mission all thought doomed. And, out of all the mundane horrors of that afternoon, it is the sight of Mr Croaker - who sends his father a card every Christmas and complimented his mother on her hat at the last staff party - thumping him on the back and saying ‘bloody wonderful to see you, Gus’ and Rookwood saying ‘likewise, Saul’ and Croaker grinning and saying ‘this is quite the event, isn’t it? I hope he’s paying you overtime’ and Rookwood winking at him and saying ‘I shall pretend not to have heard that’ and both of them collapsing into laughter, which makes tears start to slide down Percy’s face.

But not for long. There is no time to panic, because Rookwood clicks his fingers at them and tells them to line up on the dais in the Atrium, as a hundred camera bulbs flash and blind them. Banners are draped everywhere, and while they show the Ministry’s insignia and not the Dark Mark, the fact that so many people are walking around with rolled-up sleeves makes clear that they are one and the same now.

The only comfort, he thinks, the only comfort, is that - as he looks out at the sea of chairs, signs affixed to them reading Avery - Dolohov - Mulciber - Carrow in elegant calligraphy, he doesn't see one labelled The Dark Lord.

A hush falls over the room as Mr Thicknesse, in magnificent burgundy robes, his hair slicked back, displaying his high forehead, steps on to the dais and places a series of notecards on a lectern. It is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Percy wonders if the hammering of his heart is echoing in the room.

‘Wizards and witches of Britain,’ says Thicknesse, and there is an outbreak of applause. He holds up his hands to still it.

‘Wizards and witches of Britain. My friends.

‘This afternoon, following a special meeting of the electors, in which they voted unanimously in my favour, I was invited by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to accede to the office of Minister for Magic. It was my profound honour to accept the position. I am humbled by your trust in me to steer our great nation through this time of turmoil.’

There is another outbreak of applause, another barrage of camera flashes. And Percy notices that Lestrange is standing at the back of the room, talking to a man who greatly resembles him. Who must, he supposes, be his brother.

‘I have sworn before the court and swear before you now that I will uphold and defend the values - and the dignity - of the Ministry of Magic.’

In the years to come, he will look back and wonder whether he can pinpoint the exact moment when his life changed. If he can unravel a single thread from the tapestry of a hundred thousand ordinary days and follow it back to one pivotal second.

‘But I consider it my duty to go even further. I consider it my duty not only to defend the dignity of the Ministry, but to defend the dignity of magic itself.’

And he will conclude that he can. That he can trace all of it, every single bit of it, back to Rabastan Lestrange leaning forward, and accidentally brushing against Rodolphus Lestrange’s injured shoulder, and Rodolphus wincing - only slightly, but enough to make clear to Percy that he is not a monster at all - and revealing himself to be an ordinary man, who is tired after a long day and who aches.

‘Because are we not tired? Do we not grow weary at the sight of our traditions being torn down and soiled? Do we not feel crushed as more and more of our values are washed away, as the ordinary, hard-working witches and wizards of this country are told that they should be ashamed of themselves for their faith in the might of magic?

‘I will be a Minister for those people. I will be a Minister for those who are proud to be set apart by magic. I will rid them of the filth which pollutes their lives and forces them into compromise and shame.

‘I will bring them something clean and true and refreshing.

‘Something proud.

‘And pure.’

[if you think this speech is copied from succession... you would be one hundred percent correct.]

[sage-studies]

🌻 click for better quality 🌻

[bridgertonbabe]

Does little Ember lets Benedict be closer than with others? 🥺 Like she is fond of Sophie's friend but it's way more attached to Ben?

Oh absolutely! After she comes home to Aubrey Hollow Ben is the main one who helps Sophie in training her up, getting her to fly back and forth between them, making the distance wider after every successful flight she makes. He also assists in training Ember to carry things, starting off small with just a single oak leaf until she can carry a letter all by herself (so long as it's attached to her foot). By the time Sophie returns for her third year at Hogwarts, Ember is more than capable of becoming a delivery owl - however she has never flown a distance as far as Scotland to Kent. Sophie is very nervous she'll get lost along the way or become fatigued, but once again with Benedict's encouragement they train her up. First she flies to Hogsmeade and back to collect a packet of sweets ordered from Honeydukes. Then she delivers a letter to Mrs Stirling in Kilmartin, then to Mrs Crane, another to Mary Sharma, and then her last trip is to Aubrey Hollow in Kent. Every flight she has made Benedict has sent his owl, Clement, along as well, instructing his trusty bird to fly with Ember and make sure she stays safe and to help her if she needs assistance, and this time is no exception. She hasn't previously needed any help but that doesn't mean she won't on her longest trip yet. Sophie is a bag of nerves over the weekend as she waits for Ember's return, hoping nothing has befallen her or Clement; and then on Sunday evening during dinner Ember flutters into the Great Hall, dropping a card into Sophie's lap before flopping over into the mashed potato, absolutely pooped from her long journey, and immediately falls asleep. As Clement is rewarded with some chicken slices (and as Colin tuts and carefully scoops a spoonful of mash around Ember), Sophie opens the envelope to find a card congratulating Ember on her first flight to Aubrey Hollow, signed by Violet and Edmund and the younger Bridgerton siblings with three year old Hyacinth's artistic interpretation of Ember on the front. Sophie and Benedict make a fuss of the little owl after they've retrieved her from the mash, and Benedict coaxes her awake long enough to feed her a treat for a job well done. Though honestly, even without Benedict helping to train her up, Ember would have always viewed him as her adoptive father anyway, not just because he was there when she was bought, but because he always cleans her up after she's landed in whatever bowl of food she typically ends up falling into whenever she delivers the post at mealtimes and he always defends her when anyone takes the piss out of or criticizes her. "What the fuck is she doing?" Colin would bluntly ask one time when she tried to deliver Sophie her newspaper and ended up splashing head first into a jug of orange juice after swerving to avoid a horde of barn owls suddenly swooping in. "Her best!" Benedict would elbow him with a scowl before fishing her out of the juice.

And in case you're wondering, this is what lil Ember looks like:

[atlaese]

Black holes

Summary: you've both got a dark history, no way something could ever happen, right? Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Words: 13K lmao i went OFF TW: talking about mental health, anxiety, depression, talking about violence, probably some death, food, cursing, angst, eventual fluff, tfatws spoilers, bad writing™ from yours truly, yes that should be it? A/N: this absolute beast has been a long long time in the making, and im very proud of this baby <3 like i put my heart on a silver platter and i offer it to you 🫀. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. This was written mostly to take a break from studying for finals, so do excuse any typos or weird thingys. the first part is based on an actual conversation I had with my therapist about why I’m so single™ i love feedback :)))) (so let's hear those thoughts! 💞) i'm actually so scared to post this lmao let's hope it doesn't flop

Song I listened to and got some lines out: Black Hole by Griff

MARVEL MASTERLIST | BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

Week 1

“I trust people,” the words slowly left his mouth, not convincing dr. Raynor at all. It didn’t convince himself fully either, to be honest.

“Okay, give me your phone,” Dr Raynor bent over, holding out her palm, a stern look on her face.

“You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships, I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad,” she scoffed as she flipped the phone closed and threw it back over to Bucky. “You’re alone. You’re a 100 years old. You have no history, no family-“

“Are you lashing out at me doc? Cause that’s really unprofessional you know,” Bucky grunted, “I mean when did that start, when you started yelling at your clients?”

Dr. Raynor smacked the notepad on her thigh, aggressively scribbling stuff down.

“Oh, the notebook. That’s great.”

“Alright, give me a break, I’m trying okay? This is new for me,” he sighed after a second, “I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know.

“I had a little… calm in Wakanda, and other than that I went from one flight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?”

What did he want? A normal life? No one that looked at him weird when they saw his arm? Not feeling like a killing machine that could let loose any second?

He eye twitched as he mulled over his thoughts, the next words tasting bitter, “peace.”

“That is utter bullshit!” she scoffed, not believing one word he had said this whole session.

“You’re a terrible shrink,” he offered, his lips twisted into a frown.

“I was an excellent soldier. I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down,” dr. Raynor recalled, “and if you were alone, that is the quietest most personal hell, and James, it is very hard to escape.

“Look I know that you’ve been through a lot, but you got your mind back, you are being pardoned, I mean these are good things.

“You’re free,” she added after a moment, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“To do what?” His voice was monotone and steely. He was free, but if this is what freedom felt like, he’d rather be back alone in Wakanda.

“You need friends, James. You need other people in your life to be happy and to have that so called peace you wish for,” she started, trying to get eye contact but failing as Bucky kept looking behind her.

Bucky just shrugged and looked down at his hands again, refusing to say anything. Deep down he realized she was right, but she had no idea what he had been through for the last 90 years. She didn’t realize how hard it was to trust people other people again, as well as trusting that his goddamn mind wouldn’t get reset again and turn him back into him.

“I’ll work on it,” he grimly said, just to get her off his back.

Dr. Raynor glanced at her watch, “we have 15 minutes left, anything else you want to get off your chest?”

* * *

A few rooms over, you were also in a session with your therapist. The anxiety that used to take over your entire life, eventually caused you to look for a therapist. It had gotten better a little bit already, however your therapist also wanted to address some other stuff she noticed in you during the intense sessions.

“y/n, you keep mentioning, and I quote, ‘my ass is so single, I have to grab it myself’,” a sigh left her mouth, looking through the notes she jotted down over all the previous sessions. “but I don’t ever recall you doing something about that, right?”

“Well, no, not exactly no. I can only complain about it,” you slumped a little further into the couch, eyes focussed on the creases that lined your palms. Eye contact with dr. Russo was way too intense for your liking sometimes. She never blinked, almost trying to hypnotize you and it scared you a little.

“Instead of complaining, you could either go on dating apps or go on dates, or you know, stay alone but stop complaining?” she offered, a sly smirk on her face as your eyes snapped up towards hers, finally looking at her straight for the first time this session.

“Yeah, well I tried online dating. It sucks. I match with someone and they never reach out. And real life dating sucks as well. No one has ever asked me on a date.”

Dr. Russo scribbled something in her notepad again, making you sigh and look around her office. The taxidermy butterflies on the wall behind her creeped you out a little. What kinda shrink was she if she had dead animals propped up as decoration?

“So it never occurred to you that you could send the first message? Or ask someone out?”

Glancing up towards the ceiling, you blew out your cheeks, “well, if you say it like that, it’s easy!”

“Wow, I never thought about that before, thanks doc!” you exclaimed, now looking down at your phone to check the time, “Oh no, it’s been an hour already. Well, I guess we’re out of time, see you next week!”

You quickly stood up to leave the room and dr. Russo cleared her throat, “at least make some friends y/n! You can’t stay alone forever!”

The hallway was empty as you stepped away from dr. Russo’s office, the very last one in the long hallway. Just before you reached the door to the lobby, the door next to you opened and a man fully dressed in black stumbled out, a pissed off look set on his face. His body collided with yours and you almost lost your balance.

“Watch out, asswipe!” you shrieked, speeding off without actually checking on the guy.

“Jesus, good day to you too,” he called out behind you.

Just as you reached the door handle, you turned around slightly and gave him the finger. Whatever this guy thought he was, he was the one who didn’t look both ways before stepping out the door.

Bucky’s mouth fell open as he watched the woman give him the finger and then slam the door in his face. Whatever her therapist had said to her must have really ruined her day.

Bucky left the building, opting to go for a walk instead straight home. He couldn’t bear the look on Yori’s face when he talked about his dead son after today’s session. Maybe he should swing by next week, they could go to Izzy’s again for sushi.

Week 2

“Dude, its trash! What does it matter?” your voice pitched a little higher, upset that your neighbour, mr. Nakajima, wouldn’t let you use his trash can for the much needed take out you had ordered after your therapy session.

“y/n, you’ve got your own. Why are you so lazy? This generation,” he shook his head as he turned around to pull out the bag.

“Here, use your own!” he pushed the trash bag in your arms and you stumbled back a little, not expecting mr. Nakajima to actually pull out your trash from the smelly trash can.

“Come on, man. I don’t have any trash bags and I can barely afford rent,” you gave a bitter laugh, “we’re already stuck in this shithole, we should stick together Yori!”

Mr. Nakajima pressed a finger against your shoulder, “it’s mr. Nakajima, and you don’t even answer the door when I knock! That makes it very hard to be neighbourly!”

Before you could respond, a buff guy stepped in between you and mr. Nakajima, a pointed look on his face as he calmed down the older man.

“Hey! We were talking!” you gesticulated, waving a finger between you and Yori. Whoever this guy was, butting in to a conversation was rude - even when said conversation was more like an argument.

The guy turned towards you now, “sorry, ’m Bucky,” he mumbled, checking your face two times because you seemed very familiar, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Yori’s just a bit stressed from being cooped up all day.”

“Well, Yori,” you emphasized his name, a bit pissed that he could address the older man by his first name, “should go out more then.”

Mr. Nakajima luckily was held back by Bucky, because you were sure the old man would pounce on you, the look on his face telling all.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Bucky implored, keeping his hand on Yori’s shoulder. Were you a relative of someone on his list of amends or something?

“I live in the building, apartment next to him,” you nodded towards Yori, “I’m y/n.”

“Ah, okay, well Yori and I were just on our way to Izzy’s right? It’s Wednesday, let’s enjoy some sushi, yeah?”

Bucky lightly pushed Yori the other way and gave you a half-hearted smile and said goodbye, hoping that you wouldn’t trash Yori’s apartment or kick over his bin.

The older man muttered something, but he looked happy to be out and about in the world, with a much younger friend than most of his peers.

Bucky and Yori left you standing in the alley with the trash bag still in your arms. Yori was talking animatedly when Bucky turned his head back towards you and he eyed Yori’s trashcan.

A grin took over your face when you understood what he meant, and you dropped the bag in the trash.

“Have fun!” you yelled out behind them, and mr. Nakajima held up a hand, not even looking back at you as they turned the corner.

Week 3

Walking home from therapy, you grabbed your headphones and blasted classical music through them, trying to push away the feeling of unease that was swirling in your stomach. The noise of the city mixed with the hundreds of people all around you were not helping the anxiety you felt.

You turned the corner to your apartment building when you watched mr. Nakajima being escorted outside by Bucky.

Bucky pressed a gloved hand against the door, holding it open for you. You bent your head as a way of saying thank you and pressed the button for the lift.

A finger tapped you on your shoulder as you were scrolling through your playlist trying to find a certain song and you turned around to face them, the one ear of your headphones pushed away so you could understand them.

“Are you deaf or something?” Bucky asked, pointing to his ears.

“Ah, it’s you again. Taking Yori out on a date again?” The lift dinged and the rickety doors opened slowly.

“Its noise cancellation by the way,” you added, pointing towards your headphones.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky pried, his brows pushed together.

“It means that noise doesn’t filter through,” you stuck your hand between the doors of the lift, preventing it from closing and going up again.

“Are you implying that I’m noise?”

“Yes. Anyway, why are you stopping me? Don’t let the old man wait,” you took a step into the lift, but kept your hand above the sensor, leaving the doors open.

“Well, uh. Here’s the thing,” he scratched the back of his neck and nodded his head towards the backdoor, “Yori said you’re kind of a loner and he also wanted to apologize.”

You ignored the first statement. It wasn’t false anyway, but you were impressed that Yori noticed that.

“Why isn’t Yori here himself then?” you popped out a hip, fully leaning on one leg as you tilted your head a bit, lips pursed.

“We have a reservation at Izzy’s. We go every Wednesday after thera- uh, yeah-, yeah just every Wednesday,” he blushed a little and he gave you a lopsided grin, “his treat, take it or leave it.”

The lift dinged again, signaling it had been waiting for a long period already. You rubbed your face in your hand for a moment before sighing, “sure. I’m hungry anyway."

* * *

The restaurant was very busy for a Wednesday evening. You were sitting next to Bucky at the bar, mr. Nakajima on his other side. The golden maneki-neko was waving at you the whole time, and it distracted you a little from the numerous people in the restaurant. The three of your looked very odd together to say the least: an older man, a younger man wearing gloves inside, and you; bags under your eyes that you were sure could be identified as a new type of black.

Yori had apologized and you had as well, saying you had a bad… week and you promised you would come by once in a while, so he wasn’t as lonely in his apartment. Yori was actually pretty cool you figured, as he was pestering Bucky the whole time about his love life, as well as how bad he was holding his chopsticks.

Yori was trying to get Bucky to ask out the waitress, and you amusedly popped a piece of sushi in your mouth as you listened to their bickering.

Bucky was shaking his head and giving Yori a death stare as he asked Leah out for him. Your gaze flitted between Bucky and Leah and you could see the wheels turning in her head trying to figure out the relationship between you and Bucky.

You stared back down at your plate, deciding which piece of sushi would be next, trying to send the hint that there was nothing going on between you. For Leah that was a sign you were not interested at all. She agreed and told Bucky when her shift ended.

“Wow, Yori, you’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?” The question was kind of muffled as you had just popped a big piece of sushi in your mouth, but Yori fervently nodded anyway.

“I used to do it to my son all the time,” he recalled better times where his son was still alive, “nothing ever came of it, but at least he was out for an evening.”

Bucky was staring at his beer bottle, an uncomfortable look across his face and you wondered why the subject of death made him so uncomfortable. To think of it, you had no idea who this guy was, beside a first name.

You nudged his bottle of beer with yours and raised your eyebrows in question. He just shook his head and stood up, announcing that he needed a breath of fresh air.

Yori had moved on to talking to the person next to him, asking about their age and mentioning how many people had died that week of old age.

You slipped out of your seat, not yet comfortable enough with Yori to butt in the conversation, and followed Bucky outside into the fresh air, curious as to why he suddenly felt uneasy when before he looked perfectly fine.

He was leaning against the wall staring up at the night sky, a small notebook clasped between his gloved hands.

When you cleared your throat, he quickly put away the notebook in the pocket of his black pants and straightened up his stance.

“It’s real stuffy inside,” you offered as a reason, taking a deep breath of fresh air. It had actually become quite busy, busier than you could handle at the moment.

He pursed his lips in acknowledgment, but didn't actually say something.

It was actually pretty calm in the part of the city, an occasional hoot of a horn somewhere in the distance the only thing disturbing the comfortable silence.

“It’s nice that you take Yori out every week,” you broke the silence after a bit, “I know I made fun of it but I’m sure he appreciates it.”

The pained look on his face was gone after a second, but you caught it anyway. Up until that point you just thought it was neighbourly and out of pure friendliness, but there might have been another reason. It did feel like something personal, something you weren’t supposed to ask about.

“Yeah, gets him out of his apartment and me too, I guess,” he finally decided upon, masking his feelings and putting on a smile.

“I don’t believe someone like you doesn’t go out much, you look like a chick-magnet.”

“No, a person-magnet in general,” you added, looking him up and down. You had to admit, he was easy on the eyes, the scowl he usually wore adding a certain type of mysteriousness that drew even you in.

“Geez, thanks,” he scoffed, blushing a little nonetheless.

“What’s your excuse for cooping up in your apartment?” he returned the question, “I’m sure you’re a ‘person magnet’ too.” He even used his fingers as quotation marks, which made you laugh.

“Great question for another time, Bucky,” you looked down at your phone. It was getting late and this question hit a little too close to home for now.

A corner of his mouth lifted, “another time, huh?”

“See you later, Bucky,” you winked.

You went back inside to grab your coat, pay your part of the bill - you didn't feel comfortable with Yori paying for you -, and say goodbye to Yori, promising him once again to visit him once in a while.

When you got back outside again, Bucky was on the phone, listening to a voicemail it seemed like. A line was deep set on his forehead, but he smiled as you waved goodbye at him.

Bucky was a quiet soul, but you felt that there was some darkness hidden deep inside of him. The darkness that harnessed your soul as well, and damn you if it didn’t drew you in.

Week 7

“Okay, y/n, let’s circle back to why you’re here in the first place,” dr. Russo said, her pen ready to take notes.

“Fuck this,” you whispered to yourself, but dr. Russo had heard it and was already writing down something in that stupid notebook of hers.

It stayed quiet for a minute. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk about it. It was so hard to get the words over your lips as images flashed through your brain, making you relive on of the worst moments of your life over and over again. The moment your life bursted out like a supernova, destroying everything in its way.

“What if I asked you to rank how bad it still influences your day to day life, on a scale from 1 being nothing to 10 a lot?” She tried, her gaze set on your face, willing you to say something, anything.

You heard the explosion before you saw it, too busy laughing with the driver instead of looking in front of you. The car in front of you exploded when it drove over a hidden roadside bomb, the wreck flipping over onto its roof. The vehicle you were in slammed on the brakes and it slid to a halt as all oxygen left your lungs. Your colleagues, your colleagues were in that car that just exploded right in front of your eyes. Laura, your colleague, whose brown curls were still bouncy even after wearing a helmet all day. Laura, who just got engaged to her girlfriend. Laura, who just-

“Like a 7, I would say,” you guessed after thinking for moment. You tried to keep your emotions under wraps, tried to have a blank slate on your face. You couldn’t risk breaking again, setting back the months of work you had already done.

“Okay, 3 months ago it was a 12, so I would say that’s an improvement, y/n,” dr. Russo smiled. “I’m very proud of all the work you’ve put in y/n,” she added, emphasizing your name. It didn’t even matter if she said your name or not, the numbness just took over sometimes, so far that when someone said your name, you didn’t even react.

What were you supposed to say now, thank you? Thank you for helping you getting out of the deep hole you couldn’t get yourself out of, not that you had tried very hard anyway. Thank you for filling the black hole that replaced your heart and made it impossible to connect to other human beings.

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled as you stared at the butterflies again. Some were dark, fully opaque colours with a speck of colour mixed in. Others were a million and one colours, alive and vibrant. The darker ones always drew you in more, ever since you started coming here.

“So, let’s talk about Nadir, the local man who translated and interpreted for you, yes?” dr. Russo was digging deep in this session, picking at each and every one of the trauma’s you suffered after your humanitarian aid mission in the middle east.

“Help!” The pained voice sounded over the loud ringing that was going through your head. The team and you had stumbled out of the car one after the other, looking at the burning wreck in front of you. Nadir was on his motorcycle just behind the first car, he was lying down on the ground, his bike on top of his lower body, debris of the car piled on top of him as well. The team had sped to his rescue, pushed the bike off of him after a quick check to make sure it wouldn’t cause any more harm. It wouldn’t be okay. Nadir would never use his right leg again. Nadir didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this-

“I haven’t talked to him since the incident,” your voice came out hoarse, your throat dry as sand paper as you thought about Nadir. Nadir whose smile made everything you had been through worth it. Nadir who probably never wanted to talk to you again.

“Why not? It’s great for trauma survivors to stick together, to talk about it, so it can be processed,” dr. Russo tapped her pen against her notebook, “and you know, Nadir used to be a friend, something you’re in dire need of.”

You felt your jaw tense as she repeated for the millionth time that you needed friends to talk about your stuff. This wasn’t something you could spring on people you just met, why couldn’t she understand that?

“Have you made any friends yet, y/n?” she pried again. You hated how much she said your name, trying to form a rapport and to get your attention every time she asked a question.

“I actually went to dinner with my elderly neighbour and his friend,” you admitted. Maybe she would back off on the friends questions from now on.

“Oh, that’s great! These old folks must be very happy to be on a date with a young woman like you.”

“Uh well, his friend is more my age? I don’t know why or how they’re friends, but he’s nice,” the look of surprise made you realize you had maybe said a bit too much and she quickly wrote down something else in her notebook.

A few more minutes. A few more and you were done for this week. You could put on your headphones, play some classical music to drown out the noise from the city and walk home.

“Maybe ask this friend of his out for dinner? Get to know him, y/n, see it as your assignment for next week. Ask him out, on a date or just as friends. That’s not too hard, right?”

You shot her a dirty look, but she remained unfazed as she closed her notebook without breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m serious, y/n.”

“Ah, shit, sure why not,” you stood up from the couch and pulled on your coat, “see you next week, doc.”

The door closed behind you and you let out a deep sigh, slumping against the wall. These sessions really drained every ounce of energy you had left, so much that all you wanted to do when you got home was order take-out and binge watch some trash tv.

Another door closing snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked at the other person who had left their therapist’s office.

The figure was very familiar as you racked your brain for whoever this could be.

“Uh, wait!” You yelled in the spur of the moment, not really thinking about the fact that people didn’t particularly like getting recognized leaving a therapy session.

The figure turned around, the look on their face revealing that they also recognized your voice.

“Wait, Bucky?” How the hell was this possible? Your neighbour’s friend had the same time slot on the exact same day, just a different therapist?

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” His gravely voice reached your ears as you stepped closer to him. He looked tired, and bored. God, he must be a fun client in therapy.

“Probably same reason as you,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Therapy,” he answered after a beat, nodding lightly, “okay. Are you walking home?”

You nodded and opened the outside door, a gust of wind hitting you in the face immediately. Bucky followed you outside, his gloved hands hanging limply by his side.

“You go to therapy for you staring problem?” You nudged his side and he scoffed.

“You here for your trash problems?” You let your jaw drop, but laughed anyway. You didn’t expect him to actually play along, but the small smile that was present on his face made you realize he did actually like to bicker.

“Um, hey, I really don’t want to ask, but my therapist is making me do this,” you said when you arrived at your apartment building. Your tiredness had to wait, as this was a moment that probably wouldn't happen again any time soon.

He stopped in front of the entrance, a look of puzzlement crossed his face, “sounds intense?”

You nodded, “I’m apparently in dire need of friends, so, uh, would you want to grab dinner?”

“As friends of course,” you quickly added, “I know you’re dating that girl form Izzy’s.”

“Your assignment was for you to ask me out?” He ignored the comment about Leah, his hands now in his front pockets and a cocky smile on his face.

“Please, don’t be a dick about it,” you begged, trying your best not to smile, so you rolled your eyes instead.

“Sure, let’s go,” he stretched out his arm, signaling he was ready to go, “‘m not dating Leah by the way.”

“Wait, what? Didn’t you go out with her?”

“Kinda walked out on her in the middle of the date,” he admitted, an uneasy look on his face as you kept walking through the city.

“You did not,” you gasped, “please tell me you had a good excuse.”

When he didn’t respond for moment, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, “c’mon Bucky, that’s rude.”

“I left a note the next day, felt bad,” he admitted as you both stopped in front of a small burger joint

You shook your head, “you seem like such a gentleman though!”

“I am!” He exclaimed, “I even got her flowers. Apparently no one does this any more?”

“You’re quite interesting, aren’t you?” So he was a gentleman after all, just not all the time?

“Well, I think people mostly give flowers to someone they’re dating for a long time already. Not that I know, haven’t been on a date in ages.”

“Makes two of us then,” he replied as you sat down at a table, a waiter bringing over the menu’s.

You both ordered a hamburger with fries when the waitress returned. You settled in your seat, leaning back and scanning Bucky’s face.

“So you don’t date,” he asked, but it seemed more like a statement. His fingers were toying with his leather gloves, that he was still wearing inside the restaurant.

The words of dr. Russo shot through your head. Friends talk about this kind of stuff, right? Was this a good point in the barely-there relationship to dump all you problems over him, hoping that he wouldn't walk out on this either?

“There’s this big, black hole where my heart used to be,” you murmured, staring outside at the busy street.

“Just some real shitty stuff happened to me,” you elaborated when you noticed the confused look on his face.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked as the waitress put down your drinks.

You took a big gulp from your soda, giving yourself a second to form a coherent sentence in your head before answering.

“Uh, I was- I am a humanitarian aid coordinator. I was on a mission in the middle east a few months ago,” the words came out surprisingly easy, easier than when you were in your therapy session.

“We were driving back to our camp when one of our vehicles drove over a hidden roadside bomb. Killed 4 people instantly, another one lost a leg.

“So by sheer luck I’m still here and some of my colleagues aren’t,” you bit down hard on your lower lip, willing the tears back to where they came from.

“So, that’s why I’m in therapy every Wednesday. Real fun,” you concluded, trying to make fun of yourself and your situation but failing miserably.

“How long has it been?” He softly asked. His voice had no hint of pity, it felt more like… understanding?

“Like, three months give or take.”

You both stayed silent when the waitress placed your orders in front of you. Once she left, you immediately took a big bite from the hamburger, not realizing how hungry you actually were.

“Well, this feels like an interrogation, so answer me this; Yori told me you didn’t show up last week, or the week before. Care to explain why you ditched the old man?” You spoke up, popping a fry in your mouth.

He sighed, a grim look appearing on his face, “I uh, I got arrested.”

“Arrested?” Your voice pitched a bit higher, “what are you, a criminal?”

“I missed a court ordered therapy session, so you decide.”

“I didn’t even know court could mandate therapy sessions, what for?” Bucky had asked difficult questions before, now it was your turn.

“I, uh, I was the winter soldier?” He slowly uttered the words. The reaction of people always went one of two ways. Either it was “so cool, you’re like a killing machine dude!” or “ah you murdered all these people? And you get to walk around freely? Jesus, our justice system is messed up.”

“Oh,” you scratched at the chipped nail polish on your finger, “but you were brainwashed? So technically it wasn’t you?”

He let out the breath he was unconsciously holding and straightened his back, “yeah well, the memories are still up here.” He tapped his temple and popped another fry in his mouth.

“Fucking memories are the worst sometimes,” you agreed, downing the rest of your soda with ease.

“Tell me about it. Haven’t had a decent night of sleep in weeks,” he admitted, explaining why he had the dark circles under his eyes.

You pointed at your own, “same. What’s your go-to thing when you wake up after a nightmare?”

A smirk took over his face, he couldn’t believe you were actually bonding over trauma.

“I usually watch tv,” he narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out what you would do.

“I think, you go out to have a coffee in a 24/7 shop.”

You were impressed, “wow, that’s… very close actually. But it’s tea and I usually bring a book along with me.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, exposing a gorgeous smile he had been hiding behind a stoic facade. You couldn’t help but laugh along, the black hole that was your heart not tugging away for once at the wonderful feeling that spread all throughout your body.

Week 9

Dr. Russo’s previous patient had needed a bit more time, so your session had started 25 minutes late. It didn’t happen often, so you just listened a little longer to your music. This also meant that your session was running late as well and you’d have to walk through the city during rush hour.

The sky had turned a pretty pink as the sun was setting for the day. The hallway was deserted as always, and you were kinda disappointed that Bucky’s session hadn’t run late as well. You hadn’t seen him in a while, he was always away for some sort of thing abroad with his partner. You had visited Yori two times, once where you played GO together and the other time just people watched in a small tearoom down the street.

Dr. Russo had proposed you walked home without music today, to get used to the sounds and noises of the vibrant city that was New York. The prospect of walking home without music, without anyone to distract you from the noises scared you a bit, but you bit down on your lip and put away your headphones in your bag.

Sound filtered in immediately when you opened the door to the street, and you took a deep breath before stepping out of the door. Closing your eyes for a second, you tried to get used to everything. A couple of people laughing in the distance, a car that hooted its horn a few blocks away, footsteps passing right in front of you-

“Y/n?”

Your eyes snapped open, immediately connecting to Bucky’s blue eyes.

“Bucky? Uh, I-, I didn’t know you were still here?”

A flush crept its way up from his neck to his cheeks and he scraped his throat, “I, yes, I was hoping to see you, but my session was done and you weren’t there so…”

He waited a second, the tension in the air feeling almost palpable. His voice was a bit rough, you noted.

“I asked the receptionist and yeah-, she explained dr. Russo’s previous session ran out.”

You fiddled with the zipper on your coat, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to your face.

“Uh, did you want to talk?” You asked after a beat. His blue eyes had been boring into yours, and you couldn’t deny the fluttery feeling that occurred in your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that,” he croaked out, “do you wanna grab a drink or-?”

You rolled your lips in fake consideration, the decision already made when he finished his sentence.

“Sure,” you nodded as well, “I know a calm place not too far from here.”

You nodded your head to the left, signaling he should follow you.

“How was your thing abroad?” You tentatively asked after a minute, trying to ignore all the noise that was giving you slight anxiety already.

His voice was a bit different than normal, just a little more of a grim sound lining it, “uh, heavy shit to be honest.”

That was all he said in that moment and you decided you’d save for it later.

“Well, I visited Yori twice,” you filled the silence. Not that it was awkward, you just wanted to hear his smooth voice in your ears again, focus on the exact tone he was using and how much calmer it made you feel.

“Oh did you now? Knew you’d like the man.”

“We played GO once and I had absolutely no idea how to play, so he won - and rubbed it in my face!” You gestured with your hands, not noticing the fascinated look that was growing on Bucky’s face.

“Oh, we went people watching as well,” you pushed open the door of the little bookstore/cafe combination you often frequented, “and this couple was trying to take a picture next to the fountain, yeah? Well, the guy fell straight in! It was amazing!”

The door closed behind you, the silence in the small shop immediately made you realize how talkative you had been the whole way over.

“Shit, sorry,” you cringed, your first instinct was to walk away, so you disappeared between the shelves filled with tons of books.

“Hey, it’s alright, I like hearing you talk,” he caught up with you, his hand grabbing your elbow to stop you in your tracks. He pulled you a little closer to him,

His firm but gentle grip grounded you, “it’s just, the noise of the city gets to me sometimes. It helps to talk over it.”

“I don’t want to diminish your feelings, but I do understand, y/n,” his gaze connected to yours.

It was quiet all around you, standing closely together between hundreds of books. The sincerity that flashed through his eyes made you hold your breath for a moment, your heart not feeling like a black hole, but more like a nebula. A nebula filled with a thousand stars and even more colours you couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Right,” you whispered after a while, before snapping out of your stupor and taking a step back, away from him and his intoxicating everything.

He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, clearly under the same trance you had been.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him with you, to the back of the bookstore where the cafe was located.

“Ta da,” you gestured to the room, random chairs and thrifted couches mixed in between bookcases filled old classics and luscious plants and strings of lights. There was a small counter with freshly baked goods and non-alcoholic drinks as well as more books spread all around the place.

It was cozy and homey and eclectic and dark: everything you needed when the nightmares woke you up and you couldn’t calm down at your own place. It was open 24/7 and had the best selection of tea you could ever wish for.

“Cozy,” he ran his finger over the backs of the books next to the table you were standing next to, pulling off your bag.

You hummed in response and sat down, dumping your coat over the back of the seat.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, getting yourself comfy in the big chair, three big pillows propped behind your back.

Bucky sat down, tossing a few of the pillows away because who needs this many pillows? He pulled off his gloves as well, revealing his vibranium hand to you for the first time and nodded slowly, licking his lips.

“It’s good news,” he started, a timid smile on his face, “great news even, if I’m being honest.”

You raised your brow in question, a smile tugging on the ends of your lips.

“I think I’m ready to stop therapy.” The words felt unsure, not set in stone yet.

You leaned over and put your hand on his knee, “Bucky, that’s amazing! I’m really proud of you.”

He rubbed his neck and looked away from your face, trying to mask his happiness.

“Did dr. Raynor clear you then? Or did you have to go back to court again-“

He held up a hand and you stopped talking immediately. After rummaging in his coat, he pulled out a little notebook. The same notebook you had seen him clutching closely when you first went to Izzy’s with him.

He looked through it, looking for a specific page before he stopped and slid the notebook over to you.

It was a full page with names, all but one crossed through. You didn’t recognize the crossed out names. The one that wasn’t crossed out yet made you pull your brows together.

“What’s Yori doing on this list?” You asked as you looked at him, “no, wait, what is this list?”

His finger ghosted over the crossed out names, “these are people who I made amends to, because of you know… the winter soldier thing.”

“Ah.”

“And Yori, he- uh, his son-,” he choked on the words. You grabbed his hand that was pointing to the names with both hands, the metal a bit chilly to the touch.

“Take your time,” you rubbed your thumbs in circles over his hand, trying to ease his nerves a little. It reminded you of your mother, when you’d get anxiety attacks during school or when the stress was just getting to you. It made you focus on the feeling of her soft skin on your hand, rather than the thoughts in your head that felt like a tornado ravaging everything or the way your heartbeat would feel different than usual.

He pulled himself together after a minute, dragging his right hand over his face.

“I uh, I- he killed his son… he-he wasn’t even a target but, but he was a witness, and- and the winter soldier doesn’t leave any witnesses,” he managed to say. He bit on the inside of his cheek, refusing to show any emotions.

“I have tried to tell him, multiple times, but-, but I always choke and back down. And… it’s time that I stop lying.”

His eyes were red and he was quickly blinking to get rid of the tears that were waiting to come out.

“Hi, what can I get you guys?” The waiter appeared out of thin air and you ordered a green tea with citrus for yourself and an americano for Bucky, along with some fresh cookies. You thanked them as they walked off to get your stuff, and you turned back to look at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he croaked once the waiter was out of earshot.

You nodded and let go of his hand, feeling a bit awkward that you’d been holding onto it so long.

“Here,” you closed the notebook and slid it back over to him, “I could come with to Yori? Only if you want to, of course.”

“I-, yeah, I would really like that, actually,” he breathed out and leaned back into the seat, drowning in the dark blue velvety fabric.

The waiter had dropped off your order after a while, putting a plate of cookies on the middle of the table.

“Just…, let me know when you want to go and I’ll be there,” you sincerely offered, then pushing a cookie in your mouth.

His whole face lit up as he watched you, your cheeks hamster-like as you were holding your hand in front of your mouth, trying to decently eat the cookie.

He lifted his cup of coffee to take a sip and then cradled it between his hands, “so, how is your therapy coming along?”

The cookie was still preventing you from speaking normally, so you held out your hand and rocked it slightly.

“So-so,” you added after a minute, “it really has its ups and downs.”

“She’s been pestering me about contacting another survivor, actually,” you admitted, “she says it will help me get to terms … or something along those lines.”

You took a sip of your tea, hiding your face behind your mug and avoiding Bucky’s intense gaze that was set on you.

“Do you- do you want to tell me about them?”

You put the mug back on the table and bit down on your lip.

Hesitation set in as you thought about Nadir. The vision of his right leg badly mangled under the bike flashing through your thoughts. Just thinking about it amplified the guilt you felt deep in your bones.

“Nadir had been with us for 7 weeks already. He-he was our local liaison and he interpreted for us as well,” you started the story, picturing Nadir’s face in front of you.

“He lived in the town we were staying in, so we saw his family a lot too. He had two young children, two boys and his wife always made us local food for when we’d be away for a few days.”

“So, a real family man then,” Bucky commented, a sad smile on his face.

“Yeah, his kids mean everything to him,” you nodded. The boys loved playing football with you and the rest of the team during down time, being much quicker than all the older people and slipping between the defense of your team. Quite literally as well, those boys wormed their way into your hearts and saying goodbye hurt more than you would’ve thought.

“After the incident,” your eyes glossed over as you tried not to choke on the words, “he-, he lost his right leg. So, playing football with his kids is probably out of the question.”

“Did he tell you that?” Bucky broke a cookie in two and slid a part over to you.

You rapidly blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the tears, “no, I don’t know actually. I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“What? Why would you say that?” His hand came to rest on your wrist, as you wiped your eyes with the back of your other hand.

“It’s my team’s fault he was in that situation! He wasn’t even supposed to be there, but we asked him to come with because we wanted his pers- personal opinion on something.

“He wasn’t even getting payed! We just- we just asked him if he wanted to come with us because he was such a great person and he just wanted to help!” you grimaced, your chin trembling and your head hanging low.

“Hey, don’t- don’t say that it’s your fault,” he wrapped his fingers tighter around your wrist to get your attention.

“That bomb was there, whether you were there or not. It’s a stupid coincidence. That’s war for you,” he started, putting your hand in both of his, his next words a bit softer than the ones before, “you can’t put words in Nadir’s mouth if you haven’t talked to him.”

He lowered his head, so his gaze could connect to yours, “talk to him. I’m sure blaming you or your team is not on his mind.”

“But, but what if he does?” You sniffled, “and- and I mean, the whole conflict got even worse after that. International aid workers that were caught in the middle? Made it all worse- so much worse.”

“But, sweetheart, I-,” he sighed, his brows pulled together as he watched you spiral into what he could only describe as a deep pit of despair.

“This is not your fault- not at all. You were at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

When you finally looked up at him, he could see how much of a toll the whole thing actually had taken on you. Red eyes from a combination of exhaustion and crying, as well as the pronounced lines on your faces. Then he noticed how your hand was trembling in his, even when he was holding it so closely in his.

“I-i just feel like this black hole will swallow me so-soon,” you sniffled, trying to keep your eyes open, as tiredness set into your bones, making it difficult to even be.

“I’m sorry, I- I just feel that I don’t deserve the compassion you g-give me,” the words stuttered out.

The therapy session itself had been intense already, but you never expected the conversation with Bucky to take this turn. You never talked about the incident with anyone, except with dr. Russo. Even though you had told Bucky about the incident itself already, you had never revealed how you truly felt about everything and how your feelings were so intense sometimes, you felt they could be the end for you.

“No, please don’t say that,” the exasperated plea left his mouth, “you have been nothing but kind to me, even after everything I’ve told you.”

“And your literal job is helping people, of course you deserve everything you need,” he softly squeezed your hand, his eyes portraying trying to show you just how much you meant to him already.

“You have so much compassion for people, why should you not deserve any yourself?”

You sniffled again and rubbed away the tears under your eyes with one hand.

“I- I don’t know, it’s just hard,” letting out a sad giggle at the sound of your hoarse voice, “I don’t know what to do sometimes.”

“That’s alright, you’re allowed to get lost sometimes,” a toothy smile on his handsome face, “I was lost for a very long time, but look, I think I can confidently say that I’ve made it.”

“You did, you really did Bucky,” you nodded, a small smile coming back to your face again. It felt a bit like the sunshine after an intense rain shower, the moment the first rays of sun came back to warm your face.

“Thanks- and sorry. For spiraling a bit,” you said, putting your other hand on both of his.

“Hey, don’t worry,” grabbing both of your hands in his, “and talk to Nadir. Please.”

The warmth you felt radiating out of this person, made you feel like you were wrapped up in a blanket. Safe and cozy and a place you never wanted to leave again. How a person made you feel this way was not something you ever thought was possible, but the moment proved it existed. The dark hole within your heart was slowly starting to dissipate, swallowing itself whole without dragging you with it into the depths of the universe.

“Thank god this place is kinda dark, I think we both look like wrecks,” you shakily laughed as Bucky rolled his eyes.

Week 11

“Let’s talk about the week you’ve had, anything interesting you want to tell me about?” dr. Russo said, opening her notebook and clicking down on her pen.

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” you sat a bit forward on the edge of the seat, clasping your hands together as you gathered your thoughts.

“I met up with that new friend and I opened up about my situation,” you said, “and yeah. It was nice to open up about it actually.”

“I’m glad you opened up, now how did this friend came to be?” she said as she scanned her notes, “Was it the older man’s friend?”

“Yes. He’s my neighbours friend, but he also goes uh- went to therapy here, so we bumped into each other one time,” you nodded, looking over at dr. Russo who was jotting down some things.

“So, he understands what you’re going through then?” she questioned, “as he is also a client here, I suspect he isn’t one to judge?”

You quickly nodded, “no, yeah. He’s been really supportive it’s crazy.”

“Uh, I told him about Nadir,” you added after a silent moment, “and he pushed me to contact him.”

“Did you?”

You rolled your lips and scrunched your nose, “yeah.”

Dr. Russo stayed quiet, giving you time to mull over the words as she looked at your body language. The fact that you were sitting on the edge of your seat instead of leaned back into the couch showed a lot of improvement to her.

“He was really glad to finally hear from me,” your eyelash fluttering when you tried to keep the emotions in, “his kids-”

“His kids said they missed us, missed me,” you choked out, everything still feeling unreal.

“Did you talk about the roadside bomb?” dr. Russo pulled you out of the story for a moment, before you went off the rails.

Your right hand was gripping your thigh with a lot of pressure, trying to find another outlet without all emotions expressed on your face.

“yeah. He got a prosthetic leg and he’s even able to play football with his kids and they fled the conflict and are living a pretty good life, that’s what he said at least.”

Dr. Russo smiled at you as she shifted her gaze from your eyes to where your hand was turning pale from the pressure, “did you ask about whose fault it was?”

You harshly swallowed as you nodded, “he doesn’t blame me, or our team for that matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

You let out a shaky laugh, releasing the tight grip on your thigh, “less guilty.”

“Almost relieved in a way, that they don’t blame me, or the team or the mission itself. They still believe we helped the community in a way, even if our being there and the-, the bo-bomb created another conflict.”

“Can you accept now that this is not your fault, not in any way?” dr. Russo asked.

Nadir confirming what Bucky had said did make the incident feel more like just what it was. An accident.

“Not fully,” you admitted, “but it is slowly starting to dawn upon me that there were other factors at play here and that I was just a cog in the machine.”

“You did really well, I’m proud of the progress you’re making,” dr. Russo clicked her pen.

“This friend is a good one, keep him close,” she added, a smile stretching over her face.

She closed her notebook, “now, I want to do an exercise for the rest of our time together.”

Week 15

“You ready?” You whispered as you stood in front of Yori’s door. Bucky looked a bit sick, if you were honest. His face had paled considerably and you honestly weren’t sure what to do if a super-soldier fainted. Could they faint?

“No,” he said after a beat, but he knocked on the door anyway.

If you told him you weren’t stressed, you’d be lying. Yori was a sweet old man, but what Bucky was going to tell him now, you had no idea how he would react. Bucky had been lying to the man for weeks, and not just a little white lie, no — the truth about what happened to his son.

The old man opened the door just a bit to get a look at his visitors, “hey, what are you doing here?”

He immediately opened the door further, revealing the ever candle-lit shrine and you heard Bucky taking a deep breath.

He let you enter first, and you gave Yori a tight lipped smile as you passed him.

The shrine to his son had multiple candles burning, and your gaze was stuck on the picture. You had been in Yori’s apartment before, but you didn’t know yet how his son had been killed. It felt wrong, almost as if you were a bystander in something you weren’t even part of.

“I have to tell you something,” Bucky’s voice was low and gentle, but you knew the words were getting stuck in his throat.

“About your son,” he added and Yori’s face immediately constricted into a frown.

Yori nodded a few times and held out his arm, gesturing that everyone should sit down. Yori probably heard the tone of voice Bucky used and knew whatever he was going to say, wasn’t going to be a simple thing.

You settled on a chair next to Bucky, mostly so you could gauge Yori’s reaction when he finally told him what happened to his son.

Bucky pulled off his gloves for the first time in Yori’s presence, revealing the vibranium hand that had been hidden for so long and took a deep breath in, the lines on his forehead creasing.

“He was murdered,” he simply said, choosing not to beat around the bush as to what faith his son had met all these years ago.

The look on Yori’s face broke your heart. You had come to appreciate the old man and his weird ways when you were out and about. He didn’t deserve this. His son didn’t deserve this. But there were some wicked people in the world who thought brainwashing soldiers into ruthless killing machines was okay. Neither the brainwashed people nor the victims ever deserved this fate.

“What?” He finally choked out.

“By the winter soldier,” Bucky’s voice was starting to lose the little ounce of confidence he had left in him, his throat constricting.

“And that was me.” His voice was shaking as he tried to blink away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Bucky looked down at his feet, the sight of Yori’s face to much to bear.

The tension in the room was palpable and you honestly had no idea what was about to happen next. Yori looked confused and sad, mixed with a hint of anger in the way he was staring at Bucky’s form.

“What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?” were the first words he uttered after processing all the information.

He wasn’t looking at Bucky anymore, his gaze shifted to the picture of his son on the small shrine, the incense leaving a smoke trail around it.

Bucky expected Yori to throw him out of his apartment — he would’ve let him do it too.

He swallowed harshly, “I was experimented on, trying to recreate the su-super soldier serum, uh, then they brainwashed me — repeatedly, and put me on ice when they didn’t need me.”

Bucky’s jaw was set in a hard line as he tried . You on the other hand tried your best not to let a tear slip out as you watched the man next to you talk about the horrible things he endured.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky finally choked out, his voice raspy and filled with regret as he looked at Yori, broken and alone.

Yori bit on the inside of his cheek before he shot up and looked at you, “I’d like it if you left — both of you.”

You didn’t miss the exasperated look on Bucky’s face as he realized Yori refused to even look at him.

You stood up and put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, signaling it was time to go. Bucky rubbed his face with his hand and then stood up as well.

Yori had already opened the front door, looking at the floor as you both shuffled towards the exit.

Bucky was first through the door this time, slowing when he passed Yori, but when he realized Yori wouldn’t acknowledge him, he quickly left. He already went to the elevator, not waiting for you as you stood in front of Yori.

“I’m so sorry, Yori,” you whispered as you touched the side of his arm.

A tear slipped down Yori’s face as he finally looked up at you. His eyes were vacant and his lips were turned into a deep frown as he nodded.

“If you ever want to talk — my door is always open.”

You stepped out of the door fully now and Yori didn’t say anything before the door closed, but you knew he’d accept your offer. Even if it was next week, next month or next year.

Bucky was waiting outside the apartment building, a grim look on his face as he watched the traffic go by.

“Just give him some time, Bucky,” you told him. The fact that Bucky owned up to apologizing meant a lot, but that didn’t mean everyone would or could just forgive him that easily.

“All the people he killed, I have to apologize for,” he grit his teeth, an angry scowl on his face.

“But no one — no one ever apologized to me for making me this way.”

“I still see their faces in front of me, you know,” he added when you didn’t respond.

All the emotions that were coursing through his veins now were fueled by anger, injustice and sadness. Sadness that he had to become this person, this person who will never feel satisfied with his life because of all the trauma’s he inflicted on people.

You grabbed his vibranium hand, the hand that would always remind him of the horrors he committed, and laced your fingers through his. The metal felt cold to your warm hands, as if portraying how he was feeling at that moment.

He didn’t even react to the gesture, only glanced your way when you lightly tugged on his hand.

“It’s not my place to apologize,” you tried, “and I don’t think anyone will ever apologize, which I’m sorry for.

“But the fact that you — you,” you pressed a finger against his chest, “wanted to apologize for stuff you never wanted to do, makes you the strongest and bravest person there is.”

You licked your lips, gaze shifting between his eyes as he chewed on his bottom lip, insecurity preventing him from accepting your compliment.

“I just have nothing left in me to give to the world, to anyone — to you,” he shakily breathed out as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t know why-, why you are being this kind to me.”

“I don’t think the world or me want anything from you,” you brought your intwined hands up to your chest, holding it closely to your heart.

“You are enough, Bucky, and I don’t know how I can get you to accept that,” you bent your head down and pressed a soft kiss against the back of his vibranium hand.

“I hope one day you’ll see what an impeccable person you are, someone who cares until it hurts too much and even then pressing on,” you wanted to let go of his hand, but his grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Uh, I-I honestly don’t know what to say,” his brow furrowed and a sad smile present on his face, “this is-, it’s the most honest thing someone has said to me for a while.”

“Thank you,” he added, his red eyes portraying just how much his emotions had shifted during the last 10 minutes.

“So, what do you say we get something to eat, huh? I think we could both use some food,” you changed the topic to a lighter one. The day had been very emotional already and you wanted to give him some time to process everything.

“Uh, I need to make a quick stop somewhere,” he pulled on your hand as he started walking towards the city centre, “then I’ll be free.”

* * *

After visiting Yori, Bucky had asked you to do one final thing. A final thing that would give him a clean slate, as he worded it.

When you ended up at the therapy center, you tried your best to hide the surprise on your face. You had waited outside as he went in. It had taken him longer than you expected, but you noticed the city sounds didn’t bother you as much anymore. Just waiting for Bucky was enough to distract you from the city that was alive and buzzing all around you.

After a while, he came back out, a few ripped off pages clutched between his fingers.

“Thanks- for today. For-for coming with me,” he said as you stood in front of the building you frequented every Wednesday.

“Yeah, I’m here for you, Bucky,” you nodded towards the pages, “what are those?”

He quickly put them away in his pocket, crumpling the neat pages without much care it seemed like, “uh-, just something I wanted to keep.”

You decided not to pry, instead asking him about dr. Raynor, “so, ‘m sure the goodbye was hard?”

He fell into step next to you, an unspoken agreement you’d visit the book store cafe again, seeking refuge from the busy city.

“Uh, well, actually she wasn’t there,” rubbing the scruff on his chin, he looked suspicious and he knew.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there? I thought you’d let her know beforehand you’d drop by?”

“Well, you know, she’s… a busy woman,” he puckered his lips, acting as if he had at least tried to get ahold of her.

“Bucky,” you whined, dragging out the last syllable, “you didn’t even try!”

“I left her a card, sweetheart, should be enough,” he put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you against him.

“Now, I think it’s time for food, don’t ya think?”

Week 19

“And you’re sure you could bring a plus one?” The words rushed out as you followed Bucky closely on the docks to where his partner- scratch that, Captain America, was sitting.

“Don’t worry about it,” he weaved through the children, pretending to be hit a few times when a kid fake-punched him, “they welcomed me with open arms, so why wouldn’t they do the same for you?”

His sunglasses slid down on his nose as he gave you a pointed look over the rim, “besides, weren’t you the one who needed more friends?”

You shoved him against his shoulder, but wrapped your arm around his elbow after and muttered some sort of obscenity, which he only he laughed at.

“You’re very cute, you know that?”

You hid your face against his bicep as he chuckled again, the smile just never leaving his face today.

“Happiness looks really good on you Bucky,” you smiled up at him, tapping your fingers on his bicep.

“It looks even better on you,” he put down the cake on a table and turned to face you, “I mean, the scowl you had on your face when we met was terrifying!”

“Hey, I was having a bad moment. This scowl can come right back, hmm,” you pointed towards your face, trying to look angry.

“It doesn’t work, sorry doll,” he tapped on the bottom of your chin, lifting your head, “even you trying to look pissed is cute.”

A deep sigh left you, but you did feel yourself growing hot at his endless stream of compliments. After visiting Yori, you and Bucky had started spending even more time together, growing closer and closer by the minute.

“C’mon, Sam’s waiting,” he put his hands on your shoulders and steered you towards where Sam was sitting.

“This is like the first time I’m meeting an Avenger, this is so exciting,” you squealed and he let out a deep groan, pressing his thumbs a little harder on your shoulder blades.

“You’re going to give him an even bigger god-complex than he already has!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re not an Avenger,” you turned your head a bit backwards, checking his reaction.

“Psh, quiet you,” he shushed you as you finally arrived at the table where Sam and co were sitting.

“Ah, there they are!” Sam exclaimed and stood up to give Bucky a hug. They clapped each other on the back and said something to each other.

You were patiently waiting next to them, a little bit stressed at the prospect of meeting Sam.

“And you must be the infamous y/n, Bucky has said a lot about you,” Sam said when he let go of Bucky.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but you couldn’t miss the blush that was creeping up his neck as he looked away.

“Mr. Wilson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you held out your hand as you were starstruck by the idea that Sam already knew about you.

“No, no. None of that here,” he pulled you into a tight hug, “and Sam please. Mr. Wilson makes me feel old.”

You let go, a little bit dazed that fucking Captain America hugged you. When Bucky stood next to you again, you gripped his lower arm and looked up at him, eyes big and a coy smile on your face.

“Stop fangirling,” he whispered, trying to not laugh at the expression on your face.

“Never,” you whispered right back, moving your face a bit closer to his before rapidly pulling away.

“Could I have a picture with you, Sam? I’m kind of a big fan.”

“You hear that Buck, your girl wants a picture with me, not you, me!” Sam exclaimed and pulled you under his arm.

Those words gave you a warm feeling, right inside the centre of your chest as you shot Bucky an awkward laugh. How was it even possible to feel this way about someone, even when nothing tangible was going on between the two of you?

“Smile!” Bucky called out, holding up his phone as you and Sam both put on your best smile.

“Thank you so much,” you gushed, still so in awe that you were standing next to a literal superhero.

“Don’t you want a picture with me then?” Bucky asked.

“We already have pictures together, silly,” you said as you took his phone to look at the picture.

“Ooh, these are so good Buck, thanks!” you forwarded the pictures to yourself. These were definitely going onto your fridge.

“But we only have selfies!” He pouted, “‘m sure Sam doesn’t mind snapping a few of us, right?”

Sam held out his hand to grab the phone, “let’s go, the sun is just setting.”

Bucky stretched out his arm around your shoulders as you wrapped on of yours around his waist. He looked down at you, securely squeezed against his side, and the pure happiness that was radiating off of you.

Sam started snapping pictures, just taking as many as he could.

Afterward a few hours, you were sitting next to Bucky at the picnic table eating dinner, “hey, let me look at the pictures, haven’t seen them yet.”

Bucky pulled out his phone again and slid it over to you, leaning a bit closer to you so he could see them too.

“Ooh, this is a cute one,” you softly said, looking at the picture where Bucky was looking at you with a soft smile on his face and you were laughing out loud at a stupid thing Sam said.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as you kept scrolling.

“Jesus, he took like 50 pictures of us.”

“At least we have some decent ones now,” he breathed out, hot air fanning into your face as you felt your insides make twenty flips.

You turned your face a little, noses almost touching as you looked at him out of the corners of your eyes. Whatever was going on between the two of you, it made you feel like you were on top of the world, able to conquer everything, as long as he was by your side.

“Yeah,” you softly smiled, feeling the last remains of the black hole disappear into nothing.

* * *

“Thanks for bringing me to see your friends,” you said as you fell down next to him on the couch that would be your makeshift bed for the night, “or should I say family?”

“They kinda are my family, aren’t they?” He snickered as he threw his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer.

Tiredness had started to set in into both your bodies after a few hours of mingling, eating and dancing on the docks.

So many people had welcomed you with open arms, making the night so much better than you ever expected. They didn’t ask about anyone’s past, only what the plans for the future were. It felt like a second chance - a second try to feel alive again.

You nuzzled yourself further under his arm and grabbed the hand that was hanging over you to interlace your digits with his.

“Thanks for coming with me, it- it means a lot,” he whispered after pressing a kiss against your head.

“It’s good to see you happy,” you hummed, looking up at him now. He was already looking at you, a soft look in his eyes portraying just how much it did mean to him.

Your noses were almost touching for the second time this day, but now that you were alone in the dark living room it felt a hundred times more intimate and real.

The hand that was holding his over your shoulder, let loose and he whined at the loss of contact. It came up to cup his cheek instead, your thumb rubbing the slight scruff on his face as he shakily breathed in.

He finally nudged his nose against yours, his eyes falling closed as you enjoyed the feeling of the closeness, the warmth of his breath fanning over your face.

“I- can I-“ he trailed off, just a whisper that only you could hear.

You moved slightly forward, immediately answering his question as your lips finally pressed together.

It felt like a breath of fresh air, after being stuck in a stuffy room for way too long. It felt like coming home, his lips soft and warm and pressed against yours in a way you had never been kissed before.

It felt like nothing bad ever happened to you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off, knowing he would be at the bottom waiting for you to fall right into his arms, right into him.

When you finally pulled back, both your hands were cradling his face, the moonlight illuminating his perfect face.

He pressed a kiss against your palm, before pulling you closer in his embrace, tugging you into him safely.

“I really, really like you,” you whispered, and you pressed a lingering kiss against the side of his neck inhaling his scent and closing your eyes.

“I really, really like you too,” he whispered right back, tugging a blanket over the both of you, settling down for the night, limbs entangled and heartstrings connecting both of your hearts to each other.

Week 34

“What the hell is this,” you whispered to yourself as you held the piece of clothing in front of you. You were redoing your bedroom, the room hadn’t changed since you moved in four years ago and it was overdue. A new bed frame was supposed to arrive tomorrow and you still had to clean out your room, pulling stuff from under the bed even.

This particular piece of clothing was a dark pair of pants, definitely Bucky’s. There were some papers sticking out of the back pockets, his signature scribblings standing out.

“Bucky?” You called out to your boyfriend in the living room. He was reading one of your books on the couch, patiently waiting until he could help disassemble your old bed frame.

“Can you come? I think this is yours?”

You heard him pad over to the bedroom, the fluffy socks on his feet showing a whole other side to the man he usually presented to the world.

“What’s mine?” his gravely voice reached your ears as he stood over you.

You handed him the notes and he immediately chuckled.

“Have you read them?” he said as he sat down next to where you were sitting on the floor, crossing his long legs and scanning through the pages.

You shook your head, “no, but they’re yours, right?”

He hummed a response as he read the words on the pages, written so many weeks ago, when so much was still different.

“Read it,” he handed the papers back, a lopsided grin on his face as he awaited your reaction.

“What is this about, now?” You murmured, not expecting an answer as you scanned the scrawly penmanship, a few words less readable where the paper was very creased.

The words came straight from his heart, poems written about you and what you had said to him. Small little doodles too, a cookie from when you had gone to the coffee shop, or a small drawing of your face, illuminated by the moon.

You looked up at him as he bit on his lower lip, crows feet next to his eyes as he glowed.

“You- you did all of this? Before we- we were even dating?” You stammered, as you put down the papers on the bed, the content in them too precious to leave on the floor.

He slowly nodded, pressing his lips together in a smile, “I-uh, I started getting these feelings for you, pretty early on actually and… I just didn’t know how to deal with them, so- so this was my way to get them out, to- to make them more tangible.

“And, I want you to know, just how much you mean to me. And how much you caring for me, changed me. For the better.”

He hesitated for a second, his eyes narrowing as he thought about what to say next, “uh, you said this thing, pretty early on - it, it was something about your heart being a black hole?”

You didn’t respond, only tilted your head as you wondered where he was going with this.

“I had a similar issue, but ever since I met you - this heavy feeling, it felt- it felt so much lighter instantly-“

You flung yourself around him, your arms around his neck as Bucky fell backwards onto the soft carpet, you on top of him.

You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, trying to ignore the salty taste of the tears that were streaming down your face.

“Bucky,” you sniffled, pressing a string of kisses on his cheeks, jaw, forehead and nose, “you are, the most- the most precious person I have ever met.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you laid on the ground, the mess all around you the opposite of how you felt and the current situation you were in.

“I love you so much, “you croaked out, the tears lodged in your throat but the adoring gaze told a whole other story.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as he rubbed his hands over your back, “I love you.”

* * *

The pages from his notebook were the centre of the universe for you. Whenever you had a bad day, you went over to your desk and looked at the wall, where said pages were neatly hung in frames and helped you calm down. You could recite the word by heart by now, knew every curl of his handwriting and where every splotch of ink was.

And whenever you had a bad day, Bucky was right there next to you, arms wide open and the soft look of his eyes only reserved for you.

He was your soulmate and you were his. The black holes that used to be your hearts, were replaced by one big supernova, strings of colours intertwined with one another, endless, beautiful and forever.

[yzkhr]

take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. then shoot me and walk away.

-

Today was almost the perfect definition of a relaxing day for Tokyo University's criminology student Kudo Shinichi. The weather was nice, with some of the sun's warm rays making it's way through the gaps of their window in the living room. The place was quiet, free of any random advices from his father and constant doting of his mother.

With him laying comfortably on the soft couch with his hand holding his favorite mystery novel and a cup of steaming hot coffee on the near table, today was just a nice day to chill.

Not until his girlfriend came in ruined it all.

Stomping her feet rather aggressively, Mouri Ran made her way towards her boyfriend whose obvious comfort in his position made her already bad mood turn worse.

He felt her presence but decided to pay no heed to it, not wanting to peel his eyes of the most exciting part. However, ignoring her was proven impossible as she literally flopped her body down on top of him, startling his composure.

"Ran" he reprimanded. However, looking at her innocent—still with a hint of annoynce—face, Shinichi decided to just let her be. Besides, having Ran close to him was never a bad thing.

Then she just had to insert her head in the crook of his neck, making his previous calm heartbeat faster. He tried to focus on the book, but the warm inhaling and exhaling on his neck wasn't making it any easier.

But, the last straw of his ability to be comprehensive was gone when Ran started kissing the side of his neck lightly.

Feeling his entire body slightly tremor, he tried to say something—anything— but his thoughts were cut off when she slightly sucked a sensitive spot. He couldn't help but let out a grunt.

The so called precious book in Shinichi's hand was now gone, as he was grabbing on to something more important. Feeling his hands around her waist, Kudo Shinichi's little tease finally spoke.

"Shinichi?" she asked, deliberately whispering into his ear.

"Hmm?"

He tried to gather his thoughts but they were all blocked out by pleasure.

"You love me right?"

It was a weird question, seeing how utterly submissive he is right now to her but he answered nonetheless, although with half of a mind.

"yah."

"You'll do anything for me?"

On any normal day, he would have been frightened at such a question but today wasn't a normal day. Specially if his girlfriend is already slightly nibbling at his left ear.

"yah.."

"Then, you'll go laser tagging with me?"

At this point, his mind was already somewhere else. Without even thinking about it as he's focusing on her kisses and nibbles instead of words, Shinichi instinctively answered.

"yahh.."

One second she was on top of him—making him lose his focus and ability to understand a thing except for the fact that she was kissing him—the next Ran was already on her way to her room, skipping lightly.

After a few milliseconds, Shinichi's brain catches up, finally getting the purpose of Ran's unusual and sudden actions a while ago. He hastily stood up and started making his way towards her and knocked three desperate times.

"Ran!" he protested, not wanting to leave his safe haven(that was completely destroyed) but Ran only answered in a muffled voice through the walls of their room.

"You said yes!" she even spoke in a sing-song manner which implied that she was already almost done dressing up and backing out would be unacceptable.

Kudo Shinichi ruffled his hair in frustration, the events just a few minutes earlier repeating in his head.

"She got me." he whispered, defeated.

-

It was a good thing joypolis was not far away from their house so they can get in the laser tag place easier and get out of there faster as well.

As they got into the vest room after the short briefing of the game, Shinichi was still very contemplative if wasting time at a game of laser tag more worth it than finishing his mystery novel back at home but seeing Ran's bright smile as she's wearing her vest similar to a child definitely made Shinichi lean on laser tagging.

As everyone—except Shinichi— get ready to enter the gaming arena, Ran pulled him out of his inner thoughts by slightly elbowing him at the side.

"Why do you look so bored Shinichi? Come on, it'll be fun." she chided, as if forgetting she dragged him out of the house.

"Sorry but my definition of fun today would be finishing my mystery book at home."

His girlfriend only raised an eyebrow and grinned at his remark.

"But that's boring. Laser tagging is so much more fun!"

He gave up, knowing clearly their definition of fun differ too much from one another.

But, maybe Ran could be right. Maybe Laser Tagging could be entertaining and not boring. Not to brag or anything but, Shinichi was pretty sure he can beat everyone with his eyes closed so he just hoped the game wouldn't be over in just a few minutes.

-

He lied. They were losing.

It wasn't even because his team was bad, it was because the other group were just a lot stronger. What frustrated him even more was the fact that it was only a single person that made the other team stronger. Of course, it was none other than his karate champion girlfriend.

Half of him was proud, this being the proof of her speed and good reflexes but the other half was annoyed, knowing he was losing and he can't do anything about it.

It was almost impossible to caught a Mouri Ran off guard. Before they can even get close to her, she would already feel their presence and turn around to shoot them. They also can't go face to face. There was nothing left except to--

Well, Shinichi was pretty sure he was going to get his ass kicked if wouldn't work, but it was worth the try.

-

Ran was confident. They were winning by a landslide. It was fairly easy compared to her battles with Kasumi-senpai. Her enemies were quick to spot and with her quick reflexes, she can shoot them in no time. She was sure that nothing would get in the way of their team to win.

If only she didn't get so cocky.

Ran was about to turn around a corner to try and find her targets when a cold hand yanked her to the opposite direction instead.

Having no time to react, she found herself being pushed into a close corner, her back making contact to the frigid wall. Since it was dark, with only a few placed neon lights in their area, she couldn't see the culprit. The stranger's hands were now on both side of her shoulders, successful at pining her. Despite the situation, she did take note how gentle they were, making sure that she didn't get hurt from the push.

Finally finding her voice and composure, Ran attempted to scold whoever the person was only to lost them again, this time, through a kiss.

For a second, she didn't know how to react. Involuntarily, her clenched fist was on their way to her kisser's face, only for Ran to stop it halfway, tasting a familiar minty taste from her mouth.

'Shinichi' Ran immediately thought.

Still having a little bit of her sanity left, she tried to break away—weakly, being distracted at how nice the kissing was—but to absolutely no avail.

In fact, he only leaned in harder, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, this time, making her totally blank.

The rational part of her was practically screaming, telling her how wrong and embarrassing the scene was but all the irrational part wanted was to pull him even closer and deepen the kiss more than ever. So she did.

Ran wrapped her armed left hand and empty right hand around her boyfriend, coaxing him closer.

At that moment, all that mattered was his lips on hers and their body making contact with each other as they push and pull.

When Ran wanted to go laser tagging, she meant it with every sense of the word. But perhaps, stuff like this would happened and it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, she might even prefer it than shooting beams at light vests.

Not being contented with just her lips, Shinichi went for her neck, and sucked it lightly, the same spot she did his earlier that day.

She definitely preferred this.

-

This wasn't the plan.

He was just suppposed to kiss her lightly and distract her for a short period of time so why is he still there, pining her against the wall, desperately kissing each other like there's no tomorrow?

An eternity pass but neither one wanted to pull away. He should've been running out of ari by now. But for him, kissing Ran had never been so tiring. In fact, Shinichi could do it all day if he was permitted to. The odd sweet taste that only she have—not that he kissed any other girl before— he wanted to name it.

The two of them completely forgot about the ongoing game, with them playing a more exciting and pleasurable game on their own.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—a tiny bit of Shinichi came back to it's senses by hearing a faint shooting sound, bringing him to his current task at hand.

Knowing that if he stayed longer kissing her, he'd just be sucked in again so he move to her neck, sucking it, with both the intent of distracting her and something else.

Seeing Ran completely dazed, he slowly held his gun up to her stomach while still kissing her, albeit less aggressive for fear he'll lose himself and never stop.(which doesn't sound so bad.)

With one last smack, he pulled the trigger.

-

The loud sound effect of a shooting beam broke Ran out her trance with her slightly nodding her head off. She was breathing hard, still trying to catch air from the activity.

Seconds passed as the post-kiss effect was finally gone, that's only when she noticed one of her lights were off. The previous sound of a shooting beam came back to her.

She looked up to see Shinichi grinning, slightly waving his gun off. In that moment, everything clicked.

Ran's face warped from the state confusion to anger almost instantly. Shinichi took that as a sign to get away.

"Shinichi!" Before she could even begin to run after him, he was already gone. Advantage of a spccer player with strong legs.

Having the kissing scene played out in her mind, she sighed with mixed in feelings in them.

"He got me."

-

I'm new to writing kissing scenes so please bear with me :))

[jaeminscoffee]

Drapetomania.

Drapetomania- An overwhelming urge to run away.

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader.

Genre- Angst, business!au

Word count- 2.73k

Warning- Mention of intake of alcohol, smoking and plans of running away.

Summary- A friend as good as ready to run away with you but you stop him dead in track, wanting solitude away from the cruelty of your world.

Ever felt like wanting to turn a blind eye towards all your responsibilities and just run away? 

The night was cold, gusty winds blowing through the open curtain of the ball room. Sounds of wine and whiskey glasses clattering filled the air. Sniffs of all sorts of cuisines from around the world had everyone's mouth watering. The entrance to the room leading up to the podium had a crimson carpet taut. All dressed fancy, women in gowns, men in tux. 

You yourself adorned a glitter black red flowing gown. Elegantly falling off your shoulder. The dress starting black, fading into red paired with a black bow heels, which was hidden by your gown pleats.

This was your life as the next head of your enterprise. Well, your father's company to be precise. It wasn't bad living in a world full of business talks, money exchange and complacency. 

Your company has earned its name as one of the top three of your country, alongside the Lee and Kim enterprises. The competition between all three companies was cut throat. All united and tranquil though, amidst all sorts of competition and the want to win, you were all acquaintances. 

All your parents dated a long time back, starting from their ancestors, passing through generations now passing onto you.

Business ran in all of your blood. 

As soon as you'd received your masters degree, your parents had immediately given you the post of the assistant manager at their company, not giving you a chance to state what your interests lie in. 

It wasn't half as bad as you'd thought it would be. You made a couple of friends going through the same as you, Lee Taeyong from the Lee Enterprise. Kim Doyoung and his younger brother Kim Jungwoo, from the Kim Corporations. Lastly, Jung Jaehyun from Jung Entertainments, CEO in training, a current partner and your fiancé. 

Yes, the Jung's and your family decided to merge ownership to create a much stronger stake.

This world, as lavish it sounds, snatches all types of freedom from you. Having money doesn't sound that bad, right? Having power sounds great, doesn't it? 

Well, it really isn't, you didn't get to enjoy the adult life you'd hoped for growing up. Not many stay beside you until you spend dollars on them either. The power either scared them or had their jealousy drive them away from you. 

Responsibilities came in one by one as a chain, giving you little to no time to breathe, adding onto that your wedding in a few months. You tried talking your way out of the arranged relationship, but it was futile. It was set once then it's set. No more turning points from there. 

The lad you're getting tied to wasn't bad, neither had he been rude to you, nor does he have that cockiness almost every other business man has. The arrogance was absent too. But rather, he was a gentleman, an absolute eye candy, a hard working young man. You were friends, as previously mentioned. You'd spoken the next day after the arrangement as you'd ran straight to the closest of your friends, Lee Taeyong, to bawl your eyes out of distaste. 

Jaehyun didn't want the marriage either, both of you were still so young, just starting your lives. 

Taeyong had to go through the same, but unlike your parents, they actually listened to him. 

That leads you to today, standing by the casement of your hotel room after exchanging a few formal greetings by the party hall, having Taeyong sit by the bed as your parents made their ments about the future of the company, possibly even announcing your marriage plan. 

"You know this hotel has a huge smoking prohibited board outside right?" Taeyong asked, clearing the air, coughing, watching you take swig after swig of your half burnt cigarette. You laugh at your friends' talks and silent complaints. This was the real you, you back talked, you screamed, you spent money on buying graphic t-shirts rather fancy clothes, you smoked, clubbed on the weekends. The real you was totally in contrast to you in front of the others. You were expected to be perfect, mannerisms on point not to disobey even.

"Yeah? And?" you said, puffing out the tobacco filled air right onto Taeyong's face, chuckling as he dramatically starts choking, exaggerating it a bit too much than required.

"I'm not going to help you when you get arrested," He said, shrugging his shoulders, standing up from the edge of the bed and standing beside you, taking the stick out of your hands, throwing it out of the window. You at him, looking up because of the height difference, "health comes first, princess" he said in feigned politeness, earning a smack on the shoulder as a reply from your end, "Oh fuck you, Lee" you reply with a petty tone having the toxic been taken from between your fingers. 

"So you dragged me all the way up to cuss at me or you have something to tell me?" he asked, breaking the silence taking over the air. You lean forward by the sill, looking outside the window as you let out a sigh, taking a whiff of the blustery night before turning towards Taeyong who already had his focus on you.

"It's about the marriage, and starting today, I-uh..I'll be taking over the company. I don't think I'm ready for it, Tae" you say, looking down at where your dress met the carpeted floor of your hotel room. 

You've had this talk with him multiple times, and he always had the same answer. What could the poor boy say anyways? 

"Y/n listen-" he was cut off by a soft knock on the door, the both of you whip your heads towards the door when the knocking occured again, "The door's unlocked!" you voice out. 

The door knob rattled the slightest, opening the wooden block by a little. "Y/n" a deep voice spoke, the door opening wider to display Jaehyun on the other end, a red velvet tux matching your clothing adorned his structure. "Jaehyun! Hey man!" Taeyong exclaimed, making his way towards the boy who stood with a wide smile after seeing his friend. "Hey Tae! Glad to see you didn't flee away from the party like you did last time" the boys laughed, embracing each other, you letting out a chuckle yourself. 

"Someone here, wouldn't let me run away until i take her along with me, I'm not stating names" Taeyong said jokingly, Jaehyun laughing at it, you poking your tongue out at the boys. 

"Can't have the spotlight taken away from the main, now can we?" Jaehyun said, the boys fist bumping at their adjoined 'tease Y/n until she's fuming' agenda. 

"Back to why I'm here, Your father's expecting you downstairs" Jaehyun looked over at you, your figure leaning against the now closed casement. "But i don't want to go down there" you reply grumpily, making your way towards the bed about to flop down, only to be stopped by Taeyong with his hands around your waist. "You're going to ruin your dress up, doll. Your mom won't let you breathe, then" he said pulling you up as you stand up right. 

"Right, almost forgot, thanks" you say, smoothing out the crease. Taeyong then pushed you towards your other friend, him catching you by your forearm. "Happy acting perfect! Oh also, all the best for the same" Taeyong said, waving as Jaehyun started pulling you out the room, ignoring your protests and whines. 

"Jae, i don't want to! They'll ask me to give speeches and you know how much i hate that!" you complain, trying to put all your weight onto the ground to make it hard for him to pull you, but he kept going with ease. "You don't really have to, we've finished that part of the day, thank the lords"

Jaehyun said, drawing a cross as you laugh at his antics. 

"Then why does father need me?" You see him pause the walk down the hallway towards the marble staircase, too fancy for your liking but already grown accustomed to it. 

"Because, they wanted to discuss something about the marriage" he said, resuming his steps. 

"What about it? There's still 7 months for it" you said, earning a sigh from the lad. This time, he stopped again, turning around to face you, gripping your shoulders in a soft, comforting grip. 

He looked at you hesitantly. Sensing something wrong, you grip his palms that rest on your shoulder, looking at him with a soft expression. "Jae.. Is something wrong?" you ask. 

"Y/n..about the marriage" he started, clearing his throat slowly then looking you straight in the eyes. "They.. My parents and yours.. They decided to.. Uh" he stopped, contemplating whether to let it out or not. 

"They decided to what? Jae just spit it out" you started to grow impatient.

"They decided to prepone our wedding"

-x-

You run down the hallway, towards the huge double doors leading to the party hall, frantically searching for your father, Jaehyun hot on your trail.

"Y/n wait up-"

"Father." you call out, finding him seated beside your mother, sipping on his whiskey. 

"Ah! If it isn't my pride! Y/n, your mom and Mrs.Jung-" he started, you cut him off. 

"Father, could i have a word with you in private?" you say, voice void of any form of emotion. 

"Of course, darling. Excuse me" he looked at the guests seated in the round table, smiling at them as you led him away from the crowd, to the hallway you'd previously run down.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He said, smile so wide it had to be fake. "You prepone the wedding?" your voice slightly quivered, crossing your fingers hoping it wasn't true. 

"Ah yes! I see Jaehyun already told you. I was thinking-" he started off again, with that honey coated voice of his. "why did you do that?" you step back, stumbling a bit. "Because the quicker the marriage, the faster the merge and more the profit, baby. It's all a full circle" he smoothened your hair out, you smack his hands away. "I'm not ready for a marriage yet, father! Two weeks? That's too early!" you scream at him, disbelief evident in your voice. "Oh of course you're ready! You're the daughter of a businessman, you're born ready!" he said, with pride, his shoulders pulled back. 

"I-i'm really not, dad. It's too soon, i don't want it. I'm going to call off the wedding-" you shakily say, turning around to make your way back to where Jaehyun stood, to be pulled back with much force. 

"Listen Y/n, It isn't about what you want or what you don't. You're ready when i say so, you get married when i say so. If you, ever, dare ruin our partnership with the Jungs, you see what you'll have to face." he said with a glare, giving you one last look before pausing to correct his bowtie, making his way back to the ballroom. 

Taeyong who had just so happened to make his way down the stairs, had unintentionally eavesdropped the entire conversation. He'd wanted nothing more than just to pull you in close, but after scanning the room, he saw your fiance standing there, by the corner, looking at Y/n then at him.

Taeyong nodded his head forward, wanting Jaehyun to come in and soothe you with comfort talks, but the latter shook his head. 

Your soon to be husband would probably be the last person you'd want to see, and so he faded back into the crowd. 

Taeyong hesitated first, having two successors seen together at a party isn't a news that should reach anyone, unless you're engaged, but seeing you let out a feeble sob, pulled his last string, and he made his way quick down the stairs, the hallway, pulling you into a tight embrace as soon as he reached you. 

"T-Taeyo-" you start between your feeble sobs, controlling yourself to not have a full on breakdown and create a scene at the party. "Shh doll, don't say anything, i heard it all" his voice calming, rubbing your back his palms in a comforting manner. "It's too e-early, Tae, i haven't even s-started living my life to th-the fullest yet and here-" you pause to inhale deeply, "-here i am, getting pulled in work after work, cutting my dreams out c-completely" you sob harder into his chest. 

"It's alright.. " he said, slowly starting to make his way out the crowded area, back up the stairs to where your rooms were located, unlocking your door upon reaching. 

"Is it? Of course it isn't Tae!" you let out louder now having the freedom to breathe normally, speak out all your pent up frustration. 

"It's just the stakes he cares about.. Not me, never has it been me and never will it be me." you spoke up before he could. 

"It was always about business. Never about me personally, and that hurts for thinking." you stop, burying your head into your palm, crying your heart out. 

Taeyong stood there, in front of you with a saddened glaze hooding his dark hazel eyes. The words you let out came from a very heartbroken, left to feel the pain alone girl. 

This is the harsh world of business and entertainment. 

He made his way closer to you, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands over your legs to get you to look at him. No vail. 

"Y/n..doll, you see, we were forced into this world prior to adulthood, no consent whatsoever, we're just robot's basically, programmed to be perfect in all aspects." he started slow. "But there's nothing we can do about it"

With that the room went silent. The only sounds being from the loud acoustic downstairs and your sobs. 

You get up from your bed all of a sudden, sadness now turning to desperation and want for freedom. You make your way into the closet, taking out your already packed luggage, stuffing in whatever was left outside. 

"I'm really not ready-" "Y/n? What are you doing?" he said, voice panicked watching his friend throw random fabrics in. "And I'm tired of this-" "Y/n stop-" "-all of this" "Y/n-" 

"I should've done this long back-"

Taeyong grew even more panicked every second passing by, it only worsened when he saw you take the luggage and make your way towards the door. He took a hold of your hand in a tight grip as you felt the air turn black around you. It was hard to breathe with all the thoughts running through your head.

"Our world." you start, not trying to break out of his grip, slowly placing your hand over his.

"Our world Taeyong.. It's too cruel, harsh and dark even." you continue, stopping midway to look around you and then back at him, "none of us are safe in this world, none of us are happy, truly." you say removing his hands gently from the grip he had on yours.

Turning around once again, Taeyong was quicker. He caught your hands the second time, in a softer grip. 

"I know." 

"I know that our world is cruel. We don't experience the same as the others but Y/n..if you'd maybe, just maybe, -"

"Maybe if you'd let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world" 

Taeyong stated, looking at you with nothing but sincerity. 

You contemplate for a while, option tempting. You could run away and not be alone. But that would only ruin his image. You blink your tears away, shaking your head. 

"No Tae.. You don't deserve to waste your life following me. You deserve so much better than that" you said, breaking free from his grip once again, smiling at him with a heavy heart before making your way out the door.

Taeyong felt his own eyes glaze over, watching his friend walk out the door, maybe now towards the exit and out towards freedom. 

When Taeyong looked at you, he saw a reflection of himself. A helpless, broken young adult wanting nothing more than love and solitude. 

But now that you're gone, Taeyong was left alone, with no one to confide in. 

And worse, he was left without a reflection. 

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends //ch.5

| prev | next | masterlist

wc: 1741

pairing: TBD x reader

notes *this is the version of the song they cover 

chapter 5: We drive, We Film

The music is blaring when Atsumu pulls up. He's bobbing his head along to the guitar, hardly sparing you a glance as you slide into the passenger seat. Despite that, you offer a quick greeting as the car speeds off before you even finish putting your seatbelt on. You nod along to the familiar song as the two of you shoot through the street, 

“And I don't care if you're sick, I don't care if you're contagious,” you begin Atsumu chiming in matching your pitch.  

“I would kiss you even if you were dead” “Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life, cause I’d do anything to hold your hand.” 

You find your hand hanging out the window as you two sing along to the rest of the song. Once it ends, Atsumu lowers the volume, enough to have a conversation. “I see ya changed from a sweaty slob and are now looking better.” You roll your eyes at the bassist, and had he not been driving you probably would’ve resorted to slapping the back of his head. “Why do I willingly hang out with you. And, where are we going anyways?” You question, remembering your promise to Iwaizumi

 You ignore his comment about you clearly not having any other friends as you send a message to Iwaizumi confirming your location. You let out a little laugh at Iwaizumi’s complaint about the blonde always running his plans, before locking your phone. “Who ya texting?” Atsumu takes his first real look at you for the night as he slows at the red light. “Iwa, just telling him if I die tonight it's all your fault.Your driving fucking sucks” You follow up the sentence flicking off your friend who looks unbothered. 

“Speaking of our dear Iwa, you know something that me and Kuroo don't.” Your eyes widen just the tiniest bit as he grants you a knowing smirk. “But I’ll let that go for now. How's the tattoo healing?” Just like that Atsumu’s voice shifts into a more serious tone and you groan loudly. You instantly catch on to the real meaning of the question. How are you doing?  “Not you too”. 

“C’mon, I’m just checking on ya (Y/N). Making sure you’re ok. Took me a minute but then I remembered you showed me the picture a few months ago.” His gaze focuses back on the road giving you at least the relief from his stare down. “First Iwa, now you. And I know Kuroo is gonna pick my brain the second he gets the chance,” your words come out in a huff of annoyance. “What can we say, we care about ya. The band would flop without our front man.” His tease is enough to lighten the tension that began to grow as you rolled your eyes again. “Our combined hotness would drop by like 90% without me.” 

“More like 5%” He could only laugh as you promptly told him to go to hell, as you turned the music back up some. The rest of the drive was void of any conversation. The only noises coming from the radio and any time either of you would sing along to what was playing out. Atsumu would only shoot you annoyed looks, whenever you’d skip one of the songs he had to which you'd just shrug without a care.  

“Hey Samu.” You and Atsumu spoke at the same time as you slid into the booth. “What are you two sharing a single brain cell now?” Your look of disgust is enough to cause the gray haired twin to laugh. “The only thing I’d ever share with Atsumu is my foot up his ass.” 

“That’s a real cute way of saying you’re the dumb one of us.” The blonde catches the wrist of your arm that aims a punch at his shoulder easily. “Take you and your shitty dye job over there next to your brother,” you mutter pushing your bandmate out of the booth next to you. He obliges, moving so that him and Osamu are both sitting across from you. 

“Now Tsumu’s stupidity is gonna seep into my head.”

 ---- 

“Hello boys, and piss head,” you greet cheerily as you enter the unlocked door of Iwaizumi’s place. You shift the drink carrier in your hand as you remove your bag, lightly placing it on the floor. The owner only raises his eyebrows at you while your guitarist just laughs.”What’d he do now,” You make your rounds handing off the coffee drinks you’d bought for your bandmates. You stop by Iwaizumi first who accepts it with a grateful smile. Next is Kuroo, who raises the cup in thanks. “Every time I hang out with him, I wonder why I do. He sucks,” you speak before handing Atsumu his drink. “Osamu really is the better twin, not by much though.” 

“You claim to hate me, yet you bring me food. Thanks mom,” the bassist mocks. You mutter something about it being the only thing that gets him to shut up before shifting your attention towards Kuroo. “Hey, can you go get our instruments, couldn’t hold them cause of the drinks.” He only nods, you asking him to please lock your door after. 

“We’re filming that song today right?” You nod at Atsumu’s question. While he goes back to typing away on his phone you settle onto the couch next to Iwaizumi. He looks at you and you raise your eyebrows in excitement. He shoots you a small smile and a thumbs up, and you struggle to contain your excitement. You shoot him a knowing look that the two of you have to talk later as Kuroo enters carrying both your guitar cases. “Bring my drink down would you,” is the only thing he says before making his way towards the basement. The three of you wordlessly follow.  

“Why are we doing this song again,”

“Come on old man, it’ll be fun, plus our dear (Y/N) gets to show off that growl today. Doesn't happen very much,” Kuroo smirks at Iwaizumi, shooting you a quick look from where you are tuning your guitar. “Plus, the viewers wanted us to do Gaga.” 

“Oh, you're just happy ya get to be heard more with this song,” Atsumu chimes in before fiddling with his bass. “Maybe,” is Kuroos response as he sits on a stool to tune his own instrument. “Besides, Judas is a pretty badass song. And our arrangement is pretty sick.” Iwaizumi can’t help but agree with you, opting to get the video equipment set up. After he finished you all ran through the song a few times before you were ready to go.  

“Hey guys, we’re Mirrors For Friends,” the four of you said in unison. Before introducing yourselves as individuals. “So, you guys asked, and we answered. You all wanted us to do Lady Gaga so bad,” Kuroo started before pausing for his self-proclaimed dramatic effect. “So, Judas here we are.”

 ----

 “Judas- Gaga” You practically screamed out the last words of the songs, before bursting out into laughter. The entirety of the song both Kuroo and Atsumu were making ridiculous facial expressions at one another, and with you being in the middle of the two, you saw it all. That, paired with post singing adrenaline and the fact that you all were even singing it in the first place seemed absolutely comical You had been so caught in laughter that you didn’t even notice Iwaizumi come up from behind his drums to nudge at camera perched on the tripod in front of you. 

“Fuck- do you guys see what I have to go through with these guys. Iwa is the only normal one,” you joked out after your laughter died down. You ignored the said members exclamations about not being that bad. “Alright that's it for us today, we hope you enjoyed, and we’ll see you when we see you.” You stuck up a peace sign heading towards the camera and picking it up. “Say bye you idiots.  

You first pointed the camera at Kuroo who was the closest to you. “I feel like (Y/N) is catching my double chin at this angle. Stream our songs and we love you.” With that Kuroo just walked off the frame, and you turned towards Atsumu. “Say bye to the video fake blondie.” 

“I just want to say that I’m the hottest member of the band and-hey” Atsumu exclaimed as you just cut his segment short, before walking to Iwaizumi.  

“You know the drill Iwa. Your turn” This time you moved the camera up and down as if you were giving the audience a chance to check him out. “Now this is the real hottest member of this band,” you teased before aimling back towards his face. You stifled your laugh at Atsumu and Kuroo in the background yelling for him to take his shirt off. “I hate this band. See you all in the next video.” With your drummers closing you stopped the recording before letting out a sigh of relief.  

“Well that was exhausting,” you automatically made your way to the couch where you had your laptop resting. “I can probably get this edited and uploaded by tomorrow guys.” You felt the couch dip next to you and the voice of the band’s guitarist. “I can do it. I know it's been an interesting week for you,” he gestures towards your ribcage, where your new tattoo rests under your tshirt. The tone of his voice lets you know there’s no point in countering. When Iwaizumi gets into his band labeled ‘dad’ mode, you won't win. “You're acting as if I have a choice,” you huff handing him the camera’s memory card.  

“Shit- guys, I gotta go. I forgot the team got a last-minute practice match with another school,” Atsumu’s panicked voice cut through the room. “Were done here right?” He looked between the three of you sighing in relief as he quickly started putting up his instrument. “Hey, don’t forget next week we’re at Bauhaus.” He only nodded mindlessly, before making his way to the stairs, before stopping halfway. “That's the 3rd, right?” 

Kuroo’s thumbs out caused him to practically run up the stairs and out the door. Once the bassist leaves, he plopped himself next to you on the other side of the couch. “So lovely band members of mine, what secret are you two keeping from me and Tsumu.”

⤿taglist: @o51oc​ @suna-allie​

a/n: yall know that one tiktok audio from what bgc? wheres like awkwardly quiet then its like “hey guys”--- thats how I feel after coming back to this fic after a month. But yeah life and then more LIFE. So with that, sorry this chapter is kinda awkward writing bc i literally havent written for this in that month at all. Anyways, now that we’ve gotten our band dynamics established we are kicking off the real plot starting next chapter. I still don’t know which boy to do so pls help a loser out. I think I’m gonna take out the possibility of Iwa though ????

[blackasmidnightcats]

Book 1 Nostalgia

WARNING: This post will have spoilers to the SGE series

The first book in any series will always hold a special place in anyone's heart I think. There is just something beautiful, whether the writing was phenomenal or lacking, about the introduction to a new world and the characters that you're going to know. After reading further into the series, sometimes you just wanna go back to the start, where everything was a lot simpler.

SGE kinda falls into this feeling for me.

I don't think I'm ever going to get over the interactions between the characters (and we haven't even explored most of them) because, personally, Soman is incredibly good with how he does character intercations but the story and plot have a lot to improve on.

And now comparing TSY with TCY it's very glaring.

Soman really has a problem with his plot so much so than with his storyline. It's very repetitive and the storyline suffers from it.

After Book 1, every plot seemed to be the same case; Sophie is an important piece to the main villain, Agatha tries to fix everything, Tedros is getting more crap than needed, annoyingly unhealthy romantic relationships are explored, and the other characters do things.

The last of these examples are really the only things that varies. Everything else is almost always the same in one way or another.

The first book doesn't really follow that pattern. It's a introductory book and I wish Soman did the same vibe as it in QfG.

Though Book 1 wasn't perfect. My biggest main problem with it was how Soman handled Agatha's development from thinking herself a freak and realizing that she was just a beautiful as anyone else (and Tagatha, of course. They had a very unconvincing start) compared to the detailed and precise handling of Sophie's decent and eventual acceptance her wickedness.

I said it once and I'll say it again: I miss vengeful, spited Sophie. Who made the School for Good suffer because Tedros didn't keep his promise and her very impressive Talent to summon Evil creatures at will to do her bidding.

This was the Sophie that I expected more from in the later books but might never get again. With the way that the OTK cover portrays her as the Lion, whether that would be a thing or not, it's clear that Soman wants the readers to look at Sophie in a better light and not as the anti-hero that she is but I could be wrong.

In Book 1, Sophie was incredibly selfish to the point that she wouldn't do anything for others even those that she should care about (i.e. Tedros in the Trial) and in the end, she had to pay for the selfishness by seeing just how Evil she could become and be seen as the witch that she was. Her development from Pink Princess to Witch of Woods Beyond was believable; her ambitiousness combined with her selfishness was what made her gain everything through manipulation and wickedness but it couldn't be hidden for long. Once everyone, including herself, saw what lied underneath her exterior, she lost everything and because of the things that she chooses to do, she naturally hurt and attacked the people that wronged her just as Evil does.

It was caused by a failed romantic pursuit, yes, but unlike the other later romantic relations that she had, the one in Book 1 focused more on the outcome for her character development than in the relationship itself. Honestly her relationships with Rafal, and Rhian, and maybe now Japeth, idk, make absolutely no sense with the importance that the story puts on it because these relationships didn't help further Sophie's character development. It stunted her really.

Now compare this to Agatha.

I think everyone and their cats agree that we all miss witchy Agatha in book 1 and I hope we write more of her in our fanfics like that since Soman won't do it. The thing is, with Agatha, unlike Sophie, whether she is written as a straight-up hero or as a sort of anti-villain with her portrayal as the Snake in the OTK cover, it won't be that far fetched. I don't know if Soman intended this or not but it's pretty frickin impressive with how he managed to make Agatha a pretty versatile character.

Book 1 did not to good with how she went from Graveyard Girl to Fairy Tale Princess. At most, we saw her heroic characteristics but Soman didn't put much effort with making it believable and we were left to our own imaginations with how she could have believably developed and grown into herself. It should have taken more than one chapter to make us believe that Agatha suddenly grew confident with herself and her own brand of beauty and how her relationship with Tedros should have started.

But because of the fact that she's now comfortable as both being a little different and unique in her own way but is still guided by the values of Good and holds it dear to her soul as well as her loyalty to those she loves, she can do great with the best of both worlds.

Agatha hasn't stopped growing since book 1 and I think that reason for that is because Soman knows that he has to square up whenever he writes her. Whether she's developing on her own or with others, she's always learning new values and finding ways to express them in the way that she's comfortable with.

Soman does express that he loves writing in Sophie's POV the most, but it can be a double edged sword if not careful. And I think Soman hasn't been careful.

Now back to the glory of Book 1.

Book one had the most simplest plot and most fluent storyline than in any other book. Even TLEA.

I think I could recall a lot more events in Book 1 than in the more recent ones because there was a lot more events and chapters that were actually necessary to the plot.

So, to go by statistics;

TLEA has the most recorded chapters in the series as of current before the release of OTK with 35 chapters and 3 parts to divide it.

It's followed by Book 1 with 30 chapters.

Then QfG is next with 28 chapters divided into 2 parts.

And aCoT follows with 27 chapters and 2 parts as well.

Last is AWWP with 24 chapters divided into 2 parts as well.

If going by this then OTK should either have a chapter or two more or less than TLEA but not less so than Book 1 because it's going to now be the official last book of the the series.

But that is besides the point. My main problem with the books' storytelling after Book 1 is how disoriented it has become.

Let me make an example with QfG and aCoT. These books are more or less very similar with each other in the number of chapters with only one being the difference while the start of the the "Part 2" portion was a bit different with QfG's starting at chapter 21 while aCoT's started with chapter 17.

But the reception and the fluency of these two books could not be more different from each other.

To say that QfG completely destroyed the fandom is an understatement. I can't tell of aCoT managed to regain the series's former glory for long enough to not let OTK flop but let's be hopeful.

Anyways, the fluency of the storytelling with TCY was wack and QfG and aCoT completely show that.

WARNING: Spoilers about QfG and aCoT will be discussed in this section.

I could not remember almost 70% of QfG because of how much I hated the plot and looking back at the chapters, I honestly could not believe that the asshat Rhian was only introduced on Chapter 21. Everything after Chaddick's POV chapter seemed to be a blur and Rhian's b*tch ass seemed to have corrupted the whole experience.

8 chapters. He was only in QfG for 8 chapters and yet it feels almost like he's been in it for more than half. Frick. He is traumatizing.

Basically, the middle part of the book, namely chapters 7 to 20, was all about the main cast trying to frickin understand wtf was happening. Agatha and Sophie were trying to figure out the Lion and the Snake thing while Tedros was back in Camelot doing (or failing or being sabotaged with) politics and also trying to understand why tf was Excalibur having a tantrum.

Then Rhian entered and I don't know why or how Nottingham and Robin Hood got involved but he did.

And then more figuring out stuff and sabotaging Tedros and then Rhian and Excalibur and then cliffhanger.

It was all very abrupt and confusing. More confusion was added all because there were more questions asked than actual answers and a sense of depression was felt in the end because nothing was really achieved.

Imma compare this with Book 1 later but first Book 5 comparison.

Now aCoT. It was just the storyline that we needed to get back to the hype that the series had. Was it a satisfying read? Yes but was it able to heal the pain that QfG inflicted? No.

The fandom did not come back the same again.

But anyways, aCoT, personally, had a lot more scenes and events that I remembered than in any other book besides book 1 but that there was the problem with this book.

Too many things happened with this book. So much so that the fluency of the story was sacrificed to tell it.

Look at it this way, several shifts in the book happened.

This all happened in Part 1 only;

Rhian became King and his regime was sort of explained.

Agatha was introduced to the First Years and got her Army.

Sophie was in some sort of GOT-esque knock off experience as Rhian's Captive Queen.

Agatha manages to save some of her friends.

The concept of OTK was explained.

Tedros's execution was on way.

Nevermind, Agatha and her army just straight-up hijacked it.

Prof. Dovey died as a sacrifice.

Okay, now to Part 2;

Reaper is a Gnome King.

The Crystal of Time was finally explained.

They finally find out about Rhian and Japeth's origins.

The Gnomes were ambushed and I feel sorry for them.

Sophie tipped Rhian off with the location because she believed that she would end it all.

We kinda get background with why Rhian wants to be OTK????

Rhian DIES?!?!?! and now Japeth's King ☠

They sort of manage to know about wtf happened with the Lady and Japeth

Tedros and Arthur have a heart to heart and he gets the Ring of Power.

Cliffhanger

It's a lot to take in and I don't really think that Soman should have cramped it all in one book.

Some of the plot points should have been in QfG so that it wouldn't be as depressing.

The whole of Part one was a book in itself and Part 2 was one as well.

At some points of the book, I sometimes got the feeling that it was gonna be the end but it just kept going and going and now I don't really know what's left with OTK. It can be both a good thing or a horrible thing.

Let's see wtf happens. I expect more action than drama Soman.

So again with Book 1.

Book 1 was a classic and the ideas easily hooked anyone interested.

It had the same unaswered questions with QfG but why did it suceed when QfG didn't.

First, is that Book 1 had its atmosphere clear from the start of the book. It was clear that the main thing that needed to happen was that Sophie and Agatha needed to realize the actual nature of their souls. There were more technical questions that needed to be answered but the main point that needed to be addressed was addressed by the end of the book.

And also the ending was also a cliffhanger but it a much lighter note.

Sophie and Agatha realized their capabilities and understood themselves but they still chose each other in the end and that sort of gave way to a much hopeful future for the two of them. (At that time, at least)

All the while, QfG was one depressing ball of events that led to one horrible moment to the other.

It was just sad.

And so I kinda go back to Book 1 from time to time to refresh myself with why I started this series to begin with and I'm always reminded with the possibilities and the explorations about good and evil and the complex duality of differences and parallels that so many things that Sophie and Agatha sort of beautifully personify.

I love reading the very first chapter of Book 1 because it so beautifully captured Sophie and Agatha and their complex relationship that I've always wanted to read in other books.

I always loved reading Sophie's amusing thought process and the reason why she does everything that she does; she does it because she believes that she deserves more and she'll everything to get it.

I also loved how Agatha was such a character that I've always wanted to read about. She's spunky and shy and lonely and reflective and despite everyone shunning her, she could still see the good and find it in herself to help them. She was simply wonderful.

I'm thankful that I found this series and I hope that a lot more books can talk about the philosophies and concepts that this book has managed to introduce. And despite all of its set-backs and nonsense, I would still recommend this as a read but to that they should also think about what they've read and maybe talk about what they've found interesting with it.